Blue Jeans and a Badge (3 page)

He gave her another wink. “I'm betting by the time we find his sister's place he'll already have heard, so he won't be afraid to show himself.”

“And come with us willingly.” She nodded. “Pretty smart, O'Donnaugh.”

His shoulder lifted. “My dad taught me respect gets you a lot farther in this business than strong-arm tactics. You would have done the same thing.”

“We bounty hunters can't afford to be so subtle. Drawn guns and handcuffs are the respect we count on.”

He chuckled. “Funny, I don't remember anything about guns the time you pretended to be an IRS agent.”

She glanced over at him, jaw dropping. “How do you know about that?”

“I do my research. I know a lot about you.”

She wasn't sure she liked the sound of that. The thought of him digging through her life made her nervous. Not that she had anything to hide. But why would he want to know?

“The only thing I don't get,” he continued conversationally, “is what made you choose bounty hunting in the first place. That's not the sort of work women usually go in for. Especially ones with straight As in school.”

“I like kicking men's butts,” she said tartly. It was her stock answer. It shut most people right up about the topic. Especially if they were male.

“Tough girl, eh? What made you hate men so much?”

Unfortunately, she was beginning to realize Philip wasn't most people.

She suppressed a sigh. She didn't like going into all this. Nobody ever understood it wasn't the danger that drew her, but the restless need the job fulfilled within her. Always searching for something that was always just out of reach.
She wasn't sure what she was searching for, but it was like a compulsion within her, the search.

She'd know what it was when she found it.

She hoped.

“I don't hate men,” she said. That much was true. She liked men as much as the next female. Possibly more. It was just…complicated. “And I'm not a girl.”

He shot her an amused glance. “Woman, then.” His gaze slid down her body and his amusement faded, replaced by something edgier. Something hungry, circling around her like that hawk he'd been watching. “Definitely woman.”

“Don't,” she murmured, feeling the impact of his perusal from her head to her toes. Remembering the look in his eyes from the motel room that morning.

“Don't what?”

“Don't try to seduce me.”

He regarded her for a moment, then said, “Nothing's further from my mind.”

Yeah, right.
She mustered a determined tone and stated, “Good. Because I'm not interested.”

She slid him a look to check his reaction. And he shot back a smile. A knowing smile that called her a liar louder than if he'd yelled the word at her.

“So, tell me about the bounty hunting,” he said, as though he hadn't just exposed her for a complete fraud.

She fought back the spiraling feeling of panic in her stomach and waited for the tell-tale heat in her face to diminish. Then, because it was either that or do something really crazy like ask him to kiss her, she told him the long, detailed history of how she'd become a bounty hunter. About gun safety classes and target shooting with her dad from the time she could walk; about seeing a wanted poster at the post office her senior year and out of the blue spotting the guy the next week at a department store and contacting security to report it; about getting a substantial reward along with job offers from six different bail bond outfits the day after graduation.
She even touched briefly on the unrelenting restlessness in her soul that the ever-moving, ever-exciting job kept in check.

Anything to avoid talking about the loaded shotgun that was hovering there, big as life between them.

A shotgun called desire.

 

Things were not going well.

After jostling up and down the third unmarked dirt track with no success, Philip pulled off the highway and banged his fist onto the steering wheel in frustration. Frustration over not being able to concentrate on finding the right road because all he could think about was the woman sitting next to him.

A swearword escaped his lips. “They all look alike.”

Luce chuckled. “Maybe you should have given the old guy more quills.” He scowled over at her. “Relax,” she said. “We'll find it.”

“Sometime this century, I hope,” he muttered, wiping beads of sweat from his forehead. Over the past four hours the temperature must have climbed thirty-five degrees.

And that wasn't even counting the extra twenty or so jacked up by the chemistry sparking between him and Luce.

She started to laugh.

Philip stared at her, his irritation increasing exponentially with the duration of her laughter. She just laughed even harder.

“Oh, lighten up, O'Donnaugh! Look around you!” She popped off her seat belt and jumped out of the Jeep, twirling around with her arms in the air. “The view's gorgeous and the weather's perfect!”

Philip leaned back in his seat, tipped his hat up and watched her as she shaded her eyes and took in the scenery with a spellbound look on her face. Slowly his annoyance evaporated.

He had to admit, the view
was
gorgeous. Luce's turquoise turtleneck fit her upper body like a glove, showing off her
generous curves and highlighting her golden hair to perfection. He couldn't see much of her jeans below the hood of the Jeep, but what he could see made his mouth water.

She sure was pretty. Maybe not a beauty queen, but to him her face was all the more appealing for being natural and bright, glowing with confidence, eyes twinkling with mischief.

Damn shame she didn't care to explore their potent attraction. He felt instinctively it could be something real special.

On the other hand, he wasn't looking for special. Certainly not with a woman only in town temporarily. He was just getting back on his feet after the fiasco in California, and definitely didn't need another woman turning his life upside down. Been there, done that.

No, thanks.

He climbed out of the Jeep and pulled his uniform shirt over his head. After wiping the sweat from his face and the back of his neck with it, he threw it on the back bench seat. Fortunately he'd worn a PLPD T-shirt under it, black cotton with a gold embroidered badge on the chest. It was a lot cooler, and maybe the casual image it projected would make people open up more when he and Luce actually found the damned place.

“Hey, no fair.”

He glanced up to see her giving his chest the once-over. She seemed to be enjoying the view, too.

Hmm. How upside down could things get in only a few days? He should be safe enough. If he could just talk her into taking a closer look at that view.

He grinned. “What's wrong? Didn't bring a T-shirt?”

“Of course I brought one. But there's nowhere to change.”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “Don't be shy on my account.”

“In your dreams, O'Donnaugh.”

She had no idea.

“Call me Philip,” he told her for about the fifth time. “Since we're undressing together and all.”

She wagged her finger at him. “I'm not undressing.”

“It'll probably be eighty-five degrees out by noon,” he warned.

“I'll live.”

He climbed back in the Jeep with her, suddenly in a better mood. She was right. It was a beautiful day. Why not enjoy it, and her, instead of stressing out about things he had no control over? He'd done that for eleven years back in California and look where it had landed him.

They'd find the right turnoff sooner or later. In the meantime, he should kick back and take pleasure in his surroundings. There were worse things than driving around in spectacular country with a sexy woman by your side. He just had to keep it all in perspective.

The next road he tried was the right one.

His police vehicle didn't even cause a ripple in the large crowd when he pulled up to the Munoz place and parked next to a truck bearing the tribal police emblem. The old man had done his job well.

People were everywhere, on the wraparound porch of the ranch-style house chatting, beside the garage where a basketball hoop was being attacked by a bunch of young men, around back where a fire pit burned and long tables had been set up, children running back and forth with dogs and a Frisbee. Men sat around the tables talking, and women strolled back and forth with dishes and babies. A few looked up, but most just continued what they were doing.

Before he and Luce had climbed out of the Jeep, a tall, lanky man wearing a brown uniform walked over to them. He had hair past his shoulder blades in the style of a younger Indian man but the piercing black eyes of a seasoned veteran who'd been around the block a few times.

“You must be the Piñon Lake cops,” he said.

“That's right,” Philip responded.

“Not me.” Next to him, Luce sent the officer a brilliant smile. The policeman's brow hiked.

What the hell was she up to?
Philip put out his hand and introduced himself to prevent questions.

“Lieutenant Joseph Clay Pipe,” the tribal officer replied. “Friends call me Joseph. You're looking for Clyde Tafota?”

“Just a few questions I'd like to ask him,” Philip said.

“And the lady?”

“I'm only along for the ride.” She casually took hold of Philip's arm with both hands. Like she belonged there. And beamed up at him. “I'm visiting from out of town.”

What did she mean by that? Philip froze, taken aback by the implications of her improvised strategy. What was he supposed to do now? Act like her
boyfriend?

“Mixing a little business with pleasure, eh?” Joseph said with a nod of masculine approval.

“Doing my best,” Philip managed, shifting mental gears fast.

Well, nothing ventured nothing gained, eh?

All at once the day got a whole lot more interesting.

Reaching over, he tucked a windblown lock of Luce's hair behind her ear. And beamed back.

Her eyes flared and he saw exactly when she realized she'd made a tactical error. A big one. She tried to step away from him, but he was quicker, putting his hand over hers on his arm. Holding her there.

She tugged at her hand. “Um, listen, um,
Philip
…while you talk to the lieutenant, I think I'll look for somewhere to change out of this turtleneck. I'm boiling.”

Well, well. She'd finally used his first name. He figured that called for a celebration.

He gave her a lazy smile. “Sure thing, sweetheart. How about a kiss before you go?”

To her credit, the only way he knew she was worried was from the way she wrenched one hand from his grip. That and the gritted teeth beneath the “kiss this” smile she flashed him just before she poked him in the chest.

“You forget, you're on duty, Chief O'Donnaugh,” she said sweetly.

He grinned and watched her scamper off into the crowd, pausing next to a group of ladies with casserole dishes, presumably to ask where she could change.

“Your woman's quite a handful,” Joseph remarked, but there was approval in his voice.

A wad of emotions tumbled through Philip. Emotions he couldn't begin to analyze. Or even want to. Jealousy first, followed quickly by denial. “She's a handful, all right. But she's not my woman.”

The corners of Joseph's mouth curled up. “Then you won't mind if I ask her to sit with me at the meal?”

Philip pursed his lips in an effort to appear indifferent, when in reality he suddenly wanted to flatten the guy.

“I thought so,” Joseph said neutrally, seeing right through his mask. He put a comradely hand on his shoulder. “Ah, well. She wouldn't say yes, anyway.”

Philip was careful to keep his tone light and pleasant. “How do you know that? You can see the future?”

But suddenly he knew he
would
flatten the guy if he dared ask her to sit with him.

Luce was
his.

And Philip had no intention of sharing.

“The future? I'm no medicine man,” Joseph said, slapping him on the back. “But I don't need any magic to see she's your woman.”

Joseph beckoned him to follow, heading for the backyard.

“Oh?” Philip said skeptically, trailing after. “And how's that?”

“Simple. I saw the way she looked at you.”

T
he man was obviously nuts. Or needed glasses.

“Right,” Philip mumbled. Time to change the subject back to what he was there for. “So, I was—”

“Make yourself at home,” Joseph interrupted as they approached a group of men lounging under a large oak tree drinking coffee and pop. Philip was introduced and a chair produced for him. Someone handed him an icy can of soda.

Correction: time to relax and blend in. In this world, he reminded himself, things came to those who waited. Impatience got you nowhere fast. He'd sown the seeds with the old man, now he just had to sit back and watch them grow. Eventually they'd bear fruit.

The men tentatively accepted him into their conversation, keeping the topics neutral while subtly testing him. He'd been around enough Indian humor to know when he was being teased, so he good-naturedly played straight man, and was even able to surprise them into laughter by resurrecting some old Paiute jokes he knew and giving them the Irish slant
of his own ancestry. By the time their host rang the cook's triangle an hour or two later signaling the blessing of the meal, Philip felt he was among friends.

He rose with the other men and strolled over to the tables where Luce was standing with the women. He'd kept an eye on her the whole time, in case she'd been ill at ease or looked as if she needed help. Naturally she hadn't. What she had done was a lot of listening. She'd helped the young women cook, and with a smile endured the children's curiosity and constant touching of her yellow hair, all the while doing very little talking of her own. She'd even sat on a blanket in a circle of old women for nearly an hour, listening to their stories.

Philip should have known she'd be fine. It was no wonder she was so good at her job. Her ability to fit in and adapt was obvious.

He was also dying to know if she'd come up with anything on Clyde Tafota. He hoped she'd had better luck than he had.

He'd shied away from the subject of Clyde with the men until Joseph had brought it up for him. It turned out none of them had seen Clyde since Thursday, nor had his sister, according to Joseph. By that time in the conversation Philip believed they were all being on the level. He'd handed around his card with both office and cell phone numbers listed so they or Clyde could get in touch if he showed up.

Which left the Soffit and Dickson robbery investigation just about the same place it had been this morning. Nowhere.

He went up to Luce and stood shoulder to shoulder with her. Barely touching. Just reaffirming their connection.

A hint of her perfume drifted in the air around him, and he couldn't resist turning his head to get his nose closer. His body already recognized Luce's own feminine scent underlying the perfume. She looked up.

“How's it going?” he asked, taking in the sight of her in the top she'd changed into earlier. It wasn't a T-shirt, but a more feminine style with a lower neckline and shorter sleeves. And it hugged her curves a whole lot better.

“Great. You?”

Damn, she looked good. “Real good.”

“Find out anything interesting?” she asked quietly, pulling him back to business.

He shook his head. “Not really. You?”

“Maybe.”

“Like what?”

“Later. Have you talked to Donna Tafota?”

“No. You?”

“Didn't get the chance.” She lifted her chin at a woman standing on the other side of the table. “That's her.”

The blessing started, so they bowed their heads with the others, after which they clapped for a seemingly endless litany of welcome-home-Marine speeches for the prodigal Munoz son, until the kid finally burst out, “Hey, enough already! I'm starving!” and they all sat down at the long tables to eat.

Philip was careful to position himself and Luce right across from Donna Tafota.

“I understand you are looking for my brother,” the fiftyish woman said after everyone had filled their plates. She had a square face with kind brown eyes, and a long black braid that hung to her waist.

“I just want to talk to him, Miz Tafota,” he told her, digging into the delicious meal. “But Clyde's gotten himself into a heap of trouble up in St. Louis.”

She sighed, toying with her food. “I told him not to visit our cousin Bennie. He's always been bad, that Indian. As boys they were wild, those two, drinkin' and stealin' cars and carryin' on. But when Clyde got his repair business he changed. Turned over a brand-new leaf. Not Bennie.” She shook her head. “Now it's drugs and murder he's into.”

“Is there anywhere else Clyde could go? Other family somewhere?”

“No. Everyone he has is here.” She looked sad. “Clyde would never do these things he's accused of. He's a good man now. I know this.”

“So do the police, Miz Tafota. The evidence shows he was innocent of those drug shootings. That's why I don't understand why he ran. He needs to turn himself in and clear this up.”

“But if he's innocent, why do they still look for him?”

“Innocent or not, he jumped bail. You know how it works, a bail bondsman put up a lot of money as a guarantee that Clyde would show up for his hearings and trial. He didn't, so the bail was kept by the courts and the bondsman is out all his money until Clyde is returned to custody. Even if the criminal charges are dismissed, Clyde still has to appear.”

“Or they come after him for the money.”

“That's right. And you don't want him being hauled in by a bounty hunter. That could get ugly.”

Under the table Luce kicked him sharply in the shin.

Silently he swore. Maybe she didn't feel guilty about hiding why she was there from Joseph, Donna Tafota and the others. But he definitely did. Even though Philip was in no way involved in Luce's bail retrieval job, he was implicated by association since he'd brought her to the rez. And it bothered him.

Nevertheless he dropped the subject of bounty hunting and simply urged Donna Tafota to call him if Clyde contacted her. They'd deal with who'd take him where, if and when they found him. Hopefully he'd haul his ass back to St. Louis all on his own, and it wouldn't be an issue.

But apparently Luce didn't agree. She put up a good front during the leisurely meal, smiling and chatting cheerfully, but he could tell she was ticked at him. When his body brushed up against hers on the bench, she'd scoot away. When he spoke to her, she'd glance down at her plate instead of at him.

All in all, things had gone well at the reservation. But it was never a good thing to overstay one's welcome. He casually put his arm across her shoulders and said, “We have a long drive ahead. We should probably get going.” Her spine stiffened.

“Okay,” she said. He figured he was in for a lecture.

They gave their thanks to their hosts and said their goodbyes.

“Stay in touch about Clyde,” Joseph urged as he closed the Jeep door for Philip and leaned a hand on the window frame. “If he's been involved in all these doin's and hasn't come home, to be honest, I'm starting to get a little worried about him.”

“I will,” Philip assured him, and clasped right arms with him solidarity style. “I don't want to see Clyde in trouble any more than you do. His salvage yard and engine-repair business bring in a lot of trade to Piñon Lake. He's a valued citizen.”

After they'd gotten back on the highway and were speeding toward home, Luce let loose on him. “What were you
thinking?
Warning them about bounty hunters while I was sitting right there!”

“They didn't know you're a bounty hunter,” he said calmly.

“Listen, you might not care about the income from your job,” she fumed, “but I do. I'm counting on this paycheck to—” She broke off.

“To what?” He turned to her, curious.

She crossed her arms over her abdomen and slunk down in the seat. “I want to open my own P.I. business. I need this retrieval fee. But even if I didn't, this is my job. My livelihood. My reputation. You have no right to interfere with how I do it.”

For some reason he was glad she was getting out of the bounty-hunting business. But that didn't change what was right.

“These people gave us their trust. We owe it to them to treat Clyde fairly.”

“He should have thought about that when he jumped bail.”

“Can't argue with that,” he agreed. “But there are other ways to go about it.”

“Such as?”

“New Mexico state law requires bail enforcers to turn in detainees to the sheriff of the county in question. Instead of taking Tafota to St. Louis, you could turn him in to my friend at the Taos County Sheriff's office.”

She exhaled hard, but he could see her consider. “And have him extradited?”

“You still get your paycheck that way, and Clyde stays in New Mexico.”

“All that takes time, O'Donnaugh. I'm on a deadline here. Bail is forfeit in less than a week.”

“They were nice people, Luce.”

“I know, I know!” she said exasperatedly. “Don't lay on the guilt trip, okay? If I let myself be swayed by every nice person who cares about the jumpers, I'd never get paid. This is what I do. I have to be objective.”

“I understand,” he said.

And he did. He'd faced similar difficult situations in law enforcement. But in this case, Luce wouldn't be around for the fallout. Philip had to live and work here. His reputation mattered, too.

He dropped the subject and drove in silence until they reached Dulce, to give her some space. He didn't want to push her too far and risk losing her cooperation.

“I need a Starbucks,” she said as they drove through town. “Can we stop?”

He couldn't prevent the chortle that escaped at the thought of one of the pricey, trendy gourmet cafés in a place like Dulce.

She scowled at him. “What?”

“Sweetheart, the closest Starbucks is probably in Taos. Maybe even Santa Fe. Is a substitute okay?”

Her face fell. “I suppose, if I have no choice.”

“Trust me,” he said, and pulled into the Apache Oil gas station. “You don't.” He took a twenty out of his wallet and handed it to her. “Get me one, too. Black.”

She looked in horror from the twenty to the gas station. “You're kidding, right?”

He just smiled.

With a long groan, she snatched the bill and got out of the Jeep. “I hate this state,” she muttered.

“It grows on you,” he called after her with a grin.
City girl.
Maybe she was a little prissy, after all.

Upon her return, she wordlessly handed him a tall styrene cup.

“Find what you wanted?”

“No decaf. No half and half, either.”

He clicked the edge of his cup against hers. “Good stuff. It'll grow hair on your chest.”

She shot him a withering glare. “Just what I need.”

Steering the Jeep back onto the highway, he ventured, “I have a cappuccino maker at home.”

She blinked. “Yeah?”

“You could come over tonight. I'd make you some.”

“Philip, I'm mad at you,” she said patiently. “There's no way in hell I'm going to your house tonight.”

“No need to get testy. It was just an offer. But we really should discuss our strategy for tomorrow.”

“What strategy?”

“You mentioned you'd learned something today that may be relevant to the case.”

Her expression turned incredulous. “You can't seriously think I'm going to share information with you after this?”

“Sure I do.”

“And what makes you think that?”

“You called me Philip. First time ever. You must still like me.”

She covered her eyes with a hand. “I am not hearing this.”

“You need me. You want me. You can't live without me. You also know I'm right about Clyde.”

“I can't even imagine how to begin to respond to that.”

“You could start by sharing what you found out. Or…” He
flicked the handcuffs hanging from his rearview mirror and waggled his eyebrows at her. “I could arrest you for deliberately impeding an ongoing investigation.”

He could practically hear her mentally count to ten. But he also spotted the beginnings of a reluctant smile. “Anyone ever tell you you're a real pain in the neck, O'Donnaugh?” she mumbled.

“Neck?” He pretended to consider. “Nah.”

There. That was definitely a smile. “God, you're obnoxious.”

He grinned over at her. “That's why you like me so much. Now, go on. Tell me what you found out.”

She took a long sip from her cup, then grimaced in distaste. “All right. But I'm not going to your house.”

“Fine. Spill.”

“I heard about a place he might be hiding out.”

“No kidding? From one of the women?”

“Yep.”

“So why didn't the lieutenant know about it?”

“He does.”

The guilt Philip had been feeling earlier ebbed a bit. “You mean he
lied
to me?”

“No. He just doesn't realize he knows. And he's not really looking for Tafota, so it probably never occurred to him.”

“Explain.”

“Some of the old women were telling stories today. About the tribe.”

“Yes, I saw you sitting with them.”

“One was telling about the old days, back when the children of the tribe had to go to the Indian boarding school down in Santa Fe. About how they were often mistreated and how they didn't like being away from their Apache families, forced to live with Navajo and Pueblo children. The Navajo and Pueblo were considered the enemy back then.”

“Along with the U.S. Government, I expect,” he said wryly.

“Anyway, she told this story about a Jicarilla boy and girl who escaped from the school on foot. They walked for a couple of months trying to get back to their people. Up along the Rio Chama around Abiquiu they discovered a secret hidden box canyon with some old ruins, and they decided to stay for the winter. They ended up living there for almost a year before they were caught by authorities stealing chickens at a local ranch and sent back to the school.”