Miah leveled him with a look. “You gotta tell me if you’ve got any enemies out there, Case. You don’t have to tell me what you’ve been up to in Texas, but this is my business now. You owe anybody anything? You cross anyone who might come looking for you?”
He shook his head, stumped. And uneasy. None of Casey’s former clients knew his name or even what he looked like. The only unexpected visitors who might worry him were feds. He and Em had been careful, real careful, but you could never know if your name was on some watch list someplace, some database. Plus if Emily fucked up and got busted, he couldn’t honestly say he trusted her not to sell him out for a reduced sentence. Hell, he’d probably do the same to her.
But since when does the ATF skulk around in ski masks and shitty old trucks?
“I got no clue, man. Maybe we ought to give the whole town a good cruise, see if we can’t spot that pickup in somebody’s driveway . . . ?”
Miah sighed, crossing his arms. “Maybe. If the alternative’s waiting for them to come back.”
“Maybe it was just some dumb-ass burglar, casing the place. Maybe you scared him out of thinking he’d ever try that shit here again.”
“We can hope. But I won’t sleep easy until I know for sure.”
Miah took a seat on the arm of the couch, posture weary. He was dressed in dirty jeans and there was dust in his black hair.
“Go shower,” Casey said, waving him in the right direction. “Once Ware is gone we’ll have a beer, talk this over.”
Miah nodded and hauled himself to standing. “Best idea I’ve heard all week.”
Casey clapped Miah on the back as he passed, thinking his friend was becoming more like Don every season. More serious, and burdened by more pressure. The casino chaos couldn’t be helping, nor the looming inevitability of Miah becoming the sole captain of this ship.
Regarding any other person on earth, Casey would’ve thought the notion was stupid, but he wondered if maybe Miah needed setting up, romantically. If he was stuck working himself into the ground the way he was, he ought to at least get to tumble into bed with a warm female body every night. Shame that probably half the eligible women in town were his ranch hands. No doubt he’d have some ethical boundary about—
The click and squeak of the office door snapped Casey’s head to the left. Ware appeared first from the hall, followed closely by Abilene, the baby in her arms. They were talking softly but trailed off as they reached the den.
Ware cast Casey a cool glance, then told Abilene, “I can see myself out.”
“Okay.”
“Tomorrow afternoon?” he asked.
She nodded. “Two o’clock.”
He touched the baby—or her clothes, anyway, the collar of her tiny shirt—then turned and headed for the front. Abilene watched him go, and Casey watched Abilene.
“Tomorrow?” he prompted, once the front door had hissed shut.
“Yeah.” She seemed to snap out of a trance, bouncing the baby. “It went well. I said he could see her again.”
“Did you let him hold her?”
She’d been studying the baby’s face but looked up at that, expression curious. “Just for a minute—he gave her back pretty quick. I’m not sure he’s ever held a baby before. He looked a little freaked-out.”
Casey bet that was a first in itself—James Ware showing fear. That novel and fierce jealousy burned the back of his neck, and in a petty way he was glad to hear that the guy wasn’t a natural with the kid. That maybe fatherhood was earned by how many hours you put in, not just whose DNA went into the mix. That made him think of his own dad, and his mood darkened.
“Miah saw your ex’s truck in the lot,” Casey said. “And he said it’s not the same one he saw on Wednesday night.”
She blinked. “Really?”
“Doesn’t absolutely mean it wasn’t him . . . But I have my doubts now.”
“I had some of my own. He told me it wasn’t him, and I’ve never known him to lie.”