Barbed Wire and Burglary (Cowboy Brand of Justice #7)

Chapter 1 Not-So-Accidental Encounter

A.J. Pike watched the barista dispense steaming black coffee into his cardboard to-go cup.

A less observant guy might not have noticed the puffy skin beneath her eyes that she’d expertly covered with makeup.

Or the ever-so-faint line circling her empty wedding ring finger.

Or the too-bright quality of her smile as she spun his way, capping the cup and leaning out the window of the food truck to hand it to him.

“Here you go, sir.” She was somewhere between fifty-five and sixty, though her salt-and-pepper ponytail and high-pitched voice made her appear younger.

“Thank you, ma’am.” A.J. inclined his head respectfully as he accepted the cup from her.

His gut told him she’d suffered a recent loss.

He recognized the signs, because grief was something he was all too familiar with.

He was guessing she was either newly divorced or newly widowed. Not that it was any of his business.

He hadn’t traveled to Heart Lake to make friends. He’d arrived in search of justice. Noticing the details of everything happening around him was simply second nature to him.

Pivoting away from the food truck, he nearly plowed into the person standing behind him. He had to do a rapid sidestep to get past the guy. Despite his efforts, their shoulders brushed.

“Sorry about that,” he muttered, not actually feeling one bit sorry. The rugged cowboy had been standing too close.

“I’m not.” The amusement in the man’s voice made A.J.’s steps slow. “You’re exactly who I was hoping to run into.” He used a gloved finger to raise the brim of his hat, which had previously shaded his eyes from view.

A.J. was caught off guard since he’d come to town to observe, not to be observed. But he quickly recovered, taking a closer look at the guy to see if he recognized him. He didn’t.

“Have we met, sir?” Though his gut wasn’t raising an alarm, every cell in his body went on full alert.

“No, we haven’t, but I’m about to correct that.” The broad-shouldered fellow held out a gloved hand, ducking his head a little to keep the January breeze from lifting his brown leather Stetson higher. “Decker Kingston, town councilman.”

Ah. A.J. knew exactly who he was. According to his research, serving as a member of the Heart Lake Council barely scratched the surface of what Decker did for a living. Or his equally successful wife. They also owned and operated two of the most profitable businesses in town.

A.J. had actually been hoping to secure an introduction to the Kingstons, though he’d done nothing yet to land himself on their radar. He’d only arrived in the cozy lake town a week ago. As usual, he’d been keeping a low profile.

“Nice to meet you.” He kept his voice neutral as they shook hands. “I’m A.J. Pike. Military policeman. Retired.” Twenty years of service in the United States Army had ingrained in him impeccable manners and an unerring respect for protocol. “Nowadays, I mostly tinker with cars.”

Out of sheer habit, he downplayed his background in law enforcement with the more innocuous sounding part-time job he’d picked up at an auto body shop down the street.

Ultra part-time. He was working only one shift per week.

Plus, he’d agreed to pinch hit for the other two mechanics on sick days and such.

“Mechanic work?” Decker Kingston’s golden-brown gaze swept over him curiously. “Sounds anticlimactic after the rush of being in uniform.”

“It’s peaceful.” A.J.’s listener seemed to be trying to get a rise out of him, but he didn’t take the bait.

Unfortunately, peace wasn’t something he’d enjoyed much of during his short tenure as a military retiree.

Nope. Word of his illustrious service in the Army had quickly spread to the civilian sector, where he was constantly being wrangled into contract work as a private investigator.

He handpicked his cases and insisted on being paid top-dollar, but he still had more work than he wanted.

His current client, the Jewelers Security Alliance, was his biggest one yet.

It was a hush-hush assignment they didn’t want the press anywhere near—to identify the key players in a serial jewel theft ring plaguing their members from coast to coast. They were afraid someone internal might be helping the thieves, possibly a member firm, possibly someone within the ranks of their own leadership.

A.J. had already chased down a few viable leads, which had led to a few arrests.

But tracking down who was behind the uptick in jewelry store burglaries had turned out to be like playing Whack a Mole.

Every time A.J. helped put a jewel thief behind bars, another one popped out of the woodwork to take his place.

He was afraid he knew why. If his theory was correct, the uptick in burglaries was part of a single, overriding, well-coordinated criminal operation.

He had reason to suspect their tentacles spread all the way to the law enforcement community—to one dirty deputy in particular, who’d recently relocated from the Pinetop Police Department in Arizona to the Heart Lake Police Department in Texas.

It was the most logical explanation for the additional income flowing into the deputy’s bank account—income far greater than his police officer’s salary. It was only a matter of time before A.J. could prove it. Once he was locked onto a target, he always got his man.

“I reckon peaceful is one way of putting it, soldier.” Decker Kingston waggled his eyebrows playfully.

He was younger than A.J. had originally estimated now that he could see the guy’s face more fully, a good decade younger than A.J.

’s own thirty-nine years. Though Decker didn’t have a background in the military, the sides of his blonde hair were cut nearly as short as A.J.

’s, and the two men were roughly the same height.

Some guys would’ve hated barely stretching to five feet ten inches, but not A.J. His average build suited him just fine. When there was nothing overly remarkable about a person’s appearance, they might as well be invisible for all the attention other folks paid them.

Usually.

But not this morning.

Over the councilman’s shoulder, A.J. watched the same middle-aged woman with the same moderately red-rimmed eyes extend another cardboard cup of coffee their way. “Here you go, Deck.”

He held up a finger at A.J., silently asking him to wait as he faced the woman and claimed his order. “You doing alright today, Betsy?”

The papery lines at the edge of her mouth tightened. “As good as can be expected.” Her voice grew thready. “Staying busy helps.”

Though Decker had his coffee in hand, he lingered at the window of the food truck. “Chanel and I are here for you. The whole town is.”

She nodded, eyes misting over. “I know, hon. I know.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Thank you.” Her gaze flitted to the next customer in line.

Decker strode back to the stretch of sidewalk where A.J. was standing. “Betsy and her husband used to operate this truck together.” He drew a heavy breath. “Now it’s just her.”

A.J. nodded and took a sip of coffee. He had no reason to pry further into the woman’s story. At the moment, his only concern was why he was being waylaid on the curb of Main Street by a founding partner of the fastest growing security firm in the state.

“Walk with me,” his companion urged, gesturing toward the lake the town was named after.

It stretched ahead of them for miles, glistening in the morning sun as if diamonds were floating just beneath the surface.

An icy wind sliced across the foothills of the Christmas Mountains, chapping A.J. ’s cheeks.

Ever in control of his outward emotions, he hid a shiver. Though he was bundled in a coat, gloves, and boots, he preferred warmer climates. He’d spent two decades going back and forth on overseas deployments—often to the deserts of Arabia.

“Where to?” He didn’t budge, preferring to understand what he was getting himself into first.

“Lonestar Security.” Decker Kingston pointed at an ancient-looking two-story brown brick structure in the distance. “It’s inside the old post office. They renovated it to bring it into the twenty-first century, but it’s still chock full of Old West charm. Would you like a tour?”

His offer piqued A.J.’s interest. “A town councilman and a tour guide,” he drawled, knowing that Decker Kingston was so much more than that. “Are you sure the owners won’t mind us barging in unannounced?”

The councilman’s square features relaxed into a smile. “Eh, I know a few guys who work there.” It was an absurd statement, since he’d likely had a say in every last one of their hiring decisions.

A.J. decided to play along. “Then I’ll take you up on your offer.” Somehow, he doubted that a tour of the old post office was the end game of their not-so-accidental encounter. Falling into step beside the councilman, he sipped his coffee as they strolled the couple of blocks to Lonestar Security.

A white stone roof extended from the main room to cover a set of glass entrance doors.

Concrete stairs in the middle and concrete ramps on both sides led up to a narrow porch.

At first glance, the only non-original feature appeared to be the attached two-story parking garage in the back of the building.

Mr. Kingston jogged ahead of A.J. to open the door, ushering him inside a quaint two-story lobby.

He gestured grandly with both hands, plunging into a vibrant description of the place.

“The walls are the original white marble, same as the floors. We had to touch up the metallic gold paint on the face boards and the trim around the windows, but we found a painter who was able to match it perfectly.”