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“What are you going to do?” She came around the sofa and sat down next to him.
“First, you’re going to get some rest. Then, if there’s time, we can pay a quick visit to Ruben before we go to the arena for the rodeo.”
“Where we’ll pretend to barely know each other, right?” she asked.
“We’ll see. Whatever we do, I plan to keep an eye on you. Understand?”
“I understand. But what about Jim?”
“While you’re napping, I’ll go and check on the bulls. While I’m there, I plan to back our young friend against a wall and put some real fear into him. Before I’m through, he’s going to tell me who he’s working with, who’s putting up the money, and why.”
“I’ll get dressed and go with you,” Tess said.
“Oh, no, you don’t.” Brock stood, put an arm around her shoulders, and steered her into the bedroom. “You’re supposed to be sick. It’s too early for you to recover and show up at the arena. And you really could use some rest. But keep the door locked and chained. Don’t open it for anybody but me. If you’re hungry by the time I get back, we can order room service. Understood?”
“Yes, but do you need to be so bossy?”
“Bossy is my middle name. Especially when it comes to protecting a woman I care about.” He gave her a quick kiss and left before her luscious body could lure him into bed.
He drove through the Saturday afternoon traffic, past Whiskey Row, where tourists strolled along the sidewalks and crowded into the bars, restaurants, and live music venues. The morning clouds had cleared. Sunlight glared through the windshield as he planned in his head how he would get Jim to talk. He knew better than to use physical force. But the threat of it, or the idea of going to prison, might be enough to loosen the young man’s tongue.
Still pondering, he swung the SUV into the parking lot. His thoughts scattered like buckshot as he saw the two police cruisers and an ambulance pulled up to one of the arena’s rear entrances. Uniformed officers were pushing back the crowds, stringing yellow crime scene tape.
Parking clear of the congestion, he climbed out of the vehicle and jogged closer. Just ahead of him in the crowd, he could see Curtis’s lanky frame, red shirt, and straw Stetson. Brock edged his way through the pushing bodies to catch up with him.
“What’s happening, Curtis?” he demanded. “Have you seen Jim anywhere?”
The face Curtis turned toward him was pale with shock. “Jim’s dead,” he said. “Somebody found his body in the men’s restroom. Word has it the police are calling it a drug overdose. But you know Jim, Boss. Hell, that kid never took drugs in his life!”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
BROCK HAD LEFT HIS LAPTOP AND INVITEDTESS TO USE IT. UNABLEto sleep, she had dressed and was composing an e-mail to her sisters when she heard his knock and the sound of his voice.
“It’s me, Tess. Let me in.”
Setting the laptop aside, she flew to release the chain and open the door. As soon as she saw his face, pale with lingering shock, she knew something was wrong.
“My bulls! Are they all right?” It was the first thought that sprang to her mind.
“Your bulls are fine. I checked. But Jim’s dead. A cleaner found him in one of the restrooms—a likely drug overdose, somebody said. But we know what really happened. He died the same way Cannonball died. Probably because he knew too much.” Brock stepped into the room, picked up the remote, and switched on the TV. “I saw a press van drive up as I was leaving. Maybe we can get some breaking news.”
He flipped through channels to a local station. “Here it is.”
The screen showed a jam of onlookers and emergency vehicles, then a closer shot of paramedics carrying a covered body to the ambulance before the station went to a commercial.
“You’re sure that’s Jim?” she asked.
“Curtis saw the scene before the police arrived. It’s Jim.” He clicked off the TV. “The monster who did this is out there, Tess. He’s close, and he’s watching us. I’ve ordered Curtis to load the bulls and get out of town now. You need to do the same. I can follow you home to make sure you’re all right.”
“No.”
“Don’t be stubborn, Tess. He’s tried to kill both of us. He’ll try again.”
“You heard me,” she said. “You can leave if you want. But I’ve had enough of letting that murdering goon run my life. I’ll be careful. I’ll even carry a gun. But I’m not leaving town until Quicksand has had his chance to buck.”
“Quicksand will have other chances. Damn it, I don’t want to lose you, Tess. I love you.”
Tears welled in Tess’s eyes. She had ached to hear those words. But this was the worst possible timing. She glared up at him, letting him see her tears and her fury.
