Chapter Thirteen
Chapter
Thirteen
“All right, we’ve had a rash of vandalism around the
town and I wanted to talk to a couple of people who’ve been affected to see if
there are any threads I can start weaving together,” the sheriff said as he sat
back in his chair.
Shane felt anxious but then he was in the sheriff’s office
and Max Harper was next to him. It was kind of his nightmare scenario with the
exception of the fact that Rye wasn’t here and Bay wasn’t about to be tossed in
jail beside him.
“I told Deputy Leal everything I know.” Shane had been given
a cup of coffee as he walked in. Actually, he’d been given what Gemma claimed
to be the greatest latte ever made, but he hadn’t touched it because it might
be one of those police trick things. Give him a bunch of coffee and then not
let him go to the bathroom.
“Which was not much,” Max proclaimed. “See, I was thinking
maybe the boys pissed someone off. They both got big mouths.”
Nathan Wright’s blue eyes narrowed on Max. “Really? You want
to talk to a certain pot, Mr. Kettle?”
Max simply shrugged. “Game knows game, man. The Kent boys
are annoying as fuck, and it is no surprise that someone decided to take a
knife to their tires. Or someone decided to finally put that old truck of
theirs out of its misery. It was a kindness, I tell you.”
“It’s not that old.”
Max stared at him for a moment.
It was older than he or Bay. “Well, it’s not as old as you.”
Max nodded as though he’d made his point. “See, that’s what
I’m talking about.”
“Okay. Then why did someone break into the tiny house you
put on your property?” Nate asked. “You know the one you intended to lock
Brooke in so she could never lose her innocence.”
Max paled. “Shit. Is that what they’re saying? Because that
is not… What do you mean someone broke in?”
Shane leaned in. “Was anyone there? The kids weren’t there,
right?”
Max put a hand on his arm, and the expression on his face
was softer for a moment. “The kids are with Stef. They’re fine. I appreciate
that being your first thought, though.”
“Stef called it in,” Nate explained. “He had to get Ethan’s
stuffed whale, and he went in the back way. He saw the door was open and
stopped to check. I’m surprised he didn’t text you.”
Max pulled his cell out. “I was busy talking to Shane. I
didn’t notice it rang. Why would anyone break into the tiny house? Did they
steal anything? I bought some of those things brand new, and let me tell you
Marie thinks the products she sells are precious. I would go to Walmart in
Pagosa if I had the time.”
“Don’t let Marie hear you say that,” Shane grumbled. He’d
already gotten the Buy Bliss speech. Although it wasn’t like he could
get to Pagosa Springs even if he wanted to since he didn’t have a car.
Max couldn’t be too impressed. He might have a job, but he
didn’t have much else, and everyone knew cowboy wasn’t a great thing
to put on a résumé. He couldn’t even say he was an expert at anything beyond
handyman.
This was where it all fell apart, but then he’d always known
it would.
In a few weeks Bay would be a celebrated artist, a master of
the modern Western movement. Shane would be Shane. Brooke’s brothers would
start asking her what he brought to the table, and what would she be able to
say? He brought multiple orgasms? Her brothers definitely didn’t want to hear
that.
“The place was trashed,” Nate said with a rueful sigh. “We
already processed the scene. We documented everything, but I hope you’ll be
able to tell me if anything’s gone.”
He passed a tablet with a set of pictures on the screen.
Shane got a good look at them and his stomach knotted. “They tore up the whole
place.”
Max studied the pictures. “No, they didn’t tear anything up,
but they were definitely looking for something.” He looked at Shane. “Did you
take anything from Kingman?”
Shane was at a loss. “I didn’t take anything. I saw
something. I was helping some of the senior hands move what I thought was
equipment into the barn where he stores heavy tools.”
“I’m not sure I understand how a new backhoe means Kingman
wants to kill you,” Nate observed. “Was he trying to keep it undercover?”
“It wasn’t a backhoe, dummy,” Max said with a frown. “It was
guns, and a lot of them.”
Well, he didn’t know about the “a lot of them” part, but it
was oddly soothing to have Max accept the story as truth. “I’m almost certain I
saw one of those guns the Army uses. He was bringing in a whole bunch of wooden
crates and they had writing on the side, but it was in a foreign language.”
Now he had Nate’s attention. “Did you see a country name on
it?”
“Yes.” He had told Bay all of this and thought Bay believed
him. Now it felt like he was telling the story for the first time. “Belgium.
There was another word that looked like it was maybe a point of origin or a
person’s name. FN Herstal.”
Max nodded. “We need to find this Herstal person.”
“It’s not a person.” Nate stood up. “Gemma, come in here. I
need your big brain to check my foggy one.” He looked back at Shane. “That
woman should go on Jeopardy. She knows everything.”
“Not how to spot a douchebag,” Max quipped.
Gemma growled his way as she entered the room. “I knew my ex
was a douchebag. He was exactly what I was looking for at the time. It was New
York. I didn’t have a lot of choices if I didn’t want an overly ambitious
douchebag. Good news is I came to Bliss and found a couple of superhot,
completely unambitious dudes who can fix my car and cook my dinner and rock my
world. I think your sister is finding the same thing. Especially the getting
her world rocked by two hot cowboys without a bank account between them.”
Gemma could also be a little mean. “We have one. It doesn’t
have much, but we do have an account.”
Nate ignored him. “Gemma, where are P90s produced?”
Her eyes rolled. “I researched all of this for Nell because
she said she didn’t want Henry to be sad. Apparently he had a P90 he loved, and
she doesn’t want to stir the John Bishop in him. It’s Belgium. The main
manufacturer is Fabrique Nationale Herstal. Publicly traded as FN Herstal. Give
me a hard one.”
“Is a P90 a gun? Like the Army uses?” Shane asked.
“Not the US Army. Only Navy SEALs use them regularly.
They’re used by a lot of elite units around the world,” Gemma explained.
“Would they have any use when it came to ranching?” Maybe
there was an explanation.
Nate had been fiddling with a tablet, and he turned it
around and showed it to Shane. “Only if they needed a submachine gun to take
care of critters. Is this it? Or did it have a longer barrel?”
Gemma looked over his shoulder. “The standard P90 is
restricted in the US. Only law enforcement, military, and people who hold
special licenses can buy them. We can look that up, though I can’t think of a
reason why a rancher would need one. Otherwise, it would have to be a PS90.”
Nate shook his head. “Do I want to know what Nell’s doing
with that information?”
“Writing a magnificent romance about an arms dealer who
falls madly in love with a gun control activist. It’s actually kinda dark. I
liked it,” Gemma said and pointed at the picture. “Do you remember if the
barrel was long or short?”
He’d gotten such a quick glance before the foreman had
whisked the big box away and sent Shane back to the bunkhouse. “I think it was
short, but it was a quick glance, but I did see the markings on the boxes and
it was FN Herstal.”
“Then it’s almost certainly a P90 and nothing that you would
need on a ranch.” Nate sat back.
“It would explain why he’s flush with cash when every other
ranch in the States is getting creative.” Gemma was more than an office
manager. Nate relied on her to do research and as a sounding board when he
needed an opinion. She was super smart and well educated and happy here in
Bliss.
Could Brooke be, too?
Hell, could Bay be happy in one place?
“I’ve heard rumors he’s got ties to one-percenter clubs in
California,” Nate mused.
Max’s hand came out, slapping Shane on the shoulder. “Dummy.
Don’t you know you’re not supposed to get involved in illegal gunrunning? I’m
going to work on him, Nate. We cannot have another one of those people who walk
into crazy situations all the time. We already have Mel. And Callie. And poor
Lucy. I swear that girl is like a walking Dateline episode.”
“Hey, I didn’t mean to,” Shane protested. “And I got out as
soon as I could.”
Nate’s brows rose. “Yes. Five months ago, so why are you
only now sitting down in my office? I had to call you here. You didn’t come
forward on your own. It makes me wonder what else you were doing for Kingman.”
Oh, that was a turn he wasn’t ready for. “I wasn’t sure. I
only knew it felt wrong, and they were talking about dealing with the new
guys.”
Max pointed his way. “And they were the new guys. Nate, what
the hell did you expect him to do? Walk into your office with zero proof and
accuse one of the biggest ranchers in the country of gun running? He followed
his instincts and got the hell out of there and got his brother out, too. Don’t
you try to intimidate him.” He looked to Gemma. “Hey, I need you to represent
Shane here so Nate doesn’t throw him in jail. You know how much he enjoys
tossing a man in jail for no reason at all. Especially men from my family.”
“Only you,” Nate replied.
“I’m going to need a retainer,” Gemma began. “And it can’t
be pecan pie or horseback riding lessons.”
“How about free babysitting?” Max offered.
“Am I the babysitter or are you offering to watch Cade and
Jesse when I stay out at the G next month to help Hope?”
Max frowned. “Obviously the first since I’m not changing
Cade and Jesse’s diapers. They’re going to have to do that on their own.”
“I don’t need a lawyer.” He was so deeply confused. Gemma
and Max were still arguing over what constituted a retainer, but Shane leaned
toward the sheriff. “Sir, where I come from you don’t accuse a man unless you
have proof.”