Kade watched Thorn touch Allie’s wrist, and his blood cooled twenty degrees. Since he’d seen her go into the Cowboy Hall of Fame, he’d convinced himself it was a coincidence, and she had nothing to do with Thorn.

He liked her. His gut liked her. And Kade could usually trust his gut. Neither he nor his gut wanted her to be mixed up with Professor Thorn.

But there she was, looking suspiciously chummy with the man suspected of orchestrating the thefts of valuable works of art across eleven states. Just because she was looking chummy with Thorn didn’t make her one of his confederates.

Maybe not, but hanging out with Thorn put her squarely in the FBI’s crosshairs.

Over the course of the past three years, eleven minor masterpieces had been stolen from the popup museums at festivals, holiday celebrations, and street fairs across the country, the originals replaced with flawless forgeries.

So flawless that the thefts had gone undetected until number eleven this year during Mardi Gras in New Orleans.

Putting Thorn on the FBI’s radar.

Art expert, and frustrated artist himself, Professor Harold Thorn was the architect of the trendy popup museum concept. The idea was to pair up and coming local artists with regional masterpieces, and hold the events in diverse and unlikely settings with the stated aim of bringing art to a wider audience.

Thorn had a flair for dramatic staging and the events had been an unqualified success. Overall museum attendance had shot up following the popup events. But with the discovery of the forged George Rodrigue in New Orleans, Thorn had fallen under suspicion. It wasn’t until the FBI started digging into his background that the thefts of the other ten paintings were discovered.

The FBI was almost certain that Thorn was involved, or if not him, one of the people in his employ, but they had no proof and his credentials were impeccable. Thorn came from old money, and seemed to have no motive to steal the paintings with a total worth of less than three hundred thousand dollars.

Thorn had several art degrees, was a sought-after lecturer, and had never been in trouble with the law. He had tenure at a private university in upstate New York, and several of his students had gone on to become renowned artists. Why would he steal lesser works of art?

As of yet, none of the stolen paintings had been found on the black market, at least not that the FBI had been able to track.

The museums that had been hit were mortified that they hadn’t discovered the forgeries at the time the thefts occurred, and were reluctant to go public. Only the stolen Rodrigue had been in the news.

Which led to Thorn’s next stop in Fort Worth.

The most valuable painting scheduled to appear in Thorn’s Stockyard gallery was a Remington worth somewhere in the neighborhood of half a million dollars, the most valuable artwork to appear in a popup. The Sid Richardson Museum was willing to let the FBI use the Remington as bait to catch the culprit or culprits as long as they had enough agents on the ground to prevent the theft.

Lack of media attention made for the perfect set-up for an undercover sting on Thorn’s event during the long Fourth of July weekend. The FBI had enlisted help from the Fort Worth PD for around-the-clock surveillance of Thorn, his employees, and the popup art gallery.

Based on Kade’s undercover experience in vice, and his stint as a bull rider in the PBR, he’d been selected for the assignment of posing as a cowboy in the living diorama outside the Cowboy Hall of Fame.

His goal?

Be the one to nail the art thief.

Why did he care so much?

He was up for promotion and vying against four other candidates. Doing well on this assignment with the Feds would give him a leg up on the competition. And he was itchy for the position. He was tired of vice, tired of being in the field, tired of making his living in the world of lies and deception.

Once upon a time, he’d enjoyed living behind the mask of a made up identity, thrilled to playing cat-and-mouse games with criminals, but four months ago, his world was turned upside down.

He’d been undercover as a bouncer, investigating gang activity operating out of a local strip club, but he’d been unable to penetrate the group’s inner circles until he befriended one of the strippers, who was the main gang leader’s girlfriend.

Angi was a sweet kid who’d started stripping her way out of poverty and got caught up with the wrong crowd. He’d felt badly about deceiving her. It ate at him like an ulcer, ugly and raw. She vouched for him with the gang, and because of her, he was able to infiltrate them and get the evidence he needed to put the gang leader behind bars. After the gangster was arrested, Kade promised Angi protection if she testified against her boyfriend. She was terrified, but agreed to do it.

Tragically, before he could get her to a safe house, she jumped from a fifth story window to her death. Kade knew it wasn’t suicide, but he hadn’t been able to prove it. The gang leader was still awaiting trial, but Kade was worried that without Angi’s testimony, the gangster would go free.

Guilt had been his constant companion ever since Angi’s death, and he couldn’t help feeling responsible. Undercover felt more and more like a straightjacket, and he was desperate to Houdini his way out of vice.

Thorn was his ticket to out.

One last lie, nail Thorn, and he could be free

Kade pushed away from the pecan tree, holding the iced tea bottle between his finger and thumb, and casually strolled toward Allie.

They’d made a connection. He had an edge. This was his chance to get close. See what he could find out about her association with Thorn.

She stopped short, her eyes widening, face going pale, teeth sinking into her bottom lip like she wanted to bolt.

Why? Was she feeling guilty about something?

“Hey there,” he said.

“Um…” She raised a hand with a faint smile. “Hey.”

“You okay?”

“Yes, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You had a scare with the longhorns.”

“Are you okay?” She nodded at his shoulder, still wrapped with the red bandana she’d tied there. “You’re the one who got poked.”

He shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”

“Thanks again.” She smiled that dazzling smile that got tangled up inside his head. “For saving me.”

“My pleasure,” he said, and meant it. This was the best day he’d had in a long time, and her smile was the reason why.

She started walking again, and he fell in beside her.

“What are you doing?” she asked her tone shifting from friendly to curious.

“Making sure you get safely across the street.”

“I appreciate the concern.” She hitched her purse up on her shoulder, notched her chin in the air. “But you don’t have to worry about me.”

“It’s no trouble.”

“The street’s clear.” She spoke in a quick clip that matched her steps. “The cows don’t come back until four.”

“The cattle.”

“What?”

“The cattle. Cows are strictly female and that herd is mostly steers.”

“Oh,” she said. “Good to know.” She was outpacing him, already to the curb, but his legs were twice as long as hers and it only took two serious strides to catch up.

“Listen,” he said, unnerved by how breathless he sounded.

“I gotta go.” She stared straight ahead, watching the road, which was good, but he wanted to see her eyes so he could get a read on her. “My lunch break is over. I’m late getting back to work.”

“Where do you work?”

“The Visitors’ Center,” she said, then added with a sidelong glance in his direction. “And now at the popup gallery.”

His stomach dipped, flipped. So Thorn had hired her. What did that mean? He narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out if she was part of Thorn’s crew or a hapless victim.

“So you’ll be crossing the road every day going from one job to the next?” He cocked his head.

“I will.”

“Could you do me a favor?”

She slanted him a sidelong glance, pursed her lips. “What’s that?”

“Promise me you won’t text and walk anymore.”

She threw back her head and laughed. He liked how she was able to poke fun at her foibles. “I promise.”

“’Cause I’ll be here for the next two weeks. Watching you walk back and forth across the street.” He heard his voice lower, fill with testosterone. Felt his heart punch hard against his chest. “Until after the Fourth of July.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior,” she promised. “I don’t want to cause you anymore trouble.”

No trouble at all, sweetheart. That rash thought burst like an overfilled water balloon inside his head. Jelly beans and jawbreakers, what was going on here?

They were across the road now and halfway up the sidewalk toward the Visitors’ Center.

He stopped. “Allie?”

She kept walking, but hesitated at the steps leading into the building, turned around, and fixed those big blue eyes on him.

His heart did a full somersault.

“Yes, Rick?”

Rick?

Kade blinked and it took him a full ten seconds to remember his undercover alias. “Would you like to grab some dinner tonight?” He hadn’t meant to ask her out. It just happened.

A soft smile touched her lips and her eyes turned dreamy. “That’s so sweet of you to ask, but a friend of mine is going through a tough breakup, and tonight she needs a shoulder to cry on.”

“Tomorrow night?” he asked. Knock it off. You shouldn’t be courting a potential suspect.

“I start my job at the popup tomorrow evening.”

He stood there trying to look cool and nonchalant. “When will you be free?”

She shook her head, looked rueful. “Honestly? Not until after the Fourth of July.”

Yeah. That was too late. He was thinking maybe he could pick her brain about Thorn. Find out what she knew…or what she could find out for him.

“Ah, well,” he said and tipped his Stetson to her. “Guess we’re just two ships passing in the night.”

“Or two cattle drives passing on the trail. We are in Fort Worth, after all.” She grinned, waved gaily, and pushed her way into the Visitors’ Center as if they hadn’t just had a cosmic encounter.

Leaving Kade wishing like hell that Thorn hadn’t hired her.