The Millionaire Cowboy's Secret

Chapter 12



Skylar’s throat closed up at the kind gesture, and to her horror she realized she had tears in her eyes. Matt had no idea how much it meant to her, the simple act of holding her hand. Offering comfort rather than wanting to discuss—and cure or mock—her irrational, all-consuming fear.

The most horrible part of it wasn’t that she couldn’t seem to stop shaking. No, the worst part was how much she despised herself for her weakness.

After losing her family, she’d vowed always to be strong, no matter what she faced. Thus far, she believed she’d succeeded. Until today. All alone in the cramped, dark space, she’d given way to her fears and nearly lost her mind.

This was the very first time she’d failed so horribly. And even worse, she’d done so in front of someone else. Someone who was a potential criminal and whom she’d been sent undercover to investigate.

Once they reached the camper, Matt opened the door for her and kept his hand at the small of her back as she climbed the steps.

Spying the picnic hamper on the table, she turned to Matt. “Did you...”

His smile seemed tentative. “Yes. I ate a few bites of chicken on the way back from town. There’s plenty left. I thought you might still want to go on a picnic. Of course, I had no way of knowing...”

As his words trailed off, again her eyes filled with tears. What the hell was wrong with her? She was never a weepy sort of person.

Angling slightly away from him, she swiped at her eyes.

Then, hoping he hadn’t noticed, she lifted her head. “Let me get cleaned up, okay?”

Without waiting to hear his response, she stepped into the tiny bathroom. Scrubbing the dirt from under her nails—even this reminded her of her missing son—she cleaned her face, grimacing as she rinsed away the blood. She’d have a bruise there later.

When she emerged, still avoiding his gaze, she rummaged in one of the cabinets and found paper plates. Putting two down by the hamper, she slid onto the bench seat on one side of the table, indicating he should take the other.

“Any other time, I’d have loved a picnic.” She smiled, albeit a bit wobbly. “But for today, let’s eat here.”

He didn’t move. “You want me to stay?”

Surprised, she cocked her head. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I? Look at all this chicken! Plus, there’s potato salad and deviled eggs that you haven’t even touched.”

He shrugged, then took the seat across from her. “It’s just, after the time you had, I didn’t know if you wanted to be alone.”

His words gave her pause—after all, any other time, in such a situation, she would have wanted to be alone. But he... “You’re different,” she admitted, refusing to feel embarrassed. “Plus—” this time her smile was genuine “—you saved me.”

He looked at her. She looked back. As their gazes locked, everything else—the food, her fears, her self-loathing—faded away.

“Eat,” he said, breaking the spell.

Talia whined, making Skylar laugh. “She knows that word and it’s past her dinnertime. Let me feed her real quick.”

Busying herself pouring kibble into a bowl, Skylar felt anticipation buzzing through her, tingling in her blood, under her skin. Something had changed between her and Matt, though she would readily admit the transformation might be a bit one-sided.

She trusted him. While she’d been attracted to him from the moment she’d met him, she’d held a part of herself in reserve, afraid to allow herself to believe he wasn’t a criminal.

Now...that doubt had vanished as if it had never existed.

Returning to the table, she wouldn’t look at him, as if he could somehow see the truth in her eyes. Instead, she set out the chicken, potato salad, deviled eggs, beans and biscuits. He’d gotten them each a bottled iced tea, and she put straws in each drink.

“Quite a feast,” she said brightly. “I’m starving. How about you?”

“Hey.” The quiet rumbling of his voice again brought the stupid pricking of tears to her eyes.

Slowly, she raised her face to look at him, blinking furiously to push them away.

As soon as he saw her face, he pushed to his feet. “Come here.” He held out his arms. “You need a hug.”

Moving as if she were in a trance, chicken all but forgotten, she stood. On wobbly legs, she went to him and let him envelope her in his embrace.

“Shh,” he murmured, one hand smoothing her hair. “You seem like you’re about to shatter. Maybe you really should be alone.”

“No.” Alarmed, she clutched him. “Don’t go. Please. I don’t want to be by myself right now.”

Hearing her own words, she closed her eyes. “You have no idea how much it cost me to say that,” she said. But still she did not release her hold on him.

“You’d be surprised,” he told her. “Because I don’t want to leave you, either.”

She opened her mouth, but she had no response.

He kissed her then, covering her mouth with his softly, gentle when she craved rough. Making a sound of frustration, she kissed him with a hunger that was more than physical, though she demanded a physical response.

When he lifted his lips from hers and shook his head, she was stunned—and secretly, since she was all about admitting the truth to herself lately, hurt.

“Not now,” he told her, putting his hands on her shoulders and gently turning her back toward the table. “Sit down and eat something. You’ve had a big shock. You need to get some nourishment in you.”

Resisting the urge to pout—who was this person she seemed to be turning into?—she did as he asked, sullenly taking the largest, crispiest chicken breast and a leg, her favorite. She grabbed a heaping spoonful of potato salad and two deviled eggs.

The instant she bit into the now-cold chicken and flavor exploded in her mouth, she knew he was right. Chewing and swallowing, she resisted the urge to take another huge bite before giving him a muffled thank-you.

He nodded and they both dug in.

After they’d eaten until they were full, Skylar wiped her greasy fingers on a napkin and took a long drink of her iced tea.

“I needed that,” she said, sighing. “It was really good.”

“I did, too,” he admitted, one corner of his mouth lifting in the beginning of a smile. “Do you feel better now?”

Suddenly shy, she nodded. When he didn’t respond, she let her gaze roam over his features. She felt breathless, like a young girl again, dizzy just from being in the same room as him.

Still he made no move toward her. She wondered how to prove to him she wasn’t so delicate.

“Any news?” he asked.

For a moment she didn’t understand what he meant. Her quick frown must have telegraphed this to him, so he elaborated.

“Has anyone contacted you since you made your report?”

Bam. Just like that, she came crashing back to earth. Should she tell him what she’d learned about José?

“I can see someone has,” he said, leaning across the table and watching her intently. “What’s going on?”

Though she hated to ruin his evening—their evening—she told him about the twenty-five thousand-dollar deposit into José Nivas’s account. She couldn’t yet bring herself to speak about stumbling across José and Matt’s former girlfriend having sex in the barn office. If she did, she’d have to explain what she was doing there in the first place.

“Twenty-five thousand dollars?” Matt looked simply thoughtful rather than flabbergasted as she’d expected.

“Did he mention that to you?” she asked, although she knew he hadn’t.

“No, but he doesn’t tell me everything.” Drumming his fingers on the table, he stared out the window. “Maybe he got a loan for something.”

“The ATF found no evidence of that.”

When he looked at her, his blue eyes seemed darker. “Why are your people investigating him anyway?”

“You know why.”

He sighed. “He did his time. He’s reformed. You can’t hold that against him.”

“We don’t,” she shot back. “Especially if he’s innocent. But he has ties to the Mexican cartels, even now. And even I’m not entirely sure what his role is in this thing you’re trying to set up.”

“He has nothing to do with it.” His denials seemed to come a little too quickly. Still, she let it go.

“Are you going to ask him about it?”

He grimaced. “Probably. Yes. He’s gone home for the night, but he’ll be here in the morning. I’ll speak to him then.”

Standing, she began to bag the bones up for the trash. “I’ll have to take these out so Talia doesn’t get into them.”

“I can take them with me,” he said.

Disappointed, she nodded. Was he leaving, then? She’d hoped for a bit of body-to-body comforting.

As she tied up the trash bag, he came up behind her and took it from her. Placing it on the stove, he turned her around to face him. “How are you feeling?”

Instead of answering, she reached up and pulled him down to her, pressing her lips to his and kissing him with reckless abandon.

He responded in kind, his tongue sending a jolt of desire to her lower body. Demanding more, she caressed him, thrilling at his muscular chest, loving the leashed strength she knew lay behind his gentle touches.

Curling into him like a cat in heat, she moaned as he slipped his hand inside her T-shirt, cupping her breast.

Somehow they made it to the bed and shed their clothes. She writhed beneath him, desperate to take him inside of her.

“Slowly,” he told her as he let his fingers work magic over her breasts, slipping down her belly to touch her there, where she was already moist and so damn ready she thought she might scream.

As he continued his torturous exploration with his mouth, she felt as if she were part fire and part ice. And damn him, he was enjoying this, too, if his huge arousal was any indication.

When he finally slipped inside her, she gasped in sweet agony, her body clenching in a spasm of pleasure.

And then he began to move and all rational thought left her. They danced together, naked bodies slick with perspiration, coming together and apart in perfect harmony.

As she reached the pinnacle and began shattering into a million tiny stars, she cried out, calling his name over and over.

A moment later, he joined her, his head back, eyes closed, so damn beautiful she wanted to weep.

After, as their breathing slowed, he continued to hold her. Neither spoke—she knew there was no way in hell she could reveal her feelings to him. Especially since realizing how she truly felt was absolutely terrifying to her. Never mind that it would freak him out.

“Do you want to spend the night here?” she asked, wincing as she heard herself say the words.

“Not tonight.” Kissing her forehead, he moved away, standing up and looking on the floor for his clothes.

From underneath the sheet, she watched him get dressed, refusing to let go of the drowsy warmth of satisfaction that had spread through her.

“Do you want me to let Talia out?” he asked once he was fully clothed.

She nodded, absurdly grateful she didn’t have to leave her cozy cocoon.

Once he’d taken care of her dog, he grabbed the trash bag of chicken bones and crossed over to kiss her mouth softly.

“See you in the morning,” he said.

And then he was gone.

Out of habit, she got up and locked the door behind him before climbing back into bed.

Not wanting to analyze or even think about what had just happened, she turned on her side and tried to will herself to sleep.

* * *

Vulnerable. Matt walked to his barn, breathing in the familiar scents of hay and horses, and tried to clear his head. Skylar had been vulnerable. Not usually a word that he’d use to describe her, but he’d seen a side of her that he’d never have imagined.

For the first time since he’d met her, she’d asked for something from him without an ulterior motive. She’d needed comfort, which he’d readily given. And then the heat they always seemed to generate between them had blazed to life, offering them both a welcome distraction. Recreational sex.

He swallowed hard, his chest tight. Maybe for her that had been what it was. Not for him. For him, it had become something more.

Returning home, Matt turned on the TV and watched several old movies in succession, paying very little attention to the plot or the dialogue. He drank a few beers, roamed his large, empty house and deliberately stayed up late, hoping when he finally did go to bed he’d fall into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Instead, he tossed and turned. His thoughts alternated between his newfound—and unwanted—feelings for Skylar and his worries over what José had gotten himself into.

He got up an hour before his usual rising time of 5:00 a.m., feeling tired and out of sorts. After showering, he made a pot of strong coffee and carried a mugful out to the back porch. Watching the sun rise, which was usually his way to meditate about the coming day, failed to inspire him. Soon he found himself downing his third cup of coffee, pacing and checking his watch for the twentieth time.

When seven o’clock rolled around, he gave up and went inside. José was late. Since his friend was always on time, Matt called José’s cell. No answer. In fact, the call went straight to voice mail. Matt didn’t leave a message. He figured whatever José was doing it must be important if he’d turned his phone off.

José would turn up eventually. He always did.

But as morning turned into afternoon, lunchtime came and went, and the sun began to hang lower in the sky, Matt’s gut began to hurt. Soon it would be evening and he still had no word from his friend. Matt couldn’t help but worry. He knew he should have driven to town to look for him, but he kept remembering what Skylar had told him about the large amount of money recently deposited into José’s bank account. While he trusted his buddy with his life, he hated having to ask such a thing. Worse, he couldn’t even imagine what kind of answer José would give.

He’d seen Skylar from a distance, and though he didn’t consciously avoid her, he kept himself busy enough that they didn’t cross paths all day.

Though now, with all the chores finished and still no sign of his friend, he knew eventually he’d have to seek her out.

Instead, she came to him.

He’d finished his evening meal by himself—warmed-up leftovers eaten with grim determination—and walked back outside to stare at his empty driveway, when he realized he was no longer alone.

“What’s wrong?” Skylar asked, perched on the edge of one of his patio chairs as though about to take flight.

He stopped pacing, about to ask her how she knew anything was wrong, then realized he was being foolish. “I can’t reach José.”

She regarded him curiously. “Is today his day off?”

“No.” He grimaced. “He didn’t show up this morning.”

“Maybe he’s sick.”

“He didn’t call.”

Frowning, she cocked her head, considering. “He could be too sick to call. That’s one possibility.”

“And the other?”

“He could have run off with the twenty-five thousand dollars.”

“True. Or, since twenty-five grand isn’t a lot in the scheme of things, maybe the cartel got to him,” he countered. “He’s in some kind of trouble. He’d have called me if it was anything else.”

She eyed him, clearly trying to determine whether he was normally so paranoid or if he had reason to be. Finally, she nodded. “If you’re that concerned, let’s drive over to his place and check it out.”

Taking action—any action—felt a lot better than sitting around wondering. He snatched his car keys off the ring in the kitchen and hurried back outside.

The moment he reemerged, she stood. “Let’s go.”

Though he wasn’t sure how José would feel about him bringing Skylar to his home, Matt wanted her company. Her presence helped quiet the jangling sense that something had gone very wrong.

She waited until they’d left the ranch and reached the blacktop heading into town before speaking again. “Look, I know the cartel is messing with people on this side of the border. Look what happened to those people they burned alive in the car in Arizona. But that was on the direct drug route, and the victims were most likely involved with the cartel.”

He glanced at her. “And your point?”

“I need to know if José is involved with the Mexican cartel.”

“I like your directness,” he said, stalling.

“Do you? That’s not an answer.”

Tightening his grip on the steering wheel, he sighed. “As I’m sure you’re aware, José did have a relationship with one of the cartels in the past. He was arrested, convicted and served his time. Since he’s been out, he’s been clean.”

“You’re positive of that?” She sounded skeptical. He supposed he couldn’t blame her.

“He works for me, Skylar.”

“Even so, what about since he was released? Any contact?”

He sighed, seeing no way around it. “Yes, he’s had contact with a few members of the cartel.”

“Old friends?”

“Maybe,” he allowed. “The truth is, anything he’s done has been on my behalf.”

“Because of the revenge thing.”

“Exactly.”

She went silent for so long he wondered if she’d nodded off. But no, a quick look revealed her staring off into the darkness, clearly thinking.

“I hate to say anything.” When she finally spoke, her voice was troubled. “Before I do, what’s your reasoning as to why the cartel has been targeting you—shooting at you, burning down your barn, et cetera?”

Jaw tight, he answered, even though he believed she already knew the answer. “We have ammunition. More than one warring faction wants it. Each of the two cartels who are in the know don’t want me to sell it to the other.”

“I disagree.” She shook her head, sending her thick hair swirling around her shoulders. “If that were the case, I believe they’d have been more direct. These people are accustomed to taking what they want without asking.”

“Exactly.” He pounded the steering wheel for emphasis. “That’s why they were shooting at us. They’ve been sneaking onto my ranch trying to find out where I’ve hidden the ammo.”

Now she sighed. “I’ll let you have that, even though I can’t shake the feeling there’s more to it than that. Are you certain you trust José?”

“Yes.” He didn’t even have to think about it. “He’s like my brother. I’d trust him with my life.”

“Then I guess you’d better hope you’re wrong. If the cartel took him, he’s a dead man.”

They both fell silent for the rest of the drive. José lived in town, in a neat frame house a few blocks from the railroad tracks.

Pulling into the empty driveway, Matt killed his engine and shut off his headlights.

“The place looks deserted,” Skylar pointed out. “No lights are on inside and there’s not even a car or pickup in the carport.”

José’s truck was gone. Matt’s stomach clenched. “Damn it.”

They got out together. He wasn’t surprised to see that Skylar had drawn her Glock. He did the same.

“Do you have a key?” she asked in the clipped, law-enforcement tone she sometimes used.

“No.” He shook his head. “José’s personal life is private. As long as he checks in with his parole officer and passes the drug tests, I don’t worry about him.”

She nodded. “Stay close to me.” Keeping to the side of the front door, away from any windows, she rang the bell. They both could hear the chimes echoing through the small house.

But no one came to the door. With a sinking heart, Matt realized he hadn’t actually expected anyone to. After all, José’s truck was gone.

“Let’s go around back,” she whispered. He nodded in agreement.

Hugging the side walls, they made their way to the back of the house, which was not fenced.

José’s back door was wide open.

Matt swore. Skylar stopped, though she kept her pistol out, apparently assessing the situation. She looked capable and yet still as sexy as hell. He’d never realized he had a thing for strong women.

But then, he hadn’t known many before her.

“Are you ready?” she asked, jerking her head toward the door. “We’ll go room by room.”

He nodded, hoping like hell they wouldn’t find José’s body.

“Now!” She leaped forward. Keeping close to each other, they dashed inside the dark house. He went for the light switch and flicked on the lights.

“Clear,” she said, coolly professional, barely glancing at him before she moved into the kitchen.

He headed for the bedrooms. Both of them were off a small hall off the main living area.

The first bedroom, the smallest of the two, José had made into a study. “Clear,” he called out, barely registering the scattered papers before heading toward the master bedroom.

Skylar had beaten him to it. “Clear,” she told him, holstering her gun. “There’s no one here.”

“And no signs of a struggle.” Putting his weapon away, he turned back toward José’s study. “It looks like someone has been searching for something in here.”

But as they gathered the paperwork, he realized they were only José’s credit-card statements, bank-account records and mortgage statements. Nothing to do with Matt or ammunition or drugs.

“Except that there’s another deposit of twenty-five thousand dollars in his bank account.” She held up a deposit slip. “He made the deposit yesterday, in cash.”

Matt tried to think, but came up with nothing. “I have no idea. I pay him every Friday, but he doesn’t make anywhere near that much money.”

Her expression seemed carefully blank, which told him she was thinking the worst and trying not to show it.

“He’s not selling drugs,” he protested. “I’d know if he was using.”

“Maybe not drugs,” she said softly. “But how close of a tab do you keep on your ammunition stores?’

“He wouldn’t do that to me.” His gut twisted at the thought.

“You do keep some sort of inventory, right?” she persisted.

Defeated, he let his shoulders sag. “José takes care of that. All the records are at my house.”

“Would you know if he’s updated them?”

“Of course. But José wouldn’t—”

“I know, I know.” She put a gentle hand on his arm. “He’s your best friend. I understand. If it’s any consolation, it would take a lot more than fifty thousand dollars to go on the run.”

Unless... Matt didn’t voice the thought out loud. Unless José was setting things up for an even bigger payoff and the cartel he wasn’t selling to had grabbed him in retaliation.

Even the thought of his best friend backstabbing him felt wrong. Not to mention disloyal. But it wouldn’t go away. “Why would anyone have taken him?” Matt asked, frowning and hoping she could come up with some other, more acceptable scenario. “Especially if he took some sort of bribe. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Maybe he failed to deliver,” she said. He wasn’t sure he liked the way she watched him, cool and calculating, more of her ATF persona than the Skylar he’d come to know.

“I’ll check the stores,” he said, holding up a hand when she started to speak. “And no, you can’t come with me. The fewer people who know where I keep the ammo, the better.”

Still staring hard at him, finally she gave a reluctant nod. “Let’s get out of here.”

“I’m with you on that one.” They each climbed into the truck and buckled up. He reached to put the key in the ignition, when she put her hand on his arm, stopping him.

“What about Chantal?” she asked quietly. “Do you think she knows something about this?”

“Chantal?” He didn’t get how she could go from rational ATF agent to this. “What does she have to do with any of this?”

Skylar swallowed hard. “She and José are...together. I saw them in the ranch office.”

He wasn’t sure he understood. “I haven’t seen Chantal or even talked to her since we broke up—mutually, I might add—last year. So when you say they’re together, what do you mean? Together how? Working together?”

Slowly, she shook her head. “Um, no. Together like a couple. I walked in on them in the barn office. They were having sex.”

Even in the dim light of the single streetlight, he could see her fair skin had turned a fiery red. “That’s impossible,” he said. “José would never...”

“Steal your girlfriend?”

“No, not that.” Dragging a hand through his hair, he struggled to make sense of this latest revelation. “José knows Chantal’s not my girlfriend. But he would have mentioned it to me, if only to make sure I wouldn’t take issue.”

She watched him gravely. “Would you have? Taken issue with them dating, I mean?”

He didn’t even hesitate. “Of course not. Chantal means nothing to me. José knows that. What bothers me is the fact he felt he needed to keep that hidden.”

“Like he kept hidden the two twenty-five-thousand-dollar deposits in his bank account?”

Clenching his jaw, he nodded. He felt angry, true, but also confused and, well, frickin’ hurt. José was his best friend.

“Pretty incriminating,” she said.

“There’s got to be more to this than we know,” he finally said, aware she’d think he was a fool, but not caring. “I refuse to give up on José until I hear the truth from him.”

“Okay.” She gave a decisive nod. “Then we need to find out what happened to him. I can contact the local authorities and put out an APB.”

“No.” Inserting the key in the ignition, he started the truck. “Let me see what I can find out before we do that. If it was the cartel, I don’t want to give them a reason to kill him.”

Neither one said what he knew they both were thinking. If José had been grabbed by the cartel, he was probably already dead.