Wild Nevada Ride

WILD NEVADA RIDE

Wilder Series 3

SANDY SULLIVAN

Copyright © 2010

Chapter One

Neon lights flashed advertising everything from shows to single-deck blackjack on each billboard Justin Wilder passed. People, hundreds of people walked down the hot, dusty sidewalk of downtown Vegas. Each corner the wave of bodies moved as one across the intersection when the light changed and he grumbled under his breath. He hated going to downtown Vegas. It was the biggest rat hole in the whole state, but he had a meeting to attend with a business client at one of the casinos this afternoon. The man could be a potentially huge buyer for his cattle so he would humor him—once.

Justin hit the gas on his old Ford pickup when the light turned green, his brown eyes focused on the cars in front of him until he heard a loud screech of tires.

A bright blue convertible slid sideways into the intersection, slamming into the side of his truck.

The first thought on his mind had to be whether or not the other driver was hurt as he jumped out and raced around the front.

The summer heat shimmered off of the black pavement and he had to blink to clear his vision. Struck speechless when long legs untangled themselves from the driver’s side of the car and navy blue pumps hit the asphalt road, he inhaled a steadying breath and let it out. Next, the most furious green eyes snapped fire when the woman attached to those legs, ripped off her aviator sunglasses.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Excuse me?”

“You wrecked my car.”

“Listen—the light had already turned green on my side.”

“The hell it did.”

Damn, she’s got a mouth to go with those green eyes, not to mention legs that could stop traffic and what appeared to be dark brown hair pulled in a tight bun at the back of her head. He frowned as he took in her navy blue Air Force dress uniform.
Great—some no good from the base.

“You can ask any of the witnesses here, ma’am. The light was green on my side.”

Not appearing to care what he said, she walked around to the passenger side of her car, and he had to be impressed. It wasn’t very often a brand new Mustang Shelby GT 500 KR showed up around these parts unless it belonged to one of the casino owners.

“Oh, my God. It’s ruined.” She sounded almost in tears when she surveyed the damage to the passenger side door.

“I’m sure your insurance will take care of the damage.”

“My insurance? I didn’t run the light.”

He almost laughed—almost. “Yes, you did.”

“What the hell difference does it make? My car is worth a hell of a lot more than your piece of shit truck.”

Shaking his head, a moment, he smiled at her observation. “True, but my insurance isn’t going to pay for your car.”

Grumbling, she bent over the passenger side door and pulled out a cell phone from the pocket of the purse on the seat.

He cocked his head to the side to admire the skirt pulled tight over her ass.

“Yeah—Smitty? Jamieson. Let me talk to the colonel.”

He watched curiously when she looked over the damage to her car, completely ignoring him.

“Colonel? I’m running late, sir.” He vaguely heard murmurs from the other end of her phone. “I’m sorry, sir. I’ll be there as soon as I can. There’s been an accident downtown, and I have to wait for the police to show up.”

Her eyes met his, and he almost forgot to breathe.

“I know we take off in an hour, sir. I’m very aware of the time, sir. Have Smitty get her ready. ” She sighed, shutting the phone with a decisive click. “Where the hell are the police?”

“Need to be somewhere?”

“Yeah actually, I do,” she said as her hot gaze moved over his button-down shirt, his jeans, then his boots, before returning to his face. One eyebrow shot up before he flashed a dimpled smile. All he got for his trouble was a scowl.

The police arrived moments later, and the familiarity of the cop with the woman, caught Justin taken off guard when the officer greeted the woman by her first name.

“I knew you’d get into trouble in that car, Kat.”

Kat with the green eyes,
Justin thought while he listened to the conversation.

“Don’t start with me, Matt, okay? Just get this done. I’m taking off in less than an hour.”

The officer shook his head while he finished up the paperwork and then handed her a copy. “It looks okay to drive, at least enough to get you to the base. I wouldn’t go much further with it.”

Slipping back inside the car, she said over her shoulder, “Thanks.”

With one last look his way, she slipped back on her sunglasses, started the car, and disappeared down the road.

“Here is your copy, sir.”

Justin absently watched the woman and the car for a second before he turned back to the officer. He looked down at the report in his hand.
Kat Jamieson.
“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Anything else I can do for you?”

Curiosity got the better of him and he asked, “You know her?”

The officer chuckled before he said, “Yeah, you could say that. She’s my sister.”

* * * *

His cell phone rang in his pocket and he grumbled when he pulled it out to look at the screen.

“Hello?”

“Justin—it’s Mark. The meeting with Mr. Toyoshima has been postponed until tonight.”

“What the hell? Why?”

“He said he already has a meeting at the time you specified. He wants to meet you for dinner at Picasso.”

With a sharp inhalation, he said, “The Bellagio? I hate coming downtown. You know that. Why did I let you set this up?”

“Because I’m the best,” Mark replied with a chuckle. “You are the cattleman, Justin, and I’m the businessman. Do what I tell you to, and you’ll be the richest cattle baron in the area. Getting in with Mr. Toyoshima will guarantee you in the Kobe beef market.”

“All right, all right. When?”

“Eight… and Justin?”

“Yeah.”

“Wear a tux.”

“Fuck! You’ve got to be kidding me. I haven’t been in a tux since Cole’s wedding.”

“Well, you need to make the impression, so wear a tux. Rent one if you have to.”

“I’m going to kill you for this.”

Mark laughed on the other end of the phone. “You’ll be thanking me while you throw hundred dollar bills at me, my friend.”

“Are you coming?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there with bells on. See you then.”

Justin hung up the phone as he pulled into the long gravel driveway of the Flying W, passing under the wide arch with his brand over the middle. He owned two thousand acres of prime grazing land outside of Las Vegas. The brown grasses stretched for miles with thousands of head of cattle, dotting the flat plains surrounding the house.

When Chase took over their parents’ ranch in Wyoming, Charles and Bonnie Wilder made sure Justin had the funding for his own place—in Nevada. He hated the cold winters in Wyoming and thanked God every day for the warmth of the desert.

Stepping out of the old beat up pickup truck he used to haul supplies for the ranch, his six-foot-three frame cast a long shadow over the gravel under his feet. The door slammed with a frustrated push of his hand before he headed toward the house.
I need a nice shower and a cold beer.

“Hey Justin, what the hell happened to the truck?” Keith shouted while he walked across the yard.

Justin chuckled when one of his best friends and the supervisor of his employees stepped up on the porch. “Some woman from the base hit me downtown. Her car got the worst of it, obviously. You could set off a bomb under this old beater and not hurt it.”

“Ain’t it the truth? So, what was she drivin’?”

“Oh, a sweet ride. Brand new Mustang Shelby GT 500 KR baby blue convertible.”

“You’re shittin’ me.”

“No.”

“Damn! I would have loved to seen it.”

“Very nice.”

“You know her name?”

Kat Jamieson.
“Yeah. Funny thing—her brother turned out to be the cop doing the accident report. Then she had the gall to blame me for running the light.”

“Did you?”

“Hell no!”

“Well, hopefully she doesn’t know who you are. You don’t want some kind of stupid lawsuit or somethin’.”

“You can say that again. Doesn’t matter, I guess. Not like I’ll see her again.”

“Yeah—probably not. Listen, I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m headed home.”

“No problem. I’ve got this stupid dinner thing Mark wrangled me into. I even have to wear a damned tux.”

Keith just shook his head and laughed, before he walked back toward the barn, shouting over his shoulder, “Good luck. Have a good time and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Fuck you, Keith,” Justin grumbled and pushed open the door to the house.

* * * *

At seven o’clock, he stood in front of the mirror near the door. With his tux in place, he surveyed his appearance with a keen eye. The black Stetson sat low on his forehead, resting just above his eyebrow, shielding his face. Brushed clean cowboy boots on his feet completed the picture of the cattleman ready for a night on the town.
My feet are at least going to be comfortable, damn it!

Grabbing the keys to the white Ford pickup, he locked the house and headed for the truck.
I probably should have tried to get a date for this thing. At least then, I would have had someone to talk to.

The lights of the strip were bright on the windows when he passed each casino. Pulling into the valet parking for the Bellagio, he was met by the formally dress valet.

“Take care of this for me, would you?”

“Certainly, sir. Are you staying here tonight?”

“No—just have a business meeting.”

“Wonderful, sir. We’ll see you in a little while then.”

Justin grabbed his hat and headed for the glass, gold gilded front doors of the casino with the large scrolled B. The almost frigid temperature of the air conditioning hit his face, cooling the sweat quickly forming on his upper lip. Bells dinged and lights flashed as he looked for the escalator to take him to the upper floor. He’d never been in this particular restaurant, but he knew it to be one of the best on the strip. Tugging at his tight collar, he sighed before he reached the large wooden door.

“Can I help you, sir?” the maitre d asked when he stepped inside.

“Yes. I’m meeting a Japanese gentleman here for a business meeting—a Mr. Toyoshima.”

“Ah, yes, sir. Follow me.”

Justin looked around at the other diners when he walked by each table. The men were dressed to the hilt in formal attire and the women’s cocktail dresses varied in color from one end of the rainbow to the other. He silently thanked Mark for insisting he wear a tux. His normal business meeting attire would have been out of place. Jeans and t-shirts made up most of his wardrobe.