Dylan as he accepted one of the icy-cold beers.
“What makes you say that?” Not that Sawyer had any intention of denying the truth to Dylan. Dylan was on their side. He’d been loyal his entire life.
As teenagers, the two men had run pretty wild together whenever Sawyer visited the Montana ranch. They stole liquor from the cook’s pantry, borrowed more than one ranch pickup truck, got into fistfights and picked up girls. Their exploits had cemented a friendship, and Sawyer would trust Dylan with his life.
Dylan looked pointedly around the ranch house. “You bought yourself ten-thousand acres of prime land. As cover stories go, it’s the very definition of overkill. I figure the only reason you’d go to this much trouble is to protect Charles’ Senate seat.”
“You nailed it,” Sawyer agreed, dropping onto the old, lumpy sofa and taking a swig of his beer. It was cool against his throat, dry from breathing in the dust of the construction site.
“You’re blending,” Dylan stated.
“In with the locals,” Sawyer confirmed. He and his uncle had concocted the plan together.
“What the hell did Charles do to warrant this level of complexity?”
Sawyer knew he shouldn’t smile. It was a serious situation. But Dylan was right, they were cleaning up a big mess with high stakes, and that situation inevitably involved Uncle Charles.
“You ever heard of Gabriella Gerard?” Sawyer asked.
“Can’t say that I have.”
“She was a D.C. legend, infamous around the town. Nobody knew where she came from, but everyone agreed she could have launched a thousand ships with one crook of her baby finger.
Word on the street is that she had affairs with some very powerful men. She accepted their gifts and their money, used their stock tips to get rich. She apparently squirreled away their secrets in a tell-all diary. And then she died. And the diary is nowhere to be found, neither is her daughter Niki.”
“I take it Charles is featured in the diary?” Dylan guessed.
“And the daughter is featured in Colorado, in Lyndon Valley to be precise, in hiding.”
“Is she Charles’ daughter?”
“No chance of that. The dates were way off.” Plus, Sawyer now knew she was Wilton Terrell’s daughter.
Dylan gave a single nod of understanding, peeling at the corner of the beer label with his thumb. “You’re here to get the diary.”
Sawyer responded with a mock toast. “Indeed, I am. Charles would prefer his wife not find out he cheated.”
“Understandable.”
“He’d also prefer the Elections Commission not know about certain campaign contributions.”
“Also understandable.” Dylan took a swig of his beer.
“And he’d prefer to be the guy who learns everyone else’s secrets, instead of the other way around. Whoever gets their hands on that diary will own the district.”
“That all sounds like the Charles we know and love.”
Sawyer silently agreed. He’d never had much time for the games played in D.C. politics, but Charles lived and breathed it. And he’d certainly done well by the family by being tapped in.
“This Niki might have plans of her own,” Dylan noted.
“I expect she does. If she’s anything like Gabriella, there’s every chance she’s planning some sophisticated blackmail scheme.”
“So, here you sit,” said Dylan. “Her brand-new, innocuous, cowboy neighbor, without a single, visible tie to D.C.”
“That’s the plan. Though we’ve hit a snag.”
“Already?” Dylan glanced pointedly at his watch. “Is that a record?”
Sawyer ignored the man’s sarcasm. “Those Terrell brothers I mentioned? Caleb and Reed. Successful men, smart from what I can see, a reasonable level of power on their own, particularly Caleb. It turns out, they really are her brothers, her half brothers, Gabriella was sleeping with more than just D.C. power brokers.”
“Do the brothers know she’s in hiding?”
“Haven’t yet figured that out,” Sawyer admitted. Though he was leaning toward them not knowing. “They didn’t seem particularly suspicious or jumpy. They were happy to welcome me, feed me a burger.”
Dylan rested one booted ankle on the opposite one. “So, what’s your next move?”
Sawyer took another mouthful of the crisp beer, letting it slide its way down his throat. “Get to know them. See if I can find a way in. Getting her to confide in me would be best.”
“Is she plain? Is she mousy?” Dylan gave him a critical once-over. “You’re a decent-looking guy, maybe you can romance the information out of her.”
“She’s a bombshell. At least, she was in D.C. She’s downplaying it out here. But I’m sure she still has plenty of offers.” It occurred to Sawyer that one of the resident Colorado cowboys might already have his eye on her. That would add yet another barrier.
“Might be your best bet,” said Dylan.
Sawyer frowned at his friend. Romancing a woman to get information from her? “That’s pretty callous, even for a guy with my genetic make-up.”
“Plus, if she’s a knockout, what chance would you have?”
Sawyer gave a snort. “I can get dates.”
“Sure, in D.C., where they know you’re a Layton. I’m talkin’ about out here, on your own, where women don’t know you’re a rich, connected guy.”
“I’m not worried.”
Not that he had any immediate interest in testing the theory with Niki or anyone else. His only goal was the diary. That would be his laser focus.
Niki knew she had to come clean with her brothers. She couldn’t fool herself any longer, pretending it was okay to keep such an important secret. Though her mother would turn over in her grave at the thought of Niki taking such an unnecessary risk. In fact, Niki could actually hear Gabriella’s voice inside her head, calling her a fool for giving up her advantage.
“Shut up,” she said out loud, briskly rubbing her freshly washed hair with a towel.
She tossed the towel on a chair in the corner of the bedroom, then ran a comb through her short hair, scrutinizing herself in the mirror above the dresser as she worked. She had to admit, this was the easiest cut she’d ever worn. A quick comb through, and it dried on its own. It was just wavy enough to have body, but stayed pretty much in place through humidity or rain showers.
She stepped into a pair of comfortable jeans, then slipped her arms into a flannel shirt. She didn’t even bother with a bra or
