Cowboy Conspiracy. Joanna Wayne

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      Kelly and Jaci slid into one side of the narrow booth. Not unexpectedly, the cowboy slid in opposite them. Fortunately, he seemed to be taking command of the situation. Good that someone was, since she’d flown into a rage out there instead of thinking logically.

      He was quite a hunk. Not that she hadn’t noticed that earlier, but now she actually let her gaze linger on the rugged planes and angles of his face. He couldn’t be many years older than she was, if any, but he had an edge about him and an aura of self-confidence.

      She liked his hair—short but rumpled and dry—where hers was wet and dripping, thanks to the Western hat he’d just tossed to the booth behind them. His dark brown locks were streaked with coppery highlights, the artistic work of the sun.

      But his eyes were the real draw. Mesmerizing. Piercing, but not threatening. The color of the coffee she could smell dripping through the pot.

      “I think we should introduce ourselves,” he said. “I’m Wyatt Ledger.”

      “Good to meet you, Wyatt, though I would have preferred to meet under better circumstances. I’m Kelly Burger.”

      It was a relief to finally use her real name again. Maybe one day she’d even be able to get past the fears she’d lived with for nearly twelve months. She extended her hand and when his wrapped around hers, the tingle of awareness danced through her. She pulled her hand away too quickly. Subtlety was not her strong suit.

      She looked down at her daughter, thankful to break away from Wyatt’s penetrating gaze. “This is Jaci.”

      The cowboy’s lips split into a wide grin. “Hi, Jaci.”

      Attacked by one of her rare cases of shyness, Jaci twirled a finger in her hair and looked down at the table. It was well past her bedtime, and even though she’d slept some in the car, she was running out of steam.

      Jaci pulled her short legs into the seat with her and finally looked at Wyatt. “Can you take us to our new house?”

      “It’s okay, Jaci,” Kelly assured her. “The police will see that we get home tonight.”

      “Actually, I heard Jaci say earlier that you’re going to Mustang Run,” Wyatt said. “That’s also where I’m heading, so I can give you a lift if you’d like.”

      The coincidence set off a warning bell in her head. For all she knew Wyatt could be as bad as the rotten thug who’d stolen her car. Boots and a cowboy hat didn’t mean he was the real thing. “Do you own a ranch near Mustang Run?”

      “My family does. I was a homicide detective with the Atlanta Police Department until yesterday. Now I guess I’m a freeloader.”

      “You’re a cop?”

      “Was a cop. Guess it doesn’t say much for my detective intuition that I let the guy just walk out of here and steal your car. The fact that he left in the middle of a pouring rain should have tipped me off he might be up to no good, especially since I figured the motorbike was his, too.”

      “Why did you leave the force?”

      “Personal reasons.”

      That she understood, the same way there were a lot of questions about her life she wouldn’t want to go into with a stranger. Or with family for that matter. She hadn’t even fully explained the year’s disappearing act to her mother. There had been no reason to worry her. Kelly had been frightened enough for both of them.

      “If you’re a detective, you must know the routine. What happens when the deputy shows up?”

      “He’ll ask questions about the car. You’ll answer the ones you can and then he’ll fill out a police report.”

      “I know the license-plate number. Everything else, I’ll have to get from my insurance agent. That may have to wait until morning. Hopefully, I’ll have the car back before then.”

      “I wouldn’t count on that.”

      “Why not?” Her frustration spiked again. “They will look for it, won’t they? That’s their job.”

      “That’s one of their jobs. I don’t know how they prioritize around here, but car thefts are not top priority in the big city unless they involve force, weapons or kidnapping.”

      Panic swelled again. “I need that car. It has my purse with my wallet in it.”

      “How did you pay your tab in the restaurant?”

      “With the credit card I used for buying gas. After swiping it, I’d stuck it in the front pocket of my jeans.”

      “Did you leave your purse in the front seat? If so, that might have been the lure that made him choose your Honda over my new truck.”

      “I wasn’t that stupid. I put it in the trunk, but there were personal items in the backseat and the sleeping bags Jaci and I were going to sleep on tonight.”

      “Where exactly were you planning to spread sleeping bags in a storm?”

      “On the floor in my house. The moving van with my furniture won’t arrive until tomorrow.”

      “If you have other credit cards, I’d suggest you cancel them at once.”

      “I don’t.” She wouldn’t have this one had the FBI not obtained it for her. Her credit slate had been wiped clean a year ago and all accounts closed.

      “Is there a key to your house in your purse or somewhere else in your car?”

      “No, fortunately, I put the house keys on the ring with my car keys earlier today.”

      “What about your phone?” Wyatt asked.

      “It’s in the car. No … Wait. It’s in my pocket. I forgot it was there. I could have called 911 myself. But my computer is in the trunk.”

      “What else is in the car?”

      “There’s a folder with information from the phone company, the electric power company, the natural gas company. The house I’m moving into has been empty for a year. I had to have all the utilities reconnected.”

      She blinked repeatedly, determined to hold back a surge of tears that was gathering behind her lids. This was no time to cry. She worked to revive the fury that would keep her from showing weakness.

      Jaci’s head drooped and came to rest against Kelly’s shoulder. The darling had fallen asleep. At least she wouldn’t see if salty tears started spilling from her mother’s eyes.

      “I can spread my jacket on that booth behind us if you want to lay her down,” Wyatt offered.

      “Thanks. I would appreciate that.”

      She lifted Jaci while he fashioned the makeshift bed. Jaci was so tired she barely stirred as Kelly leaned over and carefully laid her down. The masculine smell of leather and musky aftershave emanating from Wyatt’s jacket was strangely reassuring. It had been a long time since she’d had a man help her put Jaci to bed.

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