Buch lesen: «Loaded»
“I’m staying with you.”
Shelly couldn’t have heard him right. A man like Matt Collingsworth didn’t put himself out for a prospective employee. But then she wouldn’t have expected one of the richest men in Texas to be sitting across from her tonight, either.
“What did you say?” she asked.
“You shouldn’t be alone until we know why someone tried to kill you today.”
“And you’re planning to serve as my bodyguard? That isn’t necessary.”
“Actually, it is. Family tradition, the cowboy code and all that. A real man never walks away from a woman in danger.”
He’d walk away fast enough if he knew she was CIA and here to put him and his family away for life. She should be thanking her lucky stars for this entrée into the inner sanctum of the world she’d come to infiltrate. But only one word came to mind, and it seemed to be shouting inside her head and echoing through every cell of her body:
Help!
Joanna Wayne was born and raised in Shreveport, Louisiana, and received her undergraduate and graduate degrees from LSU-Shreveport. She moved to New Orleans in 1984, and it was there that she attended her first writing class and joined her first professional writing organisation. Her first novel, Deep in the Bayou, was published in 1994.
Now, dozens of published books later, Joanna has made a name for herself as being on the cutting edge of romantic suspense in both series and single-title novels. She has been on the Waldenbooks bestselling list for romance and won many industry awards. She is a popular speaker at writing organisations and local community functions and has taught creative writing at the University of New Orleans Metropolitan College.
She currently resides in a small community forty miles north of Houston, Texas, with her husband. Though she still has many family and emotional ties to Louisiana, she loves living in the Lone Star state. You may write to Joanna at PO Box 265, Montgomery, Texas 77356, USA.
LOADED
BY
JOANNA WAYNE
MILLS & BOON
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To all my Texas friends who so willingly share their
family stories with me. To my husband for putting up
with me when I’m so lost in one of my stories I forget
to cook dinner or come to bed. And a special thanks to
all my readers who love a cowboy tale the way I do.
Chapter One
Shelly Lane walked into the Country Café at one-forty on a Friday afternoon in the middle of June, following on the heels of Matt Collingsworth. Smells of fried chicken, cinnamon and fresh-brewed coffee greeted her. It looked like the sort of place you should seat yourself, but a short, plump woman with a knot of graying curls on top of her head was smiling and sashaying toward her.
“Hi, there,” the lady said, her charming Texas drawl pulling her words into extra syllables. “You can just sit anywhere, and Jill will be around to take your order in a jiffy.”
“Thanks.” Shelly glanced around and noted that she was the only one eating alone. Most of the customers were family groups, though there were a few tables with just lone cowboy types. Several looked her way. Most grinned and nodded. A few waved. Colts Run Cross was a very friendly town.
Shelly located Matt—he’d joined a group of men and one super-cute young lady at a table near a window—then chose a spot where she could observe him without making it too obvious. Actually, she didn’t mind him seeing her now that she was about to make contact with his mother.
The chair wobbled a bit as she slid it closer to the square wooden table covered in a blue plaid cloth. A simple vase holding two silk daisies sat in the middle, flanked by inexpensive salt and pepper shakers and a bottle of catsup.
Her attention returned to Matt. He was far more handsome in person than in the likenesses she’d studied of him. His hair was short, dark brown and only slightly rumpled by the Western hat he’d been wearing before entering the restaurant. His jeans were worn, but clean, and though she couldn’t see it now, she knew from stealthily following him about town that they showed off his lean, hard frame to perfection.
He glanced her way and smiled. A treacherous skip of her heart forced her to take a deep breath and regroup. Even the slightest attraction on her part could compromise her mission.
Jill stopped at Shelly’s elbow. “The special today is fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy and pinto beans. That comes with corn bread or biscuits and a dish of peach cobbler and ice cream for dessert. Or you can order off the lunch menu. It’s on the back.”
The waitress turned the menu over and tapped the offerings with her index finger. “What would you like to drink?”
“Just tea, please, with lemon.”
“Sure thing.”
Jill stopped off at Matt’s table, flirting shamelessly with him and his cohorts. Not that Shelly blamed her. They all had that sexy cowboy mystique about them. It was even more potent than Shelly had expected, but she knew that Matt Collingsworth was no simple cowboy. Nor was he your everyday Texas rancher.
Not only did his family own the second-largest spread in Texas, but they were sole owners of Collingsworth Enterprises, which encompassed the operations of Jack’s Bluff Ranch as well as Collingsworth Oil and its related subsidiaries. Which meant they had ties to some of the most high-ranking businessmen and politicians in this country and in other key parts of the world.
The waitress arrived with the tea and Shelly ordered a grilled chicken salad, which arrived in short order. She lingered over her food, finally leaving though Matt was still engaged in a very animated conversation with the others at his table.
The sun was blinding when she stepped out the door of the small café. She fished in her handbag for her sunglasses and put them on as she crossed the street to her dark blue, nondescript sedan. She was opening the door when she spotted a black car rounding the corner, speeding toward her.
Sunlight glinted off the barrel of a revolver as it slid through the open window. Her instincts and training kicked in at the speed of light. She searched the empty streets for someone to warn, then crouched behind the car door as the sound of gunfire and bullets pinging against metal shattered the quiet afternoon.
Even if she’d had time to retrieve her weapon from the car, she wouldn’t have had time to fire back. The car had roared past and she could hear the footsteps and voices of people rushing from the nearby shops, before she realized she’d been hit by a ricocheting bullet.
The keys slipped through her fingers and it felt as if a dozen wasps had all found the same spot on the back of her upper arm. Blood soaked the sleeve of her blouse. She stared; the incredulity of the situation made the facts difficult to register. This couldn’t have happened. She was CIA and deep undercover. Not even her own mother knew she was in Texas.
“She’s been shot,” a female yelled.
But when Shelly looked up, she was staring right into the dark, piercing eyes of Matt Collingsworth. Trouble had never been more ominous—or looked so good.
Chapter Two
My name is Shelly Lane. I’m a physical therapist who’s just arrived in Colts Run Cross and has no idea why anyone would be shooting at me.
Shelly worked to keep the lies firmly implanted in her mind as she fought to overcome the effects of pain and unexpected vulnerability.
“Some fool fired at me from a passing car and I think a bullet ricocheted into my arm,” she said, as Matt crouched down beside her.
“Is that the only place you were hit?”
“I think so.”
“You’re damn lucky. Your car wasn’t so fortunate.”
She only nodded, wondering if he was as innocent in all this as he seemed. Her experience told her to doubt him. Her instincts said differently.
“Hope this isn’t your favorite blouse,” Matt said, wielding a pocketknife and staring at the bloodied mess.
“No, cut away. Not the arm—just the sleeve.”
“Picky, are you?” He cut away the fabric and then helped her to the sidewalk where someone had brought out a chair for her to sit on.
“The ambulance is on the way,” a bystander announced.
“Who shot her?” someone else yelled.
“Some guy in a black Ford. Skidded around the corner. He’s long gone now.”
“Son of a bitch!”
“Probably stings like hell,” Matt said, shifting so that he could get a better look. “The bullet tore into the flesh of your arm, but there are no exposed bones. A few stitches should put you back together.”
He applied pressure to slow the bleeding as she dealt with the bizarre irony of having him come to her rescue. His touch was strangely heady—probably from the rush of adrenaline and the loss of blood. Still, his take-charge attitude was impressive. It was easy to understand why the ranch he comanaged with his bother Bart was so successful.
But then, organizational skills and money were exactly what was making the Collingsworths’ ties to terrorists so difficult to trace. She could not let down her guard for a second.
“Who shot at you?” Matt asked.
“I have no idea.”
“Do you have that many enemies?”
“I don’t have any that I know of. All I know is the car came from nowhere and someone started shooting at me.”
“Are you saying this was just a random drive-by?” There was no mistaking the suspicion in his voice.
She tried to move her arm so that she could see the wound.
“Probably best to keep it still,” Matt said. “The ambulance will be here soon.”
“I don’t need an ambulance.”
“Maybe not, but you have to go to the emergency room and that’s as good a way as any to get there.”
“Are you a doctor?”
“Nope, just a rancher. Name’s Matt Collingsworth.”
“Of Jack’s Bluff Ranch?” She hoped there was ample surprise in her pain-laced tone.
“That’s right. Have we met?”
“No, I’ve only been in Colts Run Cross a few days but I have an appointment with Lenora Collingsworth tomorrow at the ranch.”
His eyebrows arched.
“I’m the physical therapist she hired for her father-in-law.” That much was true. She’d been a physical therapist, before going back to school for a degree in criminal psychology and going to work for the CIA. Her PT background was the only reason she’d drawn this kind of major assignment so early in her career.
“Bum luck to show up in town for a new job and get shot before you even get started,” Matt said.
“Do you have many drive-by shootings around here?”
“Never. This makes no sense at all.”
And she could tell from his tone and expression that he liked things to make sense. She suspected he also liked being in control. He’d certainly taken over here quickly enough.
“I’ll let Mom know not to expect you tomorrow—if ever. I can see how a welcome like this might convince you to turn around and go back home.”
Nothing would make her willingly leave before the investigation was completed, but her supervisor was not going to like this development. If the shooting wasn’t a random act of violence, then someone had to know who she was and why she was here. In that case, she’d be jerked off the assignment before she even made it to Jack’s Bluff Ranch.
A siren sounded and a sheriff’s squad car pulled up. A couple of uniformed lawmen jumped out, and the bystanders who had gathered around her all started talking at once.
“A bullet hit the car and…”
“No one saw the shooter, but he was in a sedan…”
“Okay, let’s try to talk one at a time,” one of the lawmen said. “Did anyone get the license plate number?”
“The car was a black, late-model Ford Fusion, but there was no license plate,” Matt said.
“Did you see the whole thing?”
“No, I was inside the café when the shots were fired, but I raced to the window in time to get a good look at the back of the vehicle before it rounded the corner and disappeared from sight.”
The lawman put up his hand to signal for quiet. “Did anyone get a look at the shooter?”
“I came running out of Flora’s Antique shop when I heard the shots,” an overly plump woman with heaving bosoms offered. “All I got was a glimpse of the back of the car.”
The others shared similar accounts.
The lawman doing all the talking turned to Shelly. “Did you get a good look at him?”
“No. The second I saw the gun, I ducked out of the way.” Which meant there were no eyewitnesses, just as the brazen shooter had no doubt intended.
“Could be some kind of gang-related initiation,” one of the young cowboys who’d been sitting with Matt in the café said. “Same thing happened in New Orleans when I was there a few months back helping rebuild a church lost to Katrina.”
“Well, hells bells, Charlie. This ain’t New Orleans.”
The ambulance arrived, and two paramedics jumped out and ran toward her. One started tending the wound that was now only oozing blood. The other commenced with a series of routine questions about the injury and about any allergies she had.
“Let’s just hold on here a minute,” the lawman-in-charge interrupted. “I need the victim to answer a couple of questions before you go rushing her to the hospital, seeing as how she’s not in dire need of emergency medical care.”
He introduced himself as Sheriff Ed Guerra, and she told him her name.
“So, Miss Lane, do you know why anyone would be taking pot shots at you?”
“Absolutely not. I don’t know anyone in Colts Run Cross except the people I’ve met over the last four days. They were all very friendly.”
“So you just moved here?”
“I’ve been staying at the motel on the highway, but I came here to work for the Collingsworths. I’m a physical therapist.”
The sheriff and Matt exchanged glances.
“She’s supposed to work with Jeremiah,” Matt said.
The sheriff nodded and nudged his cowboy hat back a bit farther. “Where are you from?”
“Atlanta.”
“That’s a long commute.”
“I needed a change of scenery and I’ve always wanted to visit Texas.”
“How did you hear about a job at Jack’s Bluff Ranch?”
“I found the Houston Chronicle classifieds online and saw the Collingsworths’ ad.”
He nodded and scratched his clean-shaven chin. “Guess that makes sense. The rest of my questions can wait until you get that arm cleaned and stitched.” He nodded to the medics. “She’s all yours.”
She let them load her into the ambulance. Her arm still hurt, but her biggest problem right now was finding out who had shot at her and why—before her supervisor determined she wasn’t the person for this assignment.
If he found out that she’d let Matt Collingsworth get to her for even a second, he’d pull her anyway. But he needn’t worry. She was focused now and would make sure that Matt’s masculine sexuality and piercing eyes did not affect her again.
Her mission was to infiltrate the family and ferret out the full truth, an accomplishment that would likely destroy the Collingsworth empire and send at least some of the family members to prison for the rest of their lives.
She’d do the legwork. A judge and jury would decide the rest.
“THE PATIENT’S AWAKE NOW, Lenora. You can go in, but don’t expect her to be too talkative. That pain medication is making her drowsy.”
“I just want to say hello and make sure she doesn’t need anything.” Lenora knocked and then entered the hospital room where her would-be new employee lay beneath a pale blue blanket with an IV attached to her right arm. Her eyes were watchful as Lenora stepped to the side of the bed.
“I’m Lenora Collingsworth.”
Shelly smiled and tried to push up on her elbows, giving up on the idea quickly and dropping back to the pillow. “It’s nice to finally meet you, though this isn’t exactly how I’d pictured the moment.”
She had a nice smile and a sense of humor. She was attractive, too, with short brown hair specked with gold, and half bangs that set off her beautiful gold-green eyes.
Lenora placed her hand on the bed rail. “I can’t believe this happened after I assured you that you were coming to a safe area. But in all honesty, I don’t remember a single case of a random, drive-by shooting in Colts Run Cross. In parts of Houston, yes. But never in our community.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Shelly said. “In hindsight, I should have come straight to the ranch, but it’s my first visit to Texas and I wanted to do a bit of sightseeing before I began work.”
“Well, at least you got to do that. I don’t want to tire you, but I wanted to let you know how sorry I am and to make certain you have everything you need.”
“I appreciate that, but I don’t plan to be in this bed long. The doctor stitched me back together and is giving me antibiotics and some pain medication. He says I’ll be good as new soon. I’ll likely leave the hospital tomorrow.”
“Where will you go?”
“Back to the motel, I guess. I can’t expect you to provide room and board until this arm heals and I can start work.”
“Nonsense,” Lenora said, relieved that Shelly wasn’t planning to renege on their agreement. “You can have all the time you need to heal at the ranch. It will give you a chance to get to know Jeremiah before you start treating him. As I told you on the phone, he’s a bit cantankerous since the stroke. Well, more than a bit at times, but he can be loveable when he wants to be.”
“That would be great—if you’re sure I won’t be imposing.”
“Not at all. I’ll check with the hospital in the morning,” Lenora said. “If the doctor releases you, I’ll either pick you up myself or have someone else in the family do it, depending on their schedules. Whoever drives you to the ranch can stop off at the motel for your luggage. In the meantime, I’ll have the housekeeper get your room ready.”
“I have my own car, still parked on the street in front of the café.”
“Matt had it towed to Hank Tanner’s body shop once the sheriff and his men had finished examining it. Hank will keep it there until you have a chance to look at it and decide what you want done. No strings attached.”
“So the vehicle was examined?”
“Yes, of course, dear. Ed Guerra and his department are very efficient. And don’t worry about the cost of the bodywork on your vehicle. I’ll cover whatever your insurance doesn’t. It’s the least I can do.”
“I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“I insist.”
“Thanks. That’s a very generous offer, but I’m sure the insurance will handle it. I guess all I have to do now is give my arm a little time to heal. I can’t wait to actually get started.”
“Just hold on to that attitude once you meet Jeremiah.”
“I promise.”
Lenora had a feeling that this was going to work out perfectly in spite of the troublesome start. The shooting still worried her, but she’d checked Shelly’s references thoroughly. There was no reason to think this was any more than a random shooting perpetrated by some hoodlum who’d been high on drugs. It was the sheriff’s job to take care of that.
The positive news was that a smart, attractive woman who was unfazed by gunfire could surely handle Jeremiah. She might even be able to stir a little romantic excitement in Matt. If any man needed a woman, it was him—not that he’d ever admit it.
Lenora found herself humming as she left the hospital. This just might turn into a very memorable summer. In fact, she was counting on it.
“SHOT AT FROM A PASSING CAR right on Main Street?” Incredulity colored Jaime’s tone and lit up her eyes. “And just when I was thinking of moving into Houston to add a little excitement to my ho-hum life.”
“It’s not funny,” Lenora said. “She could have been killed.”
“Sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean it that way. But you have to admit it’s unusual. There has to be more to the story than that.”
“Things like this happen in big cities all the time,” Lenora said. “It was inevitable it would make its way out here eventually. There’s no reason to believe Shelly did anything to provoke the attempt on her life.”
Matt had known the topic of the shooting would come up sooner or later. In fact, he was surprised they’d made it all the way through dinner before Lenora had approached the subject.
They’d gathered on the huge screened back porch, and since it was Friday, several extended family members were still sitting around catching up on the week’s happenings.
The shooting had been front and center on Matt’s mind all afternoon, and the more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that the best news for them would be if Shelly Lane decided to pack her bags and move right back to Atlanta. She might be totally innocent in all of this, but the odds were that she wasn’t.
“Tell me more about this woman,” Langston said, after Lenora had given them the few details they knew about the gunfire incident. Langston was the oldest, the head honcho of Collingsworth Oil. He had a cabin at the ranch, but lived in Houston during the week with his pregnant wife Trish and teenage daughter Gina.
“Shelly seems really nice,” Lenora said. “And mature for her age. A lot of young women would have panicked and been ready to clear out of town as fast as they could. She only wants to heal and start working with Jeremiah.”
“How old is she?” Trish asked.
“Twenty-nine,” Lenora said. “But she’s experienced and a very competent physical therapist. I checked her credentials thoroughly before hiring her.”
“Twenty-nine. Very interesting. And single, I’m guessing, since she’s moving in with us.” Jaime added. “And Matt’s thirty-three. How convenient, not that Mom would ever play matchmaker.” That brought a few laughs.
Matt groaned. His mother had managed to manipulate him into situations with half the single women in Colts Run Cross over the last few months. He hadn’t taken the bait then and he wouldn’t be biting this time, either, certainly not with a city girl out here for a change of scenery.
“This isn’t about Matt,” Lenora said. “It’s about Jeremiah.”
His grandfather picked that moment to join them on the porch. He propped his cane against the old wicker couch and dropped to the cushioned seat. “What about me?”
“I’ve hired a physical therapist,” Lenora said. “She’s from Georgia, but she’s going to live with us and help you regain your balance and strength.”
He sputtered and muttered a few curses under his breath. “If I wanted to be manhandled by a woman, I’d have remarried.”
Trish walked over and sat down by Jeremiah. She had a way with the old codger, but then she pretty much had a way with everyone.
“Having a live-in therapist seems the perfect solution to me,” Trish said. “You never want to go to your appointments. This way you won’t have to.”
“I don’t go to therapy because the sessions don’t do a dadgummed bit of good. If they did, I wouldn’t be hobbling around here like some useless old man, now would I?”
“You limp,” Trish admitted. “But you could never be useless.”
I’ve hired Shelly Lane,” Lenora said. “If you want to get rid of that cane, you’ll cooperate with her. If you’re too hardheaded to work with her, then it will be your loss. She’s moving in tomorrow.” Lenora dusted her hands as if that were the end of the matter, but that didn’t mean it was.
“Tomorrow?” Jaime questioned. “I thought this new physical therapist was in the hospital.”
Lenora kicked off her black sandals and pulled a foot into the chair with her, settling it under her full black skirt. “If not tomorrow, then the next day. She’s coming here to recuperate.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Langston questioned.
“Why wouldn’t it be? She doesn’t have anywhere else to go,” Lenora said. “Besides, it will give her a chance to get to know Jeremiah before she starts working with him.”
“Yeah, like that’s an advantage,” Jaime mocked.
Matt’s muscles tightened. “I know you mean well, Mom, but you can’t just move her onto the ranch until we have more facts about today’s attack.”
“What’s to know?” Lenora asked. “She was just crossing the street and someone started firing at her. You were the one who told me what happened, Matt. That’s why I went to the hospital to check on her.”
“That’s the way it looked,” Matt said, “and the way Shelly told it, but at this point there’s no way to know she’s leveling with us. The shooter could be someone she knows.”
Jeremiah swung his cane in the air, banging it into the leg of a table and sending a half-empty glass of iced tea into a wobbling dance that fortunately ended without the glass hitting the floor. “Don’t know what this world’s coming to, but if some sick bastard’s trying to kill her, you ought to already have her out here. Can’t expect a woman to take care of herself.”
“Right,” Jaime said, mocking him. “What would we ever do without a man to take care of us?”
“Let’s get back to Shelly Lane,” Langston said. “She’s probably as innocent in all this as she claims, but to be on the safe side, I’d like to have Clay Markham investigate her before we move her onto Jack’s Bluff. He’s as competent a private detective as you’ll find anywhere in Texas, and Collingsworth Oil has him on retainer.”
“And I say we get Aidan Jefferies to run a police background check on her as well,” Matt said. “If they both clear her, then Mom can move her in with no worries.” Aidan was one of Langston’s closest friends and a Houston homicide detective.
“How long are we talking about for these investigations?” Lenora asked.
“A few days at most,” Langston assured her. “Actually, they’ll probably know by tomorrow night if she’s had any other attempts on her life or reported any type of threats. They’ll definitely know if she has a police record of any kind.”
“I guess I can live with that,” Lenora said, “though I hate to tell her that I’m going back on my offer to move her out here tomorrow. And I don’t like the idea of her going back to that motel all alone.”
“Have the doctor keep her in the hospital,” Matt said. “I don’t know why he’d object to that, as long as we pick up the tab.”
“I suppose that’s an option,” Lenora said. “And tomorrow’s probably not the best day to have her out here, anyway, what with children from the Turnaround Program coming out for the day.”
Matt groaned. “That’s tomorrow?”
“Yes, and you promised to help with the horse riding,” Lenora said, smoothing her short graying hair. “I’ll give Shelly’s doctor a call, but I guess I should go back into town tonight and break the news to Shelly in person.”
“I’ll do it,” Matt said, suddenly uneasy with his mother becoming too involved with Shelly before they had an official report.
“Okay, but don’t tell her the delay is because we’re having her investigated. Just say I’m getting her room ready so that everything will be perfect when she arrives.”
Matt shrugged. “Sorry, Mom, I’m not into sugarcoating.”
“Just be nice,” Lenora said. “Miss Lane’s welcome to Texas has already been traumatic enough.”
“I’m always nice.”
“Compared to what?” Jaime asked. “A striking rattlesnake?”
“Just because I’m not a pushover for a smile and a pretty face doesn’t mean I’m unsociable.”
“Pretty, huh?” Jaime smiled tauntingly. “This story just keeps getting better. But I’ll have to hear the rest tomorrow. I’ve got a date with Tommy Stevens tonight, and he should be here to pick me up any minute.”
“When did you start dating him?” Trish asked. “I thought you were back with Garth.”
“Not anymore. All he thinks about is running off to some new rodeo competition. Like at twenty-five, don’t you think he’d have better things to do than try to stay on a stupid bull?”
Matt would have thought the guy had better things to do than date Jaime. She was as fickle as a mare at breeding time. But all she had to do was crook her finger and Garth—and half the male population of south Texas—came running. He hoped someone would shoot him if he ever got that crazy about any woman.
His cell phone rang. He checked the caller ID: sheriff’s office. He walked to the kitchen to take the call. Ten to one this had to do with Shelly Lane, and the odds were even better that it was not good news.
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