Betting On The Maverick. Cindy Kirk

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      Her hand returned to her coffee cup and she took another long gulp, an ecstatic look on her face.

      Would she look like that after sex, he wondered? He let his gaze linger on the large breasts evident beneath the clinging fabric of her tee.

      When he lifted his gaze, Brad found icy green eyes fixed on him.

      She set her mug down with a bam. “If you’re through staring, I suggest we get down to business. Gage is busy so he’s sending a detective or something. I didn’t even know we had those in this town. He should be here any minute—”

      “You really called the sheriff?” Brad wasn’t sure why he was surprised. He hadn’t expected her to follow through on her threat made in the dark of night. Then again, though he barely knew this woman, it seemed like something she’d do. Still, he realized he’d hoped they could become better acquainted before she brought in the law.

      Now that she was home, Brad supposed he could just turn the Leap of Faith over to her. But he hesitated to voice that option. From what he could tell, she and Boyd had been estranged, at least for the past few years. Once he signed the deed over to her, she could do with it what she wanted. Which might not be what Boyd would want...

      “I felt it best to move swiftly.” Margot relaxed back in the metal chair, circa 1950, and peered at him over the top of her mug. “You understand.”

      The challenge in those eyes stirred something inside him.

      He shot her a sardonic smile. “I’d have taken exactly the same step.”

      The look of surprise that flashed across her face pleased him. But before he had a chance to revel in this minor victory, Viper returned from the back porch, those narrowed piercing gold eyes never leaving him as she ambled past him to sit beside Margot’s chair.

      The sound of a truck pulling up in the drive had Viper forgetting all about him to focus her attention on a new target. She gave three short high-pitched barks but quieted instantly at Margot’s command.

      “I’ll get—” he began, shoving back his chair.

      “I’ll get it.” She was already on her feet and moving toward the foyer. “This is my house.”

      Brad moved to the counter, pulled out another mug and filled it with coffee, then topped off his and Margot’s cups.

      He’d barely finished dumping the breakfast dishes in the sink when Margot and Viper returned with Russ Campbell.

      Brad had met Russ when he returned to Montana after three years in Colorado. A police detective from Kalispell, Russ had recently been doing some consulting detective work for Gage Christensen in Rust Creek Falls.

      “Mornin’, Russ.” Brad handed the guy a cup and then quickly performed introductions. “What made you stop by?”

      “Margot, here.” Russ took the cup gratefully then glanced at the woman. “Called the station and asked Gage when we started allowing squatters.”

      “I called because I need to know what’s been done and what you’re doing now to find my father.” Margot spoke slowly and distinctly, her eyes flashing. “That’s my first priority. Getting rid of him—” she pointed to Brad “—is secondary.”

      Brad found it interesting she seemed so concerned about locating her dad now. According to what she’d said last night, they hadn’t spoken in months.

      Once the deputy asked his questions, Brad had a few of his own.

       Chapter Three

      “Let’s sit.” Russ gestured to the table and took a gulp of coffee.

      Brad topped off his mug. Instead of sitting, he leaned back against the counter.

      His actions didn’t surprise Margot. Cowboys were an independent breed who didn’t like to be told what to do.

      Russ took a seat at the table. He was a good-looking guy: around six foot two with broad shoulders, wavy brown hair and hazel eyes.

      Margot wondered if the detective had grown up in the area but couldn’t place him. Russ was older enough that if he had, she wouldn’t have known him.

      She remembered Brad because everyone knew the Crawfords. When Brad went off to college, she was still playing with dolls. By the time he was back, he was running with an older crowd and then he was married.

      She forced her thoughts from Brad and back to the question that Russ had just asked him.

      “Is it that you like hearing me repeat myself?” Brad frowned into his coffee before lifting his gaze. “We went through all of this right after Boyd left.”

      “Miss Sullivan wasn’t here then.” The detective slanted a smile in her direction. “I’d like to catch her up to speed. Perhaps she can shed some light on the situation.”

      “Please call me Margot,” she told Russ with a smile.

      “Margot, then. You can call me Russ.”

      Brad gave a snort of disgust. “Now that we’ve got that settled,” he said with a sarcastic drawl, “can we move this along? I have fences to mend.”

      Russ merely smiled and inclined his head, obviously an indication that the ball was still in Brad’s court.

      Margot watched him square his shoulders.

      “It was the Fourth of July. I went to the wedding—of Braden Traub and Jennifer MacCallum,” he clarified for Margot. “They had a reception in Rust Creek Falls Park. The usual barbecue and this wedding punch that lots of people couldn’t get enough of...including your father.”

      “Go on,” Russ prompted.

      “Several of us guys, including Boyd, ended up at the Ace in the Hole saloon. We played a little poker. Had some drinks.” Brad looked as Margot. “The bets were getting a little out of hand. Your father was really betting like crazy. For a while he was winning. Then his luck changed. He lost everything he’d won...and then all the money he had on him.”

      “My father was,” Margot paused and took a deep breath, “is an alcoholic. He quit drinking around the time he met my mother and had been sober ever since. After she died, he went to the bottle for comfort. It was as if he had nothing more to live for since she was gone.”

      “He had you,” Brad said quietly.

      “I guess he didn’t see it that way.” Margot tried to force a smile to her lips but it wouldn’t slip into place.

      “On that particular day, most of the town was drunk.” Russ jotted down some notes, glanced back up at Margot. “What about gambling? Was that an issue for him, too?”

      She thought for a moment. “I can’t say for certain. During my childhood, he never gambled. I remember my parents had friends who were always asking them to go to the casinos in Kalispell with them, but they’d never go.”

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