Setup at Whiskey Gulch
Auteur
Elle James
Lezers
15,4K
Hoofdstukken
15
Chapter One
Deputy Dallas Jones left the diner on Main Street with a full cup of coffee, ready to go to work. She liked the graveyard shift on weeknights, which were usually pretty quiet and required her to drink coffee to stay awake.
Things were different in Whiskey Gulch on Friday and Saturday. With townspeople and ranch hands wanting to spend their paychecks at the local bars, she didn’t need the pick-me-up.
She’d just set her cup in the cup holder of her service SUV when Ouida Sims hurried up to her window.
“Deputy Jones,” she called out. “I’m so glad I caught you.”
Dallas started to climb out of her vehicle.
Ouida shook her head. “You don’t have to get out. I just wanted to ask you to keep an eye out for Harold tonight. I haven’t seen him since lunch, and I’m getting worried. He’s not answering his cell phone, which isn’t terribly unusual since reception can be kind of spotty out here. But it’s getting late.”
“What were his plans for the afternoon?” Dallas asked.
The fifty-something-year-old woman with graying blond hair wrung her hands. “He’s been farm sitting for the Thatchers out at the Rafter T Ranch while they’re on vacation in Mexico. He might just have gotten busy and lost track of time, but I’d sure feel a lot better if I knew for sure.”
Dallas nodded. “I’ll head out there and see what I can find out.”
Ouida smiled. “Thank you. I appreciate it. He’s been trying so hard to get himself back on track since coming back from rehab. I love that man. I’d hate to see him slip back off that wagon, not that I think he would. He promised me he’d stay clean, and I believe him.” She gave Dallas a crooked smile. “But I worry.”
“I understand,” Dallas said. “I’ll look for him.”
Ouida stepped back from the SUV and waved as Dallas pulled out of the parking lot.
In the few months Dallas had worked in the small Texas town of Whiskey Gulch, she’d gotten to know a lot of the locals, including Ouida and Harold Sims.
Ouida worked as a waitress at the diner, and Harold took on any job he could get since he’d left rehab for alcohol addiction.
Harold had been out of rehab now for over a month and seemed to be doing well. He always had a smile for Dallas when she drove by in her old pickup truck or her service SUV. Dallas didn’t mind checking up on him, and it gave her a purpose for at least a small portion of the evening that she’d be on shift.
For the most part, she liked working in Whiskey Gulch. It had taken her a few months to get used to the slower pace after leaving the military. She thought she wouldn’t have much in common with the locals, many of whom had never served in the armed forces, but then she’d met Trace Travis and his half brother Matt Hennessey.
Both men had served in Special Operations Forces. Trace had been Delta Force. Matt spent time in Marine Force Reconnaissance. They were highly skilled in warfare and tactics. Since his return to his home at Whiskey Gulch Ranch, Trace Travis had hired more of his military buddies to work the ranch and to set up an agency to help others in need. Which had proved handy when things had gotten a little out of hand and dangerous in Whiskey Gulch a couple of months back.
While it was a slower pace most of the time, they’d had their share of major crime in Whiskey Gulch. Still, Dallas liked it there. The number of incidents were far fewer than what she might have found in places like Houston, Austin or San Antonio. There was just enough going on to keep her interest.
Dallas headed south out of Whiskey Gulch toward the Rafter T Ranch, always conscious of her speed, knowing she set the example for the young folk. She lifted her coffee mug and sipped, placing it back in the cup holder as she neared a curve in the road. She glanced down for only a second, and when she looked up again, a man staggered into the road in front of her. She slammed on her brakes and turned her wheel sharply, skidding sideways in an attempt to avoid hitting him, but he was too close. Because she had been slowing through the curve, she wasn’t going fast when the metal of her passenger side door connected with the man. Still, she bumped him enough to send him flying backward.
Dallas slid off the edge of the road into the ditch. When she finally got control of her steering wheel, she drove out of the ditch onto the road, her hands shaking, her pulse racing through her veins. She switched on her lights to warn any other vehicles that might happen upon them. She parked her car on the shoulder of the road, jumped out and ran back to where the man lay in the gravel. As she ran, she clicked the button on her radio and spoke into the mic. “This is Deputy Dallas Jones. I need an ambulance out on Old Mill Highway, three miles south of Whiskey Gulch. Send the sheriff as well. I have a middle-aged man on the ground who was hit by a vehicle.” My vehicle.
“Shoot, shoot, shoot,” Dallas muttered as she dropped to her knees beside the man. “Hey, mister, talk to me. Please, talk to me.”
He lay facedown in the gravel, completely still.
Hesitant to move him to avoid causing more injury, she reached around him, touching her fingers to the base of his throat to check for a pulse. When she felt none, she had to roll him over on his back so she could perform CPR. She carefully turned him over and again felt for a pulse. “Sir, can you hear me?”
No response and still no pulse. She started CPR, alternating between thirty compressions and two breaths, pausing every so often to search for a pulse. Her headlights were her only source of light, and her body cast a shadow over the man’s face. She worked over him until the ambulance arrived, sirens screaming. Her arms ached by the time an EMT took over. Another EMT brought out a defibrillator, ripped open the man’s shirt and laid the paddles on his chest. When they shocked him, his body jerked, elevated and immediately plopped back to the ground.
After three shocks, the EMT shook his head. “He’s gone.”
Dallas stood back, her heart still racing, her eyes burning.
One of the EMTs shone a flashlight in the man’s face. It was bloody and bruised, but he looked familiar. Dallas recognized him, and her heart sank. The man was the one she had been looking for, Harold Sims. Not only had she run over the man, now she had the dreadful task of telling Ouida Sims her husband was dead.
LEVI HAD SPENT the evening parked on the bluffs south of town, staring at billions of stars in the Texas sky. That was, until the clouds rolled in, obstructing his view. The only time he could remember seeing that many stars had been when he’d been on watch in Afghanistan one cold winter night. Like then, he was thinking back over his life and wondering what his wife was up to.
Ex-wife.
In Afghanistan, he’d had a video call with her prior to the mission under the stars. She’d seemed distracted when he’d called, as if she didn’t have the time or desire to talk to him. That feeling had eaten into his concentration throughout the mission. So much so, he’d decided to get out of the military and the Delta Force team he considered family, in an attempt to save his marriage. He’d been on deployment in Afghanistan when his enlistment was up. He’d decided then that he would separate from the army as soon as he got back.
A lot of good that had done. He’d come home to an empty apartment and divorce papers to sign. He’d given up the military for no reason. Yeah, he probably could have gone back on active duty. His special ops training would have gotten him right back on board with his old team, probably, but with a wrecked marriage under his belt, he wasn’t so sure he wanted to go back.
The life of a Delta Force operative was consumed by training and missions. There wasn’t much time for anything else. No, he wanted to give it a chance, and see what life on the outside was like. Maybe he wasn’t cut out for it. In that case, he would reenlist. But by then, the army might not want him back. Still, it was a risk he was willing to take.
He’d lain under the stars on the bluff just south of Whiskey Gulch for a couple of hours, trying to figure out if he’d made the right decision by taking a job with Trace Travis, a former Delta Force operative just like him. Could he use his training to help others in the civilian world?
Only time would tell.
Now that he’d committed to the plan, he needed to stick with it long enough to determine if this was the right path for him. As it neared midnight, clouds drifted in. Levi realized he needed to get back to Whiskey Gulch Ranch. He’d have to get up early the next day to do chores. When they weren’t solving cases for other people, the men of the Outriders organization kept busy ranching, which also kept them from having idle hands, which could be troublesome for an adrenaline junkie, like many of the Deltas were.
Levi climbed into his pickup and headed back to Whiskey Gulch. On the way, he noticed flashing lights. He slowed as he approached an ambulance and a deputy sheriff’s SUV blocking the roadway. He pulled over. He recognized the deputy as Dallas Jones, the only female on the force.
From what Trace had told him, Deputy Jones was prior military as well, having served as an army MP, military police. It made sense she chose law enforcement to put her skills to good use. He wondered why she had gotten off active duty. Had she been medically discharged, or had she left on her own terms?
Levi had met Deputy Jones shortly after he’d gone to work for Trace Travis and the Outriders. He hadn’t really thought much about her other than that she seemed nice-looking for a female cop and she was somewhat reserved. But now, standing in the headlights from her service vehicle and the flashing lights of the ambulance, she seemed pale, with her brow knit in a fierce frown. Unable to get past the ambulance and the SUV, and curious about what had happened, Levi parked his truck and got down.
He approached Deputy Jones. “Anything I can do to help?”
She shook her head slowly as if in a daze. “He came out of nowhere and stepped in front of my vehicle.”
The anguish in her tone hit Levi square in the gut. “What happened?”
Deputy Jones swallowed hard. “His wife...” Her eyes rounded. “Oh, dear Lord, I have to tell his wife.” She looked around as if ready to bolt.
Levi gripped Deputy Jones’s arms. “Hey, you’re not going anywhere right now. Why don’t you just tell me what happened?”
She shook her head. “I can’t.”
“At least tell me who it is?” Levi stared down into her eyes, willing her to look into his.
“It’s Harold,” she said, “Harold Sims. His wife was worried about him. She asked me to go check up on him.” The deputy stared up at Levi’s eyes. “I was on my way out to the Rafter T Ranch to see if I could find him. His wife said that he was supposed to have been home earlier.”
“Where’s the Rafter T Ranch?” Levi asked.
The deputy tilted her head toward the south. “Another couple of miles. I wasn’t expecting to see him this soon, not out in the middle of nowhere on the side of the road.” She swallowed hard, her eyes welling with unshed tears. “He stepped out in front of my vehicle. I couldn’t stop. I slammed on my brakes, but it was too late.” She hung her head. “I did CPR... I did everything I could...” When she looked up again, the anguish in her gaze made Levi’s chest tighten.
He hated seeing her so distraught. He tipped her chin up, forcing her to stare into his eyes. “It’s not your fault,” he said in a gentle tone.
She gazed at him as if seeing far beyond where he stood. “I should have been able to do something. Those men shouldn’t be dead because of me,” she said.
Levi frowned. “Was there more than one man?”
The deputy blinked, and a single tear slipped from the corner of her eye. “Sorry, no, there was only one. Harold.” She backed away and shoved a hand through her hair. “That was another...” She shook her head. “Never mind.”
Levi frowned. He could have sworn she was about to say that was another time. He wondered what other time that could have been that left her face so haunted. The tall and fully capable deputy seemed extremely vulnerable at that moment.
Though he was tired and ready for bed, Levi couldn’t leave her standing there alone. He touched her shoulder. “Mind if I wait with you?”
Deputy Jones blinked and looked around as if trying to decipher her whereabouts before finally coming to her senses. She straightened her shoulders. “There’s no need to wait. I’ll move my car.”
“No hurry,” he said.
She strode to her vehicle, climbed in and moved it onto the shoulder. Then she got out a couple of flares, lit them and placed them several yards to the front and rear of the accident scene. So far, no other vehicles had come along the road. She stood, ready to direct traffic around the ambulance if anyone came along.
Levi stood by throughout.
She frowned when she spotted him again and walked over to where he stood on the side of the road. “You really should move along.”
“And I will,” he said. “When I know you’re okay.”
She lifted her chin. “I’m fine. The sheriff is on his way out, along with a tow truck. I’m sure that they’re going to want to tow my vehicle in as they investigate the case.”
“If they are going to tow your vehicle, you’ll need a ride home. I’d be glad to give you a lift.”
She shook her head. “I can catch a ride back to the station with the sheriff.”
Levi nodded. It made sense. “Okay, but I’ll wait until the sheriff gets here, and then I’ll leave.”
She shrugged. “Suit yourself. Just stay out of the way of the first responders doing their jobs.”
Lights flashed in the distance coming from the south, and they weren’t the kind of lights that indicated a four-wheeled vehicle. Instead, they were individual headlights.
As they neared, Levi could hear the roar of the engines. The headlights were almost on them before Levi could distinguish the shape of motorcycles with men riding them.
They slowed as they approached the ambulance, lights still flashing. The man in the lead rolled to a stop next to Deputy Jones. “What’s happening?”
The deputy was all business now. She stared across at the leader of the motorcycle group. “There’s been an accident. Please, move along.”
The man had long silver hair pulled back into a ponytail at the back of his head and sported a salt-and-pepper gray mustache. He wore a sleeveless tank top with a leather vest over it. He’d rolled past Levi to stop in front of Deputy Jones.
Levi caught a glimpse of the back of his vest, where a white tightly coiled snake contrasted sharply with the dark leather. The other members of his gang wore leather vests or leather jackets with the same coiled snake emblazoned on the back. One of the men climbed off his motorcycle and walked over to where the ambulance stood.
“Sir,” Deputy Jones called out, “please stay back.”
He ignored her and kept walking.
The deputy turned to the man who appeared to be the leader of the motorcycle gang. “Please, tell your men to stay back.”
For a long moment the man stared down at her. Finally, he revved his engine and yelled at the man who was closing in on the ambulance. “Hey, Bulldog,” he called out.
The man turned around.
The leader jerked his head toward his bike.
The man called out to him. “Looks like Sims.”
Stiffening, the leader frowned. “Are you sure?”
His gang member nodded as he returned to his bike. “It’s Sims all right.”
The lips of the man with the silver hair tightened into a thin line. “Let’s go.”
The men revved their motorcycle engines to a deafening roar. They moved past Levi and the deputy, then hit their throttles and blasted away.
Levi could see the tension leave Deputy Jones’s shoulders upon their departure.
No sooner had their taillights disappeared than another set of headlights came from the direction of Whiskey Gulch, along with the rotating red and blue lights of another sheriff’s vehicle and the amber lights atop a tow truck.
Again, the deputy tensed. The sheriff’s vehicle pulled up behind hers and parked. Sheriff Thomas Greer climbed out and closed the distance between himself and the deputy. “Hey, Dallas,” he said. “Got word you needed some help out here. Whatcha got?”
The deputy nodded. “Yes, sir.” She turned and fell in step with him, moving toward the gurney the EMTs were loading into the ambulance.
Levi stood back, not wanting to interfere with the sheriff’s business.
When they arrived beside the gurney, the EMT stepped aside and let the sheriff pull the sheet away from the victim’s face.
Sheriff Greer shook his head. “Harold Sims all right,” he said. “I really thought he was on the wagon for good this time.”
The sheriff’s mouth was pressed into a thin line as he listened to Deputy Jones explain what had happened.
When she finished, he said, “You know I have to put you on administrative leave until the investigation is complete.”
“Sir,” she said, “you’re already shorthanded.”
The sheriff nodded. “I know.”
“I want to be involved in the investigation,” the deputy insisted.
The sheriff shook his head. “Can’t let you, since you were the one to hit him.”
“But you heard me—it wasn’t intentional. He stepped out in front of me.”
The sheriff shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. It’s county policy. If a law enforcement officer is involved in a fatal accident, they have to be placed on administrative leave until the investigation is complete and the officer is cleared of any wrongdoing.”
“I understand.” Her shoulders sagged. “What about the rest of my shift?” she asked.
“I’ll fill in until I can get somebody else on duty.”
“But you just put in a full day’s work,” she said.
“I’ll be all right,” he said. “Let me give you a ride back to the station.”
“Sir.” Levi stepped forward. “If you need to stay and investigate the scene, I can take the deputy back to Whiskey Gulch.”
The sheriff’s eyes narrowed as he stared across at Levi. “Are you one of the new guys Trace Travis has working out at Whiskey Gulch Ranch?”
“Yes, sir.” Levi nodded and stuck his hand out. “I’m Levi Warren.”
“Are you also former military?”
Levi nodded again. “Yes, sir.”
“What branch?”
Levi squared his shoulders, standing tall and proud. “Army. Delta Force.”
The sheriff gave him a slight smile. “Thank you for your service.”
“Thank you for yours, Sheriff.”
The sheriff turned to his deputy. “Do you want to ride with Mr. Warren?”
“I’d rather stay and help you investigate the scene,” Dallas said.
The sheriff shook his head. “I’m sorry, Dallas. Other than taking your statement, I can’t have you help me. You should head back to town if you don’t mind riding with Levi. I’ll need your written statement about what happened.”
The deputy nodded. “I’ll get right on it.” She turned to Levi. “If you can get me back to the sheriff’s station, I’d appreciate it.”
The deputy and Levi were climbing into Levi’s truck when the tow truck arrived. As Levi drove past the scene, the deputy’s gaze locked on the ambulance and the sheriff, her head swiveling.
“Hey, look,” Levi said, “I’m sorry about what happened.”
The deputy sat and stared straight forward through the windshield. “What do you have to be sorry about? You weren’t the one who hit him.”
“You can’t blame yourself. It wasn’t your fault,” he said.
She turned toward him. “Then whose was it? I need to be involved in the investigation. I need to know why he staggered out in front of me with his head bleeding.”
Levi frowned. “His head was bleeding?”
The deputy’s forehead dented as if she were concentrating. “Yes, his forehead was already bleeding when he stepped out onto the highway.”
“You need to make sure that goes into your written statement.”
She nodded, her forehead creasing even deeper. “I’ll want to see the medical examiner’s report as well, but dammit—” she slammed her fist into her palm “—they probably won’t let me since I’m off the investigation.”
“Surely the sheriff will share information with you if you ask him.”
She nodded. “Most likely he will. The sheriff’s a good guy. Question is, why was Harold Sims’s forehead bleeding prior to impact? Had he fallen or had somebody hurt him?”
“Hopefully the medical examiner can shed some light on that.” Levi glanced across the console at Dallas. She sat staring forward, her brow deeply dented. “Are you all right?”
She frowned. “I’m fine, but Harold isn’t. I have to know if someone is responsible for him being out here, alone. There has to be a reason he stumbled out onto the highway.”
Silence stretched between them.
Levi wanted to distract her to give her a reprieve from the trauma. “Travis told me something about how you were an MP in the army...?” Levi said.
The deputy glanced away and nodded. “I was.”
“How many years did you have on active duty?” he asked.
“Eight,” she said.
“That’s a lot of years to walk away from,” he said.
She nodded. “It was time.”
“I take it you left under your own steam?”
Again, she nodded. She shot a look in his direction. “What about you?”
He shrugged. “It was time,” he said, echoing her words.
“How many years?” she persisted.
“Eleven.”
Her lips quirked on the ends. “That’s a lot of years to walk away from. You were on the downhill slide to retirement.”
His lips twisted. “I got out to save my marriage.”
“Nice,” she said. “At least she appreciated it. At least you have a marriage to save.”
He shook his head. “Didn’t quite work out that way.”
She shot a look toward him, but by that time they were pulling up to the sheriff’s station in Whiskey Gulch.
“Do you want me to wait for you while you write your statement?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No, I have my truck here.”
“Would you like to get a beer or a cup of coffee afterward?”
She frowned across at him. “You’re persistent, aren’t you?”
He shrugged. “I have nothing better to do at this hour.”
She snorted softly. “Most people would sleep at this time.”
He nodded. “And I usually do, except tonight would have been my ten-year anniversary. Didn’t feel much like sleeping.”
“You could have been hanging out with your buddies at Whiskey Gulch Ranch,” she pointed out.
He nodded. “I could have, but I didn’t feel like it.”
She glanced toward the station, and then back to him. “Well, it will take me a minimum of twenty minutes.”
He shifted into Park. “I’ll be here. I could use the company.”
She gave him a wry grin. “I guess I could, too.”
While she was inside writing up her statement, he sat in his truck wondering why he was extending his time with the deputy.
He had gone out driving by himself, wanting to get away from people. After staring up at the stars for a couple of hours, he’d only felt even more intensely lonely. Sharing her company over a cup of coffee or a beer would help pass the time until morning and another day where he would help on the ranch until his next assignment, or rather his first assignment with the Outriders. He didn’t mind helping with the ranch chores. The hard physical labor helped him work out some of the demons still eating at him over the loss of his marriage. It wasn’t like he was trying to hit on the deputy. He just really didn’t want to be alone on what would have been his anniversary.
He’d known his marriage was on the rocks, but he hadn’t understood just how much on the rocks it had been until his wife had hit him with the divorce papers when he’d gotten home from deployment. He’d committed to getting out of the military, hoping that it would make CeCe realize how much he wanted to save their marriage. By the time he returned to the States, it’d been eight months since he’d seen her. He had refused to discuss separation until he got back. When he walked into their house, though, he’d known it was over.
Her stuff had been gone, along with most of his. The only thing she hadn’t moved out was his gun safe and the old recliner he’d brought into the marriage and refused to let go of, even when she’d redecorated the entire house. She’d refused to take his phone calls. When he’d gone by her office and followed her to her new home, he’d found that she was living with another man. His marriage was truly over.
That was when he’d signed the divorce papers. Thankfully, that was the same day he’d received a call from his friend Trace Travis. Levi had needed an excuse to leave the empty shell of his home and start over.
The problem was, he wasn’t sure if he was heartbroken over the demise of his marriage or if he was more upset over having failed. Levi had been good at just about everything he’d done in his life. From Little League baseball to being the quarterback on his high school football team. Everything he’d done he’d succeeded at, including marrying the head cheerleader, his high school sweetheart.
CeCe hadn’t been particularly thrilled when he’d joined the army, but she’d hung in with him, liking the fact that he had gone on to be accepted into Delta Force, an elite force of the army. But she hadn’t quite realized how much time he would be spending away from her. He suspected like many of the other army wives of the Delta Force, she’d gotten lonely and found someone else who would be there more often than he was.
Levi had done a little bit of investigating to find out her new lover had nothing to do with the military. He was an insurance salesman.
Before he realized it, Deputy Jones was coming out of the station. No longer wearing her uniform, she wore faded blue jeans and an equally faded blue chambray shirt. Her sandy-blond hair hung down below her shoulders, free of the ponytail she’d worn earlier. She stopped beside his window, her gray eyes meeting his.
Levi lowered the glass.
The deputy cocked an eyebrow. “Meet you at Sweeney’s Bar?”
He nodded.
Jones climbed into what looked like a 1960s model Ford pickup truck. It took several times cranking the starter before the engine engaged with a coughing sputter and then a roar. The deputy shifted into Reverse, backed out of the parking space in front of the sheriff’s office and drove out onto Main Street.
Levi’s pulse quickened as he followed Dallas the couple of blocks to the closest of the two bars. He should have left after dropping her off. But something about this woman made him want to be with her. If only for a few minutes more.
