The Cowboy’s Justice (Naked Cowboys of Smoky Hill #4)

Chapter Thirteen

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

As Devlin called Jethro and Jezebel to his side, William hurried back to his car, hastily climbed in and headed down the driveway. Though he wanted to speed away he was worried the tires would kick up the gravel and scratch the paint. But as he turned onto the road he slammed his foot on the gas. The car rocketed forward, its powerful engine taking it from zero to sixty in three-seconds. William loved the dangerous thrill, but was forced to quickly slow down as he approached a bend. Not wanting to risk a ticket and end up on the wrong side of the sheriff, he drove the speed limit back to the house. But his mind continued to race. In spite of the cowboy’s denials William was sure Portia had secretly left through the back gate and been spirited away by Devlin on horseback.

But what had Devlin been doing there?

Was it a coincidence, or the two of them made a secret date?

Pulling a stunt like that would be just like her.

She loved to play games.

It was one of the things he hated about her.

But she’d swallowed enough of the spiked coffee to knock her out, or at least make her drowsy and incoherent. How could she have made her way through the house to the back gate, let alone sit on a horse?

As he drove into the motor court his head was still spinning, but when he stepped from his car an idea came to mind.

“You want to play games?” he muttered, walking up to the front door. “No problem. I’ll play, but you’ll be sorry. I play dirty and I always win.”

* * *

When Devlin walked back in his house with the dogs, he stopped in the kitchen to brew a fresh pot of coffee and plate the cinnamon rolls he’d bought the day before.

“Don’t you dare touch them,” he warned, seeing Jethro and Jezebel eye the tasty treats as he set them on the table.

As they barked and laid down, he strode through the hall and entered the bedroom. Portia was still lying on her side and hugging his pillow.

“Hey,” he said softly, moving across and sitting on the edge of the bed. “I have coffee brewin’.”

“Wonderful, I’d love a cup, but I just don’t understand what’s going on with William. Why did he try to drug me?”

“I hate to say this, but nine times outta ten there’s only one reason a guy spikes a girl’s drink, and we both know what that is.”

“I can’t believe it. What should I do?”

“First we need to find out exactly what’s in that water bottle. My vet’s a close friend. I’ll call him and see if I can drop it off and have it tested. If we find out it was spiked we can contact the sheriff. In the meantime—”

“In the meantime I want to go back to my house and tell William to get the hell out and never come back.”

“That’s a bad idea.”

“It’s not if you come with me.”

“That’s even worse.”

“Why?”

“Because if he does something stupid I’ll have to step up, and I don’t need that slick lawyer suin’ me for assault. But we do need to go over there so you can get your things. We just have to make sure he’s not around when we do.”

“How will we manage that?” she asked, sitting up and reaching for her T-shirt.

“We can talk about all this over coffee.”

“That sounds good…and can I have a hug?”

“You can have all the hugs you want.”

As she leaned into him and he wrapped her up, he closed his eyes and breathed her in.

“Come on, let’s get out of here before I decide to jump on your bones all over again.”

“You won’t hear me complaining,” she murmured, slowly pulling back and staring at him.

“Good to know, but right now we need to talk. If you want to freshen up the bathroom is through there,” he added pointing to the door. “I’ll see you in the kitchen.”

* * *

Back at Portia’s house William was sitting on the sofa in the living room staring into his open briefcase.

He had a problem.

A big one.

He was supposed to be in Dallas the following morning for a meeting with an important client, but he couldn’t leave without Portia and her fortune under his control. There were several legitimate documents she needed to sign, but he’d slipped a Power of Attorney between them.

He couldn’t understand how everything had gone so wrong. The plan had been perfect. Get the drug in her system, have her sign the documents before she was too wasted, then seduce her as she fell victim to the effects. She’d wake up in his arms and probably freak out, but he’d make her another cup of coffee with just enough of the drug to keep her quiet and compliant. If luck was with him, over time she’d fall pregnant, then he’d really have her!

But now she was gone, and the unanswered question continued to confound him.

How she had been clear-headed enough to get away?

A sudden thought flashed through his mind.

Had she suspected something, called the cowboy, then tipped half of it down the sink?

“Fuck! That would explain why I couldn’t find that damn grey suitcase. There wasn’t one!” he yelled, jumping to his feet. “That was just a way to get me out of the house so you could get away with that fucking cowboy. Portia, you shouldn’t have messed with me. This isn’t over. Not even close.”