The Millionaire Cowboy's Secret

Chapter 13



Once they returned to the ranch, they parted ways. Though Skylar had offered to keep vigil with Matt, he’d turned her down. He wouldn’t be good company, he’d said.

She’d tried like hell not to let his rejection hurt.

Another restless night, then. Unable to face more tossing and turning, around midnight she whistled for Talia and went for a walk. Up at Matt’s house, lights still blazed yellow from the windows, letting her know she wasn’t the only one unable to sleep.

If she had more nerve, she’d go up there, knock on his door and seduce him. Her body came fully alive at the thought. But she couldn’t go through with it. She was too afraid of how she’d feel if he turned her down.

Yet again, she had to wonder when she’d become such a coward.

Reaching the old barn, she opened the door, flicked on the hall lights and slipped inside. A few of the horses nickered sleepily, but none of them came to the stall door.

Breathing in the unique scent of horses, manure, hay and grain, and leather, she felt a sort of peace steal over her. Though this wasn’t her place, she felt a sense of home. This notion was so foreign, so wrong, she gasped out loud.

She’d learned the hard way that home wasn’t a place, but rather where the ones you loved were. She hadn’t felt this way since she’d lost her family.

Was this because of Matt? Did her feelings for him, so new and unsteady, run that deep?

Matt. And once again, she’d come full circle. He was on her mind, always on her mind, and she wanted to be with him more than she wanted anything else.

Foolish.

Still, she glanced at her watch, wishing she could shake this absurd and completely bizarre need to be with him. At first, she’d felt like a teenage girl with a crush. Now that they’d made love, now that he’d given her a glimpse into his true nature, she ached for him with a need that was almost physical and blotted out everything else.

Completely unacceptable for an ATF agent and totally wrong for a widow who should still be consumed by grief.

Closing her eyes, she tried to conjure up Robbie’s face. To her horror, she could only get as far as his blue eyes and blond hair. The rest of the details were shadowy, at best.

Hell, it had been five years. Still...how could she forget?

Digging in her purse, she found her wallet. There, in the section where other people kept credit cards, she had three pictures. One of Robbie, one of their son, Bryan, and the third of them all together.

It was this last one she pulled out to stare at. She and Robbie had looked so young, so happy. Bryan had been so fiercely independent that the moment before the photograph had been snapped, he’d been scowling at the camera. The photographer had managed to coax a smile with a toy robot, the very same one she’d had to buy Bryan the following day. It had been his favorite toy—he’d slept with it, and it accompanied him everywhere.

She’d buried his tiny little body with that robot.

Raising her head, she waited for the tears—she always, always, always, always cried when she looked at this photo. To her shock, not this time. She felt sad and the familiar aching sense of loss, but she did not weep.

One more thing she wished she could share with Matt.

“Is that your family?” Matt’s voice, as though he’d felt her need pulling at him.

She narrowed her eyes. He’d come up behind her without her noticing. More proof she wasn’t 100 percent on her A game.

Plus, she hadn’t told him anything about her past.

Maybe it was time.

“Yes,” she told him, resisting the urge to put the picture away. “They’re both gone now.”

“Let me see,” he asked, holding out his hand.

Heart skipping a beat, she gave it to him, noting the solemn, reverent way he examined it. This warmed her heart and—she was almost ashamed to admit it—gave her hope.

“They’re beautiful,” he said, handing it back. “You must have loved them very much.”

“I did,” she said. Again to her surprise, her voice sounded steady, sad but unbroken. “I miss them every day. Even though it’s been five years, I’ve never stopped longing for them.”

He nodded as if he understood. Remembering what had happened to his own family, she realized he probably did.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” He swallowed, his gaze far away. “Believe me when I say I know how that feels.”

Again, almost as if he’d known what she’d been thinking.

Under any other circumstances, with any other person, she might have concurred and changed the subject. But this was Matt and he wasn’t just mouthing platitudes. He truly understood the gnawing ache of loss.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Tell me what happened.”

So she told him. “I was running late for a meeting. My husband, Robbie, had taken the day off and was going to take our son, Bryan, to the park. I needed to cash a check, so I asked him if he’d mind stopping at the bank for me on his way home.”

Now fat tears rolled down her cheeks. Ignoring them, she continued, “At least they had their day at the park. They even stopped for lunch at Bryan’s favorite hot-dog place. The last stop they made was at the bank.”

He covered her hand with his, offering comfort. She swallowed hard, willing herself to continue. She hadn’t managed to make her way through this story in its entirety even once without breaking down, even with her psychiatrist.

But continue she did. “They were waiting in line for the teller when the robber came through the door. Just one, and he was high on crack or crystal meth. He shouted for everyone to hit the floor. I’m guessing they did, but the bank guard made a move the robber didn’t like and he sprayed the bank with bullets. Seven people lost their lives that day. Robbie and Bryan were among them.”

When she’d finished speaking, letting her words trail off, she waited for him to talk, to offer condolences or to comment that he remembered hearing about that horrific bank robbery on the news, or some other banal attempt at making her feeling better.

Instead, he took her picture from her and gently placed it on the table. “Do you still cry over them?” he asked gently.

“Not as much as I used to,” she admitted. “It’s probably the same with you, isn’t it?

He gave a casual shrug that didn’t fool her one bit. “I never cry.”

Guy talk, and she wasn’t buying it. “Surely you did right after you lost them.”

Slowly, he shook his head. “Not even then. I focused on the rage instead of the grief.”

This so saddened her that she felt her eyes fill. Seeing this, he took her into his arms and held her. Tight, as if he never wanted to let her go. Offering her comfort, when she should have been the one to offer it to him.

Shocked, she stood frozen, at first feeling like a bird trapped in a snare, unable to fly. Then, as the warmth of his embrace took hold of her, as he simply gave her the strength of his muscular body by way of comfort, she let herself relax, burrowing her face into the hollow at the side of his neck and breathing in the wonderful, masculine scent of him.

He rubbed her back, the gesture obviously not meant to be anything but comforting, certainly not sexual. But the longer she stood there, molded to him, she felt as if her body was being set ablaze, one minuscule section at a time.

His breathing hitched and changed, letting her know he felt it, too. Current surged between them, soothing becoming something more, something with potential. Raw and sexual.

She wasn’t sure who moved first, him or her or maybe they both did at the same time. But before she could blink, they began kissing, the slow, drugging kisses born of pent-up frustration and mutual need.

Kissing him, their bodies pressed so close, out of habit she found herself waiting for the flash of familiar guilt, so soon after talking about her family.

To her uneasy surprise, it never came. In its place blazed desire.

* * *

Waking up in the morning with Skylar curved into him, her delectable derriere pressed up against him, felt like Thanksgiving and Christmas all rolled into one. Matt set about waking her by placing kisses on her satiny skin, starting just below her ear and traveling down her neck, toward her collarbone.

He’d just begun to reach interesting territory as Skylar stretched and yawned, arching her back and perfectly placing her beautiful, full breasts in the exact position for him to kiss, when his cell phone rang.

Damn. Briefly closing his eyes, he froze. After all, it was six-thirty in the morning and who called at that hour unless it was an emergency?

José.

Rolling over, he grabbed the phone, coming fully awake as he saw an unfamiliar number on the caller ID.

Hurriedly, he answered, “Hello?”

“Matt, it’s me.”

Thank God. Relief flooded him. “José? Where are you? Are you all right?”

José’s laugh sounded forced. “I think so, man. They’ve been keeping me in the dark. This is the first time they’ve let me make a call. And this is a burn phone, to be used this one time before it’s destroyed, so don’t bother trying to use GPS to locate me.”

“Keeping you?” he repeated. “What’s going on? Who’s got you?”

Beside him, Skylar sat up, wide-awake. She grabbed the notepad and pen from the nightstand and scribbled a note. Maybe we can trace the call using GPS.

He shook his head, taking the pen from her and writing, No. Burn phone.

“Matt? Are you there?” José asked, sounding a bit worried.

“Yes. What’s going on, amigo?”

“The cartel has me.” José spoke with the kind of fear usually reserved for a demon from the depths of hell.

This, Matt could understand.

“La Familia? Or Diego Rodriguez?” Just saying the name made Matt clench his jaw. Diego had already taken his family from him. Was it possible he might take his best friend, as well?

“I don’t know,” José muttered. “I haven’t seen Diego. All I know is these guys are Mexican nationals and they work for the cartel.”

“What the hell do they want with you?”

“Maybe insurance.” José sounded oddly hesitant, a personality trait Matt recognized. He’d known José all his life, and José was one of the worst liars Matt had ever met.

“Truth,” Matt reminded him, not sure if someone was listening or not. “Come on, man. Tell me the truth.”

“I’m trying.” José sighed heavily. “Here’s the deal. They want me to take them to where the ammunition is stored, tomorrow night. They’re going to load it up and haul it off. You will not interfere because I will be their hostage. If you have Feds there, or anyone even within a half mile, they will shoot me. They mean business, Matt.”

Something inside Matt, some bit of intuition perhaps, told him José’s story was a mixture of truth and lies. Was it possible that Skylar was right and José was working with one of the cartels for his own ends? That would fit, as they’d be making the payment directly to José.

They’d been children together, always had each other’s backs. He hated to think their trust might have come to an end.

He had a right to know. “José, tell me. Does this have anything to do with the two payments of twenty-five thousand dollars you deposited into your bank account?”

Silence. Then José cursed virulently in Spanish. Without answering, he ended the call.

Damn. The actions of a guilty man, whether Matt wanted to believe it or not. He resisted the urge to fling his phone into the wall.

“Are you okay?” Skylar asked, the expression on her face telling him she knew he was not.

Gut twisting, he relayed everything José had said. And not said.

“So you don’t think he’s telling the truth?” she asked. “You believe he’s lying because he’s working with your enemy?”

“That’s what it seems like.”

She touched his shoulder. “You know as well as I do that everything is not always what it appears.”

“True, but this...” He shook his head. “I don’t know. I wish I did.”

Dejected, he got up and crossed the room, heading for the bathroom. “I’d really like to believe my friend. But he’s making it more and more difficult to do so.”

When he got back, she flashed him a half smile and stood, heading off to take her turn in the bathroom. “When I return,” she said, glancing at him over her shoulder, “we’ll talk about what we’re going to do.”

A few minutes later, Skylar stuck her head out the door and asked Matt if it would be okay for her to take a quick shower as she was tired of the camper kind. Since he knew that in the trailer she’d had to use the shower nozzle to wet herself down, then shut it off while she soaped off, then turn it back on to rinse, he readily agreed.

A moment later he heard the shower start. Though he entertained a brief fantasy about joining her, he knew that wasn’t going to happen, not after the news he’d received from his friend.

The phone call—and what he’d learned about José—was tearing him up inside. He truly didn’t know whose side José was on. Matt’s, as he’d always so steadily professed, or a Mexican drug cartel’s?

When his cell rang again, this time showing Private Caller, Matt jumped. His heart began to pound as he pressed the answer button. “José?” he answered, hoping against hope that his friend had somehow been able to escape.

Instead, he heard a low, guttural laugh that sent a chill up his spine.

“No. This is Diego Rodriguez,” the husky, heavily accented voice said.

Matt’s jaw clenched. “A personal call? To what do I owe the honor?” He knew the other man could hear the mockery in his tone.

If Diego did, he chose to ignore it. “We have your friend José. We have also learned you have an ATF agent on your ranch. The woman Skylar McLain. Since the ATF has been a thorn in our side for a long time, we will do a trade. José for the federal agent. As part of the deal for the ammo.”

“A federal agent?” Matt pretended to be surprised, especially since this was completely different from what José had said before. Diego was still talking about making a deal, while José had said they wanted him to reveal the location so they could forcibly take it. And why the hell was Diego bringing Skylar into it?

Did that mean La Familia had José? The only other alternative was that José was acting on his own. Matt refused to accept this until he knew for certain. For now, he could only play along. “What are you talking about? What do you mean, a federal agent?”

“Cut the bull,” Diego snarled. “José has told us that you know all about this.”

Matt froze. José. Again. None of this made sense. “Let me talk to him,” he demanded. “I need to make sure he’s safe.”

Again the chilling laugh. “Do not worry, Señor Landeta. José is still alive. We have given him something to help with the pain. Perhaps you’re familiar with his addiction to heroin?”

Damn it. Matt closed his eyes. José had been doing so well. He’d dried out while in prison and had stayed clean the two years since getting out. He regularly attended his Narcotics Anonymous meetings. If they had given him heroin...

Tamping down a burst of pure fury, Matt bit back any response. It wouldn’t be good for this scum to know what a bull’s-eye his words had been. One thing he had learned over the years was to never let your enemy know your weakness. Never.

Especially since he couldn’t be certain Diego was telling the truth.

“I’m still waiting for your answer,” Diego said, his voice impatient.

Answer? How could he decide anything until he knew the truth?

In the bathroom, the shower cut off.

Matt needed to talk to Skylar. He could use her clear head to help him come up with some sort of a plan. “I need some time to think.” Hopefully, he could stall Diego.

“You have one hour, no more. I will call you then.” And Diego ended the call.

When Matt looked up, he saw Skylar watching, her hair still wet from her shower, her hands jammed into her pockets. “I take it that wasn’t José,” she said drily.

“No.” For the space of a heartbeat their gazes locked. “Everything has gotten way too far out of hand,” he said. “This time it was Diego Rodriguez.”

She frowned. “What’d he say?”

So he told her. When he’d finished, she dragged her hand through her hair, her expression mirroring his shock and disbelief. “I don’t understand,” she finally said. “There’s still a chance that Diego’s lying about having José, but why?”

“Or—” he hated to say it, but had no choice “—José is working on his own with La Familia and is somehow double-crossing Diego Rodriguez.”

“That would be playing an extremely dangerous game.

“He knows I’m an ATF agent.” She stared off into the distance, considering. “And the heroin thing. How would he know something like that?”

“Exactly. He’d have no way of knowing unless José told him.”

“You’ve been sort of doing the same thing, you know,” she said. “Playing two powerful factions off each other. Both are inherently evil.”

“No, that’s where you’re wrong. Diego is the one who is trying to break away from La Familia. All I’ve done is pretend to offer him the necessary ammunition to help him do it.”

“Perhaps.” She conceded the point with a slight smile. “But you still had to realize La Familia would get involved.”

“Actually, I was hoping they wouldn’t. I don’t know how they found out, but Diego is a dead man. They don’t mess around when their own people are disloyal.”

“Then he must be even more desperate.”

“I’m thinking he needs the ammo more than ever, especially if he’s managed to amass a small army of followers. He’s got nothing to lose, so if he goes out in a blaze of gunfire, that’s better than torture and mutilation.”

“More desperate equals more dangerous,” she said. “And what’s up with this whole trading-me-for-him thing? What the hell good is that going to do?”

“He says he plans to use you as a bargaining tool to get the ATF off his back.”

She shook her head. “Obviously he has no clue how this works. If he was holding me, the ATF would pull out all the stops to rescue me and get me back safe and sound. They’d call on other agencies, if necessary.”

While in Special Forces, Matt had been a part of a few of these rescue attempts himself, so he knew she was right. “Well, if he doesn’t know that La Familia is onto him, I’m guessing he thinks the might of the cartel would protect him.”

“I guess so.” Skylar gave him a grim smile. “But in this case, he’d be wrong.” Taking a deep breath, she continued, “So let’s outline what we’ve got. José says he’s being held and that they’re ordering him to reveal the location of your stockpile.”

“Right.” He nodded. “And the ATF already does know the location, though we have no idea where they got the info.”

She played along. “And since the other person who knew that besides you is José, he’s the only one who could have told them.”

Though he blanched, he had no choice but to agree. “That would mean he’s playing several sides at once.”

“Yes, it would.”

“Meanwhile,” he continued, “I don’t understand why Diego Rodriguez would want to trade you for José. What’s the point of that?”

After a moment, she snapped her fingers. “I know. Here’s what I think. Whether or not José is working with them or is a prisoner, let’s assume Diego is the one who has him. He gets José to give him the location of your stockpile. He wants to set up this trade—knowing it’s not going to happen, but thinking you’ll try—as a distraction so he won’t have a problem getting the ammo out.”

Considering her words, he nodded. “In that scenario, José warning us wouldn’t be part of the plan.”

“True. But it would mean that José somehow found a way to call us without them knowing.”

“Or that they ordered him to phone but the person listening to the call spoke only Spanish, not English.”

She smiled. “It could happen. It’s a little far out there, but you never know.”

Exhaling, he wished he could express to her how much her determination to help him get to the truth—as opposed to trying to bulldoze him to her way of thinking—meant to him.

“Thank you” was all he could say.

Her smile widened. “You’re welcome.”

“We have one hour. Now we just have to figure out what we’re going to do.”

“I like the way you included me in that,” she said lightly. “Thank you for that.”

“We’re a team.” Though he kept his tone casual, he knew she understood how important this was to him.

A muscle worked in her jaw as she swallowed. “We are that, aren’t we?”

Touching her shoulder lightly, Matt pulled back so he could see her face. Though her eyes were suspiciously bright, she hadn’t started crying, for which he was grateful.

“I think we make a good team,” he said softly.

“So do I,” she agreed.

He took a deep breath. “Can I ask you something?”

She shrugged. “I guess. About what?”

“About you.”

Though she frowned, she readily agreed. “Go ahead.”

Bracing himself for her reaction, he pushed ahead. “Did you get him? The man who killed your husband and son?”

She stared at him, her green eyes going dark with remembered pain. “You mean did I get vengeance, like you want to do with Diego Rodriguez?”

“Yes.”

Straightening her spine, she inhaled deeply. “No. Not like that. I got justice instead. He was captured—the Dallas police were able to make an arrest. I attended when he stood trial. He was found guilty and is now serving life imprisonment without parole.”

Her brusque tone told him she was finished, that she no longer wished to discuss this particular topic,

But he wasn’t. Though he knew he shouldn’t ask, he couldn’t help himself. He truly needed to know. “Did that help you at all, Skylar? Were you able to sleep better at night, knowing that son of a bitch is behind bars?”

The tiny lift of her chin told him how she was going to answer. “No,” she admitted. “Not at all.”

“There you go.” Hoping he’d made his point, he waited for comprehension to dawn in her beautiful eyes.

“I see what you’re trying to say,” she admitted, her expression still grave. “But I can’t say it would have helped any more if he’d been killed in a police shoot-out or sentenced to death by lethal injection.”

“I find that hard to believe,” he said.

She shrugged. “Believe what you want, Matt. But in the end, nothing can bring your family back.”

Stunned, he eyed her, wishing—hell, yearning—for her to be wrong.

But he knew she only told the truth.

He swallowed hard. “You know what? José said the exact same thing.”

And one more truth—one final thing he wouldn’t say out loud. He’d known José was right all along and he hadn’t cared. Nothing would bring his family back. That was a given.

But he owed it to them—and to himself—to avenge their deaths. Because he honestly believed once he did the hard knot that clenched like a vise around his heart might finally disintegrate.