“All right.”
Howler stared off toward the dark red, newly constructed barn. “You know, Randy Stevens confessed to burnin’ down your barn. Jim brought the boy in hisself. Randy’s doin’ community service.”
Should have been a whole lot more as far as Josh was concerned, but it was better than letting the kid skate completely.
“His dad’s a good man,” Josh said.
“That he is.” Howler turned toward the smashed cold box, the pieces of red plastic scattered all over the ground. “I’ll keep an eye out. If I hear anything about these hombres, I’ll let you know.”
“Thanks. I’ll be in town tomorrow. I’ll stop by your office and file that complaint.”
The sheriff nodded. Tugging on the brim of his hat, he stepped off the porch and walked back to his pickup. Tory came out of the house as the truck drove away.
“I heard what he said. Looks like we’re the only ones they’ve bothered. I wonder why that is.”
She was standing just a few feet away. Josh couldn’t help thinking how pretty she looked in the morning, with her fiery curls and peaches-and-cream complexion. He ignored an itch to have her that was becoming way too strong.
“Linc and Carly stayed the night at Blackland Ranch. I talked to Linc earlier, asked him to see if he could set up a meet with Tag Joyner. Tag’s president of the Asphalt Demons. Linc called back. Tag’s meeting my brother and me at Jubal’s Roadhouse tonight.”
He smiled down at her. “You feel like a night on the town?”
Her big green eyes widened, but he saw none of the apprehension that had been there after she’d roused him from the dream.
“That sounds like fun,” she said. “I’ll talk to Mrs. Thompson when I pick up Ivy, see if she’ll babysit tonight.”
“Roadhouse isn’t much, but you’ve been cooped up on the ranch awhile. I figure any place is bound to look good.”
“There is that. I hope Tag Joyner can help us.”
Josh looked at the destruction around him. “Yeah, so do I.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jubal’s Roadhouse turned out to be a wood-frame building outside the Iron Springs city limits. With its false front, wooden boardwalk, and double swinging doors, Tory thought it looked like something out of the eighteen sixties.
Spotting a row of motorcycles parked in a line out front, she caught Josh’s arm.
“It’s okay,” he said. “Those belong to the Demons. The black Harley with the silver conchos on the seat is Linc’s.”
Tory glanced up. “Seriously?”
Josh grinned. “Yeah. He and Carly rode over from the ranch.”
She had to admit she was impressed. It occurred to her that if Carly could ride a hot-looking Harley, she was ready to do more than walk and trot Rosebud around the pasture.
For years, she’d run a top-notch advertising team for one of the largest, most successful firms in Phoenix, earning a fat salary in the process. But something as simple as riding still remained a challenge.
A challenge she was enjoying and mastering a little more every day. Expanding her abilities felt good.
They pushed through the swinging doors together and stopped just inside. A jukebox played Willie Nelson, and peanut shells littered the floor. A long wooden bar stretched in front of them and the clack of pool balls resonated from the back.
Several female heads swiveled in Josh’s direction, openly admiring the tall, broad-shouldered cowboy in dark blue jeans, boots, and a pressed denim shirt. He was wearing his good straw cowboy hat tonight, and Tory had to admit he looked delicious.
Dressed in a short jeans skirt and a white ruffled tank that dipped low enough to show a little cleavage, she fit right in with the women, cowboys, and bikers who sat at scarred wooden tables scattered around the plank floors.
She was glad she was wearing her cowboy boots, even if they were plain brown and already a little worn. Her hair was getting longer, falling in loose copper curls that just brushed her shoulders.
She felt Josh’s hand at her waist and looked up to see a possessive gleam in his eyes. She could still recall the stunned look on his face when she had walked out of the double-wide onto the porch where he was waiting.
Clearly, she needed to exchange her T-shirts and jeans for a sexy skirt and blouse more often.
“Stay close,” he said softly. “Half the guys in here are undressing you with their eyes and the other half are trying to figure a way to get you in bed.”
She flushed. Surely he was kidding. But when she looked around, she caught several openly admiring glances.
“This way.” Josh urged her toward a table off to one side. She almost didn’t recognize Carly and Linc, who wore black leather as easily as expensive business suits.
They rose as she and Josh approached. Carly gave her a hug and Linc kissed her cheek. “So he finally let you out of the house,” Linc said, his massive biceps straining the sleeves of the snug black T-shirt beneath his black leather vest. “I thought maybe he had you chained to the bed.”
The heat returned to her cheeks. Carly elbowed him, and he grinned, digging sexy indentations into his cheeks.
“Ignore him,” she said, but she grinned back. Lincoln Cain was impressive, no doubt about it. But no more so than his wicked-hot, blue-eyed brother.
“Tag’s over there with Baldy, Wolf, and Lenny.” Linc pointed to a group of bikers sitting a few tables away. She could read the name ASPHALT DEMONS on the back of a vest worn by a blond biker with his hair pulled into a ponytail.
A guy with shoulder-length shaggy brown hair got up and strode toward them, pulled out a chair, spun it around, and sat down facing them.
He turned to Josh. “Hey, bro, good to see you.”
“You too, Tag.” Josh introduced Tory. Linc ordered another pitcher of beer and more glasses.
The drinks were served by a busty, big-haired blonde who was eyeing Josh like a juicy piece of meat. If he noticed, he didn’t encourage her. Tory ignored a bubble of jealousy she pretended not to feel.
Linc poured glasses of beer for her and Josh, and filled a glass for Tag.
“Linc says you’ve had some trouble,” Tag said to Josh, taking a drink of his beer.
“That’s right. Group of bikers vandalized the ranch after the barn raising. Tore things up, got into a slugfest with me and a couple of marine buddies who work for me, fired off some shots. Any guess who it might have been?”
“I don’t have to guess. I know who it was. Part of a bunch that call themselves the Street Marauders. Operate out of South Dallas. Deal drugs, run prostitutes, stuff like that. I heard they were in town.”
Josh shook his head. “I don’t get it. I’ve never even heard of these guys. What the hell beef did they have with me?”
“The Marauders work for hire. Advertise on the Internet in some of those soldier-of-fortune magazines. If the job pays enough, they’re up for just about anything.”
Tory’s pulse kicked up as the first stirrings of alarm moved through her. Someone paid them?
Josh leaned forward in his chair. “You’re saying someone hired those guys to tear up my place?”
“Most likely. If they stopped at vandalizing your property, that’s probably all they were paid to do. Could have been a whole lot worse.”
Josh slanted Tory a look and she knew he was thinking the same thing she was. Her heart was thrumming. She didn’t want to believe it was Damon, but she did.
“They still in town?” Josh asked.
“I heard they left late last night. After Linc called this morning, I asked around. Looks like they’re back in Dallas.”
“So their job here is done,” Josh said darkly.
“At least for now.” Tag stood up from his chair. “That’s all I got. But I’ve put the word out. If the Marauders show up in the area, you’ll be the first to know—and you won’t have to deal with them alone.”
Some of the stiffness eased in Josh’s shoulders. He was making friends here, Tory thought. Good friends, it seemed.
“Thanks, Tag.”
The biker tipped up his chin in farewell, then sauntered back to his table of friends.