Chapter Thirteen
Hawkeye looked at Margo who was sitting in the passenger seat speed-jotting into one of the notebooks. Just as she’d promised, she was waiting for him when he walked out to his truck that morning. She’d even brought coffee for them both.
One of her legs was tucked under her bottom and he caught her mumbling to herself a few times. So, this was how she worked? This made him even more intrigued with her.
She stopped every now and again, her brows creasing as she stared out the window. She seemed focused, and he could respect that. He did his part by staying quiet and drinking the coffee she’d made which tasted pretty darn good. He liked his strong and he wasn’t disappointed.
She grinned as if she’d written something juicy and it took every ounce of control he had to mind his damn business.
He liked watching her work.
He didn’t mind the silence either.
But he was starting to get hungry.
He reached over and grabbed a candy bar from his stash of goodies.
He felt her gaze steady on him as he ripped into the paper.
“Breakfast for champions?” she said.
“You betcha. Help yourself.” He bit into the Snickers bar.
When she closed the notebook he asked, “Get some writing done?” It seemed like an irrelevant question but after he’d stayed up almost the entire night reading her book because he couldn’t put it down, he couldn’t wait to ask her questions.
Did authors mind being asked questions? He didn’t want to be annoying.
“I had written a lot of my first book on paper. I can’t believe how sometimes we need to go back to old school to bust through the hurdles.”
“Where do you come up with ideas for your books?”
She lifted the ends of her hair off her shoulders and flipped them to one side. “It starts with an idea the size of a grain of salt then works itself into a full-blown storyline.”
He finished off his candy bar, chewing thoughtfully. “I have a confession.”
She turned her gaze on him, one corner of her mouth lifting. “A confession? Should I be worried?”
“I read Sharp Descent last night.”
One brow curved over her curious eyes. “You did? Really? In one night?”
“I guess I’ve always been one of those readers who can’t put a book down once they start. At least books I like.”
“That’s’ very…nice of you.”
He was fairly sure no one had ever accused him of being nice.
“Did you not want me to read your work?” he asked.
“No. I mean, yes, I’m flattered. I’m wondering what you think.” Her fingers threaded in her long wavy hair, tousling the heavy blanket.
He felt a move in his cock as her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. He had a vivid imagination and imagining her wrapping her mouth around him made his zipper stretch.
He jerked his thoughts back to her question. “Where did you get the idea for this book? Is it based on a true story?”
“Loosely. During my research I came across a story about a young indigenous woman who went missing in the middle of a snowstorm. Her body was never recovered but clues led investigators to ruling her disappearance as a homicide. Although it hasn’t been proven but a local group of oil drillers were rumored to have been responsible.
They were isolated in the small town where she lived.
The group of men were coming back from a bar and came across Delilah who was walking home on the icy road from a friend’s house.
That’s where the story gets muddled. The men say they stopped to ask her if she needed a ride, but she turned them down, so they made a statement that they continued to their motel.
A camera showed Delilah and the driller’s car heading in the same direction, but who knows what happened outside of the camera’s view.
They were the last ones to see and speak to her. ”
“Damn. I couldn’t pull myself out of the story. It was riveting.”
“So, you’re a bit of a mystery buff?”
“You could say that.”
“You’re a man with a lot of layers,” she said with a smile.
“I could say the same about you. It takes a genius to write a book with so many twists and turns.”
“Better stop or you’ll give me a big head.”
“So, is the cowboy in the book based on a real detective?”
“He’s completely a figment of my imagination.” She adjusted herself in the seat.
“He’s definitely not a Davani.” He snorted.
“Leo wouldn’t earn a hero spot in one of my novels.”
“Can’t say I can blame you.”
“Can I go inside the prison with you?” she asked.
“No,” he said quickly.
“It was worth a shot.” She sighed, plucking at lint on her borrowed shorts and Ozzy Ozbourne T-shirt.
“A for effort.” He smiled.
“I met Bradley Creed this morning. I ran into him as I was walking to meet you. He called me Nancy. Even after I introduced myself and told him my name, I think he was still convinced that my name is Nancy.”
“He was probably teasing.” Hawkeye chuckled.
“Maybe.” She shrugged. “I think I’d like to do some chores on the ranch.”
He glanced at her across the seat. “Really? What would you like to do?”
She sat quietly for a few seconds. “I have no clue but I’m not incapable. And I could use it as research for my new book.”
“I don’t think you are incapable.”
“I want to pull my weight. I don’t want to sit in that tiny cottage day in and day out.”
“Ranch work isn’t easy, just saying.” He flipped on his turn signal and waited for his turn.
Her beautiful eyes narrowed. A bit haughtily in fact. “Are you suggesting that I can’t handle doing any sort of manual labor?”
“Nah, just saying it like I see it. You don’t remind me of a cowgirl type.”
Her chin came up. “Keep winning those brownie points,” she said smartly.
“Look, I didn’t bring you out here—”
“But yet you did,” she said.
“To work.”
“But I want to,” she added.
“Then have at it.” He crumbled the candy bar wrapper and tossed it into the console.
She smoothed her hands over the wild strands of her hair that were tossed around by the open window. Jesus, he found her stunning. Especially when he provoked her irritation. He was learning a lot about her tenacity. The woman he thought was a beauty queen was showing her resilience.
Her bottom lip puckered slightly, and he followed the plump curve with a hungry gaze.
Get yourself back on track, man.
The last thing he needed was for her to be working on the ranch alongside him in those shorts with the enticing fringe that caressed her thighs.
“Ranching isn’t a glamorous job. Most days I get covered in cow shit, dirt, mud, and other things before noon.
After that I sweat most of the dust off.
” Hell, he’d give her a day, two at most, before she went back to jotting in that notebook of hers.
“When was the last time you got your hands dirty at a job?”
“Dirty is subjective,” she said with some spark.
“Okay. A job where you mucked horse shit.”
“Never, but I’ve worked since I was sixteen.
I babysat a neighbor brat so no cow or horse could come close to what that kid put me through.
She even put a wad of gum in my hair while I was sleeping and I had to cut it out.
It took a year before it grew back. I retired from sitting and worked a burger joint for a year, served at a fancier Italian restaurant the next, then did some odd jobs before I was hired at a law firm as a receptionist. When my second book published, I quit and devoted my time to writing.
I’m not rich but it pays the bills. I’ve been in the trenches a few times, Hawkeye.
I don’t want to go back to the ranch and watch everyone working around me while I sit still with the world passing me by. ”
He could respect that. “I’ll have to show you around.” Fuck. He went from not wanting her on the land to now volunteering to show her the ropes.
“I’m trainable. You show me what I need to do and I’ll do it,” she said.
“Nice pitch.” He couldn’t hide the interest in his tone.
Did she blush?
Yeah, she did.
The pretty tinge of pink on her cheeks made him ponder things. If the blush was the same color as her nipples. God, he was pathetic. If he didn’t hop off the train before it derailed, he’d be a goner.
“It’s not permanent. Just offering my help. What more could a girl do?”
Her words said in earnest sent his mind swirling back to bed, her naked body, and exploring her until she came. At least three times. He liked to please.
“I can’t just sit and write. I work out every day to keep the creative juices flowing.”
“There’s something satiating about accomplishing demanding work. Something tells me one of us cowboys are going to end up in your new book.”
Margo gave him a sardonic look. “Maybe. We’ll see. Maybe it’ll be about a city girl who turned country.”
“Warning. Accidents happen every day on a ranch and Creed’s Creek ain’t no different.
Livestock is cute to a lot of people but they’re dangerous, especially in herds.
Having someone out there and not knowing what they’re doing can make things even more dangerous.
I’ve been kicked at least a dozen times, in places a man never wants to have a foot, or hoof.
I’ve practically had my skin ripped off by a barbed wire fence and my hand stepped on by a pissed off horse.
I’ve been thrown a time or two and landed hard on my ass.
Been chased by an angry bull who had a scent for blood. This ain’t pretty work.”
He couldn’t admit to her that he wouldn’t want to see her hurt.
“It’s a life experience.”
“You have an answer for everything, don’t you?” He shook his head.
“I’ve been told I’m quick on my feet.”
He figured a woman that looked as good as her would be cocky too. It seemed to come with the territory.
“Although you’ve been through a lot, I’m guessing those scars on your shoulder and side aren’t from an angry bull or pissed off horse.
” He stayed quiet. She must have realized he wasn’t going to answer.
“Look, if it matters you’ve said enough to scare me away but unless you’re willing to take me back to San Antonio, then I’m there to stay and I’m going to help. ”
There was no use in arguing, he realized that detail. He’d like to deny the truth but her coy demeanor as long and wide as her thick eyelashes gave him a challenge, and he always liked a challenge.
Time to change the subject.
“So where did you grow up?” He already knew the answer, but he wanted to see how much she’d tell him.
“In a place called Portsmouth. Heard of it?”
“Nope.”
“Didn’t think so. No one has. It’s barely a blip on a map. A two-light town with little opportunity. Even smaller than Fin’s Creek.”
“You moved to San Antonio to be noticed?”
“Quite the contrary. I wanted to be in a big city to hide. In my hometown everyone knows me and my family. A barn cat couldn’t fart without someone getting a whiff. I wanted to be somewhere where I could start fresh. No one knows me. No one judged or turned the rumor mill.”
“What secret were you and your family trying to hide?”
She sighed. “No secrets. My parents are an open book. They think it’s normal to be modern-day hippies.
Which they can live any way they like, but people can be harsh.
The kids at my school had a field day coming up with rhyming chants about the way I dressed and looked.
By the time I got into middle school I’d grown thick skin and a healthy wallop.
Let’s just say, no one teased me after I punched Ace Truman in the nose for calling me a name I won’t repeat.
In fact, I fit in comfortably after that incident.
I stayed at the library reading and no one bothered me. ”
“How did you and Davani meet?”
“At a gala. I didn’t want to go but my friend, and neighbor, Mario, didn’t have a date and begged me to come along. Then I met Leo. I hated him at first. He hung in there and I must have seen something that I liked but can’t quite name it now.”
“You don’t look like the pictures I saw of you online.”
“Well, well, well. Someone’s a bit of a stalker,” she said in a melodic tone.
“I can do my research too.”
“Then you already knew where I grew up and most likely everything I told you about my parents,” she said. “Was it a test to see if I’d answer honestly?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t mince your words on my account.” She turned to look out the window.
“Don’t be agitated. I knew you’d be honest.”
“That’s good. Unlike what I’d think you would do if the tables were turned,” she said sassily.
“Ouch.”
“You said yourself that white lies are okay.”
He let that one go.
By the time they arrived at the prison, Hawkeye had given her the quick rules of conduct.
Lock the doors.
Stay put.
Don’t talk to anyone.
“Aye, aye, Captain,” she smirked.
“Behave,” he warned.
“Or what? Will I lose my phone?”
“Can we discuss this further when I come back?”
She simply nodded.
The woman was going to be the death of him.
Inside the visitor’s lobby, he checked in at the front desk, placing his gun in the locker to be held during his visit. Up ahead, Warlock waited for him.
After a firm handshake, Warlock asked, “How’s recovery?”
“Doing great, man. Good as new.” Hawkeye flexed his bicep as proof.
“Sorry to hear about the team. I heard you’re out on Sharp’s ranch working?”
“Yep. Magnificent work. Hard but great.”
“Good deal, man. Let’s walk,” Warlock lifted his chin and headed toward a set of metal doors.
They clicked and he opened one, allowing Hawkeye to step in first. “We’ll talk once we get into the private room.
” Once they were behind a closed door, Warlock got down to business. “What are you wanting from Silver?”
“I can’t say a helluva lot, but I need to know if he had anything to do with the death of his attorney, Leo Davani.”
“Damn. I didn’t know.” Warlock raked a hand through his hair. “Not surprised though if I’m being honest. Davani had a death wish.”
Hawkeye shifted in his boots. “Think you can get Silver to talk? Just need one name.”
“Hell, I guess it’s worth a shot. Did you hear he’s being transferred next week, all the way to Upstate Corrections.”
“Transferred? Voluntarily?”
“Yeah. Don’t have many details because the warden here is about as tight-lipped as Silver. Maybe the feds got to him and made him a deal he couldn’t refuse. Every rat has a squeaking point.”
Hawkeye wanted to ring someone’s neck. “Can you find the list of Silver’s visitors?”
Warlock laughed. “I play golf with a few of the COs. They’d like to keep their worm burners and air shots secret. I might be able to persuade them to pass along the list.”
“Thanks for giving this a shot, man.” Hawkeye thumped Warlock on the back. “It’s always good to see you.”
“Between you and me, I’m going to enjoy going head-to-head with that bastard. He and I have a lot of history from my undercover days.”
“Remember, he’ll look for anyway to get under your skin. Stay cool.”
Warlock rolled his neck. “I can handle him.”