Chapter Ten #3
“Someone is paying them a lot of money.” Rawley’s voice dropped to a whisper. “If I was a rustler, the last thing I’d want is a livestock agent talking to me.”
Skylar nodded, her chest tightening at the memory. She still couldn’t fathom how he’d strode right up to those men. She turned to Rawley, his hat casting shadows over his eyes.
“Weren’t you afraid to confront them?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
He shrugged, pressing his hand gently into hers on the countertop. “Afraid? No. Maybe cautious. With this many people around, I didn’t think they’d make a scene, and I knew I wasn’t going to.”
Skylar exhaled, a soft rush of breath. “I just want to go home, lock the door, sink onto my sofa, and stare at it until morning.”
Rawley’s fingers tightened reassuringly. “You can’t let them see that you’re scared. They’ll feed on it, and that only makes things worse.”
She swallowed the knot in her throat. “I’ll try.”
“Alright, baby. I’ll get back to work.” He glanced toward the kitchen, where Connie emerged carrying a white paper bag. The sizzling fryers and clattering dishes mingled with low chatter as Connie set the bag on the counter and slid it toward them.
“Anything else, hon?” Connie asked, her voice warm with the familiar lilt.
“Skylar’s coffee,” Rawley said, fishing a credit card from his wallet. He handed it over; Connie swiped it, then watched him add a generous tip before he signed with a flourish. He tore off the receipt and tucked it away without a glance.
Rawley stood. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
Skylar forced a small smile at Connie and walked out the door as Rawley held it open for her. A blast of hot air hit her face as she stepped out.
They crossed the cracked asphalt of the parking lot under the hot sun. Skylar’s SUV sat a few rows down, its metallic gray doors gleaming in the light. She unlocked it, leaned against the door and faced him, heart thudding in her ears.
“I’m sorry you had to be part of that,” Rawley said softly, concern in his dark eyes.
She shook her head, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“It’s my job.”
“It’s dangerous,” she whispered, glancing toward the edges of the lot as if the shadows might be watching.
Rawley leaned one broad shoulder against her SUV, standing so close she felt the heat from his body. “Do you want to stop seeing me?”
Her pulse skipped. “What?”
A wry half-smile curved his lips. “I’ve had this conversation before. Some women can’t handle it.”
Skylar’s breath caught. “Of course, I don’t want to stop. I just… I’ll worry every second you’re out there.”
“I’m always careful,” he promised, lifting a hand to cup her cheek. His thumb brushed away a trace of tension. “I don’t want us to end, but this is who I am. You have to accept that, or there can’t be a future.”
She nodded, eyes shining. “I know. I’ll do my best.”
He stepped back, opening her driver’s door. “That’s all I can ask.” She slid inside.
Skylar looked up at him. “If I see them, if they follow me—”
“Call me. Immediately. And don’t drive off. Turn around and park in the courthouse lot. The sheriff’s department is there too.”
“Okay.” She nodded.
He leaned in, brushing his lips to hers in a soft, steady kiss. “Be safe,” he murmured, then straightened and pushed the door closed.
Skylar started the engine, shifted into reverse and watched Rawley’s silhouette recede. She pulled onto Main Street and drove off as she scanned each passing car, every shadow, her heart still beating fast.
****
The corridor’s harsh fluorescent bulbs hummed overhead as Rawley stepped inside the department.
He removed his hat and hung it on the rack behind his desk.
Striding past rows of desks, his boot heels clicked against linoleum until he reached Dave’s office.
He rapped on the glass door. Dave looked up from a cluttered desk, coffee mug in hand, and waved him in.
Rawley pushed the door open and slid into the wingback chair.
“What’s up?” Dave leaned back, arms crossed, his eyes narrowing.
“Once I get some names, I need to run them,” Rawley said, voice low but urgent.
Dave’s eyebrows shot up. “Why?”
Rawley swallowed and met his boss’s gaze. “I have a feeling about them—”
“You can’t just run names because you have a… feeling,” Dave cut in, forward in his seat now, his tone clipped.
Rawley drew a breath and recounted every unsettling moment; the heated showdown at Dewey’s, the confrontation in the diner, the way those men moved in sync, too practiced, too cold. By the time he finished, Dave’s nostrils flared and his knuckles whitened around his mug.
“Let me get this straight,” Dave snapped. “You stick up for a woman, and suddenly these guys are cattle thieves?”
“No—”
“You have no proof. Absolutely none.” Dave’s voice rose, echoing off the walls.
“My gut is rarely wrong—” Rawley began.
“But sometimes it is wrong.” Dave slammed a hand on the desk as he got to his feet. “I cannot allow you to chase names without probable cause, and you know it, Bowman.” Rawley stood as well and noticed almost all the agents staring at them.
“I know that, but you have to trust me.”
Dave sank back into his chair, exhaling through clenched teeth. “If I let you do this, we’ll all be out of a job. Not happening. You’re dismissed, Agent.”
Rawley leaned forward, palms flat against the worn wood. “You know I’m not just picking names from a hat—”
Dave held up a hand. “Get out of my office and do your job or take the rest of the week off.”
Rawley straightened, anger rippling through his chest. “You think a week will make me think I’m wrong?” he shot back.
“Tread carefully, Bowman.” Dave’s stare was ice.
Rawley ran his fingers through his hair. “Damn it, Dave.”
Dave’s voice softened only slightly. “Look, we know you’re good at your job. But you need probable cause. What’s yours? They hit on your girlfriend?”
Rawley shook his head. “You know what? I think I will take the rest of the week off.” He pivoted and stormed out, the glass door rattling against the wall.
At his desk he snapped off his computer, snatched up his hat, and headed for the exit. As he reached the door, Dave’s voice boomed after him.
“Keep it up and it will be next week too.”
Rawley paused, jaw clenched, then he walked out of the department and slammed his hand against the stairwell door. The echo of metal hitting the wall followed him as he tore down the iron stairs two at a time.