Chapter Six
Carly pulled the pickup into her garage, saw the single headlight of Linc’s impressive black Harley coming down the street behind her. He’d insisted on following her home. She waved as she got out of the truck, hoping he would take the hint and leave, but instead he pulled his motorcycle into the driveway behind the truck and turned off the engine.
As she took the pistol out from under the seat, Linc walked up beside her.
He eased the gun out of her hand. “Stay here till I make sure it’s safe.”
She didn’t argue. Now that she was home, the whole terrifying chain of events came rushing back with stark clarity. She followed Cain into the kitchen, thought of the Glock, and wished she’d had it in her hand when those men had attacked her.
She sank down in a kitchen chair to wait while Cain walked through the rest of the house. Tears welled. Dammit, she didn’t want to cry. Joe had taught her to be tough. He’d known he wouldn’t always be there for her.
But deep down inside, she was still the frightened ten-year-old who had walked into the bathroom and found her mother on the floor, dead of a drug overdose.
She closed her eyes, bit back a sob. She didn’t realize she was crying till she felt Cain drawing her out of the chair and into his arms.
For several seconds she let him hold her, let the tears come, just wrapped her arms around his thick neck and hung on. Then she realized what she was doing and felt like a fool, eased back, and turned away.
“I’m sorry, I’m not . . . not a crier. Not usually. I’m sorry.” She wiped her eyes, mortified that he had seen this side of her.
“Hey. It’s been a helluva day.” His mouth edged into a smile. “Maybe I’m the one who needed a hug, okay?”
She managed a smile in return. She wouldn’t have thought he could be sweet. “Thanks for checking the house.”
“No problem. You sure you’ll be okay?”
Her smile returned, more real this time. “You’re bigger than I am, but I’ve got the gun.” Now resting on the kitchen table.
He chuckled. “All right, if you’re sure, I’ll see you in the morning.”
He’d see her in the morning? Dammit, she’d forgotten he was coming to the office tomorrow for the call to his private investigator. “Good night.”
Cain left the house through the garage, swung a long leg over the seat of his Harley, and fired up the engine. The biceps in his huge arms bulged as he grabbed the handlebars. Carly pushed the button on the garage door as he started backing away, turned the bike, and roared off down the block.
Exhaustion swamped her. Dragging herself into the bedroom, she stripped off her clothes, pulled on an XXL navy blue Drake Trucking T-shirt she liked to sleep in, and crawled beneath the covers. The pistol rested on the nightstand. She should have been able to sleep.
But she couldn’t.
* * *
Linc got up Sunday morning at the crack of dawn, loaded his fishing gear onto the back of an ATV, and took off to one of the two lakes on Blackland Ranch. He’d called Townsend way too late last night and told him what had happened at the roadhouse. He’d instructed the investigator to set up security on Carly Drake twenty-four/seven and find out everything he could about a guy who called himself El Jefe.
Linc had slept a little after that, not much. He’d awoken early and decided he needed to clear his head. Tossing a line in the water, kicking back, and waiting to get a bite worked almost as well as morning sex.
Well, not quite. Hell, he hadn’t been with a woman in nearly a month, too damned long as far as he was concerned. He needed to make a phone call, talk to Renee or maybe Melissa, see if one of his friends with benefits was up for a good time when he got back to Dallas.
Something stirred deep and hot inside him, made him begin to get hard. Unfortunately it wasn’t an image of Renee or Melissa. It was Carly Drake who fired his blood.
As he leaned back against the trunk of a tree, the end of his line jerked. He waited for another tug, set the hook, and started reeling. Dammit to hell, whenever he thought of Carly, he felt like the fish on the end of that line. How had the little blonde managed to sink her hooks into him? How had she managed to snag his interest so quickly?
In fairness, she wasn’t even trying. He knew women, knew she was attracted to him. He also knew she wasn’t interested in climbing into bed for a couple of nights of fun.
And after his disastrous marriage to Holly, he sure as hell wasn’t interested in anything more than that. If Joe Drake knew he was even thinking of taking Carly to bed, the old man would be spinning in his grave.
Linc reeled in his catch and swung the line toward shore. He grabbed the fish, unfastened the hook, and stuck the big silver bass in his creel.
“You’re supper, buddy. Fried nice and golden brown.” The real thing, not some fancy chef’s version.
Not that he didn’t like gourmet food. Over the years, he’d developed expensive tastes, but part of him still loved down-home Southern cooking and every once in a while, he indulged himself by cooking a meal for himself.
He checked his heavy stainless wristwatch. Just enough time to clean the fish, shower, and head for Drake Trucking and his meeting with Carly. As her image arose, heat sank low in his groin. He was famous for his self-control. In the next few days, he was going to need every ounce of it.
* * *
Carly leaned back in the chair behind her desk. The big white clock on the wall said nine forty-five. Lincoln Cain was due at ten for the conference call with his private investigator. Carly had spent all morning doing her best not to think of him, trying not to remember how Cain had looked charging across the parking lot to rescue her.
A big, tall, powerful figure in snug black leather, fists clenched, jaw iron hard. There’d been murder in those gold-flecked eyes, the threat of mortal danger. He’d been in prison. One thing she now knew. Cain was as tough as he looked.
She thought of the men who’d attacked her, remembered the feel of the blade against her throat, the rush of fear. In her mind, she could hear the shots, remember the terror when she’d thought Cain had been injured or killed.
God, she couldn’t already have feelings for him. In a far different way, he posed as much danger to her as the men who’d attacked her.
She remembered the weight of his hard body on top of her, pressing her down, protecting her. Her breath quickened and her skin flushed with heat. She couldn’t remember ever being so physically attracted to a man. And every time she was around him, it seemed to get worse.
Thank God tomorrow was Monday. Cain would be returning to Dallas. With any luck, he’d be too busy to come back to Iron Springs next weekend or anytime in the near future.
Donna knocked at the door, the signal he’d arrived. The door opened. “Mr. Cain is here.”
“Thanks, Donna.” She steeled herself for the impact of seeing him, watched him walk into the room with that confident swagger, saw the heat in those bold green eyes.
She pasted on a smile. “Good morning, Linc.”
He took one look at her and frowned. “You’ve got a bruise on your cheek. Did I do that?”
Unconsciously she reached up and touched the spot. “Probably. It’s okay, considering you were trying to save my life.”
“What?” Donna gasped.
Damn, the moment Cain had walked in, she’d forgotten Donna was there. “It’s nothing. A couple of guys gave me some trouble at the roadhouse last night. Linc happened to be there. He . . . umm . . . handled things.”
Donna flashed Cain a look of admiration. “Wow, Carly’s lucky you were around.” She glanced at Carly. “You’ll tell me later, right?”
She smiled, liking Donna more and more. “Sure.” She’d give her a modified version, skipping over El Jefe until they figured things out. Donna grinned, backed out, and closed the door.
Linc’s gaze returned to the bruise on her cheek. “You okay?”
Self-conscious now, she reached up and tightened the ponytail she’d pulled her hair into that morning. “I had a little trouble falling asleep, but I’m okay.”
His eyes gleamed. I’ve got the perfect sleeping pill, those green eyes said. She blocked the image of black leather chaps framing the bulge beneath his zipper.
“I hated leaving you alone last night,” he said. “I should have slept on the sofa.”
No way! “I was fine. I had Joe’s gun, remember? I need to get in some practice at the range, but I know how to use it if I have to.”
“Half the women in Texas carry. I should have figured Joe’s granddaughter would be one of them.”
God, he looked good today, in a pair of faded jeans that hugged his long legs and a forest green T-shirt that outlined the muscles in his massive chest. Every time he moved, she caught a glimpse of the barbed wire tattoo around his amazing bicep.
She glanced down at the worn cowboy boots he was wearing. Big feet. Big hands. Big . . . everything.
Don’t go there. Do not go there!
“What time is the conference call coming in?” She needed to get him out of there, the sooner, the better.
“We’ve got about twenty minutes. I figured if you’re up to it, we’d go back over what happened last night, see if you can remember something more that could help us.”
She nodded. “I’ve thought about it a lot. I could probably pick out the one with the knife in a lineup.”
“We’ll call Howler as soon as we talk to Townsend, bring the sheriff up to speed.”
“So what’s the deal with you and him? It’s pretty clear you two don’t like each other.”
A muscle jumped in his cheek. “Howler’s been sheriff since I was a kid. He’s the guy who arrested me the night I tried to rob that convenience store.”
“You and two other boys.”
“That’s right.”
There was more to the story. She’d really like to know. On the other hand, the less she knew about Cain, the better off she’d be.
Donna’s familiar knock sounded. Carly walked over and pulled open the door. “What is it?”
“We’ve got a problem. Pete Sanchez, one of the new guys, was trying to park a double and screwed up. The rig is jackknifed and he’s freaking out. I’m afraid he’s going to do some damage. We can unhook it and move it by hand, but—”
“Let me take a look, see if we can do it the easy way first.” She turned to Cain. “I’ll be right back.”
She hurried out behind Donna, her mind on the problem in the yard. Two weeks after Joe’s death, as soon as the blinding grief had cleared enough for her to realize she wanted to keep the business, she’d enrolled in the All-Trucking driver’s school in Dallas, an intense two-week training course.
Until she’d returned to Texas, she hadn’t considered actually getting her Class B license, but Joe had taught her the basics, and as the classes progressed, she realized she knew more than she’d thought.
She had no plans to actually drive for the company, but she worked with tough men and women and she wanted their respect. And if a problem came up, like today, she wanted to be able to step in if necessary.
She opened the driver’s door. Pete Sanchez’s face was red, his black hair standing on end. “Take a break, Pete. Let me give it a try.” Pete climbed down with a sigh of relief, and Carly climbed into the cab.
* * *
Linc walked out of the inner office, out of the metal building, into the asphalt yard. The big rig double trailer was jackknifed pretty good, wedged in tight between the dock and the wash rack.
He was only a little surprised when he saw Carly’s blond ponytail bobbing behind the wheel. The truck was moving. She was giving it her best shot, but getting the mess undone wasn’t going to be easy.
He watched her work the gears, pulling forward, spinning the wheel, moving back, moving forward, trying to straighten out the trailer without tearing up the dock or damaging the rig. It was helping, but it wouldn’t be enough to solve the problem.
He started walking. He could get the job done. He still knew how to drive. Hell, he owned one of the biggest trucking companies in the country. He paused as he sensed her frustration mounting.
He could do it for her, but . . . He was beginning to understand her a little, know how much she valued her independence. Solving the problem for her was exactly the wrong thing to do.
He walked up to the open driver’s window. “Pull forward about three feet, then crank it hard to the right.”
She looked down at him, weighing his instructions, whether he knew what he was doing or if he’d just make things worse. He heard the gears drop into place. She pulled forward, then cranked the wheel as far as she could.
“Now back up a couple of feet and crank it left all the way.”
She did what he said and the trailer freed up a little.
“Do it again,” he said.
She pulled forward, turned the wheel, backed up, and stopped.
“You’ve almost got it. A couple more times ought to do it.”
The trailer rolled back farther this time, missing the dock by just a few inches. He stood where she could see him, held up his hands to let her know how much clearance she had. She idled the truck forward, then back, then pulled farther ahead.
“You got it. Nice job.”
The trailer straightened out as she drove it across the yard into a pull-through parking spot and turned off the big diesel engine.
Carly jumped down and hurried back to him, flashing a smile brighter than anything he’d seen from her before. He felt it like a kick in the stomach.
“That was great,” she said. “Thanks. Pete and I are both still learning. I really appreciate the help.”
“No problem.”
They walked together back into the building, into her office, and closed the door. He’d vowed to leave her alone, but it was getting harder all the time. He smiled at the unintended pun.
She grabbed one of the two chairs positioned in front of her desk and pulled it up next to where she was sitting, then sat down in her chair. Linc forced his mind back to the reason he was there, Miguel Hernandez’s murder, the threatening note, and the attack on Carly last night.
He made the phone call to Ross Townsend on the landline, put it on speaker.
“Ross, it’s Lincoln Cain. I have Carly Drake here with me. What have you got?”
“First off, I took care of that security concern we discussed.”
“That’s good. E-mail me the details.”
“Will do. Regarding El Jefe, from what I could find in a short amount of time, the guy came out of nowhere, grew himself into a mid- to upper-level drug dealer. His territory covers the entire East Texas region, all the way down to Houston.”
“Why isn’t he in jail?”
“So far no one’s been able to link him to anything illegal. Plus no one knows who the hell he is. No known photos of him; no one knows where to find him. Or at least, no one’s been willing to come forward. The ones who do wind up dead.”
Considering the guy wanted a meeting with Carly, Linc didn’t like the sound of that. “Or he’s paying them for their silence.”
“That’s right. Probably got some law enforcement on his payroll so you need to be careful who you trust.”
Linc thought of Howler. He was the local law in the county. Linc didn’t know whether or not the sheriff was corrupt, but with the bad blood between them, he couldn’t trust his usually reliable instincts where Howler was concerned.
“Anything else?” he asked.
“Not yet, but I’m heading for Iron Springs. I want to do some digging, see what some of the locals have to say about the hijacking, see what they say about Miguel Hernandez.”
An alarm went off in Linc’s head. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m wondering if there’s a chance Hernandez wasn’t as lily white as everyone thought he was. Maybe he was working for El Jefe and something went wrong. Hernandez got axed and the hijacking was just a cover.”
Carly spoke up. “I don’t believe it. Miguel was a family man. My grandfather trusted him completely. No way was he working for some drug lord.”
“Your loyalty is commendable, Ms. Drake,” Ross said, “but it’s my job to find out the truth, no matter what it turns out to be.”
“But—”
“You can stay at the house while you’re in town,” Linc said. “I’ll tell the housekeeper to expect you.”
“Sounds good. I’ll be there tomorrow. If you haven’t left for Dallas, we can talk then.”
“I’ll be here. I’ve got a project in front of the county commissioners’ court tomorrow afternoon.” Linc looked at Carly. “Anything you want to add?”
Her mouth looked tight. She just shook her head. She was still fighting the notion that her employee might have been involved in some kind of criminal activity. But the things people did rarely surprised Linc anymore.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” he said to Townsend and ended the phone call. “You okay?” he asked Carly.
“Miguel had a wife and three kids. I don’t believe he’d get involved with a drug lord.”
“For his family’s sake, I hope you’re right, but it’s Ross’s job to find out. Now that El Jefe is pressing you for a meeting, it’s even more important. In that regard, I think we should hold off on talking to the sheriff. Let’s see what Townsend comes up with first.”
“You don’t trust Howler?”
“I don’t like him and he doesn’t like me. I don’t know if he’s on the take; I’m just not sure of him. If he’s on El Jefe’s payroll—”
“You’re right. We need to wait.” She looked up at him. “I thought you’d be heading back to Dallas tonight. I mean, you do run a big corporation and Monday’s the beginning of the workweek.”
The hopeful look in those big blue eyes irritated the hell out of him. With his money, women fell all over themselves trying to get his attention. Carly had spent most of her time trying to get rid of him.
“Sorry, sweet pea, I’m not going back till tomorrow. Tex/Am is opening a tire rebuilding plant a couple of miles outside Pleasant Hill, the first of a chain. The plant’s good for the community, creates jobs, brings money into the area. But a bunch of environmentalists from out of town are fighting the project.”
“Sometimes they do good things,” she said. “Sometimes they just don’t have enough to do.”
“Sad thing is, what we’re planning is actually recycling, re-using old tires instead of just throwing them into a land fill or burning them up and sending toxic waste into the atmosphere. So far, they aren’t convinced. You want to go to supper tonight?” he asked, just to see her scramble. “We can talk about the case.”
She squirmed in her chair, fiddled with her ponytail, glanced away, then back at him. “Thanks, but I . . . umm . . . already have plans.”
“Too bad,” he said, not the least surprised she’d refused him. The lady was no fool. Staying away from him was exactly the right thing to do. Unfortunately.
He came up out of the chair. “I’ve got to get going. I’ll call you if Townsend comes up with anything new.”
“Thank you.” She walked over and opened the door. “And thanks again for what you did last night.”
Linc turned to face her. “Remember what we talked about—you don’t meet with El Jefe. You call me the minute you hear from him. Give me your phone.” She hesitated a moment, then grabbed it off the desk and handed it over. Linc plugged in his private number.
“You call me—you understand? I don’t care what time it is.”
She gave him a reluctant nod. “Okay.”
He leaned down and brushed a light kiss on her cheek, heard her sharp intake of breath. “Stay safe, Carly.”
Unconsciously she touched the place where they’d made contact. “Good-bye, Linc.”
He left her there in the office. But he had to make himself walk out the door.