Soul Deep

  “Is that so? Why is this the first I’ve heard about it?”

  Sheriff Rove handed the plastic bag with the slug over to his detective. “I didn’t want to bother you. I figured it was bullshit.”

  “It is bullshit.” Jack had never stolen anything from anyone. “We had contact with a party of hunters a few days before the storm broke. I asked them to leave my land, but I sure as hell didn’t take a firearm from them.”

  Then Janet spoke up. “Could they have planned this? Maybe they reported the weapon stolen, then used it to shoot Chinook to get back at you. That way, there’d be a record of the pistol being stolen if it were ever found. They’d be off the hook.”

  That was an interesting thought.

  The sheriff shot Jack an amused look. “Just because the gun that was stolen was a forty-five and this slug is a forty-five doesn’t mean the two are connected in any way. Forty-five handguns are very common, ma’am.”

  Jack didn’t like Rove’s response. True, Rove was an old dog, but that was no excuse for dismissing a woman’s opinion out of hand, especially when that woman was a hell of a lot smarter than he was. “Ms. Killeen is an FBI special agent.”

  Rove’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly. “It’s a good theory, I guess, but that’s giving these fellows entirely too much credit. I doubt they can chew gum and tie their boots at the same time, much less come up with a plan like that. Besides, they cleared off the day before the storm, headed back to Denver. They wanted to catch a flight home before the snow started flying.”

  But Janet had gotten Jack thinking. He hadn’t taken the weapon, but that didn’t mean one of his men hadn’t. What better way to commit a crime than to do it with a weapon that couldn’t be tied to you?

  Of course, Sheriff Rove was right. The fact that both weapons had been forty-fives could easily be a coincidence. Up here, everyone owned at least one.

  The detective put away his camera. “With your permission, Mr. West, I’d like to interview everyone who was on the property the day your stallion was shot—family, friends, employees.”

  Jack had expected as much. “I’ll provide you with a list of our personnel and arrange for you to speak privately with each one of them in my office.”

  He hoped Taylor had better luck finding answers than Chuck had.

  “Thank you.”

  “Boy, I tell you, it sure is a mystery.” The sheriff shoved both of his hands in his pockets, which was probably where he kept them most of the time.

  “It can’t be that big of a mystery,” Janet said. “Either it was an accident, or it was deliberate. If it was deliberate, then we need to look for motive. Bullets are fired from weapons held by people who have some reason for pulling the trigger. It’s not like this bullet came from outer space.”

  Sheriff Rove’s round cheeks turned red, and he immediately tried to cover his ass. “What I meant was that it’s a mystery as to why anyone would want to harm such a fine animal. Normally, we send animal control to respond to these kinds of calls, but I take a special interest in what happens at the Cimarron.”

  Maybe it was time for Jack to take a special interest in county elections and see that they got some new blood in the sheriff’s office.

  “Chuck, will you see Ms. Killeen safely back to the house?” Jack turned to Taylor. “If you’ll give me a moment to get Chinook back into his stall, I’ll walk the sheriff to his car and then see you get what you need.”

  # # #

  Janet opened her eyes, glanced around. When had she fallen asleep?

  Someone had draped a throw blanket over her and set the book she’d been reading—a biography of John Adams—on the end table, her page bookmarked. That same someone had also started a fire in the fireplace.

  How kind he was, how thoughtful. With a few simple gestures, he made her feel cared for, pampered, special. Byron on his best day couldn’t have managed that.

  Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the sun had already set, snowflakes drifting lazily from sky to ground. She’d been asleep for a while.

  She’d given her statement to Taylor and then come here to occupy herself while Jack dealt with his men. It had taken most of the afternoon.

  She pushed aside the blanket, reached for her cane, and got to her feet, her hip stiff, the muscles of her inner thighs sore from today’s ride. It had been a long time since she’d been saddle sore. She made her way out into the hallway, where she heard music coming from the gym—Led Zeppelin’s “Black Dog.”

  She walked down the hall and found the door open. Wearing a black Army Ranger tank and black gym shorts, Jack stood at a cable machine doing standing cable flyes. He didn’t seem to notice her, but worked his way through the set, exhaling each time he drew his hands together in front of his chest, the muscles of his arms and shoulders taut.

  Now she knew why his body felt so hard and muscular.

  He finished the last set, released the cables, and played a few chords of air guitar before reaching for his stainless steel water bottle.

  Not wanting to startle him—or get caught staring—she knocked on the door jamb.

  His head jerked around. He smiled when he saw her.

  Her stomach did a flip.

  “Hey. Did you have a nice nap?”

  “Yes, thank you.” She walked over to him, the sheen of sweat on his forehead somehow sexy. “Thanks for the blanket—and the fire. I was snug and cozy. Did everything work out with the detective?”

  He frowned. “That depends on how you look at it. He took statements from everyone, but none of them saw or heard anything. I’ve got twenty men out there, and not one of them noticed when someone aimed a gun at the ranch’s prized stallion?”

  “I’m sorry. It must be incredibly upsetting.”

  “I thought I’d burn off some frustration and take a shower before making dinner.”

  “Don’t let me bother you.”

  “Why don’t you join me?”

  She blinked. “You’re serious?”

  He was. “You can work in between my sets.”

  There was no reason she couldn’t. She hadn’t lifted weights since being shot, but that was only because she’d had to devote all her time and energy to physical therapy.

  “Okay. I’ll be right back.” She hurried to her room, changed into a pair of yoga pants, a sports bra, and an old T-shirt, then pulled her hair back into a loose ponytail.

  In less than ten minutes, she was back in the gym, where Brett Eldredge was singing “Beat of the Music.” So Jack wasn’t just a classic rock guy.

  “What kind of workout do you usually do?”

  “I haven’t done anything since I was shot. I just had too much else going on.” She figured he needed to know that. “I used to aim for three days a week on weights—one day for chest, shoulders, and triceps, one for back, abs and biceps, and one for glutes, hamstrings, quads, and calves.”

  He nodded. “I’m doing chest and shoulders today, so why don’t we start there?”

  They took turns doing chest press, triceps press, and more cable flyes, Jack adjusting the weight, spotting for Janet, and encouraging her. She tried not to stare at him while he lifted, then gave up, the sight of all that man and shifting muscle more than she was able or willing to deny herself. As they moved from one set to the next, she grew more and more aroused until she was certifiably horny.

  She hadn’t felt like this in ages.

  At first, they talked about the sheriff’s visit. The guy was an idiot as far as Janet could tell, and she told Jack so. “I don’t think he plans on doing anything.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “Who went with you when you confronted the hunters?” The frown on his face told her that he knew where she was headed with that question.

  “You think one of them might have taken it.”

  “I know you don’t want to doubt your men, but I find it highly unlikely that some stranger walked out of a blizzard, shot Chinook without being seen, then disappeared into the storm
.” She could see in his eyes that it hurt him even to consider that one of his men might have betrayed him.

  He had such expressive eyes.

  “I understand what you’re saying. If one of them planned to get back at me, it might make sense for him to acquire a firearm that couldn’t be traced to him.”

  “It might be a total coincidence that both weapons are forty-fives.”

  “Then again, it might not.” He stopped to take a drink of water. “I already had Chuck make up a list of the dozen men who went with me. I faxed it to the detective this afternoon.”

  So he’d already been thinking along those lines.

  Smart man.

  The conversation drifted from the shooting to working out and then to music. By the time they were finished, she was sweaty, and her arms felt like linguine, endorphins humming through her veins, where they collided with a healthy dose of pheromones.

  “That’s the second thing you’ve done today that you haven’t done in a while. How did it feel?” He turned off the iPod, the room going silent.

  “It felt terrific.” She wanted so badly to kiss him.

  No, kissing wouldn’t be enough. She wanted to rip his clothes off and make good use of the weight bench. Then she remembered why she couldn’t have sex with him, or why it would be very awkward and possibly mortifyingly embarrassing if she tried, and her good mood plummeted.

  “I should shower,” she said.

  Then she turned and walked back to her room.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Jack showered and dressed, then called Nate to give him an update.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to come home? They’ve reopened the highway. Megan and Emily can last a few days here without me. She’s got her brother and his posse nearby if she needs anything.”

  “No, son, there’s no need for you to head up the canyon. Sheriff Rove seems to have it all in hand.”

  “Sheriff Rove is an idiot, and you know it. That man is so fat and lazy he probably hasn’t seen his own dick in twenty years.”

  That was true enough.

  “His detective sergeant, a young man by the name of Taylor, seems to know what he’s doing. He came and photographed the whole thing and interviewed all the men yesterday.”

  “I think I should be there.”

  Jack hadn’t wanted to come out with this, but he could see he didn’t have a choice. “Truth is, son, I’ve got company, and the privacy has been good.”

  A long pause.

  “Are you entertaining a lady friend, old man?”

  Nate had never been stupid.

  “As a matter of fact, I am. Do you remember Janet Killeen?”

  “Isn’t she that pretty FBI agent you tossed off the property last winter?”

  Had it really been that bad?

  “She was on her way up to the Forest Creek Inn in Scarlet when she went off the road about a mile from the turnoff to the high pasture. She spent almost twenty-four hours in her car. CDOT had all but buried it by the time I found her. I brought her here, and we’re having a good time.”

  “I see.” The tone of Nate’s voice left no doubt as to what exactly he thought Jack meant by “good time.”

  “Not that kind of good time.” Not yet, anyway, but Jack wasn’t in a hurry.

  “She was badly wounded, wasn’t she? I heard she might not walk again.”

  “She is walking, though she uses a cane. Being here with the horses has been good for her.” He didn’t share with Nate the fact that Janet was suffering from nightmares. That was her personal business.

  “It’s just the horses that are good for her?”

  Smart ass.

  “She grew up on a farm, and today we got her up on Buckwheat. It was the first time she’d ridden since being shot. She’s a good rider and has a natural touch with horses, even Chinook.”

  “I’m happy to hear that.” Nate truly did sound pleased.

  “I’m glad I have your approval.” Jack meant it as a joke, but he truly did feel relief at his son’s reaction.

  Nate and his mother had been very close. It was one thing for Nate to encourage him to date. It was something else for Nate to feel comfortable with Jack bringing a woman into their home.

  “What I don’t like is some shooter walking around on our land while you’re busy with the lovely Ms. Killeen.”

  “We’re keeping the horses indoors and exercising them in the riding barn. I’m not taking any chances.”

  “How’s Luke working out?”

  “He is rising to the challenge. He seems very eager to prove his worth.”

  “A bit too eager sometimes. It can be annoying.”

  Jack laughed. “He’ll get the hang of things soon enough. I’m having a video surveillance system installed in the barns next Monday. In the meantime, he and Chuck are taking turns sleeping outside Chinook’s stall.”

  “A video surveillance system? That will be expensive.”

  “Losing Chinook would be a lot more expensive.”

  “True enough.”

  “I need to get to the kitchen. The biscuits won’t make themselves.”

  “Before you go, I have some news.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Megan’s pregnant.” Nate didn’t sound happy about it.

  Jack found himself smiling, but he bit back his congratulations. He knew the two of them had agreed to wait until after Megan finished law school. She was only halfway through her first semester. “I take it this came as a surprise. When did you get the news?”

  “This morning. We haven’t told Emily yet.”

  “How does Megan feel about it?”

  “She’s excited but worried about how pregnancy and a new baby will affect her ability to get through law school.”

  “Understandable. You can reassure her, of course, that we will do all we can to make sure she gets the support she needs.”

  “This is my fault.”

  Jack chuckled. “Now, son, I thought we had that talk. You knew going into this how it all works.”

  “She forgot to take a couple pills, and she warned me. I thought there was no way a couple of pills could make a difference, so I didn’t take extra precautions.”

  “Well, there’s only one thing to say now. Congratulations. I’ll admit it. I’m excited. A new baby in the house? That’s great.”

  Children brought chaos, but Jack did all right with chaos. He loved being a grandfather as much as he’d loved being a father, except that he was wiser now, more patient. He probably made a better grandpa than he had a dad.

  “Thanks. I appreciate the support. Keep me posted on the situation with Chinook.”

  “I will. Pass my congratulations and love to Megan, and give Miss Emily a hug. We can celebrate your news when you get home next weekend.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  Jack ended the call, then got to work in the kitchen mixing up a batch of buttermilk biscuits, a big smile on his face. He’d just pulled them from the oven when Janet appeared, freshly showered, her hair glossy from having been blown dry.

  She’d put on a bit of makeup—just enough to highlight her beautiful eyes—and a lavender turtleneck with a pair of Levis. Damned if she didn’t fill out both the shirt and her jeans to perfection.

  She smiled. “It smells delicious.”

  “The stew was made with beef raised here on the ranch. I tossed in potatoes, carrots, onions, green beans, and my own special ingredient—hard cider brewed in Scarlet Springs.”

  “If I lived here, I’d get fat.” Janet took the basket of rolls from him and set it on the table, then found the butter crock and did the same with it.

  “If you lived here, I’d keep you too busy for you to get fat.”

  “Is that so?”

  “You better believe it.”

  Only when Jack saw the blush in Janet’s cheeks did he realize how she’d taken his words. He’d been thinking of her working with the horses. He wondered for a moment whether he should correct her impression
, then decided against it. He didn’t want to embarrass her or hurt her feelings, and if her mind had immediately gone to sex, he was okay with that.

  He served the stew and the salad, then got two bottles of hard cider out of the fridge, poured them into mugs, and set one at each plate. “Help yourself.”

  “Tell me about Nate and Megan and your granddaughter—Emily is her name?”

  Jack told her about the news he’d just gotten, then bragged about Nate’s accomplishments and how proud he’d been when Nate had made the cut to serve as a special operator with a Marines special ops team that worked with Navy SEALs.

  “That’s how he met Javier Corbray, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is.” Jack told her how Nate had courageously faced his burns, how hard he’d fought to live. Then he told her how Nate had met Megan when she’d been volunteering at one of the homeless shelters to which the Cimarron donated ground beef. He told her how Megan hadn’t been repulsed by Nate’s scars, but had helped him accept himself and heal. “I thank God every day for Megan.”

  “She sounds like a special person.”

  “That she is. Emily was Megan’s daughter by a previous relationship. The man is dead, and we don’t talk about him. Nate adopted Emily when he and Megan got married.”

  Jack didn’t tell her about Megan’s scars—her long battle with heroin addiction, her time in prison, the sexual abuse she’d suffered there, the baby daddy who’d terrorized her. He also didn’t mention the fact that Nate had been the one to kill Emily’s biological father, saving both mother and daughter. Megan’s past was hers to share if and when she felt comfortable doing so.

  If Janet stuck around, she would eventually get the whole story. If she didn’t, she had no need to know.

  “I love happy endings.” Janet dabbed her lips with her napkin. “I bet Emily has you wrapped around her little finger.”

  “I wouldn’t say that.” That was a bald-faced lie, and Jack knew it. “Okay, yes, she does. What can I say? I love that kid.”

  “You’re a very nurturing man.”

  “Thank you.” He knew some men wouldn’t like being described that way. Hell, it might have rubbed him the wrong way thirty years ago. But now, he appreciated it. “I wasn’t always. I married a woman, then signed up to fight in a war on the other side of the world, leaving her with my parents. But I’ve learned a thing or two since then.”