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Cowboy Secrets
Alice Sharpe
Between an Idaho snowstorm and a killer on the loose, this cowboy has his work cut out for himEver since beautifiul city-girl Sierra Hyde arrived on his doorstep, Pike Hastings’s quiet Idaho ranch life has become a chaotic swirl of deception, murder—and unbelievable attraction. Sierra, who’s a much better private investigator than country girl, needs Pike’s help to unravel the truth behind too many mysteries. As the evidence builds, this rugged cowboy finds himself willing to do whatever it takes to both keep Sierra safe and convince her to stay by his side. But trying to tame her independent spirit is harder than wrangling a calf. Though not as hard as it'll be to get her out of his heart when she no longer needs his protection…
She studied him for a second and he glanced at her. “Something wrong?”
“No, nothing. I’ve just never met … well, someone like you before.”
“Someone like me,” he mused. “What does that mean?”
“You’re a cowboy.”
He flashed her a smile. “What gave it away? The hat, the boots, the saddle in the back, or maybe it’s the subtle whiff of cow lingering in the air?”
“All of the above,” she said, but her voice revealed she knew he was teasing her. “Of course, in my line of work it pays to be observant.”
“And I bet you don’t miss much.”
Cowboy Secrets
Alice Sharpe
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ALICE SHARPE met her husband-to-be on a cold, foggy beach in Northern California. Their union has survived the rearing of two children, a handful of earthquakes, numerous cats and a few special dogs, the latest of which is a yellow Lab named Annie Rose. Alice and her husband now live in a small rural town in Oregon, where she devotes the majority of her time to pursuing her second love, writing. You can write to her c/o Harlequin Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279, USA. An SASE for reply is appreciated.
This book is dedicated with love to Amalia Anina Mauro LeVelle
Contents
Cover (#u4528f7f4-9f5c-59b1-930a-64c2b7a8f008)
Introduction (#ue72bc423-dc60-5548-885a-0b10dcade799)
Title Page (#u0579ff7e-9c61-596a-a169-8138a8d4e68c)
About the Author (#u57414fb0-3b7d-5092-8667-6f3487b3135c)
Dedication (#uf5b7a294-35cc-5692-a12f-dfd7fba42fa1)
Chapter One (#ulink_6eb28521-77a9-521f-a6ae-c02ddf2ff4fd)
Chapter Two (#ulink_a9b953cf-62e2-5d61-b5c5-b7e8c74ce062)
Chapter Three (#ulink_1d071658-c8df-50c9-b084-9a82b352ae3c)
Chapter Four (#ulink_3a859a26-f8aa-5aef-b3dc-71fcf0dbd717)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_4f8b7fab-0693-581c-bf49-d4eedeb3f714)
Sierra Hyde yawned into her fist as she nursed a glass of white wine at a long mahogany bar. The music, the booths on the back wall and the big mirror behind the bottles all reeked of familiarity.
Her main interest, however, wasn’t the establishment, but the solitary woman sitting alone at a dark booth near the back of the room. Her name was Natalia Bonaparte, age thirty-three. Occupation: job counselor. Frequent glances at the diamond watch sparkling on her wrist suggested whomever she was waiting to meet was late, but Sierra already knew this. Her job was to catch a photo of the man who joined the woman. According to Sierra’s client, Savannah Papadakis, that man was going to be Savannah’s estranged husband.
Yeah, well, it better be him because trailing Natalia was getting tedious and it had only been two days. The woman had a pretty active after-hour party life.
“Will you have another?” the bartender asked as he ran a rag along the bar. Sierra looked down at her glass and realized she’d imbibed half the wine. “I’ll have a ginger ale this time,” she said. With any luck, her client’s husband would show up, she’d get a few photos and be on her way back to New York City within the next few minutes. She needed a good night’s sleep after the disco stakeout last night.
He left to pour her drink right as the door opened. Sierra darted a quick glance. Two young guys barely old enough to legally walk through the door held each other up as they staggered to the bar and plopped down on either side of Sierra.
“Hey, pretty lady,” one of them said. The guy’s breath reached her nose before his words reached her ears and she instinctively flinched.
The bartender showed up with the ginger ale and took orders for two beers, while Sierra declined to let her new “friends” buy her one, too. The door opened again, sending a renewed jolt of cold January air into the bar. A man about the right age sauntered in. His perfectly groomed head of white hair caught every stray beam of light as he looked from the bar to the tables, past groups of revelers, until his gaze stopped on the far corner where Sierra knew the blonde sat. He seemed to momentarily frown before crossing the room to join her. The woman greeted him by lifting one of her hands, which he kissed. Sierra witnessed all this by watching their hazy reflections in the mirror that backed the bar.
The two drunks were both leaning closer to her, making her thankful she hadn’t taken off her jacket. She had to get rid of them if she was going to get the pictures and escape this place.
“Those gals over there are giving you the eye,” she whispered to the one on her left. She nodded at a table a good distance away, where two women pushing forty sat talking over martini glasses. As far as Sierra knew, neither one was even aware the guys at the bar existed.
“Them?” the one on Sierra’s left said after turning to stare.
“Too old,” the man on her right said. “Besides, they ain’t looking at us.”
“Sure they are,” she said as she took a pair of tortoiseshell glasses out of her pocket and slipped them on her face. “They just look away whenever one of you turns around.”
“You know, dude, there’s nothing wrong with bagging a couple of cougars,” the other guy said with a speculative note in his voice.
“But we can’t abandon this little gal,” the one on the right insisted.
“Sure you can,” Sierra said. “I’m about to leave, anyway.”
He grinned and cracked his knuckles. “That case, I call dibs on the brunette.”
Both men wobbled their way toward their new targets. Heaving a sigh of relief, Sierra once again focused on the mirror’s reflection. The lighting in that booth sucked. Details were hard to see.
She turned casually on her stool, glanced at the two women, who had apparently invited the drunks to sit down with them, and looked at the blonde’s table as she activated the camera hidden in the nose bridge of the frames of her glasses. She counted out a dozen shots, then got to her feet, put a twenty on the bar and made her way to the restroom, which meant she walked right past the booth. To her relief, the candlelight on their table was adequate at close range, and she took several pictures while passing, mostly of the woman, though the point was to get them both in the frame.
After washing her hands, Sierra retraced her steps, this time angling for a better shot of her two subjects. As she snapped a photo, the man called the bartender over. She darted him a startled glance. He looked right through her and she continued walking. She’d been so sure! But that accent...
Spiro Papadakis had been in the States for over a decade, but according to his wife, his Greek accent was still pronounced. This man sounded like the Jersey shore. He looked up at her as she passed and their eyes met. He blinked and looked away. She’d seen several photographs of her target and there was something familiar about this guy despite the voice.
Well, she’d download and study the pictures later. For now, her job here was done and she walked outside. Freezing rain pelted her face as she made her way to her car. Her phone chirped but she didn’t recognize the caller ID and answered cautiously. “Yes?”
“Is this Sierra Hyde?”
“Yes,” Sierra said as a sound from behind caused her to glance over her shoulder. She’d been a PI for almost five years now and liked to think her instincts picked up anything unusual in her environment. For a heartbeat she studied the facade. The lake behind the tavern was huge and black, and sent a layer of mist swirling around the painted wooden fish over the door. There didn’t appear to be anyone else around.
She turned her attention back to her caller. “Who is this?” she asked as she traversed the crowded lot to the very back corner, where she’d parked.
“My name is Pike Hastings,” a male voice said. “I’m sort of related to your sister, Tess.”
“I know who you are,” she said as she spotted the bright red bumper sticker promoting her choice of candidate for the upcoming mayoral election. She beeped the car open and settled behind the wheel. “You’re Mona’s son.”
“That’s right. I know we’ve never met—”
“Oh, my gosh, are you calling about Tess?” Sierra interrupted as she closed the car door behind her. “Has my little sister shown up? Does her dad know? Is she okay?”
“Yes, no, hard to say. Yes, she showed up, but here at my place. One minute she says call her dad, the next she refuses to let me do it. I’m not sure how she is except for a head cold and what looks to me like a major case of the jitters.”
“You’re in Montana, right?”
“No, the family ranch is in Idaho. About Tess, like I said, something has her spooked but she insists on talking to you and me together. Can you come right away?”
“Of course,” Sierra said.
“That’s great,” he said, and there was no missing the relief in his voice. “I took the liberty of buying you a plane ticket. I’ll email it to you. The only flight I could get you on leaves at five tomorrow morning from New York, I hope that’s okay.”
Sierra suppressed a groan. There went the night’s sleep she’d been hoping for. On the other hand, Tess had been mostly out of touch since a couple of weeks before Halloween. Sierra was so relieved to hear she was alive and breathing—even if it was in Idaho—that she would have walked there if she’d had to.
“I’ll pick you up at the airport,” he added.
“That isn’t necessary,” she assured him. “I’ll rent a car.”
“I insist,” he said. “The ranch can be hard to find and the roads are kind of tricky this time of year and your phone might not work,” he told her. “We don’t exactly have the same cell coverage you’re used to. Trust me on this.”
“Okay,” she said, and added her thanks before clicking off. Almost immediately, a sound outside the window made her look up and she gasped. It took her a second to make out the squished-up features of one of the drunks from the bar.
“Hey, baby, you’re voting for the wrong guy,” he said with a wide sweep of his arm toward the back of her car. “Jakes is a loser. Vote Yardley!”
She smiled and nodded and hit the door lock. No way was she rolling down the window. She started the car and hoped she didn’t back over one of his feet.
“Hey, come on back inside!” he squawked and reeled away. Did that comment about the mayoral candidates for New York City mean he had to drive all the way back to the city tonight? She sincerely hoped the bartender confiscated his keys and called him a cab.
Jumpy now, her mind racing with everything she had to do in the next seven hours, she drove out of the parking lot and headed home. A glance in the rearview mirror reassured her no one followed.
It crossed her mind that she didn’t know why it had even occurred to her to check.
* * *
PIKE HASTINGS WAS glad the predicted winter storm hadn’t materialized...yet. He arrived at the airport in Boise a half hour before Sierra’s flight was due to land and made the loop, keeping an eye out for a woman who fit her description. He’d never met her, had never even seen a picture of her. She shared only a mother with Tess, and Tess had warned him that while she had inherited her mother’s genes, Sierra had not. She’d told him only to look for a tall woman with red hair and an attitude.
As descriptions went, it wasn’t a lot to go on, but he figured they’d find each other without too much trouble. He eventually parked in the loading zone in front of the airline on which he’d booked her flight and got out of the SUV. Within minutes, a woman headed out of the building pulling a carry-on, impatience written all over her face.
But what a face. One in a million women could claim skin like hers: creamy, glowing, perfect. Large green eyes the color of spring ivy might look frustrated right now, but there was nothing wrong with their shape, just as her lips formed a lovely curve and her auburn hair fell in a glistening sheet to frame her jaw. She wore a black suede jacket and matching riding boots, skintight black jeans and a white shirt. A brilliant solitaire diamond glistened at her throat and a large leather handbag that could double as a saddlebag hung over one shoulder.
A large man with a mustache walked behind her. He wore a baseball cap pulled down over his eyes, but Pike could see that he was staring at Sierra’s seductive shape just as intently as Pike had. The man seemed to become aware of Pike’s gaze and he put his hand up to his eyes and veered away as though embarrassed to be caught staring. Pike could have assured him just about any man would have ogled a bit.
“Sierra Hyde?” Pike said, stepping forward. She turned as though just becoming aware of him, pocketed her phone and maintained eye contact as Pike approached. He tried to see himself through her eyes and wondered what conclusions she might be making about him. He could only hope they were as flattering as the ones he’d drawn about her.
“You must be Pike,” she said, holding out her hand and shaking his with a firm, no-nonsense grip. “My phone works,” she added.
“Wait until we get out in the middle of nowhere,” he said with a smile.
“No doubt. Funny how dependent we get on our gadgets.”
Tess had said her sister was a private eye and he bet she was good at what she did. She didn’t look as though she’d tolerate being anything but good.
“Let me help you with that,” he said, reaching for her suitcase. “Please, go ahead and take a seat.”
She seemed almost reluctant to let him help, but did as he asked. He deposited the suitcase in the back of the SUV as she climbed into the passenger seat. “Did you have a nice flight?” he asked as he pulled away from the curb. She had turned to look back at the terminal and took a second to look forward again. Was there something back there? He glanced into his rearview mirror and saw nothing but a sea of cars. “Is everything okay?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, avoiding eye contact. “And my flight was fine. How is Tess?”
“Pretty miserable,” he said.
“Has she told you anything?”
“No. But I was referring to her head cold as well as her emotional state.”
“She hasn’t even said where she went after she left home all of a sudden?”
“Not a thing. I only heard from her once in all that time and that was right before Christmas. She texted me but never responded when I texted her back.”
“That’s about the same thing that happened to me, too,” Sierra said. “But I’m surprised she tuned you out. I know you’ve done your best to visit her every few months and get along with her dad. She even came out to your ranch once or twice, right?”
“Yes. And I’ve flown to LA. She’s a nice kid who seemed to get lost in the shuffle.”
