Bring Me Flowers (Detectives Kane and Alton #2)(14)

Sidestepping the piles of steaming manure and streams of urine, she moved inside the humid building. The scent of horse, straw, and leather wafted toward her from the dark abyss. Coming out of the bright summer’s day, she paused in the entrance, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dim interior. Streams of sunlight dancing with dust motes spiked down from skylights in the roof and illuminated rows of horses’ heads peering over the stall gates.

She strolled along a center aisle, past a rack of saddles, and approached a man filling a wheelbarrow with horse dung. She waited for him to lower the pitchfork then cleared her throat.

“Have you seen Lucky today?”

“Maybe I have and maybe I’ve not.” The attractive man in his late twenties moved his dark gaze from her face slowly down her body then back up again. “They sure don’t make deputies like you in my neck of the woods. Ah, Lucky don’t get on with cops but if you want a date for the dance, come see me. I love a woman in uniform.”

Jenna wanted to cringe at his sexist remarks. As handsome as he was, he made her feel dirty, but she could play his game. “What’s your name?”

“Storm Crawley but you can call me Storm.”

A chill walked its way up Jenna’s spine and she forced her hand away from the handle of her Glock. He could be the killer and armed with a pitchfork. Absently, she waved a hand toward the horses and took a step closer to the nearest stall, feigning interest. “Do you ride?”

“Oh, yeah.” A smile slashed across his tanned face. “Maybe I’ll show you how good I am after the dance?”

Ignoring his not so subtle innuendo, she pushed her lips into a semblance of a smile and turned her attention to the back of the barn. “That sounds like fun but right now, I have to speak to Lucky. Do you know where I can find him?”

“See the door right down the end there?” He jabbed the handle of the pitchfork in the direction. “He’ll be in there cleaning his saddles. I’m all finished here and need to wash up, so I’ll see you at the dance.” He sauntered away in a chink, chink, chink of spurs.

The arrogant asshole had not even asked her name. No doubt the notches on his belt did not require names. Then again, his total disregard for her as a person could reflect a psychopathic killer. She had learned more intricacies on profiling since Kane arrived. Turning, she stared toward the entrance, hoping Kane would be close behind her. Walking into an enclosed space with a potential killer was a fool’s errand.

The sound of a tap running caught her attention and she turned. Standing shirtless on the other side of the building, Storm was splashing water from a tap over his face and chest. Confident that bathing would occupy him for some time, she waited four beats of her heart and strode to the room at the back of the stable. Seeing the door ajar, she pushed it open and peered through the entrance.

A tall man, muscles bulging as he hoisted a saddle onto a rack, lifted a sinfully handsome face in her direction. As he raked her with his eyes, a frown wrinkled his brow.

Immediately accosted by the smell of saddle soap, leather, and stale sweat, she moved inside the room. Her gaze moved down his frame looking for weapons, and she absently wondered if he had his jeans sprayed on. He would be more lethal as a lover than a killer. Wanting to slap herself for ogling a potential psychopathic killer, she swallowed the lump in her throat. “Are you Lucky Briggs?”

“Yeah.” He turned his back on her and strolled deeper into the room. “I didn’t touch her.”

A wave of fear clutched her chest. No one had released any information about the murder. She moved into the room, kicking the door wide open until it clicked onto a stop. “Didn’t touch who?” She followed him past the rows of saddles.

“I didn’t ask her name.” He collected rags and a tin of saddle soap then dropped them into a box. “I met her at the Cattleman’s Hotel at the bar. She followed me back to the motel but I’d been drinking and wasn’t interested… if you know what I mean? I’d been driving all darn day and I just wanted to sleep. Man, I even told her Storm would be willin’ if she was needy.”

Jenna watched him closely. “Then what happened?”

“She went ballistic, tore her shirt, and came at me with her nails. Said she would call the cops and say I raped her.” He turned to face her and displayed a line of scratches down his neck. “I pushed her out the door and went to bed—alone.”

The chink, chink, chink of spurs and the sound of footsteps came from behind her. She glanced around the room seeking an alternative means of escape but found nothing. The hair on the back of her neck stood at attention and every muscle went on alert. Storm is behind me. If they jump me, I’m trapped.





Eight





Assessing the threat, Jenna took three steps closer to Lucky and turned casually to place her back to the wall. From her position, she had the men in clear view. Both carried hunting knives attached to their belts in leather sheaths, and the image of the gutted young woman flashed into her mind. She had seen cowboys in action, the way they jumped from their horses to rope a steer. The agile, strong men on each side of her could move like lightning, and although Kane had taught her some new moves, they could restrain her without breaking a sweat. She had her weapon, but without reasonable cause, she could not draw on them.

When Lucky gave Storm a knowing grin and moved in close, she could smell him. Fear gripped her in a rush. The choking feeling heralding another flashback rushed to the fore and she dragged in deep breaths to push it back into the dark recesses of her mind. She needed to take control of the situation. “Take a step back, Mr. Briggs.”