The Baddest Virgin in Texas Page 15

  She could just picture it all so clearly in her mind. The joyful reunion. The manly hug. Lash's undying gratitude to her for intervening and saving his relationship with Zane after all these years.

  She sighed, and kept watching each new group of people that arrived, looking for Lash's foster brother. But Zane never showed. And it wasn't until they all returned to the ranch much later that night that she finally understood exactly why.

  The worst part was, she had no one to blame but herself.

  * * *

  Chapter 10

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  Lash knew something was wrong before he even hopped out of his car. It was obvious. Garrett's pickup had pulled in ahead of him, and Jessi's rolled in behind. And one by one they piled out of the vehicles and stood there, shaking their heads, brows furrowed in blatant confusion and dawning understanding. The barn doors were wide open, the gate to the south pasture was gaping, and the ground was scarred by tire tracks. Lash just stood there for a moment, gaping in disbelief as his eyes picked out the trail of flattened grass that led as far as the eye could see, without veering once, all the way to the pasture where the young stock grazed. Only he had a feeling they weren't grazing there now.

  Jessi raced past him as her brothers swore in turns. It seemed to take the rest of them a second longer to convince their bodies to move. Chelsea—with little Ethan anchored on her hip—and the boys followed where Jessi led, and stood around the spot where she crouched.

  "Dual tires," Jessi muttered. "Semis, and more than one. Been gone for at least a couple of hours by now. Maybe longer."

  Wes swiped his black Stetson from his head and slammed it against his thigh. "Damn it straight to hell! Look at those tracks! It's like they knew exactly where they were going."

  "More than that," Garrett said. "They knew exactly when we'd all be away from the ranch at the same time. I mean, come on. They drove right past the house, bold as brass. They wouldn't have done that if they'd thought anyone was home."

  "But everyone in town was at the party," Elliot said.

  "Who could—"

  "Not everyone," Jessi put in. And she turned remorseful eyes on Lash, and he knew right then what she was going to say. "I'm really sorry if I'm wrong about this, Lash, but … I think it was your brother."

  "Foster brother, and it wouldn't surprise me. I told you he was trouble."

  "But what makes you so suspicious of him, Jessi?" Garrett asked.

  She closed her pretty eyes and sighed as if her heart was going to break. "God, Garrett, this is all my fault. He came over here last Sunday, all full of questions about the ranch and the cattle—how many head we ran and how the pastures were growing and how big our spread was. I thought he was just curious about us because Lash worked here, but I should have known. Jeez, I was stupid. I told him everything, even took him on a tour of the ranch and showed him the pastures where the beefers graze. Pointed out the young stock, showed off the prize bull…"

  "And you told him about the party?" Chelsea asked.

  Jessi nodded, then slowly lowered her head. "I thought if I could get him to come to the grand opening, he and Lash might be able to patch things up." She lifted her gaze, meeting his eyes. "I didn't know how bad it was, Lash. I really didn't. I should've kept my nose out of your business. I'm so sorry."

  "You were only trying to help," he said. "I should have figured you'd try something like that. Jessi, this isn't your fault. I should have been more clear about Zane when I tried to warn you about him, but I was just too damned jea—" He broke off. Holy cow, he'd nearly said he was jealous. What was wrong with him?

  Oh, Lord, it was worse than he'd thought. Now that he considered it, it was true. He actually had been jealous.

  Jessi pressed her palms to her cheeks and stared out toward the pasture. "Lord, this could ruin us."

  Wes put a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, come on, kiddo, we can always mortgage your clinic to recoup the losses." She looked up at him, and he winked. "C'mon, Ben," he said to the big, quiet Brand who just stood musing. "Let's saddle up and see what the damage is."

  Ben nodded. "Let's hope those trucks spooked the cattle so that at least a few of them ran off before they could herd them into the trailers."

  "Yeah." Wes headed for the house instead of the barns, and when Ben asked why, he said, "Figure we'd better take a couple of shotguns, just in case."

  "Make it one," Ben said. "I don't plan to kill a man unless I have no choice, and if that's the case, my hands are all I need."

  Everyone just stared at Ben for a moment, but the shocked reaction passed and was swallowed by the buzz of activity. Lash could hear the phone jangling insistently from inside the house. Chelsea went running off to answer it, the baby bouncing on her hip. Elliot joined Ben and Wes in checking on what cattle remained. And Jessi just stood there, her gorgeous face twisted into a mask of regret. Lash took a step toward her, with every intention of pulling her close to him and holding her and making her feel better any way he could—only to feel Garrett's heavy hand fall on his shoulder.

  "She's gonna be just fine, Lash. We need to talk, you and I."

  Lash swallowed hard. It almost sounded as if Garrett knew. "I never meant to hurt her," he managed.

  Garrett frowned. "It's not your fault this Zane character robbed us blind. He's the one who hurt her—hurt all of us. Hell, Lash, you can't think we'd blame you for this."

  A three-hundred-watt bulb flashed on above Lash's head then, and he realized it wasn't Jessi Garrett he wanted to have a talk with him about. It was Zane. He did his best to recover his fumble, and followed Garrett into the house.

  Before they got through the door, Chelsea was holding the phone out toward Garrett. "It's Jimmy Rodriguez from the Circle-Bar-T. They got hit, too. Before he called, I heard from the Double Horseshoe. And, Garrett, the machine is blinking like crazy. I'll check the tape, but it looks to me like the bastards wiped out half the county."

  Garrett closed his eyes. "Take down the details, darlin', and tell Jimmy I'm doing all I can."

  Lash grated his teeth. "I might be able to find out something, Garrett, if I can make a few phone calls."

  He nodded. "Looks like our line's gonna be tied up all night. And I'm afraid the phones in the office will be just as bad. Let's head over to your place and see what we can turn up."

  Lash nodded and turned to Jessi as Garrett headed for his pickup truck. "Jess, honey, you gonna be okay?"

  She met his eyes and blinked—maybe at what he'd just called her, because it had surprised him, too, to hear the endearment roll naturally off his tongue. "I'm fine. You go on."

  He reached out to enfold her hand in his, squeezed it gently, and turned to join Garrett.

  But what they turned up about Zane through the long hours of the night was definitely not good news. Turned out the bully had been a busy boy for the past twenty-odd years. No small-time larceny, either. He'd turned cattle rustling into big business, and he was wanted in five states. Garrett had the FBI fax him the information they had, and the theory the Feds developed was that he was smuggling the stolen cattle by the truckload over the border into Mexico. There the trail ended. No one knew who his Mexican buyer was or where he might be located. The Texas Rangers had an APB out on the big rigs, but if Jessi's tracking skills were as good as she claimed, those trucks were long since over the border.

  But Lash had an idea.

  "You know, Garrett," he said later as they sat over hot coffee in his apartment, wondering what the hell to do next. "I learned a little bit about this slob, being raised in the same house with him."

  "You have my sympathies," Garrett muttered.

  "He's a coward," Lash said. "Always loved trouble, but never had the balls to stir it up all by himself. He needed egging on. Needed a few other lowlifes around to show off for, or it wasn't worth the effort. Plus, when it was time to pay the piper, he could always be sure to have a scapegoat."

  Garrett was sitting up a little straighter now. "So, you
think you know who else might be involved?"

  "This might be a long shot, but in those days it was always Jack and Peter who helped him pull his nonsense. Now, Peter's given name was Pedro Gonzales. The preacher—"

  "The preacher?"

  "Our foster father," Lash clarified. "He saw fit to give Pedro a more 'American'-sounding name. But as I recall, Pedro used to like to brag about his relatives in Mexico."

  "So it's safe to assume he might have connections there," Garrett said.

  "I can make a couple of phone calls."

  "To your preacher?"

  "No, he's gone now. No doubt thumping Bibles in that big pulpit in the sky, and probably ordering little angels to memorize verses when their wings are wrinkled. But his wife's sister is still living in Illinois, and she always did have a knack for keeping up on the family business."

  "Don't tell me," Garrett said, "aunt Kate."

  "You got it." Lash picked up the phone and dialed the string of numbers he knew by heart.

  An hour later, Lash was packing his belongings. Then he slung his bag in the back of his beat-up convertible, thinking that it was almost as if he were drifting on to the next great adventure. Only this time, the idea didn't appeal to him in the least.

  Garrett leaned on the driver's-side door, shaking his head. "I don't like this, Lash."

  "Look, I'm not going to do anything. I'll just check it out. If Petey inherited his rich uncle's meat-packing business like aunt Kate says, then chances are that's where all the cattle are ending up. I'll call you as soon as I see for myself what's going on."

  "You could get in over your head, Lash."

  "But you understand it, don't you, Garrett? This is a family thing. An old grudge between Zane and me that goes back as far as I can remember. It's my fight, and I have to settle it on my own."

  Garrett scowled, but nodded. "Yeah, I understand."

  "I need to ask you a favor, Garrett. And it's a big one."

  Garrett lifted his brows and waited.

  "Don't tell Jessi I've left town, and even if she somehow finds out I'm gone, don't tell her where I went or why."

  Garrett tilted his head. "You're gonna have to explain that one to me, Lash. Now, I been letting a lot of stuff between you and my sister slide lately, but this—"

  "You know her," Lash said. "You know how she dives into trouble headfirst, without a thought about her own safety. Rushes in where angels fear to tread, right? If she finds out, Garrett, she's liable to decide I need help and come charging down there after me. And I don't want her anywhere near my slimebag foster brother. More than that, I just don't want her getting hurt."

  Garrett nodded. "All right, you make a good point. I won't tell her. But, Lash, we're going to have to talk about this … this whatever-it-is with you and Jessi—"

  "When I get back," he said. "Promise."

  Garrett scanned Lash's face, eyes narrowed, but eventually he nodded, and clasped Lash's hand. "Okay. You just be sure you come back in one piece so you can keep that promise."

  "I will. And, Garrett, don't tell your brothers about this, either, okay? I don't want one of them doing something foolish, or slipping up and telling Jessi. This is just between you and me."

  "You have my word on it. Call me when you get down there. And I mean the minute you get down there, Lash, so you can tell me where you're staying and how I can reach you."

  Lash nodded. "Best set a time, so I can be sure you're the one who answers the phone." The thought of having to explain himself to Jessi didn't appeal to him. He wouldn't be any damned good at lying to her. He'd be seeing those big brown eyes in his mind, all hurt and damp and loving.

  "Midnight tomorrow?" Garrett asked. "That give you enough time to get down there and find a phone?"

  "Midnight tomorrow," Lash repeated. "Thanks, Garrett. For everything."

  Garrett stood in the darkness, staring after him, as Lash pulled away.

  Jessi couldn't stop pacing back and forth, endlessly, across the front porch. The telephone kept ringing inside, but Chelsea was covering the calls like a pro. Little Ethan was having a much-needed nap. Wes, Elliot and Ben were out checking on the cattle. And Lash was at his place with Garrett, chasing down leads. But they'd been gone quite a while now, and though she squinted into the distance, willing them to show up, there was no sign of them yet.

  Lash had squeezed her hand before he left. He'd called her honey.

  She gnawed her lower lip and wondered what she was supposed to make of that.

  "You okay?" Chelsea asked softly from beyond the screen door. The phone had finally decided to give its ringer a break.

  "Restless," Jessi replied. "I think I'm gonna take a drive. Look around."

  "Heading south, by any chance?" Chelsea had crossed her arms over her chest and was looking her over thoroughly.

  "Just driving. Not tracking rustlers. Hell, Chels, I wouldn't know where to begin."

  "If you're not back in an hour, I'll send your brothers looking."

  Jessi rolled her eyes. "You're ruthless, you know that?"

  Chelsea only smiled and waved Jessi on her way. Jessi jumped into her pickup, then took a shortcut to reach Route 10. Her plan was to head south from there, until she found the most likely bridge for a half-dozen semis to use to cross the Rio Grande. The idea was stupid. There wasn't going to be any sign of the cattle trucks by now. But then again, she wasn't doing any good sitting at home, either. So she bounced and rattled over the dirt-road shortcut, turned onto the paved stretch that would get her to Route 10, then frowned into her rearview mirror.

  The car coming up fast behind her looked like— Hell, it didn't just look like it, it was—Lash's old black convertible.

  But he was supposed to be back in Quinn with Garrett and— She slammed the door on the thoughts that tried to come to her then. She wouldn't jump to conclusions. It was a bad habit she'd been meaning to break for quite a while, and now seemed like a good time to start. She blew her horn, and watched him in her rearview mirror. He flashed his headlights to let her know he'd recognized her. Okay, time to figure things out. Jessi put on her right turn signal and pulled off onto the shoulder. She watched as Lash did the same.

  Then she got out of her truck. They were close to the highway. She could hear the traffic, even see the glow of headlights moving in the distance. But this side road was all but deserted. If a car passed once every half hour, it would be a busy night.

  Thrusting her hands into her jeans pockets, she walked back toward Lash's car as he got out. The convertible's top was down. It was a beautiful night for a drive with the wind in your hair, she thought, and wished she'd been riding in there with him.

  Lash shut his door and took a step toward her. Then, as if he'd just thought of something, turned to reach into the back seat. Frowning, Jessi saw him quickly toss a jacket over the suitcase that rested there. And her eager footsteps came to a halt.

  So this was it. They knew who was behind the rustling, and he and Garrett had probably turned the whole case over to some higher authority. The Texas Rangers or the FBI or someone like that. And now that his job with Garrett was done, Lash was keeping his promise. He was leaving town, just like the drifter he'd claimed to be. He was moving on, just the way he'd warned her he would.

  And he hadn't even said goodbye. Probably figured it would be easier on her this way. Hell, he knew she loved him. It wasn't his fault he didn't feel the same.

  She was glad she hadn't told him about the damaged condoms, or the home pregnancy test she'd bought. At least he was doing what he wanted to do. At least this was honest. Real. Not that obligatory thing he was trying to foist on her before. Not his stupid, overdeveloped sense of duty.

  She sighed as he turned to face her again. Hell, if this was the way he wanted to do it, fine. Let him go on thinking she hadn't seen that suitcase in the back. Let him slip away without having to face her and tell her he was leaving. What did she care?

  She plastered a smile on her face and started
walking toward him again, stopping when they stood toe-to-toe.

  "What're you doing out here, Jessi?" he asked her, his voice tow and soft. And his eyes were probing hers, seeing way more than she wanted them to.

  "Just felt like a drive," she said. "You?"

  "Following up on a lead. It shouldn't take long."

  She closed her eyes, because his white lie hurt so much he'd have to see it reflected there. "Sure," she said. "A lead."

  "I'm glad I ran into you, though," he told her. "We have to talk, Jess."

  To say goodbye? she wondered. Was he going to tell her how he was leaving tonight, and how he'd probably never see her again?

  Lash took her hand in his, and pulled her with him as he walked back to his car. He opened the passenger door for her, and she got in, steadfastly refusing to glance into the back seat. Then he got in the driver's side and closed the door. The top was still down, so the night air surrounded them. She could hear crickets starting up their nightly thrum, and gradually competing with the sounds of the highway not far away. Lash turned toward her, took off his hat and tossed it in the back before pushing one hand through his hair.

  "I think you misunderstood me before," he began.

  "I understood you just fine, Lash. You told me the truth, right from the start. I'm a big girl. I can handle it."

  "That's not what I meant, Jessi."

  She blinked when her eyes tried to fill, then lifted one hand to touch his face. "I don't want to do this," she whispered. "I don't want to talk." Not if talking meant telling him goodbye. She was strong, but she didn't think she was strong enough to do that.

  "But, Jess, I—"

  She leaned forward, and pressed her lips to his. And it was only an instant before she felt him beginning to respond. His mouth softened, his hands slipped around her neck, his fingers cradling her head so gently it made her want to cry. Those same fingers threaded upward, into her hair.

  He lifted his mouth from hers. His eyes had turned to molten silver. "You're just about the sweetest thing I ever tasted," he murmured.