Wyoming Cowboy Justice Read online

  “We can test that theory sometime, but not today.”

  Grady grumbled irritably and let her help him up the rest of the stairs. It was just that all of his limbs felt heavy. His body, his head, everything felt stonelike and sluggish.

  “I cannot fully express the unfairness of being rendered this weak by a shoe.”

  She patted his back sympathetically. “It was a very hard shoe.”

  “Don’t placate me.” They reached his apartment door and he unlocked it before pushing it open and stepping inside. It was good to be back in his own place. In his own air.

  “Go lie down.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I find your bossy so hot.”

  She muttered something under her breath and went over to his little kitchenette. She started looking through his cabinets, muttering all the while. Grady toed off his boots and sprawled out on the bed. The covers were all tangled at the end of the mattress and it seemed like far too much work to pull them up.

  “Don’t you have any tea?” Laurel asked, rummaging through his stuff.

  “Yes, Laurel, I keep tea on hand. Do I seem like a tea guy to you?”

  “Don’t you have anything warm and comforting?”

  He patted the bed next to him. “I have you.”

  He thought he saw her mouth curve a fraction and he’d mark that down as a success.

  “You know you’re impossible, right?” she asked, fisting her hands on her hips and doing her best to glare at him.

  “You would not be the first person to tell me that. I believe that was the lullaby my mother used to sing me to sleep with.”

  “You should call Vanessa. She’d be in a much better position to take care of you.”

  “Vanessa? My sister Vanessa? She couldn’t take care of a pet rock.”

  “Fine. Noah? Ty? They’re your family.” She had that soft, earnest look about her and he much preferred the almost smile he’d earned a few seconds ago.

  “Right. Which means I don’t get nearly as much enjoyment out of pissing them off.”

  “I’m not pissed off.”

  “No, you’re guilty. Which pisses me off. Come sit next to me.”

  “I am not sitting on the bed with you.”

  “Can’t control yourself around me, princess?”

  “Grady.”

  “I want you to show me the picture again. I want you to go through everything that happened, and if you go through it, maybe it’ll jog my fuzzy memory and I can put these pieces back together.”

  “I think you should sleep. I have to wake you up in two hours and see if you’re responsive. Then we can go through all that.”

  “Then you’re staying?” he asked.

  “If you’re not going to call anyone else, what choice do I have? I don’t have any of their numbers. I could wrestle your phone from you, but I have a feeling that wouldn’t end up the way I’d like it to.”

  Grady chuckled. “No, baby, wrestling would not end the way you want it to.”

  “Get some sleep.”

  “I need to work through this or I’m never going to fall asleep.” And he wasn’t even just trying to get her into his bed. It was eating at him, all those murky pieces he couldn’t remember.

  She sighed heavily and shook her head as though she couldn’t believe what she was about to do. Then she walked over to the bed. Gingerly and hesitantly she rested her butt on the very edge opposite him. She handed over her phone. “Here’s the picture of the scrap we found.”

  “If I start scrolling through your pictures am I going to find something interesting?”

  “In your dreams.”

  “Yes, interesting images of you have appeared in many of my dreams.”

  “Grady,” she scolded exasperatedly.

  “Okay. So we got there, and we heard the gunshot. We found Hank, and then you took off.”

  “First you argued with me, and then I took off,” Laurel corrected, sliding just a little bit more into the bed so she could stretch out her legs and rest her back against the headboard.

  “Semantics,” Grady replied. “I called 911. They told me to put pressure on the bullet wound. He was losing a lot of blood. I remember all that clearly.” Grady looked down at his hands. For a moment he could almost see Hank’s blood on them, but they’d washed that off at the hospital.

  “How is Hank?” he asked, surprised at how rusty he sounded.

  “He lost a lot of blood. He’s still alive, but it’s fairly critical. Out of surgery. They’ll call me if anything changes or when he wakes up,” Laurel said gently.

  He’d never much appreciated gentle. Gentle tended to get trampled in this life, but Laurel’s gentle was somehow steel, too, and it washed over him like a soothing balm.

  “He said something to me. He said ‘he didn’t get it.’ Then he gestured to his pocket and I pulled out a piece of paper. I read it over and tried to remember what it said. Something important.”

  Grady stared at the picture of the scrap of paper on Laurel’s phone. He knew there was something he was supposed to remember, and it was just somewhere in the gray, frayed edges of his mind.

  “You can’t beat yourself up about it. I think the more you focus on trying to remember, the harder it’s going to be to remember.”

  “I have an excellent memory and never forget anything. I could probably name every person who’s ever walked through the doors of my bar.”

  “Saloon,” she corrected for him, and when he glanced at her there was a hint of a smile.

  He didn’t have words for how badly he wanted to kiss that smile. “I’d probably remember more if you scooted a little closer.”

  “Grady, you have to understand that I have already put my investigation in danger because of you.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I don’t mean that as a blame on you. It’s a blame on me. For whatever reason, I have a hard time...” She looked away, clearly embarrassed and irritated with herself. “I have a hard time saying no to you. I should have put my foot down and not brought you with me.”

  “So you could have been shot?”

  “If I’d waited with the deputies...”

  “Hank could be dead. The what-ifs work both ways. Good and bad. What if-ing it is pointless, and I think you know that. You haven’t compromised your investigation. Not because of me, and not because of you. Your investigation is fine. Things just aren’t going easily.”

  “Maybe I’m used to things going easily.”

  “Thankfully for you, I’m not. I’ll teach you.”

  “The thing is, Grady... Maybe there is this weird pull between us. Attraction or chemistry or, I don’t know, DNA. Carsons and Delaneys forever attracted to each other like magnets only to ruin everything. But we are night and day. Opposites in every way except the one that has us working together. I am serious and permanent and all the things you avoid like the plague.”

  “Maybe I’m not serious about everything, but I’m serious about plenty. My family. This town. And that’s permanent. I’m not all one-night stands and parties or whatever it is you think of me.”

  “Then what are you?” she asked, looking at him with earnest brown eyes. So earnest and pretty and, yeah, everything that wasn’t usually him.

  She was right. They should be oil and water but their Carson and Delaney roots somehow acted like soap, mixing them all together.

  “Probably no good for you, princess deputy.”

  “It’s not about being good or bad for—”

  He reached over and curled his fingers around her upper arm. He was tempted to give her a good jerk, till she was sprawled out on top of him, but his body wasn’t up for it. “Come over here.”

  “Grady—”

  “Now, Laurel.”

  No one was more shocked than him when she obeyed.

  C
hapter Twelve

  Laurel knew she was losing her mind, but it felt so good. Because letting Grady pull her toward him, until she was practically sprawled across half of him, felt like a relief. It cleared all the arguments in her head and released nearly all of the tension in her body.

  “How often do you think you’ve called me by my actual name?” she asked.

  “Haven’t exactly kept track.” He curled his finger into a strand of her hair, wrapping it around and around. “Still not going to sleep with me?”

  She sighed, glancing up at the bandage on his head. “Nope.”

  He grinned. “Because of doctor’s orders?”

  She could lie. She could go back to her usual circuitous denials, but he was warm and comfortable to lean against. She didn’t feel much like lying or denying or focusing. So, she told the truth. “Yes, that is why.”

  He pulled on the finger he’d wrapped some of her hair around, drawing her face closer to his. “Doctor’s orders don’t last forever.”

  “Maybe I don’t want them to.”

  His eyebrows went up and she couldn’t ignore the fact she got a thrill out of shocking him. Except, the thrill was immediately followed by exhaustion. “I am so tired, Grady, and I have so many things to do.” So many things and all she wanted to do was rest her cheek on Grady’s chest and sleep.

  For a second, just one little second, she gave in to the impulse.

  “Set the alarm on your phone, princess, and we’ll take ourselves a little rest.”

  “Like this?” she asked incredulously.

  Before she could explain to him that she wasn’t about to take a nap curled up on top of him when he was suffering from a concussion and they weren’t even...whatever it was they weren’t, he’d shifted lower on the bed and they were both prone.

  She was on her side, all but curled against him, her head resting on his shoulder. His arm was around her, strong and protective. She should get up. Roll away. She wasn’t going to sleep with—actual sleep—with Grady. It was wholly incongruous to him and what they were or weren’t and yet her eyelids were already drooping. Where it usually took her a good hour to shut up her brain and fall asleep, she already felt relaxed. Safe.

  The next thing she knew her phone was jerking her out of sleep. At first she thought it was her alarm, but as she pawed on the mattress to find it, she saw the name of the hospital flashing on her screen.

  She hit Accept as fast as she could, somehow all tangled up with Grady in the dark. “H-hello?” she answered breathlessly, trying to roll away from him and being caught in a hard, uncompromising grasp.

  “Deputy Delaney?”

  “This is her.”

  “Hank Gaskill is awake and doing well enough to receive very brief visits, if your questioning is absolutely necessary.”

  “It is. It is. I’ll be there soon.” She clicked End, already scooting toward the empty side of the bed so she could slide off without any physical contact with Grady. “Hank’s awake. I have to go.”

  “We were asleep for an hour,” Grady said. “You can’t keep going at this pace.”

  She pulled on her jacket, patting herself down to make sure she had everything. “I have to. Now, can you please, please, call someone?”

  He sighed heavily but he held up his phone. “Ty should be around.”

  “Promise me you’ll call him, and make sure he follows the doctor’s instructions. A promise, Grady. Your word.”

  “You think my word means anything?”

  She studied his face, all sharp edges and challenge, and yet she knew what she’d always known about Grady Carson. He might be wild, he might be antagonistic and frustrating and not necessarily law-abiding, but he was not a man who went back on his word. “Yeah, I think a promise from you means something.”

  Something on his face altered into an expression she couldn’t read and wasn’t sure she’d ever seen on him, at least not directed at her. “This case won’t stand in our way forever, Laurel.”

  She met his gaze, and she knew he was right in the same way she knew Carsons and Delaneys would never get along, and never leave Bent. Even with an hour’s sleep under her belt, she didn’t have the energy to argue. “I know it won’t. But I still have a job to do. Call Ty. I’ll...check on you later.”

  He smiled, back to slick charm and self-satisfied humor. “I’ll be waiting.”

  She couldn’t let that mean anything. She had a job to do and a case to focus on, and Grady... Well, everything all jumbled up with him would have to wait. No matter how nice it had been to simply lie next to someone and feel safe and comfortable.

  She drove back to the hospital, pushing away the exhaustion that dogged her. She’d grab a cup of coffee, then question Hank, then... She’d have to grab a few hours. The sun was just hinting at the horizon, ready to start a new day.

  And you’re still no closer to an answer.

  So far. So far. That wasn’t final.

  She parked at the hospital lot and made her way up to Hank’s floor. After a lot of asking around, she found his doctor.

  “I don’t know how lucid he’ll be, and he shouldn’t be agitated. So this needs to be quick and low-key. In a few days, he should be recovered enough to handle more.”

  Laurel nodded at the doctor before following her into the room. Hank was connected to all sorts of machines and monitors. His eyes fluttered open.

  “Mr. Gaskill, this is Deputy Delaney. Do you feel well enough to answer some questions?”

  “Yeah,” Hank rasped. “Yeah. Did you find who did this?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Laurel said. “Is there anything you can tell me that would help me identify and apprehend the man who shot you?”

  “I don’t know who it was. It could have been someone I know. It could have been a stranger. It could have been a hit man for all I know. It was dark. Everything so dark.”

  Laurel eyed all the beeping machines nervously. “It’s okay, Hank. You’ve been seriously shot. I’m going to do everything in my power to find out by who. You don’t have to have all the answers.”

  He stilled a little. “I don’t have any proof, but Adams has something to do with it. Jason was sure of it.”

  “Do you know why Jason met with whoever killed him?”

  Hank closed his eyes, and Laurel knew she was running out of time. This was too much for a man who’d been shot a handful of hours ago.

  “He was going to blackmail the higher-up. There’s someone higher up who knows, and Jason wanted to get paid to be quiet. He was going to pay me, too.”

  “What higher-up?”

  Something beeped shrilly and the doctor moved, nudging Laurel out of the way. “Deputy, you’ll need to leave. I’ll alert you when he’s up to a more thorough questioning.”

  Higher-ups and blackmail, and none of it made any sense. But she had her next step. Not sleep like she’d hoped, but Mr. Adams.

  * * *

  “A SHOE?”

  Grady glared at Ty, who was sprawled out on a recliner in the corner. “It was hard, everything was dark, and I was a little busy knocking a gun out of his hand.”

  “Would have been more badass to have gotten a concussion from a gun over a shoe.”

  Grady scowled. “I’ll keep that in mind next time I’m accosted while trying to save a man’s life.”

  “See that you do,” his cousin replied good-naturedly. “Hurt?”

  “Fading,” Grady lied. His head was still pounding, and every once in a while he felt sick to his stomach, but it was getting better. Maybe.

  He glanced at his phone again. No updates from Laurel. It had been a little less than an hour. Plenty of time to get there and question Hank.

  “A watched phone never rings from an inappropriate wannabe hookup.”

  Grady looked up from his phone with a doleful expression. “I’m
not allowed to have an interest in this case?”

  “Well, considering you said it looks like Clint is in the clear, yeah, you shouldn’t. The dead Delaney wasn’t anybody to you.”

  “That how you felt in the army? Dead guy. Not my problem.”

  Ty’s expression went blank, and Grady regretted bringing it up. His cousin was an army ranger, had done some dangerous, amazing things in his time serving this country, and no matter how pissy Grady was, he didn’t have a right to poke at that.

  “Listen—”

  But Ty held up his hand as his eyebrows drew together. An odd swishing sound went through the apartment, then the squeak of one of his stairs. He didn’t hear footsteps, but the stairs outside didn’t squeak without someone standing on them.

  Grady flung the covers off his legs, but again Ty’s hand stopped him. Ty moved out of the chair, cat-like and silent. When he reached the door, he picked something up off the ground. A piece of paper. His quizzical frown went furious.

  He tossed it on the bed. “Be right back,” he whispered.

  “What the—” But Ty was already gone. Grady picked up the paper and felt as though he’d been transported into some kind of movie. Little magazine letters had been cut out and pasted onto the paper.

  Watch your step and your back.

  He was out of bed before he’d made it to the last word, but by the time he pulled on his boots, Ty was back.

  “Gone,” Ty muttered in disgust. “Someone must have been waiting. Though I didn’t hear a car, which I would have.” Ty shook his head. “I imagine this is about Delaney’s case and not some wronged ex-lover.”

  “I imagine,” Grady returned.

  Ty sighed heavily. “Call your little deputy, Grady. If this is about the case, she needs to know.”

  Part of him wanted to leave her out of it. He could handle whatever coward thought he could intimidate a Carson, but it did have to do with the case, undoubtedly, which meant there might be a clue.

  He grabbed his phone and pulled up Laurel’s number. When she answered, she sounded exhausted and pissed.

  “Grady—”

  “I received a little message under my door about ten minutes ago.”