The Cowboy Target. Terri Reed

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СКАЧАТЬ irritation in Landers’s eyes and couldn’t help feeling a little jolt of satisfaction. It was good to see someone else getting Landers’s goat for once. Growing up, Wyatt had only ever received grief from his stepfather. Still did, if truth be told.

      Without so much as glancing in his direction, the woman tucked in her chin. “Really? So you honestly think he’s gonna go to the trouble of killing the guy, remove his body from the primary crime scene, dump him on his own porch for all the world to see, then be dumb enough to leave the knife in plain sight but ditch the gloves? Not likely. This has all the earmarks of a setup, and if you can’t see that...”

      “Careful, Ms. Blain,” Landers warned with a glower. “I agree there is more going on here than meets the eye.”

      She smirked. Wyatt held back a grin.

      Landers met Wyatt’s gaze. “You’re free to go, Wyatt. Just don’t leave town.”

      As if Wyatt would. Where would he go? This was his home. Gabby was here. But he refrained from responding. Instead he met the bright blue-eyed gaze of his mysterious defender. She stared back with unabashed curiosity. He didn’t know this woman, so why would she defend him? Was she the lawyer Carl Kirk said he was hiring? But then why was Bruce Kelly here?

      Bruce cleared his throat and rose to his feet. “Now that we have that settled, I’ll speak to my client alone.”

      His client?

      Sheriff Landers gave a curt nod and exited the room.

      Wyatt crossed his arms over his chest. “So which one of you is my lawyer?”

      * * *

      Jackie couldn’t help but appreciate the hunk standing before her. She’d never really been into the cowboy type, but this one...whew, sure made a girl’s heart beat faster.

      Tall and lean, he was dressed in worn denim with a soft-looking chambray shirt stretched over shoulders that made her think he could support the whole state of Wyoming on his back. He had a ruggedly handsome face with a firm jaw and dark, intense eyes beneath a well-loved traditional cowboy hat. In the dim light of the interrogation room, she couldn’t tell if his hair was black or dark brown. She guessed she’d have to wait for the light of day to find out.

      A little thrill zoomed through her tummy at the prospect of spending time with such an attractive man.

      So not a good reaction to be having. Wyatt Monroe could be a murderer.

      “I am,” Bruce said. “Carl Kirk asked me to represent you.”

      Wyatt’s gaze flicked over the lawyer before settling once again on Jackie. Curiosity and something else she couldn’t decipher shone in the inky depths of his eyes. “And you are?”

      She stepped forward and thrust out her hand. “Jackie Blain. Carl and Penny Kirk are my uncle and aunt.”

      He stared at her outstretched hand for a moment as if she were offering him a stick of dynamite. She waited, not about to let this cowboy think for a moment that he intimidated her with his brooding attitude.

      Slowly he unfolded his arms and grasped her hand in his much bigger one. Their palms met. Warmth spread up her arm and settled beneath her breastbone.

      “Ms. Blain, why are you here?” he asked as he quickly let go of her hand.

      She flexed her fingers and jammed her hands in the pockets of her jacket. “I have a background in law enforcement, and Uncle Carl asked if I’d come out and see what I could do to help.”

      He took a moment to absorb that before saying, “Well, you’ve done your good deed for the day.” He tipped his hat. “I appreciate it. Sorry you had to come all the way from...”

      “Boston.”

      His eyebrows rose. “Boston. Well, don’t let me keep you. I’m sure you’re anxious to get back to the city.”

      She nearly laughed but settled for a grin. “Oh, you’re not getting rid of me that easily, cowboy. I’m your ride back to the ranch.”

      His jaw firmed in clear displeasure.

      Jackie turned to Mr. Kelly. “Is there anything else you require at the moment?”

      The bemused expression on the man’s face was comical. “No. Unless Mr. Monroe has some questions for me.”

      Wyatt shook his head. “I didn’t kill George.”

      “Then there shouldn’t be any problems. I’ll let you both know—” he shifted his gaze to Jackie and then back to Wyatt “—if there are any developments.”

      “Good deal,” Jackie said and headed for the door, aware of Wyatt’s scowl. “Come along, cowboy. I’m hungry, and Aunt Penny’s made meat loaf.”

      * * *

      Wyatt ground his back teeth as the new arrival in his already tangled life sashayed toward the jail door. Who did this lady think she was, anyway? It was one thing for her to go toe-to-toe with Landers—he rather liked that—but he wasn’t used to being ordered around. Especially by a diminutive spitfire with big blue eyes and a pert nose.

      The Kirks’ niece. She’d never been out to the ranch before. Made sense if she lived in Boston. Boston! How had she arrived so quickly? He’d been taken into custody this morning. It would take at least eight hours to fly from Boston because there were no direct flights between the cities and another two hours of driving from Laramie, yet she looked as fresh as a daisy on a spring day.

      Carl shouldn’t be sticking his nose where it didn’t belong.

      After retrieving his personal belongings, Wyatt lengthened his stride to keep up with Jackie as she left the sheriff’s station and headed to the parking lot toward a big black SUV.

      “Hold up,” he said, snagging her by the elbow. She tensed beneath his hand. “When did you get in?”

      “We flew in around four. Rented this baby and drove over from Laramie.”

      “Who’s we?”

      “Spencer.” She tugged her elbow free and opened the driver’s side door. “Hey, boy. Miss me?”

      Wyatt peered over her shoulder into the vehicle. A white-and-brown bulldog sat on the passenger seat, his tongue hanging out and his brown eyes staring at Jackie with devotion. He let out a single woof.

      Wyatt blinked. “You brought your dog?”

      She climbed in and started the engine. “I wouldn’t leave him.” She gave him a pointed look.

      “I thought snub-nosed dogs weren’t allowed on commercial airlines,” he said.

      “Some don’t. We flew over on the Trent plane.”

      “Trent? What’s that?”

      “Trent Associates. Private protection specialists.” She grinned. “At your service.”

      No wonder she didn’t look travel СКАЧАТЬ