court system and collect the reward. Once I get what’s coming to me, you can put your bid in for him.” Her smile was smug, confident. She was going to nail that runaway son of a bitch and she knew it. She’d been at this trade too long to think about failing now. “I’m sure something can be arranged in, oh, say about fifteen to twenty years.”
“Is that the sentence Weber’s facing?”
He was getting better at this innocent act, Cara thought, evaluating the very masculine man before her. He made it sound as if he was entirely unfamiliar with Weber’s offense.
Cara folded her arms before her. “He is now,” she told him, although she knew that the sentence depended entirely on the judge and jury. She’d seen hardened criminals go free and hapless losers incur real jail time. She made what she felt was a safe guess. “I don’t see Weber getting any time off for good behavior.”
Dragging a hand through her long, silky hair, she sighed. Now that Weber knew there were people closing in on him, he was going to be even harder to track down. But nobody’d ever said this job was going to be easy. It would have bored her if it was.
The man looked at her. “What’s the offense?”
She narrowed her eyes, studying the man’s face, wondering if he was playing her for a fool for some reason. Could he be that ignorant about Weber and still be after him?
“He’s wanted for an attempted break-in at the Chambers’ ranch.” Cara paused, her eyes washing over the man. “You’re not a bounty hunter, are you?”
“I’m a private investigator.” He put out his hand to her. “Max Ryker.”
“Cara Rivers.” She shook his hand and was pleased that he didn’t seem to be afraid of hurting hers. He returned her strong grip. “Well, Max Ryker, your being in the right place at the wrong time just cost me two weeks’ hard work.” She dropped her hand to her side and went back to looking around the room. The closet had only a couple of changes of clothing and nothing else. “If you’re not after him for the burglary, why are you after him—not that it makes a difference to me as long as you stay out of my way,” she qualified as she pulled open the night-stand drawer. It was empty.
He skipped over the question, going to her final declaration. “Afraid I can’t do that, Cara. My client wants him brought back to Montebello for offenses committed there.”
That was some tiny country halfway around the world, she thought. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t about to turn Weber over once she had him.
She didn’t bother asking who his client was. If Ryker was on the level about being a private investigator, that information was privileged. It was also irrelevant as far as she was concerned.
“Sorry, but the sheriff of Shady Rock might have a few things to say about that. We’ll give Weber back after we’re done,” she promised again, a whimsical smile playing on her lips.
Max looked out the window to the alley where Weber had taken off. Sundown was slowly slipping over the entire region.
“Looks like no one’s getting him right now.” He could leave, but Max believed in getting to know whomever he was up against, and something told him that when he went after Weber, he’d find this woman right behind him—if not in front. “Buy you a drink?”
He had to think she was pretty stupid if he thought she didn’t see through that. Oldest trick in the book. And also one that didn’t work on her.
“And get me smashed so I can’t go after him? Sorry, it doesn’t work that way.” She led the way out of the claustrophobic room. “I don’t get drunk.”
Though it was a pointless gesture, he pulled the door closed after them. “Is that because you don’t drink, or because alcohol has no effect on you?”
He was laughing at her. She’d seen it before. A big, strong, strapping male who thought because she looked the way she did, she was a pushover. Well, they’d just see who was the pushover, wouldn’t they?
“The latter.”
Amused, Max arched a brow as he looked at her. “Oh really?”
For two cents she’d wipe that smirk off his face. “Yes, really.”
He had a man to track down. But now there was no doubt in Max’s mind that when he did go after Weber, this feisty female with the pint-size gun and gargantuan ego would be right there, getting in his way. He couldn’t afford to have that happen twice. She’d already cost him Weber tonight and the sooner he caught the man, the sooner he’d get his own answers.
The best way to proceed was to make sure she was out of commission for the necessary time. He figured that wasn’t going to prove to be a major problem.
“Suppose I buy you that drink,” he suggested, “and see.”
Now there was a challenge if she ever heard one. And one challenge begot another. She looked up at him prettily. “Only if you’ll join me.”
“Done.”
He saw nothing wrong in the bargain. He’d been known to drink more than a few with no ill effects. His time in the Montebellan army had been marked by intense training and even more intense drinking during downtime. There was no doubt in his mind that, given her size and weight, it wouldn’t take much to send the sprightly blonde sliding under the table, unconscious and out of the way.
Cara hesitated for a moment over the invitation. As much as she wanted to see his butt fried, she knew that joining this man for a drink or three, or however many it took to get him drunk enough to be out of commission would still sidetrack her and take precious time away from Weber’s ultimate capture. God knew she needed the money; she’d given her word to Bridgette that it would be there for her when she needed it.
But she had a sneaking suspicion that this stunning specimen of manhood would get in her way again. And she wasn’t entirely sure he was telling her the truth when he claimed not to be a bounty hunter. He might very well be one of those smooth-talking ones, bent on getting her out of the way so he could have sole access to the reward. Phil Stanford, the man she worked for, was not above farming out the work to more than one hunter at a time. All Stanford cared about was getting back the money he’d put up for Weber’s bail, not any possible moral violations he might have committed in getting that money and the bail jumper back.
If Ryker was working for Phil, then it was in her best interests to get him out of her way. Now.
“All right, I know this bar about a mile away. The Saint.” Her eyes washed over him as if she was taking measure. “You don’t have to be one to get in.”
There was something about her smile that got under a man’s skin, Max thought. It was both innocent and calculating at the same time, as if she had a joke she was keeping under wraps, one that he might or might not be in on. Max gestured toward the darkening parking lot. “Lead the way.”
She fully intended to. “I’ll drive.” It wasn’t an offer, it was an assumption.
Model-pretty or not, the woman needed to be taken down a notch. “We’ll both drive,” he told her. “I’ll follow you.”
She had her doubts about that, but there was nothing she could say. After all, it made
