Chapter One
Aiden Roshannon had been to some bonfires in his day. As a kid on the ranch, it was a ritual at the end of each harvest for his pa to throw a huge bash for all the hired hands and neighbors. In his teens, there was always a party involving a wall of fire some idiot had hosed down with gasoline while they all drank beers and pretended they were grown up.
But this particular bonfire he wished he could sneak away from. One of the sheriff’s deputies had invited him. Bullied him, if he was honest. It wasn’t that Aiden didn’t like the deputy—he just didn’t like his friends.
Hoyt stood off to the side, holding a beer, joking to one of his buddies from up north of Crossroads. Wyoming was a big state, but it seemed nobody had a problem with drinking too much and then driving too far to get home.
Aiden sat in a lawn chair facing the fire, his cowboy boot crossed over his knee and his beer growing warm in his grip. The loud bark of laughter from Hoyt’s friend made him grit his teeth. Aiden had met Cody Shivis before. He thought him a dickhead then and he thought him a dickhead now.
Several ladies came out of the darkness into the ring of firelight, giggling after their trip to the bathroom. A blonde was tipsy enough without the uneven ground, and she nearly pitched headfirst into the flames.
Aiden shot out of his seat and caught her. “Whoa, there. Let’s get you a chair.”
Holding onto her waist, he guided her to his lawn chair. She settled too hard and the chair tipped back on its legs. With quick instincts, Aiden planted his palms on her thighs and settled the legs on the ground again.
“What the fuck’re you doing touching my woman?”
Aiden recognized that obnoxious voice and turned just as a fist missiled at his eye. He couldn’t have dodged if he’d wanted—it was too late. Knuckles connected with eye socket. Stars exploded in his vision and he stumbled back a step, conscious he didn’t want to land in the fire either.
He used his jaw to draw his face down so his eye opened. Shivis swung at him again, but this time Aiden was ready.
Women screamed. The fire crackled, logs shifted, sparks flew up to the sky, dotting it orange against the midnight black.
Anger tore through Aiden as the pain in his eye meshed with the spurt of adrenaline racing through his veins.
“What the fuck’s the matter with you? I was just keepin’ your woman from falling into the fire. She’s sopping drunk and you should take her home. Oh wait, you’re soused too.”
“You touched my girl. Nobody touches my girl.” Shivis’s face was livid, a mask contorting in the strange flicker of firelight.
Aiden moved in a half-circle in front of the row of lawn chairs and log stools drawn close to the fire ring. There wasn’t enough room to fight here without somebody else getting hurt.
“Let’s take this on over there. In the yard.”
“Fight! Fight!” someone screamed.
Shivis gave a hard nod and walked away, a cocky sway in his drunken walk. If Aiden fought dirty, he’d jump the guy from behind, but he didn’t roll that way.
He followed with several people on his tail, rabid for the pending fight.
In the center of the yard, Shivis threw his arms up to the sky. It was darker over here, the firelight no help, and only a dim garage light giving Aiden an outline of his opponent’s body.
“Now, Roshannon, you don’t need to fight him. I’ll give him another beer and he’ll pass out and won’t remember a thing in the morning.” Hoyt was his angel of good on one shoulder.
Then there was the other shoulder. The one with the devil, urging Aiden to whoop this guy’s ass once and for all.
“Yeah, but I’ll remember.” He stepped toward his opponent. The crowd of about twenty people gathered around them. Hemmed them in, more like. Aiden glared at the man before him and gauged his reaction times. Three beers an hour for the past three hours had to put his blood alcohol level up around .20.
Severe motor discoordination and lack of judgment. But the guy was drunk enough not to feel pain and that meant he’d keep coming no matter how many punches Aiden threw.
He just had to knock him out with the first blow.
Shivis was a class-A douche bag and he treated that woman he was championing like dirt, stepping out on her every chance he got. Judging by the ladies he chose, he had to be bringing home a new STD weekly.
Hoyt threw out an arm in front of Aiden. He turned his glare from Shivis to his own work colleague. A year in the sheriff’s office together meant they were friends. But all that could be ruined tonight.
“I don’t know why you hang out with this stupid ass, Hoyt. You’re smart.”
Hoyt pressed his lips together. “He’s a buddy from high school.”
“High school was a long time ago. Time to get a new set of friends.” He pushed by Hoyt and stepped up to Shivis.
The man swayed back and forth as if fighting for equilibrium. Hell, this would be easy. Aiden felt the knot between his shoulders relax as he raised his fists. “I’ll give you the first punch, man. After that, I’m no gentleman.”
Shivis’s teeth gleamed white as he cocked his fist and threw it with everything he had toward Aiden’s nose. Aiden dodged his head to the side almost lazily. Laughter rippled from behind him, as well as a few “oh no’s.”
Aiden grinned back and then delivered a right hook to Shivis’s jaw that rocked his head. He nearly fell over but somehow remained upright, head lowered and spittle and blood dripping from his jaw.
“You no-good Marine traitor. Leavin’ your men and our country when you tucked tail and ran.”
Aiden let the insult roll off him. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before. But it wasn’t true either. He loved his country and his men were never in jeopardy.
“That’s all you got, Shivis? Nothing better you can think of?” Aiden drawled. His eye hurt like a motherfucker and he knew the bruise was already collecting around it.
“You’re a woman beater too. Got whips and shit, I hear.”
“You been in my bedroom and find them?” Aiden’s response drew laughter.
“You’re a sick fucker and a traitor and now you’re working for the sheriff, when you should be shoveling shit.”
“Shovelin’ shit’s an honest living.”
Many nods answered him from the shadows.
“Give it to him good, Roshannon! Asshole needs to shut up,” someone called.
The corner of Aiden’s mouth turned up. He clenched his fist and jabbed Shivis in the stomach, then caught him with an uppercut to the jaw that sent him backward onto the ground, flat out.
“Oh my God, you killed him!” The blonde who was his girlfriend ran to Shivis and dropped to her knees. “He’s dead. He pissed himself!”
Aiden walked up and looked down to see the guy’s chest moving. “He’s not dead. He’s knocked out. Someone get him a blanket and let him sleep it off.” He flexed his fingers and headed toward the driveway and his truck.
“Thanks for invitin’ me, Hoyt. Haven’t had this much fun in ages. Now I’ve got to get home to polish my whips and Marine Corps lapel pin.” He strutted off without a backward glance.
* * * * *
“Roshannon.”
Aiden looked up at his last name to see Hoyt in the doorway of his office, his big bulk blocking everything behind him. He stared at him steadily. “Everything okay at your place after last night?”
Hoyt winced. “Nice eye. Put a steak on it?”
“Yeah.” He fingered the edges of the black bruise. “Didn’t do much good. By the time I got home, it was already bruised.”
“I’m sorry about Shivis. He is an asshole. Especially when he’s drunk.”
“No hard feelings. You can be friends with whoever you want.” I just won’t be coming to any more of your parties.
The sound of voices projected from behind Hoyt. Aiden craned to look around him. “Did you need something?”
“Oh yeah. Some people here to talk to ya.”
He rounded the desk and Hoyt moved aside to let him see a group of men congregated in the office. Cattle ranchers, each as hardened by hard work and determination as the next. Boots, hats and Carhartts were the general attire.
“This problem is growing—the crime is out of control. What are you gonna do about it?” one demanded, his eyes flashing at the sheriff.
Aiden pushed out of his office, which was more of a cubicle crammed in the corner of the sheriff’s office building, the bigger spaces for the deputies. He’d found a lot of people didn’t want to hire an ex-military man with a questionable past, but he’d found a home here as a special investigator.
Thank God, because the last thing he’d wanted was to take up his twin brother—and sheriff of the next county—on his offer of a position under him.
“Where’s Roshannon? Ain’t he in charge of finding out who took our cattle?” the rancher asked.
Aiden pushed his way to the front of the group and looked at the posse of angry men. He glanced to the sheriff. “Fill me in.”
Sheriff Latchaw pushed his fingers through his gray hair.
“Five cattle missing from Dan’s place here.”
“And two from mine.”
“Last week I had some hay stolen.”
“I’ve been looking into that, Niles.” Aiden looked the man in the eyes. Not many leads, and it was frustrating as hell for both parties.
“What are ya doing about all this thieving going on, Roshannon? Sheriff?” Dan tugged his battered ridge-top hat lower and glared.
“Hoyt here will be happy to take your statement. Roshannon and I will be with you after that,” Latchaw said.
Aiden nodded. He had no idea what the sheriff had up his sleeve, but he steeled himself. He’d had too many commanding officers to think Latchaw would speak to him privately about anything good.
Hoyt led Dan and a few others off to take their statements, and Aiden followed Latchaw into his office.
“Close the door.”
Here it was. Aiden didn’t know if he could keep his damn mouth shut for the sheriff the way he had his CO or any of his other superiors when they’d interrogated him for hours on end, day after day until they got the answers that would finally satisfy them enough to give him an honorable discharge.
Latchaw leaned against his desk and folded his arms. “We’ve got a mess on our hands here with these thefts. It’s more than a few and we don’t want the cattle association losing faith in our abilities to do our jobs.”
“I agree.” Aiden bit off the urge to end that sentence with an automatic sir. “I’m headed to auction later this afternoon, up in Riverton.”
He nodded. “Good. That’s a start. Looking for the cattle brands at the auction is the quickest route to finding who is thievin’. But I’ve been thinking on this problem a while now. Theft is up across the state, and many of the sheriffs are in the same boat as we are. Angry ranchers demanding information on the crimes.”
“So what are the others saying?” Aiden felt his emotions switch off, just as he had after the incident. The one that had caused so much fury and humiliation on his part, the one Shivis had brought up the previous night.
Nobody knew what had happened—it was classified. If they knew he’d refused to open fire on a building filled with innocent lives even if there was an ISIS group operating out of it too, maybe they wouldn’t throw stones. All the general population knew was he was investigated. The rest was speculation.
“They’re saying we need more than a few men scattered around investigating these crimes. We’ve got Michaelson five counties over and Bridges down south. It’s not enough, not with the number of reports we have coming in right now of cattle being stolen.”
“I’ve been putting in overtime. Talked to three ranchers yesterday.”
“I know you’re doing what you can. But it’s time to make a change. Add more feet to the ground. We need to band together.”
“Like the Texas Rangers?” Aiden’s pulse throbbed in his temples. He was getting one of his stress migraines.
Latchaw nodded. “Exactly like that. Congratulations, Special Investigator Roshannon. You’re heading it. You have leave to operate in all counties of Wyoming.”
Aiden blinked. “This wasn’t what I was expecting.”
“You’re one of the most precise, organized lawmen I’ve ever met. That book of yours is testament to that.” He nodded toward Aiden’s shirt, where he kept the small journal of notes on each case.
Aiden resisted the urge to touch his breast pocket. “I appreciate that, sir.”
“Well-deserved. I know you’re the best man for the job.”
Excitement was taking hold—a foreign fluttery feeling he hadn’t experienced in many years. Not much riled him up these days. Hell, the mention of his whips the previous night had been the only lift of mood he’d felt in too long.
“It’s a big job, though.” Latchaw eyed him.
“I’ll do a good one.”
“You will, but there’s a lot of work to be done and territory to cover. Which is why I’m pulling in a consultant. Someone who’s covered a huge amount of ground over the years and brought in a lot of rustlers.”
Aiden stared at the sheriff. He didn’t like that smirk on his face, not one bit. “Who is it? Do I know him?”
Just what he needed—an annoying know-it-all telling him how to conduct investigations.
Latchaw’s smirk stretched into a smile. “You don’t know him. But you might know this name—Amaryllis Long.”
Oh shit.
“The Texas Ranger woman?”
“That’s right. Ms. Long will be calling in to speak with you and go over a few cases before the day’s end. Then maybe you can… I don’t know, what do they call it? Skype or something. Keep in touch with what’s happening.” Latchaw circled his desk and plopped into the leather chair that had probably held him up for two decades. It molded to his form like a comfy armchair. “Good luck, lawman.”
Aiden muttered a thanks and tugged the brim of his hat on the way out the door. His mind was spinning at the mere mention of a name. Amaryllis Long. She was known for being a huge pain in the ass to sheriffs and police all over Texas. Now she was going to be his personal pain-in-the-ass.
He went into his office and pulled out his journal. In neat letters, he wrote the date and time. Then he added the details of today’s crimes, including the names of the ranchers and their claims. He’d get more details from Hoyt later.
At the bottom of the page, he added one more note, scribbled instead of written neatly.
A name.
Amaryllis Long.