“My lawyer?”
The woman cleared her throat. “Mr. Patton had a stroke. My name is BJ Alexander.”
Damn, her husky voice made Cash’s body tighten even more.
“Sheriff Jasper, I need to talk to my client in private,” she said. “Open the cell, please.”
Jasper scowled at her, but jammed the key in the cell door and opened it. For a brief second, something akin to fear flickered in the woman’s eyes.
She might be tough, but she was afraid of Cash.
That didn’t sit well in his gut.
He would never lay a hand on a woman, at least not in violence.
But that damn sheriff had probably already convinced her he was guilty.
* * *
BJ SCRUTINIZED CASH. The man looked rough. Hair a little too long. Eyes deep, dark. Distrustful.
Body...well, hell, he was built. Broad shoulders. Tall. Muscles everywhere.
Which meant he was strong enough to overpower a woman.
The McCullens had just learned they had two brothers who’d been kidnapped at birth. They thought Cash was one of them.
Since she’d spoken to them, she’d done her research.
Cash had grown up in the foster care system. At twelve he’d been placed in a ranch home for troubled boys. He’d learned ranching skills, and as an adult had worked on several spreads across Wyoming. He’d moved half a dozen times, though, which made her wonder if he was searching for something, or if he’d been asked to leave.
The head of the ranch for boys had described him as sullen, brooding, angry. Said he needed guidance from a strong male.
Guidance he’d never received.
Two of his employers claimed he was an excellent rider, a natural cattleman and that he’d kept to himself but done a good job. After a season or two, he’d left of his own accord, saying it was time for him to move on.
He was a drifter. Probably had a new woman in every county he moved to.
All the more reason she should maintain her professional demeanor. She wouldn’t fall prey to his charms like she had with Davis.
Although at the moment, Cash looked beaten—not like a womanizer. The disdain in his eyes was palpable.
“Sheriff, please show Mr. Koker to an interrogation room so we can talk.” At least they would both be more comfortable. Sitting on that tiny cot beside Cash Koker was not an option. Sex appeal radiated from him in waves. There was also an air of danger about him that put her on edge.
The sheriff grunted in compliance, then gestured for Cash to hold out his hands so he could cuff them.
A muscle ticked in Cash’s jaw, but he did as the man ordered. Jasper led him to a small room with a plain wooden table and two chairs. Cash’s expression was grim as he sank into the chair. Handcuffs clanged as he spread his fingers on the table. Calluses and scars marked his hands and arms, a telltale sign that he did manual labor.
The sheriff cleared his throat. “You want me to stay?”
BJ shook her head. She couldn’t show fear or any emotion. “No, I’m fine.”
Jasper worked his mouth from side to side, one hand on his holster. “Yell if you need me.” He squeezed Cash’s shoulder so hard the prisoner’s jaw tightened. “Touch her and you’ll be sorry.”
A frisson of nerves prickled BJ’s spine as the sheriff left the room and Cash turned his rage toward her.
A jagged scar curled beneath his hairline on the right side, making him look frightening and sexy at the same time. She envisioned him riding a bull or galloping across rugged terrain, and her heart stuttered.
She gripped the edge of the table, silently cursing herself. She could not allow herself to think of him as attractive.
“All right, lady,” he said gruffly. “What are you doing here?”
BJ forced herself to remember that he had no clue he was a McCullen. She’d expected the McCullen men would want to meet him, but they’d had trouble with a half brother named Bobby, and were cautious.
After all, Horseshoe Creek Ranch belonged to all of Joe McCullen’s sons, which meant that Maddox, Brett and Ray would have to share land with the lost twins.
They intended to find the truth about Cash’s character before they disclosed their relationship.
“I came to decide if I want to represent you,” BJ said. “To do that, I need to hear your version of what happened the night Sondra Elmore died.”
He arched a thick brow. “Why? You gonna believe me?”
BJ leaned forward, snagging his gaze with a cold look. “Sarcasm is not your friend right now, Mr. Koker. The truth might be, though, if you want to tell it.”
Shoulders squared, she gathered the file, ready to leave. The last thing she intended to do was work for some ungrateful jerk who didn’t want her help. “If not, I’ll leave you alone and you can rot in that cell.”
BJ folded her arms across her chest. “You have ten seconds to decide how this will go before I walk out that door.”
Anger flashed across Cash’s face, along with distrust—and the realization that he did need help. That he might have to suck it up if he wanted to fight these charges.
“Just sit down,” he growled.
BJ shook her head. “I don’t take orders from you, Mr. Koker. If I accept your case, I expect respect. But first, you have to convince me that you’re innocent.”
Tension rippled between them. He shifted and stared at his fingers again, obviously torn. Or was he trying to concoct a convincing lie?
“All right, Miss Alexander,” he said. “Please sit back down.”
A tiny smile of victory twitched at her mouth, but she masked it, maintaining her neutral expression. He had said please, though, so she slipped into the chair facing him.
“Now tell me—has Tyler been found? Is he okay?”
“I’m afraid there hasn’t been any word on the boy,” she said quietly.
Cash pressed his knuckles over his eyes. “You have to find him.”
“Do you know where he is?” she asked in a tight voice.
“No.” His gaze met hers, suspicion flaring. “Are you working for Elmore?”
BJ frowned. “Why would you ask that?”
“Because
