Her Cowboy Avenger
Kerry Connor
“They’re not going to get away with this. I’m not going to let them.”
Every word rang with determination, leaving Elena with no doubt that Matt fully intended to do what he promised.
Them. It didn’t matter if it was only one person.
This damn town. She should have gotten out when she’d had the chance, should have left it behind her and never looked back.
Matt gently turned her around to face him. “Don’t let them do this to you. You’re going to make it through this.”
It was the tenderness in his voice more than the words themselves that called to Elena, making her raise her head to meet his eyes.
The kindness she saw there, the concern, nearly broke her. She couldn’t even remember the last time anyone had looked at her like that, when anyone had so genuinely cared about her feelings.
Then the look in Matt’s eyes changed, became more heated, more intense. And out of nowhere, Elena felt her body respond. The emotions that had been churning within her ebbed away, replaced by an incredible sense of warmth that flowed outward to fill every part of her.
This wasn’t nostalgia. This wasn’t a remembered emotion. It was real, and it was more powerful than anything she remembered…
About the Author
A lifelong mystery reader, KERRY CONNOR first discovered romance suspense by reading Mills & Boon Intrigue books and is thrilled to be writing for the line. Kerry lives and writes in New York.
Her Cowboy
Avenger
Kerry Connor
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To The Old Book Barn in Forsyth, Illinois, where I first discovered Intrigue and so many wonderful books.
Chapter One
He didn’t know what he was doing here.
Matt Alvarez eased his foot off the gas pedal as the sign announcing the town limits of Western Bluff, Texas, appeared up ahead. The truck slowly decelerated, gradually coming to a stop just before the sign.
Welcome to Western Bluff.
It was likely to be the only welcome he received in this town. It hadn’t been a particularly friendly place the first time he’d been here, and he wasn’t counting on that having changed much. When he’d left eight years ago, no one had bothered telling him goodbye, and he doubted there were many who’d remember him all these years later.
No, there was only one person he could count on remembering him. The person who’d reached out and brought him back after all this time.
From what he could see, the town up ahead looked the same. Short, square buildings were lined up along what passed for a Main Street. Around it stretched the dry desert landscape as far as the eye could see.
It wasn’t too late to turn back. It sure as heck would make a lot more sense than driving all the way from New Mexico to this dusty West Texas town in the middle of nowhere, all because of a newspaper article he’d received in the mail.
That article lay heavily in the front pocket of his shirt, tucked in the envelope it had arrived in. He didn’t know for sure who’d sent it; there hadn’t been a return address. But there was only one person he could imagine sending it. He just couldn’t understand why. For help, he supposed. If the story in the article was true, she could probably use it.
That didn’t explain why she would have sent it to him of all people, nor why he had come.
He’d been asking himself that last one from the moment he’d climbed into the truck and during every stretch of the drive.
Now he was finally here, and he still didn’t have an answer.
Whatever the reason, he couldn’t sit there in the middle of the highway forever. The road was clear enough—he didn’t see anyone coming up behind him in the rearview mirror—probably not a surprise given the size of the town up ahead. Few people would have a reason to pass through this out-of-the-way place.
But here he was nonetheless.
With a sigh, he moved his foot to the accelerator and put the truck back into motion.
He slowly drove into town, taking in his surroundings as he passed along the main drag. Just as he’d expected, an up-close inspection revealed it really hadn’t changed at all. The buildings were all the same, with no signs of any new ones having been built and no alterations on the existing ones as far as he could tell. He still recognized the names of some of the businesses—the lawyer’s office, the bank, the Realtor. It was almost as if he’d never left, he realized as an uncomfortable feeling slid down his spine, with the town preserved exactly as it had been the last time he’d been here.
He didn’t see many people around, which was kind of odd for two o’clock in the afternoon in any town. But then, it wasn’t as though there were that many people in this town to begin with, and he supposed most were at work. There were only a few pedestrians on the sidewalks. He couldn’t help but search out the faces of those he did see, even before he realized he was doing it, looking for anyone who appeared familiar.
Or a particular someone, he had to acknowledge, even though the idea gave him no pleasure.
He started to focus back on the road when he caught sight of a dark blue pickup truck up ahead pulling into a parking space on the street. It had barely come to a stop before the driver’s-side door opened. A moment later a lean, unmistakably female body emerged, shoulder-length black hair ruffling slightly in the wind.
And there she was.
Damned if his heart didn’t stop in his chest, just for an instant.
He hadn’t seen her in eight years, a long enough period of time that he shouldn’t have been able to recognize her immediately. Eight years was a long time. People changed. But the moment he caught sight of her, he knew it was her.
Elena Reyes—Elena Weston now, evidently.
The only woman he’d ever believed himself in love with.
A woman who—if there was any truth to the newspaper article in his pocket—was now a murderer.
EVEN BEFORE SHE CLIMBED OUT OF the truck, Elena could feel eyes on her. She would have been surprised if it had been any other way—after all, this was her first trip into town in nearly a week—but in this instance she would have loved to be surprised. She resisted the instinctive urge to glance around and see who was watching her, unwilling to let them know she was uncomfortable with their scrutiny.
Let them look. She didn’t have anything to be ashamed of. She hadn’t done anything wrong.
It took some effort to remember that as she closed the door of the truck and headed to the grocery store, that oppressive feeling of being watched growing in intensity. Luckily, there’d been a parking space close to the entrance so she wouldn’t have to walk far, which was the first bit of luck she’d had in weeks. She made herself keep her head high and her shoulders straight as she walked, refusing to do anything that would make it look like she felt guilty.
Still, when she reached the door she paused on the threshold for the briefest of moments and took a deep breath to prepare herself before stepping inside.
As soon as she did, she wasted no time, quickly picking up a basket from inside the door and heading down the nearest aisle. It took less than ten seconds before she felt the air inside the store change, the shift as noticeable as a sudden chill wind blowing in her wake. The light buzz of conversation in the space evaporated, replaced by an eerie stillness that seemed to fill the store.
She wanted to believe it was her imagination. She knew better than to think it was.
She knew how judgmental this town could be, knew what it was like to have people look at her a certain way because of who she was. She’d grown up enduring those looks. But there was a big difference between being the daughter of Ed Reyes, the town drunk, and having everyone believe she’d killed her husband.
As she moved through the aisles, a few people turned rather sharply away as she approached. Several others openly stared. Glared, was more like it. Elena did her best to avoid eye contact. Lord knew she didn’t exactly have the energy to deal with outright hostility. Still, she couldn’t help but see them out of the corner of her eye and place names to the faces. Connie Raymond, who worked at the local beauty parlor. Delia Hart, whose son had worked for Bobby last summer.
No one said a word to her. No one had to. She knew exactly what they were thinking.
Murderer.
She’d known coming into town would be an ordeal, but there’d been no way around it. She was completely out of supplies, and if she didn’t want to starve she was going to have to come and buy groceries. There was no one around to do it for her. The few ranch hands Bobby had still had around had quit, having no interest in working for her, most of them likely knowing she had no way of paying them anyway. Joann Bloom, the cook who’d worked for the Westons for years, had left, as well. She’d said her husband was making her quit, but Elena figured Joann hadn’t fought the order too hard, if she had at all. Joann’s loyalty had to be with the Westons. Even if Elena could pay her, Joann wouldn’t want to keep working for the person accused of killing the last of them.
So it was just Elena, rambling around in the old ranch house with the walls rapidly closing in around her, trying to figure a way out of this mess, wondering what she was going to do. Until the need for supplies had finally forced her into town.
Now though, feeling the stares of half the people around her and the cold shoulders of the others, she couldn’t help but wonder if starvation wouldn’t have been the better option.
As she rounded the corner to the dairy section, she suddenly found herself facing Cassie Gerard, whose husband, Travis, was Bobby’s closest friend—and one of the deputies determined to prove Elena’s guilt. Cassie stood in front of the milk cooler, looking toward Elena as if she’d known she was coming.
Their eyes met. Elena froze, uncertain what to say. They’d never exactly been best friends, had only been thrown together because their husbands were, but they’d socialized for years, had dinner at each other’s homes, spent holidays together. Yet Cassie stared at her, her expression completely blank, as though she didn’t know her at all.
Finally, Elena tried to muster a smile.
Before she could manage it, Cassie turned on her heel and pointedly walked away.
Everything inside Elena deflated like a punctured balloon.
These were people she’d known for years. Her neighbors. They knew her. They knew she wasn’t a murderer. At least they should.
But their responses proved they didn’t.
Figuring she had enough in her basket to make do for a while, she made her way back to the front of the store. There was no one in line to check out when she got there. Moving to the counter, she quickly unloaded the basket, then set it aside in the stack on the floor.
Only when she straightened did she realize the cashier—Candice Dobson, a local girl Elena had known practically the girl’s whole life—hadn’t made a move to begin ringing her up. She stood frozen, simply staring at Elena, eyes wide, as if she didn’t know what to do.
“Is there a problem?” Elena asked, keeping her tone as pleasant and neutral as possible.
Uncertainty etched across her face, Candice glanced over her shoulder.
Elena followed her gaze. Jacob Higgs, the store manager, stood in the doorway of his office, arms folded over his chest, staring at her.
Finally, he nodded once.
Candice immediately began grabbing Elena’s purchases and ringing them up, her motions jerky as she moved as quickly as possible.
Elena never took her eyes from Jacob. She nearly had the ridiculous urge to thank him. But for what? For doing what he was supposed to do and not refusing to serve her? Not to mention, there wasn’t the slightest hint of kindness in his hard face as he continued staring at her. Whatever his reasons for not blocking her purchases, it hadn’t been to be nice.
Heck, he probably wanted to make sure she didn’t drop dead before she could stand trial.
I haven’t even been arrested! she wanted to yell, but it was clear she’d be wasting her breath. Nobody here wanted to hear it. They probably thought it was only a matter of time.
It was an opinion she shared much of the time, she acknowledged, her stomach clenching with fear. Sheriff Bremer had made no secret of the fact he thought she was guilty and was doing everything he could to prove it. The only company she’d had at the house during the past week had been him and his men as they’d searched the house, not bothering to be gentle as they’d tossed all her possessions here and there in an attempt to find evidence. They hadn’t, but Elena knew better than to think that would mean they’d stop trying.
Candice finally finished ringing her up. “Twenty-three fifty.” She announced the total without looking up, focusing on bagging Elena’s purchases. Once she was done, she extended her hand for Elena’s money, quickly making change and handing it back to her.
“Thank you,” Elena said politely as she accepted it.
Candice didn’t say anything, simply lowering her head and not looking at Elena any longer.
Cheeks burning, Elena picked up the two bags and headed to the exit.
Once outside, she began to fumble in her purse for her keys, more than ready to get out of here as quickly as possible. Her attention on juggling the bags in her arms, it wasn’t until she was almost to her truck that she noticed something was wrong. The truck was leaning oddly on one side. She glanced down.
The front tire was flat.
No, she realized, her gaze shifting. Both the front and back tires on this side were flat.
She skidded to a stop, clutching the bags in her arms, her heart suddenly pounding in her chest as she came to the inescapable conclusion.
Someone had slashed the tires.
Part of her immediately tried to reject the idea, not wanting to believe it, not wanting to believe someone she knew could do such a thing.
But it was the only explanation. Two tires on the same side of a truck didn’t just go flat on their own. No, this was deliberate. Someone had done this, purposely, maliciously, to hurt her. Someone she knew. A neighbor. Someone she might have once considered a friend.
Tears of frustration suddenly burned the back of her eyes. She did everything she could to hold them at bay, not about to let a single person in this town know they’d driven her to that and grant them the satisfaction. The mere thought of the smug, vengeful expressions that would no doubt greet her tears was enough to make them dry up.
Unable to bear the sight of her flattened tires, she started to back away, only to immediately collide with something. Big hands closed around her upper arms. A man.
Anger surged through her, killing the numbness that had fallen over her. She lunged forward and jerked out of his grip. The cold stares and whispers were bad enough, but damned if she was going to put up with being physically accosted. She whirled around to face her attacker, her mouth opening to tell him exactly what she thought—
The words died, every thought in her head and every trace of anger vanishing as she laid eyes on the man in front of her. She could only stare, unable to fully comprehend what she was seeing.
A single word rose in her mind, like a distant echo spoken by someone else.
Matt.
For an instant, she was twenty again, staring up into the eyes of the man she loved more than anything she’d ever imagined. The man whose presence sent her heart racing and her stomach clenching whenever he was close. The man who inspired feelings and passions so deep and fierce that everything she’d experienced before that seemed like nothing. The man who filled her thoughts every waking moment and in all of her dreams. The man she didn’t believe she would ever be able to live without.
The man who hadn’t loved her enough. Or maybe she hadn’t loved him enough. She’d spent a great deal of time over the years wondering which it had been. She never had arrived at an answer.
Then she was back in the present. Because the man in front of her wasn’t the one she’d loved. This man was older, faint lines worn into the skin around his eyes, his face harder, his body bigger and more muscular. This was Matt Alvarez, with eight more years—years he’d lived without her—on him.
He was still the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. That lustrous black hair, those piercing dark eyes, that magnificent face, somehow even more devastating than the last time she’d seen him.
Of course, the last time she’d seen him she hadn’t been looking at his face. She’d been staring at his back as he’d walked away from her.
She’d officially lost her mind. That had to be it. That vaguely unreal feeling she’d been experiencing since Bobby’s death, the sense that none of this could be happening, washed over her, stronger than ever. Because there was absolutely no way that Matt Alvarez could be right here, right now.
“Hello, Elena.”
And yet he was. Because even eight years later, that voice remained the same.
“Matt” was all she could bring herself to say, her mind still incapable of reconciling the fact that he was actually here in front of her.
“We need to talk.”
“About what?” she answered automatically.
“I think you know.”
At the moment she was starting to doubt if she knew even her own name. “What are you doing here?”
“That’s what we need to talk about.” He looked up and glanced around them. “But not here.”
Elena repeated his gesture. There were a few people in view on the sidewalk and in nearby vehicles, none of them openly watching her and Matt, though she had no doubt they were. She could only imagine how many others were observing from the windows of the storefronts. Her earlier urge to get out of town and back to the solitude of the ranch as quickly as possible returned with a vengeance. “No,” she agreed. “Definitely not here.”
“Why don’t I give you a ride home? We can talk there.”
The offer immediately reminded her of why she couldn’t drive herself home. She glanced back at her tires, wincing at the sight. “Did you see who did this?”
“No.”
She eyed him doubtfully. For a second, she almost wondered if he had done this, but then, she couldn’t think of a reason why he would. Of course, she couldn’t think of a reason why he was here now, either. None of this made a bit of sense.
“You have a car?” she asked numbly.
“A truck,” he said, nodding toward a black pickup parked a short distance down the street. “Come on.”
He started to reach for the bags to take them from her. She shook her head, clutching them tighter, needing to hold on to something that was tangible and real.
He motioned for her to proceed in front of him. She hesitated for a moment, unsure. She needed to call someone and figure out about getting new tires. She had one spare, but she would definitely need help getting another. The thought of facing the police right now, of having to deal with this while all the unseen watchers observed and judged from their windows, was suddenly more than she could take. At the moment, she wanted nothing more than to get out of town and back to the relative safety of the ranch.
“All right,” she murmured. She had no idea what he was doing here—wasn’t quite convinced he wasn’t some kind of illusion conjured by her desperate mind, for that matter. But right now he was offering to help her, which made him just about the only person in her world who was.
Chapter Two
“You’re going to want to head right,” Elena said as Matt started to back out of the parking space.
He agreed with a nod, turning as she directed without looking at her. He didn’t let himself, even though it seemed like the only thing he wanted to do.
Fifteen minutes ago he hadn’t seen her in years. Now she was here, sitting in his truck. She’d placed her two grocery bags on the seat between them, yet they were hardly much of a buffer. She might as well be pressed up against him, the way he felt her closeness.
He’d thought he would be prepared to see her again, thought he wouldn’t feel anything after all these years. It had all been so long ago. She was nothing more than a distant memory to him, and not a particularly good one.
But good God, from the moment he’d found himself face-to-face with her, it all came back, hitting him like a blow square to the chest, the memories as vivid as though they’d happened yesterday.
Elena Reyes.
The prettiest girl he’d thought he’d ever seen. He’d thought he loved her. Whatever he’d felt back then had been the closest thing he’d ever experienced to it. He’d been a dumb kid, feeling things for the first time, letting himself feel those things for the first time. Back then, he’d never been able to get her out of his head. The mere sight of her had always made him happier than he’d ever been. Every time she’d smiled at him it had been like someone giving him the best present he’d ever gotten.
She hadn’t been smiling the last time he’d seen her, of course. She’d been crying then. Back when she’d told him she didn’t love him as much as he loved her. At least that had been the gist of it. And he’d realized he’d been a fool to feel all of those things he thought he had.
She wasn’t smiling now, either. There were no tears, but her expression wasn’t much brighter, her lips locked in a grim line, her eyes bleak, her features tense.
Damned if she still wasn’t the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.
It didn’t matter that she wasn’t smiling, or that her face showed every bit of the stress she was under. It didn’t even matter that it was eight years later and she was no longer the fresh-faced young woman he’d once known. If anything, the extra years had only added to her looks, delivering the full beauty that had only been hinted at when she was twenty. He’d thought she was beautiful then. If only he’d known what she would become.
Damn.
He almost wished she did look worse after all these years. It would certainly make things easier for him. He wouldn’t be having this crazy reaction to a woman who really meant nothing to him. The woman who’d taught him just how foolish all those crazy emotions were in the first place.
“Okay, Matt,” she said, thankfully pulling him out of his thoughts. “Now what are you doing here?”
Grateful for the reminder of the task at hand, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the envelope. “I got this in the mail,” he said, holding it out to her. “Didn’t you send it?”
She began to answer even before she took the envelope from him. “No, why would I?”
He could immediately tell she wasn’t lying, her confusion too genuine to be faked. “I have no idea. I don’t know why anybody else would, either.”
“I didn’t even know where you were these days,” she said, flipping the envelope over and reading the address. “New Mexico?”
“That’s right. Somebody around here obviously knew where I was, and I can’t think of anyone besides you who would care.”
“Neither can I, but it wasn’t me.” She waved the envelope. “What is this?”
“An article from the local paper about your husband’s death.”
She went still, staring at the item in her hand as though it contained something toxic and she wanted nothing more than to drop it before it contaminated her further. “Why would somebody send you that?” she whispered.
“I guess they wanted me to know about it,” he said reasonably.
“But why? What purpose would that serve?”
“Only reason I could figure was that somebody wanted me to come here.” He hesitated, feeling foolish for a slight second before he shoved the feeling away. “Like I said, I figured it was you.”
She frowned at him. “Why would I send you that?”
Matt shrugged a shoulder, feeling foolish again. “I thought maybe you needed help and were desperate enough to reach out to me of all people. From the sound of that article, things aren’t looking too good for you. Maybe somebody else sent it for the same reason.”
“In hopes that you’d help me?” She exhaled sharply, the sound almost like a snort. “Whatever the reason, I doubt it was good.”
“What makes you say that?”
“People around here haven’t exactly been going out of their way to help me out. As you may have noticed, I’m not Ms. Popularity at the moment.”
He couldn’t disagree with her there. He wished he’d seen who’d messed with her truck, but he’d been watching the store so closely for her to come out he hadn’t been paying attention to anything else. “Has anything else happened besides someone cutting your tires?”
“That’s the first outright act against me. Mostly I’ve been getting a cold shoulder from everyone in town. Almost no one has said a word to me since Bobby’s death. Only the police.” She shuddered slightly, the gesture making it clear exactly what that experience had been like for her.
He surveyed her out of the corner of his eye, this woman he hadn’t seen in eight years, this person who was so familiar, yet different at the same time. She definitely wasn’t the girl she’d once been. But could she have really changed enough to become a killer? It was possible. He could believe anyone was capable of killing for any number of reasons, whether out of anger or vengeance or self-defense. Was that what had happened? Had circumstances turned her into a killer? Or had she really become a far different person than the one he’d thought he’d known?
Or was it, as he’d wondered plenty of times after they parted ways, that he’d never really known her at all?
“What happened, Elena?”
She glanced at him, her left eyebrow quirking. “Didn’t you read the article?”
“I’d rather hear it from you.”
She simply continued to stare at him, remaining silent for a long moment. “What are you even doing here, Matt?” she repeated. “Someone sends you an article about…someone you knew a long time ago and you come all this way from New Mexico? For what?”
Someone you knew a long time ago. That was certainly an interesting way of putting it. He hadn’t missed her hesitation before phrasing it that way, and he couldn’t help wondering what her first instinct had been to say instead. “Guess I wanted to know why,” he answered. “And yeah, I wanted to know if it was true.”
“What do you care?”
“Are you saying it is?”
“No, I’m asking what difference it makes to you.”
It was still a very good question. “Call it curiosity, I guess. You never struck me as a killer. Guess I wanted to know if a person could change that much.”
She lowered her head, her shoulders slumping. “Thank you,” she practically whispered.
“For what?”
“For thinking I’m not the killing type. People who’ve known me a lot longer don’t even seem to believe that.”
“So you’re saying you didn’t do it?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” she said firmly.
“So what happened?”
Elena opened her mouth and took a deep breath, as though on the verge of beginning, only to raise her hand and point in front of them. “In a minute. We’re here.”
He saw the turnoff to a ranch up ahead and smoothly guided the truck into the turn. A sign over the end of the driveway declared it the Weston Ranch. From the first glimpse, he could tell it was a big spread, wide-open pastures stretching out into the horizon. It looked like Elena had married well, he noted darkly. Not that he was surprised. He hadn’t worked for them, didn’t think he’d ever met any of them, but he remembered the Weston name had been big around here.
The driveway eventually ended in front of a large two-story ranch house, a barn not far from it. He could see cattle grazing in the distance in one of the pastures, a sight he knew well. She must have a lot of people working for her to be dealing with a place this size. More important, it meant there were people they were going to have to explain his presence to, something he wasn’t sure just how to do.
“How many people do you have working for you right now?”
“At the moment, none.”
He couldn’t help but glance at her in surprise. She met his eyes and shrugged lightly, a hint of resignation in her dark brown gaze. “Nobody wants to work for a murderer.”
“So how are you keeping this place running?”
“The best I can,” she said simply.
As soon as he brought the truck to a stop in front of the house, she pushed her door open and climbed out, reaching back in for the bags and taking them before he could offer to help. He followed, unable to help but notice her strong, confident stride as she walked to the house and climbed the steps. She definitely wasn’t a girl anymore. She was all woman, exuding a strength and grace he now saw she’d only been starting to develop back then.
Crossing the wide front porch, she opened the door. “Come on back to the kitchen,” she said. “I need to get these groceries put away.”
He followed her through the house, getting a quick glimpse of the living room as they passed through it. As he’d seen from the outside, it was a big place, but comfortable. Homey. The home she’d shared with her husband, he registered, the thought bothering him more than it should before he brushed the feeling aside.
In the kitchen, she put the bags on the counter and immediately began unloading them, moving some of the items to the refrigerator. There was a big table with plenty of chairs, but he remained standing, leaning against the doorway and watching her move.
Closing the refrigerator and turning away from it, she suddenly noticed him standing there and started. “I’m sorry. I’m not being a very good hostess. Can I get you something to drink?”
He gave his head a terse shake. “I’m fine. You were going to tell me what happened?”
She sighed, then nodded. “That’s right. I guess I’m just not sure where to begin.”
He wasn’t sure he did, either. A lot of it was going to involve her relationship with her husband, a topic he didn’t know if he wanted to hear all that much about, no matter how much he needed to. At the same time, he couldn’t say why the idea bothered him. Or maybe he was just bothered by the implications of why it would.
“Have to admit I was surprised to find out you were still in Western Bluff,” he said. “Thought you had all those plans of being in the big city. That summer you couldn’t wait to get back to school.”
“I know,” she said softly, without looking at him. “I never intended to stay here, either.”
“So what happened?”
She shrugged helplessly. “Things changed. Bobby and I…started seeing each other, and then…things changed,” she repeated weakly.
She lapsed into silence, her eyes sliding briefly to his, her discomfort with the topic etched across her face. Clearly, her relationship with her husband was just as awkward for her to talk about as it was for him to listen to.
His gut churned at her words. He’d never met Bobby Weston, not that he could remember anyway. He wished he had, wished he could know the kind of man Elena had been willing to change her life plans for when she hadn’t been willing to do the same for him.
But then, he’d just been a ranch hand, offering her an uncertain life on the road. He hadn’t had a spread like this to offer her. Maybe if he had, things would have been different. Maybe she would have picked him.
With a jolt of anger at himself for even thinking about it, he did his best to push the thoughts away. What did it matter? It was a long time ago. Things had happened the way they had, and there was no changing them. He had a perfectly good life, and it looked like she had, too—at least up until the point her husband was killed.
“Must have been some guy,” Matt said, keeping his tone neutral.
“He was,” she said quietly. “At least in the beginning. We started seeing each other…the summer after you left.”
The words sent another jolt through him, and again he was irritated by his response. A year was a long time, so why did it feel like a betrayal, like she’d moved on far too quickly? It wasn’t as if he’d been a monk in the year after he’d left this place—left her—behind. But then, he hadn’t ended up marrying any of the women he’d been involved with, either.
Pulling out one of the chairs from the table, Elena sank into the seat. “We’d known each other, or at least known of each other, for years, of course. The town’s too small for us not to have. I can’t remember us saying two words to each other, though. He was a few years ahead of me in school, a member of one of the town’s founding families, and I…wasn’t. Our paths never really crossed. Then that summer I was waiting tables at the diner again, and he struck up a conversation with me. It was probably the first time he ever really noticed me. We got to talking, and we actually had some things in common.
“First and foremost, Bobby didn’t want to stay in Western Bluff, either, and he wasn’t supposed to. I don’t know how much you heard about the Westons, or even remember if you did, but Bobby’s older brother, Jim Junior, was the one who’d been groomed to take over the ranch. Bobby’s father, Big Jim, died about twenty years ago when Bobby was just a boy. Junior was all of eighteen, but he managed to take over and make the ranch his own. He offered to make Bobby a place as he got older, but Bobby wasn’t really interested in the ranch. The summer you were here, he had an internship at a company in Houston, so he wasn’t in town. He wanted to be in the city as much as I did. The only reason he was back that summer was because Junior said he needed his help and asked Bobby to stick around. Bobby had already graduated but didn’t have a job lined up yet, so he agreed.”
Elena grimaced, her eyes far away. “That whole summer we talked about how we were going to get out of here. He was going to come to Austin with me when I went back to school.” Matt nearly flinched at the words, at the significance of them, but managed not to. “He knew people there so he could try to find a job just as well as he could in Houston. It should have worked out perfectly. But when the summer was over, Junior asked him to stay a little longer, and made a big enough deal about it that Bobby agreed. That’s when he asked me to marry him. He wanted to make things permanent, because he said there was no doubt we’d be together. And I said yes.”
“How long had you been going out with him before you got married?”
Her eyes flew to his face. He met her gaze and held it. He could tell she didn’t like the answer, and suspected he wasn’t going to like hearing it, either.
“Three months.”
He had no trouble understanding her reaction and did his best to hide his own.
Three months. The same amount of time Matt had been involved with her before they’d parted ways, before she’d refused to make the same commitment to him she’d made to another man just one year later.
“You must have really loved him,” he said, instantly hearing the trace of bitterness in his own voice and hating himself for it.
She lowered her eyes. “He was crazy about me, and I—” she swallowed “—was crazy about him.”
Matt didn’t miss the way her voice faltered before she finished the statement, or how strained it sounded uttering those words. Were they that hard for her to admit? Or was it admitting them to him?
“I’m sure your father must have been thrilled that you got married so fast,” he said wryly, remembering the man’s reaction to Matt’s involvement with his daughter. Ed Reyes had been so protective of his daughter Matt couldn’t imagine him thinking anyone was good enough for her. Or maybe Bobby Weston’s background had made him a more acceptable prospect than a humble ranch hand.
“He wasn’t,” she acknowledged with a sardonic smile. “We eloped and didn’t tell anyone about it until it was done, and then I went back to school.
“We both thought it would only be a few months until he joined me in Austin. Instead, a few months later we found out the truth about Junior. He hadn’t been feeling well, had been going to doctors to get checked out, which is why he needed Bobby’s help, though he assured everyone he was fine. But he wasn’t. He wasn’t just sick, he was dying. He was going fast, and didn’t admit it almost until the end. Then he was gone. He wasn’t married and didn’t have any kids, so Bobby inherited the ranch.
“At first I assumed he’d sell. But Bobby felt like he owed it to Junior to stay and run the ranch. I understood, and felt like I had to support that. His brother had just died, this was his family spread, and he was the last of the Westons. I couldn’t exactly argue with him. So when I finished school, I came back, too, and we stayed.”
“And you’re still here,” Matt summarized.
Elena nodded, more than a hint of resignation in the gesture. “Still here.”
“Were you happy?”
She looked at him, her gaze steady. “No,” she said flatly. “Neither of us were. After the first couple years I did begin to argue that Bobby should sell, but he wouldn’t. The thing is, Big Jim was something of a local legend around here, and all his life Bobby heard about how great his father was. And then, after being the second brother, the one who wasn’t expected to take over, he suddenly had pretty big shoes to fill, especially since he was the last Weston. It was a lot of pressure. At least he saw it that way, and it changed him. We had some setbacks over the years, some rough times, and Bobby took every one of them personally, as though he was failing his father and his brother. He became obsessed. The ranch was all he ever thought about. He was constantly coming up with plans and schemes to make things work better around here, none of which ever panned out, which only made things worse.
“The night he was killed, we’d had an argument. I’d pretty much had enough. Bobby had this idea to build this new irrigation system, claiming it would make things work a lot smoother around here. Of course, it would also require digging up half the spread and spending every last remaining cent we had. It was complete madness and would do nothing to solve any of the actual problems.” She swallowed hard. “I told him if he intended to go through with it, I would have no choice but to leave him. I wasn’t going to stand by and watch him destroy himself and what was left of our lives on his obsession with the ranch. He told me to go, because if I couldn’t understand how important it was to him, then I didn’t really love him anyway.
“I walked out and went for a drive to clear my head. I just needed to think about things for a while. I didn’t really go anywhere, didn’t think about where I was headed. I just drove until it seemed like I’d gone far enough, turned around and came back. I was gone for about four hours. When I came back, I noticed the door to his study was open and the light was still on. I almost ignored it, just wanting to go to bed and not have another confrontation, but I knew if I did he’d just stay up all night the way he did too much of the time.”
Elena sucked in a breath. “That’s when I found him. He was lying on his back on the floor. He’d been shot in the chest. I felt for a pulse, but he was already dead. He was still warm though. I don’t know how long he’d been there. Maybe if I’d come home earlier, I could have called someone, could have saved him—”
“You can’t think like that,” Matt said gently. “If you’d come back earlier, the shooter could have killed you, too.”
“I know,” she admitted softly. “But I wish I could have done something for him. Instead, all I could do was call the police and tell them he’d been killed. Unfortunately, everyone knew that we’d been arguing, and no one else had a reason to kill him, which makes me the prime suspect. The sheriff has made it clear he thinks I’m guilty. I know he’d love to make an arrest. The only thing keeping him from doing it is a lack of physical evidence. The murder weapon was most likely a pistol that belonged to Bobby. He kept it in his gun cabinet. It’s been missing since the murder. The killer must have taken it, but the sheriff is convinced I hid it somewhere, which is why he and his men have been by pretty much every other day to search the place.
“In the meantime, the hands quit. We had only a few working for us. I paid them for their work to date, but they knew I couldn’t afford to keep them on. At least one made the point that I was probably going to need every penny I had for my defense.”
“Sounds like somebody you’re better off not having around,” Matt noted.
“Most likely,” Elena agreed. “But the result is that I have this ranch to run all by myself with nobody to work it, and a whole town that thinks I murdered my husband.”
“Surely there have to be others who had issues with your husband, especially if the ranch was having as much trouble as you say it is.”
“I’ve been over the books numerous times over the past week. We’re low on funds and have plenty of debts, but these are held by banks and certainly wouldn’t be worth killing him over. And while not everybody in town necessarily loved him, I haven’t been able to come up with anyone with serious enough issues to want to do him harm. Believe me, I’ve been racking my brain trying to think of a single possibility.”
“What about these hands you had working for you? Weren’t any of them around that night? Didn’t any of them see anything?”
“No. They’d all gone to town. Bobby had given them the day off.”
“Convenient,” Matt said. “That strike anybody as odd?”
Elena shrugged. “Not really. Afterward I kind of wondered if he suspected this blowout between us was coming and didn’t want anyone around to overhear. It had been building for some time,” she admitted.
“Is it possible one of the hands killed him? Maybe they were worried about getting paid?”
“They were all in town at the bar. They have alibis.”
Her voice was thick with frustration. He could understand why. The situation certainly didn’t look good. But listening to her, he didn’t have a doubt in the world that she was telling the truth. She was no murderer. Whatever else might have changed about her over the years, that hadn’t. Which meant she needed help. She might not have sent the article to him—he definitely believed her about that, too—but the result was the same.
Before he could say anything, the sound of an engine reached them, drawing their attention toward the front of the house. Someone was coming up the driveway.
Matt glanced back at her. “Expecting company?”
Her heavy frown answered before she did. “No,” she said, rising from her chair.
He pushed away from the door frame, ready to follow. “Any idea who it could be?”
“Not really,” she said, moving past him. “But if there’s one thing I’ve learned by now, it’s bound to be trouble.”
Chapter Three
She’d been right, Elena reflected grimly as she watched the two men climb out of the police vehicle they’d parked in front of the house. It was trouble.
Sheriff Walt Bremer climbed out first, heaving himself from behind the driver’s seat with a great deal of effort. In his mid-fifties, he was a big man in every way, increasingly around his midsection. He’d always been pleasant enough to Elena and she’d never had any issues with him before. But once he’d zeroed in on her as his prime suspect, he’d turned on her so thoroughly it was hard to believe he’d ever had a kind word for her in the past.
A second, equally familiar man emerged from the passenger seat. Travis Gerard—Cassie’s husband, Bobby’s best friend since they were boys, and a local deputy. He was thirty, like Bobby had been, a long, lean figure with close-cropped hair and dark eyes. Like Cassie, he was someone she’d socialized with numerous times over the years due to his friendship with Bobby. But their relationship had started out cool and only grown cooler at the same time her marriage had, understandably enough. As Bobby’s best friend, she knew he’d been treated to plenty of Bobby’s complaining about her over the years, how she wasn’t supporting him, how she was too concerned about money. Once he’d actually pulled her aside and tried to play marriage counselor, by telling her she had a responsibility to be there for Bobby. She hadn’t been in the mood to explain Bobby’s latest bright idea, and hadn’t really thought it was any of his business, so her lack of cooperation had likely only lowered his opinion of her. He’d been cold enough toward her when it seemed like she wasn’t getting along with Bobby. Unsurprisingly, now that it seemed that she’d killed him, Travis was hellbent on making her pay.
As they approached, she saw that the men’s interest wasn’t in her, but in the man standing at her side, and she knew immediately why they’d come. Her interaction with Matt in town, and the fact that she’d driven off with him, hadn’t gone unnoticed. The sheriff no doubt wanted to know who Matt was—and what he was doing with Elena.
For a second, she felt a flicker of apprehension. She hadn’t thought about the outside impact of Matt’s presence here. If their prior relationship came out, the fact that he’d come back to town so soon after Bobby’s death could look very bad—for both of them.
Before she could begin to sort through the ramifications and how to deal with the issue, the men had reached the house. “Afternoon, Elena,” Walt said with a pleasantness that couldn’t have been more fake.
She made the immediate decision to go on the offensive. Once again, she couldn’t afford to look the slightest bit weak or guilty. “Good afternoon, Sheriff. Travis,” she said, nodding to the younger man in turn. She noticed he didn’t bother looking at her, his attention fixed on Matt, eyes narrowed with clear suspicion. “I’m glad to see you both.”
The briefest flash of surprise crossed across Walt’s face. “Oh, you are, are you?”
“Of course. You’re here about my truck, right?”
“What about it?”
“Oh, I thought you might be here because someone slashed my tires when I was in town a little while ago.”
The sheriff’s eyebrows shot sky high. “That’s a pretty serious allegation, Elena. You have any proof?”
“Two tires don’t just go flat for no reason.”
Walt shrugged one shoulder. “Stranger things have happened.”
“But I’m sure you’ll investigate to find out what really happened, won’t you, Sheriff?”
“I’m a little busy trying to solve Bobby’s murder at the moment to waste time on a minor nuisance matter. I’m sure that’s where you’d prefer my resources to be fo-cused—catching your husband’s killer, isn’t it, Elena?”
His cloying tone made it sound like he’d caught her in some kind of trap. She simply stared back at him, unyielding. “Of course. I’d like nothing more than for you to catch the actual person responsible for killing Bobby.”
Walt’s expression turned sardonic, clearly saying he saw what she was implying and he wasn’t fooled by her in the least. But when he spoke what he said was, “Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend, Elena?”
She almost started. For a moment, she’d actually managed to forget Matt was even there.
Before she could figure out how to explain Matt’s presence and who he was, Matt answered first.
“Mrs. Weston just hired me to help her out around here.”
It was all Elena could do not to snap her head toward him in surprise. Instead, she did her best not to let her reaction show, not wanting to tip off the policemen that it was a lie when that would only look more suspicious.
It turned out she didn’t need to worry. Walt and Travis never took their eyes off Matt, Walt’s expression becoming contemplative, Travis’s plainly hostile.
“Help her out with what?” Travis asked, a sneer in his tone.
“The ranch,” Matt said smoothly without missing a beat. “It sounded like she could use some help around here with things.”
“Did she tell you why she needed help?” Walt asked, the question clearly leading somewhere.
“Her husband recently died and the men he’d had working for him moved on.”
“Did she tell you her husband was murdered?” Travis demanded. “Shot to death in that very house? Or did you already know that?”
“As a matter of fact, she did tell me that,” Matt said.
“And that doesn’t make you nervous about working for her? It sure scared off the rest of the hands.”
“I guess I’m made of stronger stuff than they are.”
“What’s your name again?” the sheriff asked, even though they all knew full well Matt hadn’t offered it.
“Alvarez,” Matt said. “Matt Alvarez.”
Deciding she’d had enough of this, Elena spoke up. “Is there something I can help you with, Sheriff? Something must have brought you out here, since you didn’t come about my truck.”
Walt smiled thinly. “We just thought we’d stop by and see if you remembered anything else about the night Bobby was murdered.”
“No, I haven’t,” she said simply.
“In that case, I guess we’ll be going.”
He shot one final glance at Matt, then turned and headed back to his car. It took a moment for Travis to do the same, glaring at Matt, then Elena before following the sheriff.
She and Matt didn’t speak as the two men climbed back in their vehicle. They watched in silence as the sheriff backed up, then headed down the driveway.
When the car was nearly out of sight, Elena finally spoke. “Why did you tell them that?”
“As soon as I saw who it was, I figured we were going to have to explain what I was doing here. That seemed like the best explanation.”
“But now it’ll look bad if you don’t stay.”
“I’m not going anywhere, not until I have some answers.”
The determination in his voice sent a shudder down her spine. “I’m not sure your staying here is a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“If anyone finds out about our…prior relationship,” she said delicately, “it will look really bad that you suddenly showed up so soon after Bobby’s murder and are staying here.”
“It’s been eight years. I doubt anybody will remember. I was nothing more than a ranch hand passing through, and we were careful about not being too public because you didn’t want your father finding out, remember? Only a few people knew in the end anyway. Are the Nolans still around?” he asked, referring to the people who’d owned the ranch where he’d worked that summer.
“No, they sold out a few years ago,” she admitted.
“What about Weston? Would he have told anybody about me?”
She glanced away. “I don’t think he knew. I never told him and he never mentioned it.”
“So it’s unlikely anyone remembered.”
“Small towns have long memories, especially this one. And at least one person in town clearly knows.”
“Somebody who probably wanted to help you. Why else would they send me that article?”
“To cause trouble for me? Like I said, it could look bad having you here. Not to mention, how could they know you would come here to help me if they sent you a newspaper article?”
“Guess the only way to find out what that person’s motives are is to find out who it is. Another reason for me to stick around.”
She eyed him doubtfully, unable to shake the notion that this was a bad idea. The idea of having him here, so close at hand. Yes, she could use the help, if that was what he was truly here for. If the incident with her tires was any indication, it might be a good thing to have someone nearby.
But having this particular man, with his inexplicable motives and dark, compelling eyes, so close suddenly seemed infinitely more dangerous.
He met her gaze seriously. “Look, if you don’t want me staying here, that’s your call. This is your place. I can’t force myself on you or your property. I can try to find somewhere in town to stay. But I’m not going anywhere until I have some answers. I want to know who sent me that article—and yes, why.”
Elena felt her resistance—and most likely, her common sense—weakening. Yes, it could be a bad idea to have him here. No, she didn’t understand what he was doing here, or why he would want to help her. But she believed he wanted answers, and with the rest of the town seemingly having already made up their minds, that gave them a common goal. Perhaps that was reason enough to keep him close, despite all the reasons she wasn’t sure she should.
“All right,” she said softly. “You can stay.”
If he wondered why she’d caved, he didn’t show it, simply nodding once. “Good. I was thinking we should go back into town and get your truck.”
Elena automatically frowned at the suggestion. She was in no hurry to go back into Western Bluff after her last visit, especially so soon. But as she considered the idea, she realized he was right. They shouldn’t leave her truck sitting on Main Street. God only knew what someone might do to it in the middle of the night, or if it would even be there the next day. Even if it were, she wouldn’t put it past Walt or Travis to give her a parking ticket or trump up some other infraction just to cause her trouble.
“We’ll need to change the tires,” she noted.
“Do you have any spares?”
“There’s one in the truck bed, and a few others in the barn.”
He nodded. “Great. I’ll load a couple in my truck and we can go.”
“I’ll show you where they are in the barn.”
He automatically turned and headed in that direction. Elena waited a few seconds before following, watching him walk away with that same strange sense of unreality washing over her again. Her whole world seemed to have been upended again in a mere hour. It didn’t seem possible that this was happening, yet evidently it was.
Matt Alvarez was back in her life, as suddenly as he’d once left it.
And it seemed, for the moment at least, this time he intended to stay.
Chapter Four
“Tell me about the sheriff,” Matt said as they headed back into town.
Elena glanced over at him from the passenger’s seat, grateful he’d raised the subject—any subject. Anything to distract her from her still unsteady emotions, and his closeness in the truck’s cab. “All right. What do you want to know?”
He kept his eyes on the road, his profile hard as stone. “Is he good at his job?”
Elena considered the question. “I’ve always figured he was. Walt’s been the sheriff for, I’d say, at least six years now, and he was a deputy for years before that.”
“So there’s a chance he might remember me from back then.”
Elena frowned at the memory. “There’s a chance,” she agreed.
“We can worry about that when we need to. Ever had any trouble with him before?”
“None. I didn’t have that much direct interaction with him, and when I did, he was always nice enough to me. When I was a teenager, there were a few times when he brought my father home, and he was always nice about it.” Too nice, she thought with a trace of irritation. The kind of niceness that was really just pity. Far too many people had looked at her like that back then, if they’d acknowledged her existence at all.
Poor girl. Mother took off. Father’s a drunk.
Of course, that was a lot better than the way people were looking at her now, she thought, as a grim smile touched her lips. She’d never imagined a day when being Ed Reyes’s outcast daughter would seem like a step up to her. Or maybe that was the natural progression of things in some way. She’d turned out to be the bad seed her disreputable beginning had always made them think she’d be.
“So there’s no reason to believe this is personal for him and he’s not just trying to do his job.”
“Not for him, no.”
“But for someone else?” he concluded. “The deputy?”
“Travis is—was,” she corrected with a wince, “Bobby’s best friend. Was ever since they were little kids.”
“No wonder he’s gunning for you, if he thinks you killed him.”
“It probably doesn’t help that he never liked me to begin with.”
“Why not?”
“He didn’t think I was good enough for Bobby. But then, most people didn’t. After all, he was a Weston. His great-great-grandfather was one of the founders of this town and Bobby’s family was practically royalty around here. People used to say the town should have been called ‘Weston’s Bluff.’ He was golden in this town. He could have had any girl he wanted.”
“And he wanted you.”
She didn’t say anything for a moment. “Yes,” she said, her tone distant. “He did. In the beginning, at least.”
As soon as she’d said the last words, she wished she could take them back. There was too much she didn’t want to get into, things she didn’t want to explain.
But if he wondered what had changed, he didn’t ask. Maybe he didn’t want to know any more than she wanted to get into it. A tiny bit of relief pierced her uneasiness.
“Did you ever think there might be another reason one of them is so determined to pin the murder on you?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“What if one of them is the killer?”
The idea was so absurd she nearly laughed. “Neither of them have motives.”
“That you know of. You said nobody had a motive to kill your husband, but clearly somebody must have. After all, if you didn’t kill him, somebody did, and there had to have been a reason. You just don’t know what it is.”
He was right, of course. She’d spent more than one sleepless night wondering who had killed Bobby—and why. The first answer depended on the second, but she hadn’t had any luck answering either one, hadn’t even come up with any remote possibilities. Rather than find a solution to her situation, her efforts had merely confirmed how dire it was.
She tried to wrap her mind around the idea of Walt or Travis killing Bobby in cold blood. It just didn’t make sense, and not just for the lack of motive.
“If it were Walt or Travis, then why wouldn’t they have left the gun, or planted it somewhere they could claim to have found it? Somewhere that would have made me look bad? The fact that the gun is missing is one of the only things keeping them from making an arrest. If one of them is the killer, then that person has the gun.”
He fell silent for a moment, and she sensed him considering her words. “I don’t know,” he finally said. “That’s a good point. I’m just trying to keep an open mind. We can’t dismiss any possibility out of hand, no matter how far-fetched. We can’t afford to overlook anything or anyone, not if we want to get to the bottom of this.”
He was right, she acknowledged. This was the way it had to be. Sure, it didn’t seem like anyone had a motive to kill Bobby, but someone clearly had. Until they figured out who it was, everyone had to be looked at as though they could be the killer.
It was only fair. After all, that was how everybody in town was looking at her.
“OKAY,” MATT SAID, PUSHING himself to his feet. “You’re good to go.”
Elena glanced at the two fully inflated tires, the truck now perfectly balanced on all four. “Thank you. Let’s get out of here.”
Matt had no trouble understanding her relief. He’d had his attention on the tires most of the time since they’d arrived back at her truck, but he’d been able to feel people watching them. No one had approached or said a word. It hadn’t mattered. He’d known they were there. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling.
Still, he wasn’t ready to retreat just yet. Getting her truck fixed had been just the first item on his agenda when they got to town. He had other business to take care of.
“You go on ahead,” he told her. “I want to poke around here a bit.”
Her attention already drifting to the street and their unseen watchers, she turned back to him in surprise. Not that there was any reason for her to be surprised. It was, after all, what he was here for.
As if realizing it, she slowly nodded. “All right.”
“I’ll see you back at the house.”
He waited, expecting her to turn and get into the truck. She didn’t. She simply stood there, her eyes searching his face, her expression suddenly uncertain. It seemed as though she wanted to say something else.
And in an instant, he understood.
They were already saying goodbye, so soon after meeting again after so long. The strangeness of it hit him. It had always felt strange saying goodbye to her. He’d never been quite ready to do it. It didn’t matter that they would see each other again in a little while. Or was she wondering if that was true, if she should say something, a more definitive goodbye than the last time, just in case?
This was actually a lot like the last time they’d said goodbye. They’d been on the street, not too far from here in fact. The difference was it had been night.
And they’d both had no reason to think he was ever coming back.
He was coming back, he almost felt like reassuring her. But he knew it wouldn’t matter. Some part of her still wasn’t ready to say goodbye to him, any more than it ever had been. And he realized maybe he wasn’t ready, either, as the same innate sense of connection he’d had with this woman from the first moment he’d seen her clicked deep within him.
Eight years. It should have been long enough to wash away whatever feelings he’d once had for this woman. But as he peered down into the eyes staring back at him, took in her upturned face, he felt it just the same.
Whatever she might have wanted to say, she didn’t. With another tight nod, she finally turned and rounded the front of the truck to the driver’s side.
Stepping away from the vehicle, Matt watched her climb in and start the engine. He remained where he was as she backed out of the space. There was no reason for him to stay there. He needed to get going, needed to get started poking around.
But something held him in place, and he watched her drive away, the truck slowly heading down the street and fading into the distance.
“She’s not somebody you really want to get mixed up with.”
Matt recognized the voice without seeing the speaker behind him. It was the deputy who’d come by Elena’s ranch earlier—Travis, she’d said his name was. He had the same sneer in his voice.
The man’s tone rankled. The fact that Matt wasn’t sure he disagreed with the statement did, too.
Not letting his expression show the slightest reaction, Matt slowly turned to face the man.
The sneer was on the deputy’s face, as well. He peered at Matt, eyes narrowed as they studied him, like the guy was trying to figure him out. The scrutiny lasted long enough Matt was sure the man hadn’t managed it.
“Is that so?” Matt said mildly.
“She’s a murderer. Killed her husband in cold blood. Is that really somebody you want to be working for?”
“I figure if you had any proof against her she’d be locked up already.”
“It’s only a matter of time,” Travis practically spat. “Everybody in this town knows she did it, and nobody’s going to let her get away with it.”
“Well, until that happens, she’s still somebody with a job that needs to be done.”
“As soon as she’s locked up, you might find it hard getting paid for whatever work you’ve done.”
“Guess I’ll worry about that when the time comes.”
The man grimaced, his mouth tightening with barely controlled anger. “Even if you don’t believe she’s a killer, take my word, she’s no good. Probably no surprise there—her family wasn’t, either.”
The man let the comment hang in the air, probably expecting Matt to be curious enough to ask for more details. Heck, most people probably would be after a comment like that. But Matt already knew all about Elena’s family. He’d met Ed Reyes himself, knew full well what kind of man he was. And Elena herself had told him more than this man could begin to, just as he’d told her things…
Not that he could admit that to this man. But even if he could, he wasn’t about to. He didn’t like bullies, never had. And Travis Gerard had bully written all over him. It made Matt wonder what kind of man Elena’s husband had been, if this was the type of person he’d considered his best friend in the world. Matt’s reflexive dislike for Bobby Weston grew deeper.
“Her old man was a drunk,” the deputy finally said when the silence went on too long. “Her mother took off when she was just a kid. With a background like that, probably makes sense that she wouldn’t consider her own marriage worth much.”
“What’s your point?”
“I’d think you’d want to know the kind of person you’re working for.”
“Why would her family make a difference when it comes to working for her? That’s her family, not her.”
Travis Gerard’s eyes narrowed, fresh contempt shining from them. “So you’re that kind of guy, huh? Doesn’t matter what kind of person you work for?”
“I’m just wondering why you’re wasting your time trying to scare me off. What does it matter to you if I get paid or not?”
“Her husband was a good friend of mine. I don’t like the idea of her out there, going about her life like nothing happened, like she didn’t kill a good man in cold blood.”
“Then prove she did it,” Matt said. “Trying to scare me off isn’t going to get that done.”
The deputy’s face went dark red, his whole body tensing, and for a second, Matt was positive the man wanted nothing more than to deck him, was just about ready to throw that punch.
Matt held his ground, not about to back down, ready to take the blow if he had to. He was ready and willing to go toe to toe with this arrogant ass, but raising a hand against a Texas deputy was a surefire way to get in trouble, and there wasn’t much he could do for Elena if he landed in jail his first day in town.
Finally, Gerard took a step back, giving his chin a belligerent tilt. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Don’t worry, Deputy,” Matt returned coolly. “I consider myself warned.”
With a curl of his lip, Gerard turned on his heel and stomped away.
Matt watched him go, the knot of tension in the pit of his stomach only tightening. He didn’t feel the slightest bit of relief that the deputy had backed down, his awareness of just how bad the situation was weighing down on him too heavily.
Whether or not Travis Gerard was right about the rest of the town—and the slashed tires indicated he just might be—the fact that the local law was gunning for Elena was confirmation enough that she needed help. Damned if he was going to stand by and watch her be railroaded. Unfortunately, she probably needed more help than he alone could offer, he had to admit. Luckily he might know someone who could provide some assistance.
Climbing into his truck, he pulled the envelope out of his pocket, found a pen in the glove compartment, then reached for his phone, hitting the speed dial.
A familiar voice answered after a few rings. “Triple C.”
“Piper, it’s Matt.”
“Matt, where are you? Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine,” he said, dodging the first question. “I just need you to give me Pam’s phone number.”
She didn’t say anything for a long moment, and he braced himself for her answer. “Everything can’t be fine if you want to talk to an FBI agent.”
“I just have a little bit of a situation here and I’m hoping she’d be willing to do something for me.”
“Is there anything Cade and I can do to help?”
He had no doubt that if he said the word, she and Cade would hightail it to Western Bluff as fast as they could, no questions asked. That was the kind of people they were, not just the people he worked for but his closest friends in the world. “You can give me Pam’s phone number,” he said simply.
She fell quiet again, then slowly began to recite the digits. He immediately jotted them down on the back of the envelope. “Do you need me to repeat it?” she asked when she was done.
“No, I got it.”
“We’re here if you need us, Matt.”
“I know,” he said gently. “I appreciate that, Piper.”
“Take care of yourself,” she said, then disconnected the phone.
Swallowing a sigh, he dialed the number she’d just given him and waited for someone to answer.
The call was picked up on the third ring. “This is Pam,” a voice almost exactly like the one he’d just spoken to said in a no-nonsense tone.
“Pam, it’s Matt Alvarez.”
She fell silent for a few moments much like her sister had. “Matt,” she said flatly, her voice devoid of Piper’s natural warmth. “This is a surprise.” She gave no indication whether it was pleasant or otherwise.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m in a situation and could use your help.”
“What is it?” He quickly outlined Elena’s circumstances. “This case doesn’t fall within federal jurisdiction,” she said when he was finished. “There’s nothing I can do officially.”
“I know that. I was just hoping for some information.”
“What kind of information?”
“For now, anything you can give me on the town, on Elena and her husband, the sheriff and whether he can be trusted. Obviously, you have resources that I don’t. I’m not asking for anything illegal or that would get you into trouble. Just anything you can give me that you think I need to know, though I might need to come back to you later the more I learn here.”
She didn’t say anything for a long moment again. “This woman must mean a lot to you.”
His mind instantly wanted to deny the idea. Elena didn’t mean anything to him. Not anymore.
He couldn’t exactly say that. It would raise far more questions, ones he wasn’t sure he was ready for and didn’t like the answers to.
Instead, he simply said, “She’s a friend.”
Another silence. When she spoke again, all she said was “Give me a number where I can reach you.” Matt quickly gave it to her. “I’ll see what I can find.”
“Thank you,” he said, only to realize she’d already hung up. With most people the action would probably be considered rude, but he didn’t take any offense at it. That was Pam—brisk, blunt, to the point. She was willing to help. That was all he cared about.
Lowering his phone, he glanced up, his eyes suddenly meeting those of a woman standing down the street a short distance away.
He could tell she’d been watching him for a while, her face reflecting surprise at having been caught. If he hadn’t been so focused on the call with Pam he might have sensed it. Still, she didn’t immediately glance away, continuing to look at him. He looked right back. Given the way he’d felt people watching him since he and Elena had arrived back here to change her tires, he figured he should get used to people staring at him. That didn’t mean he was going to let them think they could intimidate him or make him in any way nervous.
But as he absorbed the woman’s attention, he realized it was different somehow. She was an attractive woman in her fifties with dark hair and eyes and a nice face. There was a warmth to it, and her attention wasn’t cold or judgmental. It was like she was studying him closely, looking for something. He half wondered what it was, not caring all that much. Maybe she was just curious about a stranger. It didn’t seem like she meant him any harm, and as long as that remained the case, she could look as long as she wanted.
As though finally realizing just how long she had been staring, she abruptly looked away and started down the sidewalk in the other direction.
He watched her go for a few seconds before shaking his head and dismissing her strange behavior. He had bigger things to worry about.
Pam could likely get information that he couldn’t, but he’d meant what he’d said. He intended to learn as much here as he could. It might still be early enough that word hadn’t gotten out about who he was and why he was supposedly in town, so there might still be time to find someone willing to talk to him. And there was one place around here he figured was his best bet to find someone who would.
Chapter Five
Her hands were shaking.
The realization came with a strange sense of detachment, as though she was noticing something that was happening to someone else. Elena glanced down at the hands that were gripping the steering wheel tightly. Yes, they were shaking, she registered, barely feeling it. The steering wheel was shuddering beneath them.
No, she corrected faintly. Her hands weren’t shaking. Her whole body was.
She looked back up at the road, only to discover that she was already outside of town. Blinking in shock, she tried to draw in a breath. It was impossible. Her lungs were too tight.
She quickly swung over to the side of the road and sat there, still clutching the steering wheel in a death grip, trying to catch that elusive breath. Thankfully, there were no other vehicles in view, no one in front of or behind her, no one to witness her meltdown. She was alone, truly alone for the first time since Matt’s sudden reappearance in her life.
She wasn’t surprised that she’d managed to get all the way outside of town without noticing where she was. From the moment she’d driven away from him, there’d been only one thing on her mind.
Matt.
Matt was back.
The image of the way he’d looked on the street came back to her.
She hadn’t wanted to say goodbye. Not again. Not yet.
Suddenly, the flood of memories she’d barely managed to keep at bay when he was near finally broke free, filling her head with a million different thoughts, pictures, impressions. Things she hadn’t thought about in years. Things she hadn’t let herself.
Eight years. She could feel every one of the years that had passed since he’d left, and yet it seemed as vivid as if it were yesterday.
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