expected that was where he was headed.
“I’m surprised you had the time, given how busy you were stealing other people’s cattle.”
He shrugged. “All work and no play… What about you, Jack? What do you do for fun?”
“Mr. Savage, I told you, our discussions will be restricted to business only.”
“If that makes you more comfortable… How about you tell me where we’re headed then, Jack.”
“You’ll be updated on a need to know basis, Mr. Savage, and at this point, the only thing you need to know is that I’m Investigator Wilde or Ms. Wilde. Not Jack.”
“Still Ms., huh? I guess it’s hard to find a cowboy who’s man enough to handle a woman like you.”
Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t take the bait.
He gazed out the windshield, enjoying himself. There were all kinds of ways to get even, he realized. Some of them wouldn’t even get him sent back to prison.
Too bad he’d so often in the past four years revisited the day she’d caught him. It was like worrying a sore tooth with his tongue. He’d lost more than his freedom that day.
There’d been only one bright spot in his capture. After she’d cuffed him, he’d stumbled forward to steal one last thing: a kiss.
He’d taken her by surprise, just as she had him with the capture. He’d thought about that kiss a lot over the years. Now, as he glanced over at her, he wondered if he’d be disappointed if he kissed her again. When he kissed her again, he thought with a grin. And he would kiss her again. If only goodbye.
“Is there a problem, Mr. Savage?” she asked.
“Naw, just remembering the day you caught me,” he said, and chuckled.
“Lewistown,” she said irritably, making him laugh. “We’re headed for Lewistown.”
“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” The center of the state. A hub of cattle ranches. How appropriate, given that rustlers had run rampant there back in the 1800s. It had gotten so bad that some ranchers took matters into their own hands. On July 4, 1884, a couple of suspected rustling ringleaders, “Longhair” Owen and “Rattlesnake Jake” Fallon, were busy shooting up the town when a band of vigilantes gunned them down in the street. Longhair Owen took nine bullets and Rattlesnake Jake eleven.
Dillon wondered how long it would be before a band of vigilantes started shooting first and asking questions later, given how upset the ranchers were now over this latest ring of rustlers. Was that why Jack had gotten him out? Was she hoping some ranchers would string him up?
Staring out at the landscape, he knew that the only reason she’d told him where they were headed was because he wouldn’t be getting an opportunity between here and there to call anyone and reveal their destination.
“Your lack of trust cuts me to the core,” he said as he ran his finger along the tiny scar behind his left ear, where the chip was embedded under his skin.
Much like Jacklyn Wilde had gotten under his skin and been grating on him ever since. He told himself he’d be free of both before long. In the meantime, he tried not to think about the fact that Jack as well as her superiors would know where he was at any given moment.
“You sure that monitoring chip isn’t bothering you?” she asked, frowning at him.
He hadn’t realized she’d been watching him. Apparently she planned to keep a close eye on him—as well as monitor his every move.
“Naw,” he said, running his finger over the scar. “I’m good.”
Her look said he was anything but, and they both knew it.
SHADE WATERS always made a point of walking up the road to the mailbox after lunch, even in the dead of winter.
While it was a good half mile to the county road and he liked the exercise, his real motive was to get to the mail before anyone else did.
The letters had been coming for years now. He just never knew which day of the week, so he always felt a little sick as he made the hike up the road.
Even after all this time, his fingers shook a little as he pulled down the lid and peered inside. The envelope and single sheet of stationery within were always a paler lavender, as if the paper kept fading with the years.
Today he was halfway up the ranch lane when he saw Gus come flying down the county road, skidding to a stop and almost taking out the mailbox.
“What the hell?” Waters said under his breath as he watched the carrier hurriedly sort through the mail, open the box and stuff it inside. He had been running later and later recently.
Gus saw him, gave a quick wave and sped off almost guiltily.
Waters shook his head, already irritated knowing that his son and Morgan Landers were back at the house together. He had to put an end to that little romance. Maybe Dillon Savage being out of prison would do the trick.
At least something good would come of Savage being on the loose again.
When Shade finally reached the mailbox, he stopped to catch his breath, half dreading what he might find inside. Fingers trembling, he pulled down the lid, his gaze searching for the pale lavender envelope as he reached for the mail.
Even before he’d gone through the stack, he knew the letter hadn’t come. A mixture of disappointment and worry washed over him as he slammed the box shut. He hadn’t realized how much he anticipated the letters. What if they stopped coming?
He shook his head at his own foolishness, wondering if he wasn’t losing his mind. What man looked forward to a blackmail letter? he asked himself as he tucked the post under his arm and headed back up the lane.
JACKLYN HAD JUST LEFT the town of Judith Gap when her cell phone rang and she saw with annoyance that it was her boss. She glanced over at Dillon, wishing she didn’t have to take the call in front of him, because more than likely it would be bad news.
“Wilde.”
“So how did it go?” Stratton asked, an edge to his voice. He was just waiting for things to go badly so he could say I told you so.
“Fine,” she said, and glanced again at Dillon. He was chewing on a toothpick, stretched out in the seat as if he was ready for another nap.
“I hope you aren’t making the biggest mistake of your career. Not to mention your life,” Stratton said.
So did Jacklyn. But they’d been over this already. She waited, fearing he was calling to tell her the rustlers had hit again. She knew he hadn’t phoned just to see how she was doing. Stratton, too, had a receiver terminal that told him exactly where Dillon Savage was at all times. Which in turn would tell her boss exactly where she was, as well.
“Shade Waters wants to see you,” Stratton said finally.
She should have known. Waters owned the W Bar, the largest ranch in the area, and had a habit of throwing his weight around. “I’ve already told
