Matt: Texas Rascals Book 2 Page 12

  “I want you to play along with me, all right? No matter what I say.”

  “Matt...” She hesitated, concern reflected in her wide eyes. “Clem isn’t a bad person.”

  “Do you trust me?” He watched her eyes for the truth. He was talking about much more than what he was going to say to Clem.

  Her nod was quick, brief. “I’ll back you up.”

  “Does Clem know I took you in for questioning last night?” he asked.

  “Not that I know of. I haven’t discussed anything with him this morning.”

  “Good.” Matt tugged the brim of his Stetson lower on his forehead. “Get prepared to be arrested.”

  “What?” Her mouth dropped. “I thought you believed me!”

  “Just play along.” He inclined his head toward the house. “Go on inside. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Savannah disappeared into the house. Matt cocked his shoulder and put on his most serious lawman stance. He stalked across the yard and rapped sharply on the cabin door.

  A corner of the curtain fluttered.

  Matt knocked again. Waited. “Clem, I saw you go in there. This is Detective Matt Forrester. Open the door.”

  A minute later, the door creaked open. Clem peeked out like a furtive mouse, a cigarette butt clutched between nicotine-stained fingers.

  “Whatcha want?” the older man asked, narrowing his eyes.

  Matt remembered how the man had avoided him yesterday at Ginger’s wedding. Olson knew something about the missing cattle. Matt had no doubts about it.

  Slicker than a door-to-door peddler, Matt inserted the toe of his boot inside the door. “May I come in?”

  Clem scratched his chest. He wore a dirty T-shirt and even dirtier blue jeans. A day’s worth of grizzled whiskers ran the length of his jaw. His eyes were tired and bloodshot. He looked like a man hiding secrets.

  “Don’t suppose I can refuse a lawman, can I?”

  “I’d appreciate your time,” Matt said evenly.

  Clem stepped aside. “Come on in then.”

  The older man shut the door behind him. Matt blinked, adjusting to the cabin’s dim light. The room was as unkempt as the ranch hand, a far different sight than when Matt had searched it looking for Julio Diaz. Obviously, Clem hadn’t cleaned the cabin since then. Empty beer bottles staggered around the overflowing trash can. Dirty dishes were piled in the sink. Bits of debris littered the floor.

  “Did you catch them cattle thieves yet?” Clem asked.

  “We don’t know who physically took the cattle, but we do know who instigated the whole thing.” Matt crowded Clem’s personal space. He intended on scaring the old man into running back to Larkins and Thompson with the story.

  Clem’s hand trembled as he raised it to touch his chin. “You do?”

  Matt nodded solemnly. “Yep, and it’s tearing my heart out to have to arrest her.”

  “Her?” Clem’s voice went up an octave.

  Matt smiled inwardly. Aha. The fish had taken the bait. “Savannah. We figure she hired some goons to take off with her cattle so she could cash in on the insurance money.”

  “Miss Savannah?” Clem gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

  “Never would have thought it possible.” Matt shook his head, feigning shock. “But we’ve got the evidence. I’m about to take her in right now. Just wanted to let you know because it might affect your living arrangements.”

  Clem’s tremors increased. He fumbled in his pocket for a pack of cigarettes. “What about Cody?”

  “Sad. We’ll give Ginger a chance to claim him, but failing that, he’ll go into the foster care system.”

  Clem looked stunned. “I thought you and Miss Savannah used to be friendly.”

  “That was a long time ago, Clem.”

  “I still can’t believe you’d treat her this way.”

  “She’s a suspect.”

  Clem’s eyes narrowed. “Miss Savannah was right.”

  “About what?” Matt frowned.

  Clem’s top lip curled in disgust. “’Bout you. I overheard her talking to Miss Ginger the night before the wedding. Told her she still loved you, but that she was a fool. Said you couldn’t ever love no flesh-and-blood woman because you were too in love with your gun and badge.” Clem spit on the floor at Matt’s feet. “Guess she was right.”

  The old man’s words hit Matt like a sledgehammer blow. Was it really true? Savannah still in love with him after all these years?

  How he wanted to believe.

  Touching his hat with his fingertips, Matt moved for the door. “I’m on my way to arrest her now. Thought you might like to know.”

  “You can’t do that.” Clem pressed his body against the door, blocking Matt’s way. Sweat dripped down the ranch hand’s face.

  “Why not?”

  Clem hesitated.

  Matt sank his hands on his hips. “Something you want to tell me?”

  Clem cussed at him.

  Ignoring the onslaught, Matt shouldered the old man aside, pushed through the door, and walked toward the farmhouse. His heart thudded like a percussion drum in an echo chamber. He had to make the show good for Clem’s sake. He hoped what was left of the old man’s cowboy ethics would kick in, and he’d hightail it straight to Larkins and Thompson and demand they do something to exonerate Savannah.

  When he reached the back door, he rapped on it sharply. “Mrs. Markum,” he shouted. He felt more than saw Clem lope up behind him. He withdrew handcuffs from his back pocket and dangled them for Clem’s benefit. “This is Detective Forrester.”

  Savannah pulled open the door, Cody on her hip.

  “Step out on the porch and give me the baby.” Matt winked broadly at her where Clem couldn’t see.

  Silently, Savannah handed the baby to him.

  “Turn around and put your hands behind you.”

  She did as he instructed. When he wrapped the cuffs around her slender wrists, the clicking noise almost killed him. Even though it was make-believe, the image burned in Matt’s brain. Savannah’s warm, slender hands held captive by cold, cruel metal.

  “You have the right to remain silent,” he began the spiel. Oh, Lord, he prayed, let Clem fall for the scheme.

  “Detective!” Clem sang out.

  Matt froze. Slowly, he turned, Cody clutched in his arms. “You got something to tell me, Clem?”

  “Let her go. Miss Savannah didn’t have nothin’ to do with them cows disappearing.”

  “How would you know that, Clem?”

  “I know who did steal ’em.” The old man took a deep breath, thrusting out his bony chest.

  A confession. It wasn’t what he’d expected, but it would work just as well. Matt fished in his pocket for the key to the handcuffs and removed them from Savannah’s wrists.

  “Okay, Clem,” Matt said, “suppose you tell me what you know.”

  Savannah took Cody from Matt’s arms, then glanced from him to Clem and back again.

  Clem looked uncomfortable. “Remember that afternoon you saw me in Kelly’s with Hootie Thompson and Brent Larkins?”

  Matt nodded, waiting.

  Ducking his head, Clem drew a circle in the dirt with the tip of his boot. “I lied to you when I said they was only buying me a beer.”

  “Go on.”

  “I owed ’em gambling money.”

  “What has that got to do with my missing Gerts?” Savannah asked.

  Matt quelled her with one strong stare. Savannah snapped her mouth closed.

  “And you couldn’t pay the debt. Is that correct, Clem?”

  The ranch hand nodded.

  “You knew Gary had taken out an insurance policy on the Santa Gertrudis herd and that if they were to come up missing, it would only help Savannah since she was having financial trouble. So you planted the seed of stealing cattle in Larkins’s brain to extricate yourself from his debt, didn’t you?”

  “No, sir,” Clem denied hotly. “It was their idea. They said they would let me off the
hook if I got them onto the ranch and helped them steal Savannah’s Gerts. Because of those other thefts, Larkins thought the sheriff would figure it was the same hombres that hit the Circle B.” Clem pulled a wry face. “Guess they didn’t figure on you, huh?”

  “I guess not,” Matt said.

  “Anyway,” Clem continued. “I never meant to get Miss Savannah in trouble. Like you said, I thought the insurance money would help her pay the property taxes and cover Ginger’s wedding expenses.”

  “Well, that doesn’t quite cut it, does it, Clem?” Matt cocked his head to one side, staring down the elderly man.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Savannah,” Clem mumbled.

  “You think an apology is enough for what you put her through?” Matt asked.

  “No. But you’ll be arresting me instead.”

  “Not necessarily.” Matt stroked his jaw with a thumb and forefinger. “Not if you’d be willing to cooperate with the sheriff’s department.”

  “What do you want?” Clem asked, jumping at the chance to make amends for his mistake.

  “Help me snare Larkins and Thompson.”

  “With pleasure.” Clem rubbed his palms together. “Just tell me what to do.”

  Matt threw an arm around the older man’s shoulders. “Here’s the plan.”

  * * *

  “You’re coming to stay at my place,” Matt told Savannah fifteen minutes later.

  Clem had been dispatched into Rascal to find Larkins and Thompson to put Matt’s plan into action. After cooking supper, Savannah had fed Cody, put him to bed, and now she stood at the sink washing dishes.

  “No, I’m not. Cody needs to be in his home.”

  “Don’t be pigheaded, Savannah. I’m not leaving you alone in the house as long as Larkins and Thompson are on the loose, believing that you are in jail and the ranch is unprotected. Mark my words, they’ll be back to steal the rest of your Gerts.” He was sitting at her kitchen table, cleaning his gun. He wore a white cotton undershirt and jeans, the leather holster strapped around his shoulder, his shirt thrown over the back of a chair.

  She let the sudsy water out of the sink, then dried her hands on a dish towel. “This was your plan. Not mine.”

  “All right, then,” he replied. “If you won’t come to my place, I’ll put you up in a motel.”

  “Do you have any idea what a production it is to transport a fifteen-month-old? You’re talking diaper bags and baby food, the Pack ‘n Play, and toys. No.” She crossed her arms, raised her chin, and stared him straight in the eye, daring him to contradict her. “There’s only one logical option. You’ll have to stay here.”

  “You’re right,” he said. “That is a better plan.”

  The idea of Matt spending the night in her home had Savannah’s pulse skipping. “Do you think they’ll make a move tonight?”

  “They might, and I’ll be here to see it through to the end.”

  “Do you think things could get violent?” She braced herself for his answer.

  “I’m not taking any chances,” he said grimly. “Not where you and Cody are concerned.”

  Matt was the epitome of a tough, rugged lawman—fierce, cagey, vigilant. The past two years had weathered him into a seasoned professional. His mouth formed a firm, serious line. His head was cocked, eyes and ears attentive. The firm, taut muscles of his hard biceps glistened in the dim glow from the Edison bulb over the sink.

  His fingers moved with nimble, expert ease. The sight of his sidearm sent a chill up her spine. Savannah was no stranger to handguns. She’d grown up in Texas, where firearms were ubiquitous. Matt had taken her to the firing range when they were dating, insisting she learn how to shoot.

  She recalled how it felt to pull the trigger. The kick. The smoke. The acrid smell. And unexpectedly, a sense of power. Exhilarating almost. Watching him now with the cold steel in his hands, that pucker of a scar on his right upper arm where he’d been shot, brought back dark memories.

  She closed her eyes and tried to fight off the barrage of images that floated through her mind, to no avail. The fight in the bar. A flash of metal in the dim light. Jackie Spencer’s screams. A beer bottle shattering on the concrete floor.

  And then the gun blast.

  A deafening noise in the confines of the bar. A sound she would never forget. Nor could she forget the startled look of surprise on Matt’s face as he staggered back and dropped to his knees, blood blossoming down the sleeve of his shirt.

  “Savannah?”

  Matt’s voice broke through to her. She opened her eyes, felt a tear slip down her cheek.

  “Honey? Are you all right?”

  She shook her head.

  “You want to talk about it?”

  “I’m okay.” She swiped away the tear.

  “You were thinking about the time I got shot?”

  Even after all these years, the man still knew her so well. He saw through her like a pane of glass. She swallowed a lump in her throat and pressed the back of her hand against her nose. “Yes.”

  Matt laid the gun down on the red-and-white-checkered fabric tablecloth, pushed his chair back, and opened his arms to her. “Come here.”

  And she went to him, like a lost child seeking protection.

  She knelt on the floor in front of him, but he pulled her into his lap and pressed her head to his chest. She hadn’t meant to cry, but the avalanche of tears refused to be dammed up any longer. She sobbed in huge, shuddering gulps. They’d both lost so much.

  “Shh,” Matt soothed. “It’s okay. I won’t let them hurt you.”

  Her fingers curled against his chest, fisting a handful of T-shirt. She wanted to tell him it wasn’t her safety she feared for, but his own.

  He rocked her back and forth as gently as she might rock Cody. He pressed his lips to her ear and murmured words of reassurance. She breathed in his masculine smell—leather, oil, gunpowder. It stirred something primordial within her.

  Matt hugged her closer, resting his cheek on the top of her head, and she absorbed his essence, taking comfort from his strength.

  “I’ve missed you so much,” he breathed, threading his fingers through her hair. “You can’t imagine how many nights I’ve lain awake thinking about you, about this, about what used to be.”

  Savannah knew she should draw away, put a stop to the fantasy he was spinning, but she couldn’t. Her arms refused to let go. Her legs wouldn’t obey. For now, she needed the sheltering security of his arms.

  He hooked a callused index finger under her chin and forced her to look at him. “I want you,” he said simply.

  Her heart galloped like a herd of stampeding cattle, beating thunderously against her chest.

  Gently, he tightened his grip on her. His thigh muscles knotted rock hard beneath her bottom. She nestled her head against his shoulder, lacing her arms around his neck.

  He angled his head and kissed her forehead—sweetly, tenderly. Kissed her eyelids, the tip of her nose, the delicate groove between her nose and mouth.

  He stopped at her lips and waited.

  She looked at him.

  “More?” he asked.

  She nodded. “More.”

  His lips touched hers. Soft. Smooth. Malleable. Moving his head, he traced her lips with his fingers, his touch feather-fine. He quirked an eyebrow at her and smiled knowingly. “You sure you want more?”

  “Please.”

  “Remember, sweetheart, you asked for this.”

  And she would have to deal with the consequences later—but for now, she simply floated, allowing herself to be enveloped by his essence, her heart beating in perfect harmony with his.

  His mouth returned to hers, this time not so benignly. Innocence became knowledge as he captured her bottom lip between his teeth, and he growled, low and raspy.

  A wave of love crested through her. Pure physical need swelled inside her. Greedily, she drank from his lips, savoring the taste that was uniquely Matt Forrester.

  The kiss elongated, stretc
hing into forever. Man with woman. Soft against hard. Pressure building, climbing, escalating. Savannah pressed her body into his and let herself go free.

  Moaning, he upped the tempo, urging her lips to part and accept his searching tongue.

  She accepted him. Accepted her own hunger. Accepted the moment for what it was. Pleasure. Luxury. Indulgence. She asked for nothing beyond this instant, knowing that more might not be possible.

  Briefly, he pulled his mouth away, leaving her bereft.

  “Oh, Savannah.” He whispered her name like a litany, a prayer he revered every night. “You torture me so.”

  It wasn’t her intention to torment him, but she understood the double-edged blade because it lashed her, too. She wanted him so badly, yet if she allowed herself to give in to him completely, she knew she would lose all common sense.

  Only two things in her life had hurt more than breaking up with Matt. Her father’s desertion and her mother’s death.

  If her mother had lived, she might not have panicked and married Gary as a way to care for herself and Ginger. If she’d had time to reason, had not been so immersed in grief, she might have made a different decision. But she’d been young and frightened and alone in the world except for the younger sister who’d depended on her.

  Matt stroked her hair. His breath warmed her cheek. Right here, right now, she felt protected. But she knew only too well that feeling of safety was false. One single crack from a gun, one bullet, and that security could shatter forever.

  “I came on too strong, didn’t I?” he whispered.

  “We can’t pick up where we left off,” she answered. “We’re not the same people we were back then.”

  “No,” he agreed. “We’re not.”

  The bond between them flowed much deeper now. It extended beyond the external pleasures of the flesh, encompassed more than fleeting moments of fun, and that frightened Savannah. Instead of dissipating with time and distance, their feelings for each other had developed and grown into something more mature.

  If she could make love with Matt and then just walk away, she would do it in a twinkling. But she was not capable of that. Her feelings for Matt ran too deep. If she ever made love to him again, Savannah knew the man would possess her, mind, body, and soul. And she didn’t know if she was ready for that.