Rough Rider. B.J. Daniels

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СКАЧАТЬ make a fire in the chilly office?

      Stepping closer, Boone slowly pushed the door open a little wider. The door creaked. The intruder didn’t seem to hear it, but he froze for a moment anyway. For all he knew, the person going through papers on the floor behind the desk could be armed and dangerous—if not crazy and drugged up.

      Pushing the door all the way open, he carefully stepped in. He took in the crowded office in the ambient light of the intruder’s flashlight beam. The office had clearly been ransacked. Files were all over the floor and desk.

      He realized that this intruder hadn’t had enough time to make this much of a mess. Someone had already been here. Which meant this new intruder was probably too late for whatever he was searching for. If that’s what he was doing hidden on the other side of the desk.

      The line of old metal file cabinets along the wall all had their drawers hanging open. In the middle of all this mess, the large old oak desk was almost indistinguishable because of piles of papers, dirty coffee cups and stacks of files.

      He moved closer, still unable to see the intruder, who appeared to be busy on the floor behind the large worn leather office chair on the other side of the cluttered desk.

      The flashlight beam suddenly stilled. Had the intruder heard him?

      Boone reached into his pocket, found his cell phone, but stopped short of calling 911. His family had been in the news for years. If the cops came, so would the media. He swore under his breath and withdrew his hand sans the cell phone.

      Boone had a bad feeling that anchored itself in the pit of his stomach. He reminded himself that the person behind that desk might be someone more dangerous than he was in the mood to take on tonight.

      He looked around for something he could use as a weapon. He had no desire to play hero. He’d always been smart enough to pick and choose his battles. This wasn’t one he wanted to lose for a wild-goose chase. Seeing nothing worthy of being a weapon, he took a step back.

      The person on the other side of the desk had stopped making a sound. The beam of the flashlight hadn’t moved for a full minute.

      He took another step back. The floorboards groaned under his weight. He swore under his breath as suddenly the flashlight beam swooped across the ceiling. The figure shot up from behind the office chair. All he caught was a flash of wild copper-colored hair—and the dull shine of a handgun—before the light blinded him.

      Instinctively, he took another step backward. One more and he could dive out into the hallway—

      “Take another step and you’re a dead man.”

      He froze at the sound of a woman’s voice—and the imminent threat in it. Not to mention the laser dot that had appeared over his heart.

      * * *

      C.J. STARED AT the cowboy standing just inside the door. The gun in her hand never wavered. Nor did the red laser dot pointed at his heart move a fraction of an inch. He was a big man, broad-shouldered, slim-hipped and rugged-looking. He wore Western attire, including a Stetson as if straight off the ranch.

      “Easy,” he said, his voice deep and soft, but nonetheless threatening. “I’m just here looking for Hank Knight.”

      “Why?”

      He frowned, holding up one hand to shield his eyes from the flashlight she also had on him. “That’s between him and me. How about I call the cops so they can ask you why you’re ransacking his office.” He started to reach into his pocket.

      She lowered the flashlight so she was no longer blinding him and shook her head. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” she said, motioning with the gun. “Who are you and why do you want to see Hank?”

      “Why should I tell you?” She could see that he was taking her measure. He could overpower her easily enough given his size—and hers. But then again, there was that “equalizer” in her hand.

      “You should tell me because I have a gun pointed at your heart—and I’m Hank’s partner. C.J. West.”

      He seemed to chew on that for a moment before he said, “Boone McGraw.”

      She took in the name. “Kidnapping case,” she said, more to herself than to him. Fraternal twins, six months old, taken from their cribs over twenty-five years ago. A ransom was paid but the twins were never returned. That was the extent of what she knew and even that was vague. The only reason she knew this was because of something she’d recently seen on television. There’d been an update. One of the kidnappers had been found dead.

      “Your partner was looking into the case.”

      “That’s not possible.”

      “Our lawyer spoke with him on two different occasions, so I’m afraid it definitely happened. So how about lowering the gun?”

      Frowning, she considered what he’d said, still skeptical. She and Hank talked about all their cases. It wouldn’t have been like him to keep a possible case like this from her.

      But she did lower the gun, tucking it into the waistband of her jeans—just in case.

      “Thanks. Now, if you could please tell me where I can find him...”

      “Day after tomorrow he will be in Rosemont Cemetery.”

      He’d been looking around the office, but now his gaze shot back to her. “Cemetery?”

      “He was killed by a hit-and-run driver three days ago.” Her voice cracked. It still didn’t seem real, but it always came with a wave of grief and pain.

      “A hit-and-run?”

      She wondered if he planned to keep echoing everything she said. She really didn’t have time for this.

      “Clearly you’re too late. Not that Hank could have known anything about the kidnapping case.” Picking up one of Hank’s files, she shone the flashlight on it and then began to thumb through the yellow notebook pages inside.

      Not that she didn’t watch Boone McGraw—if that was really his name—out of the corner of her eye. She’d learned never to take anything at face value. Hank had taught her that and a lot more.

      The cowboy swore as he looked around the destroyed office. His expression said he wasn’t ready to give up. “If you’re his partner then why is the Knight Investigations phone disconnected and this office without electricity?”

      “Hank was in the process of retiring. I have my own office in my home. I was taking over the business.”

      “So you hadn’t spoken for a while?” He was guessing, but he’d guessed right.

      “We were in transition.”

      “So you can’t be sure he didn’t know something about the kidnapping case.”

      She gritted her teeth. This cowboy was impossible. “Hank would have told me if he knew something about the case. I’m sorry you’ve wasted your time.” She just wanted him to leave so she could get back to what she was doing.

      Since Hank’s СКАЧАТЬ