Chapter 11

Clay reached over and took Rusty’s hand as he parked the truck in the crowded parking lot of the Painted Pony Bar. As was usual for a Saturday night, the place was packed. She sat staring out of the window, a serious expression on her face.

“You sure you want to do this?” he asked.

At her nod, he gave her hand a squeeze and pulled her to him. “Just remember you can bail any time you want and we’ll find another way. Okay?” he whispered.

“I’ll be fine. You just make damn sure you don’t let that Stella into your pants.”

Clay shuddered at the idea. The last week he and Rusty had played amateur detectives. They knew all about Davy and Stella, and thanks to Koda and the pack, knew that Davy was orchestrating the attacks on Blackhawk Ranch. He had his brothers doing most of the dirty work, but it was clear that he was calling the shots.

Koda had observed him on a walkie-talkie, directing his brothers three nights ago when they tried to steal two of the horses. Thanks to the pack, and Clay and Rusty sleeping in the hayloft on standby, the plan failed.

Rusty had used her mother’s scrying bowl and after three failed attempts had succeeded in tapping into Davy’s private life. She saw the photos he’d taken of her, taped inside his closet door, along with the other sick images of bondage and torture that excited him so.

That spurred her to set their plan in motion. It was obvious that Davy had plans for her that she wanted no part of and she wasn’t about to let it get to that.

“Then let the show begin,” he said and raised her hand to kiss her knuckles. As he started to open the door she stopped him. Something had been niggling at the edge of her inner vision, something she couldn’t bring into focus. But it was something that troubled her, and she felt she had to set up safeguards, just in case whatever it was manifested into something dangerous.

“Clay, wait.”

He turned back to her.

“If…if something happens. Something we didn’t count on, then I—”

“I’m not going to let anything or anyone hurt you,” he proclaimed.

Rusty knew he meant what he said. What she could not say to him was that her fears were not that something would hurt her, but that ill might befall him.

“I know,” she assured him. “But humor me, okay. If something should happen, something out of the ordinary and you find yourself backed into a corner or outnumbered, then I need you to remember this. Aeris accendo asporto.”

“What?”

“Just say it. Aeris accendo asporto.”

“Aeris accendo asporto,” he stumbled slightly over the unfamiliar words.

“Again,” she said.

“Aeris accendo asporto. I got it.”

“Don’t forget. Please, Clay. This is important. Promise me you’ll remember.”

“I promise,” he said and took her hand to lay it over his heart.

“Okay.” She gave him a smile, but as they got out of the truck she wove a quick memory charm on him to help him remember if the need arose.

They entered the bar and made their way through the crowd to a table near the crowded dance floor. Rusty spotted Davy at the bar but didn’t see his brothers.

Stella, who worked as a waitress at the bar, approached their table. Rusty plastered a bright smile on her face. “Well hey, Stella. Long time. Oh my goodness, is that a diamond on your finger? Girl, I didn’t know you were engaged! Who’s the lucky guy?”

Stella smiled wanly. “Hey, Rusty. Looks like I ain’t the only one with a new man in my life. This must be the Russell fella I been hearing so much about.”

She turned her attention to Clay. “Stella Stevens at your service, cowboy.”

Clay turned the full force of his charm on, smiling up at her from beneath the brim of his hat. “Well now, that sounds plumb inviting, darlin’. Clay Russell’s the name, but my close friends call me Breaker.”

“Well now, I just got to know the reason for that name,” Stella flirted right back, ignoring Rusty completely.

Rusty wasn’t finding it difficult to look miffed. Even though she knew it was an act, she wanted to snatch Stella bald, and drag Clay out of the bar by the scruff of his neck. Damn him, did he have to be so freaking good at his role?

“Well, now darlin’,” he was saying, tipping his hat back to pin Stella with his eyes. “I got me that nickname on the PBR. Seems I just break those bulls’ balls every time I get on one.”

Stella giggled and leaned down with one hand on the table. “Hard rider, are you, handsome?”

“Long and hard, sugar. Ain’t no other way.” His accent was becoming thicker by the moment, making Rusty want to kick him under the table.

“Whooo! You gonna have me break into a sweat any minute,” Stella said in a husky voice, leaning a little closer so that her breasts threatened to spill out of the low-cut red top that clung to her curves like a second skin.

“Well, darlin’ I’d sure like to see that, but this lil’ol’gal here just might start to spittin’ if I don’t pay her a little attention—seeing as we’re partners and all. Why don’t you bring me a tall cold one, and when you get a break maybe we can see if we can work up a sweat on the dance floor?”

“You got it, stud. What’s your brand of poison?”

“Whatever you got on tap is fine, honey.”

Stella grinned then grimaced as Rusty cleared her throat loudly. “Yeah, Russ, what’ll you have?”

“Tequila. Straight up. No, make that a bottle,” she added as Stella started to move away. “Tab’s on Russell here.”

Clay scowled. “I think we already had this discussion. No more tequila.”

“You’re my partner, Russell. Not my keeper,” Rusty sniped. “Now you gonna buy me a drink or do I need to sit elsewhere?”

“Fine,” Clay spat and looked at Stella. “Bring her a damn bottle.”

Stella walked off and Rusty leaned a little closer. “You don’t have to turn it on all at once, Mr. Russell.”

“Jealous, darlin’?” he teased.

“Just don’t lose yourself in the role.”

Clay chuckled then assumed a scowl as Stella hurried back across the bar toward them. “Here ya go, handsome,” she cooed as she placed the beer in front of Clay, and then plunked a bottle of cheap tequila down on the table with a shot glass. “Russ.”

Rusty saw an opening and took it. “I don’t want this cheap rotgut. Bring me a bottle of Patron. Silver.”

She cut Clay a look, hoping he would catch on and join in. He was quick, and immediately assumed his role. “Look here, I offered to buy you a goddamn bottle. If you think I’m paying fifty bucks—”

“Eighty,” Stella cut in.

“Eighty bucks for a bottle of booze so you can get liquored up and act like a slut then you got another think coming, missy!”

“Fine!” Rusty jumped to her feet. “Then drink alone, Russell.”

People were watching and talking as she flounced over to the bar and scanned it for a free space. Davy scooted to one side and motioned to her. Rusty stomped over to the bar.

“Thanks,” she growled to Davy and leaned over the bar, yelling at the bartender, “Mitch! Hey, Mitch! Can I get a shot of Patron down here?”

“Coming up, Russ,” he yelled back.

“And one for my friend.” She jerked her thumb at Davy.

She turned and stared angrily across the bar to where Clay sat at his table, Stella leaning down over him, looking for all the world like she was trying to scoop him up in her cleavage.

“Here ya go,” the bartender said as he set the shots down in front of her.

Rusty turned, slid one glass over to Davy and lifted another for herself. “Here’s to getting rid of fucking high-handed, dime-store cowboys who think their rich daddies can buy them whatever they want and to hell with the rest of us.”

She clinked her glass to Davy’s then tossed back the shot. He raised his eyebrows in surprise then downed the shot. Rusty grabbed the full glass on the bar, at the same time yelling for the bartender. “Hey, Mitch, just bring me a bottle.”

“And put it on Russell’s tab,” she added with a smirk at Davy. “So…” She tossed back her second shot, blew out a breath and leaned on the bar. “How’s it hanging, Davy. Been a long time. Where you been keeping yourself.”

“Actually, I’ve been busy,” he replied. “And engaged.”

“Engaged? To who?”

“Stella.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

Rusty cut her eyes over to Clay and Stella. “Well then, lil’ bro, you might wanna remind her of that. When I left, her and Russell were already talking dirty and getting ready to start in on more.”

Davy shrugged. “Fuck her. She can’t be faithful, she can go to hell.”

“There you go!” Rusty slapped him on the back. “Wish it was that easy for me to get shed of Russell. Damn man’s enough to drive a woman to drink.”

She lifted the bottle the bartender had placed in front of her. “Which reminds me. How ‘bout another one?”

“Sure,” Davy replied, still a bit standoffish and suspicious of her sudden friendly manner.

Rusty grinned, sure the cogs in his brain were churning. “So, how a dance, Davy? As I remember it, you always could cut a rug.”

“Why not,” he replied and threw back his shot. “Whooo, that packs a whollop, don’t it?”

Rusty laughed and took his hand to loop his arm across the top of her shoulders. The band was starting up with an old Wynonna song as they reached the dance floor, the lead singer belting it out in a pretty good facsimile of the original.

Rusty shook her ass, shimmied and strutted, twirling this way and that, making the short flirty skirt she wore twirl out around the tops of her thighs. “Come on, honey, don’t be shy, we’s family,” she slurred her words as she grabbed Davy and pulled him up close, grinding against him.

A moment later she knew she’d scored. All of his hesitation and suspicion vanished. His hands grasped her roughly, pulling her against him so she could feel his erection pushing at the front of his jeans.

Rusty wanted to gag. Instead she batted her lashes at him and smiled sexily. “Well well, looks like Davy’s all grown up.”

“More’n you can imagine,” he said in her ear and followed it up by plunging his tongue as far down her ear canal as possible.

Her fists tightened on the shoulders of his shirt and she shuddered in revulsion. Which he mistook for a shiver of desire. “Like that, baby? I got lots more.”

“I bet you do.” She pulled back from him, wanting nothing more than to sand the skin off her ear. “What say we find us a table and finish that bottle of Russell’s booze and talk about it?”

Davy grinned and grabbed her arm to pull her off the dance floor. Rusty saw Clay cut his eyes at her as they passed. She stuck out her tongue at him, already wondering if maybe she shouldn’t help the alcohol along and cast a little spell on Davy.

Clay watched Rusty and the little slimeball make their way toward the back of the bar. Now was as good a time as any to make his move. Pushing his chair back he stood and scanned the crowd.

Stella spotted him from the bar and hurried over to the bartender. As Clay made his way toward the bar, he watched her hold a heated discussion with the bartender. The man finally threw up his hands. Stella gave him a kiss on the cheek, grabbed a bottle and hurried to catch Clay as he made for the door.

He pretended not to hear her as he pushed his way to the door and stepped outside. The cool night air was a welcome relief to the stench of alcohol and too many colognes and perfumes wafting off hot and sweating bodies.

He took a deep breath but turned his head and she stepped up behind him. “Hey, sexy. Where you running off to?”

“Just getting a breath of fresh air, darlin’. You finished for the night?”

“That depends. What you got in mind?”

Clay looked down at the bottle in her hand then let his eyes slide up her body the way he’d done hundreds of other women. It wasn’t until that moment that he realized how shallow he’d been. Rusty had changed him, made him see how empty his life had been before her.

For a moment shame made him hesitant. He was about to put the same moves on Stella he’d used on countless others, with no thought as to what consequences his actions would spawn.

But this time was different. At least he hoped it was. If Rusty was right, then Stella knew what Davy was up to and was willingly acting as his alibi. If that was so, then she was as guilty for the trouble visited against Blackhawk Ranch as the Stikeleathers and did not deserve his pity.

“What say we take a ride and find some place quiet we can talk,” he suggested with a sexy smile.

Stella hesitated for a moment, glancing back at the bar, then tossed her hair and plastered a smile on her face. “Sounds like a plan.”

As they got into the truck, Clay said a silent prayer that he wasn’t leaving Rusty to deal with something she couldn’t handle.

Inside the bar, Rusty poured another shot for Davy. He’d consumed nearly half the bottle. While he was tossing his shot back, she quickly dumped the contents of her own glass onto the floor, and then lifted the glass to her lips.

“Wooo hooo!” she cheered drunkenly. “Damn, much more of that and I’m gonna be officially shit-faced.”

“Me too,” he slurred in genuine inebriation then reached out to take her hand. “So, Rusty, you were telling me about that slicker Russell. He giving you a hard time, huh?”

“He’s a bastard!” she hissed. “Bossing me around, telling me how to run my ranch, how to train my horses. I tell you what, Danny, if it wasn’t for all this trouble I think I could get shed of him, but it’s been one thing after another since the day he stepped foot on my land.”

“Well, I might just be able to help you out,” he boasted.

“Yeah, right,” she snorted. “It’ll be a cold day in hell when your family helps me out. Come on, Davy, you and me both know they hate the ground I walk on. Why, you’re the only one of the whole goddamn bunch that ever treated me like I was worth a shit.”

“They ain’t ‘xactly fond’a you,” he agreed. “And truth is, they can be a surly bunch. But you know I always liked you, Russ. I thought maybe after Danny died, well, that maybe me and you…”

“Ah, Davy. Really?” she cooed, thinking how much she’d like to scratch his eyes out. “Why didn’t you ever tell me? All this time I’ve been out there all alone, wondering if I’d be able to hang onto the ranch. If I’d ever find another man to love.”

“You can. Russ, you can. I can help you.”

“How? Until we catch the assholes responsible for all the trouble, Russell is glued to the saddle. If I could just get things back to normal and stop all this trouble then I could convince him and his family that I don’t need him to oversee things. I could hire my own foreman and get Blackhawk back on its feet.”

“You leave that to me,” he assured her and poured himself another drink.

“Davy, it’s sweet that you want to help, but I can’t see how you’re going to find the people responsible for the trouble when the law doesn’t have the first clue.”

“Baby, you’d be surprised what Davy can do,” he bragged and swallowed the shot. “Question is, if I take care of your problem, what’s in it for me?”

Rusty saw the opening she’d been waiting for. Taking a deep breath, she mentally chanted, at the same time, reaching for his hand. Something electric sparked at the contact of their skin. She locked eyes with him. “Davy, you help me pin the bastards responsible and you can have everything you deserve. That I promise.”

Davy grinned and tried to lean across the table to kiss her but she moved out of reach and his lips slobbered across the side of her face. Rusty smiled as seductively as possible. “Honey, I think it’d be best if people didn’t see us together until the dust settles. That way Russell can’t get wind that we’re putting our heads together to get rid of him. I better get on back home before tongues get to wagging. But before I do, can I ask one question?”

“Anything, baby.” Davy was so drunk his eyes were literally rolling.

“When exactly do you think you can make this happen?”

“Two days,” he managed to mumble before his head hit the table.

Rusty smiled and stood. She looked around for Clay but didn’t see him anywhere. After searching the bar, she went outside. His truck was gone.

“Shit!” she steamed. Leaving her stranded wasn’t part of the plan.

With another curse, she started the long walk home.

* * * * *

Clay checked the time on the digital readout of the plastic clock that sat atop the television in Stella’s apartment. They’d left the bar an hour ago. He wondered how Rusty was faring with Stikeleather, and whether he should give up on Stella and hightail it back to the bar.

At present she was “powdering her nose”, a phrase that grated on Clay’s nerves. What made women incapable of saying they had to take a leak? Another thing he loved about Rusty. She’d fly off with a “gotta pee!” over her shoulder.

Stella entered the room, interrupting his thoughts as she weaved her way toward him. It was a wonder she could walk at all. She’d nearly single-handedly polished off the bottle of bourbon she brought from the bar.

“Heya, handsum.” She ran her hand over his leg as she sat down beside him. “Miss me?”

“You have no idea,” he replied, patting himself mentally on the back for being able to answer honestly. An hour with Stella seemed like much, much longer. So far, he’d managed not to have to kiss her, but it was getting increasingly difficult.

“So, you were telling me about your fiancé,” he initiated the conversation. “What was his name again?”

“Davy?” she asked and snorted. “Honey, I’d toss him aside like yesterday’s news if there was something better on the table.”

“Really?” He smiled charmingly and angled to face her. “Doesn’t sound much like an engagement, darlin’.”

“He’s a freak,” she said with a hiss. “Fucking freak. Wants to come in here acting like he owns me, have me do all kinds of kinky shit and the whole time he’s pretending I’m someone else. Stupid fucker doesn’t think I know, but I do. I know.”

“That’s horrible,” Clay said. “But maybe you’re wrong about him. I don’t know the fella, but surely he wouldn’t pass up a chance at a life with a woman like you for some other little hussy.”

“Hussy, hell.” She gave another snort. “Dumb jackass has it for your partner. Little tomboy Rusty, all piss and vinegar Miss I-Can-Outdo-Any-Man-in-Sight Blackhawk.”

“Rusty?” Clay asked in mock surprise. “Why the hell’s he hot for her? Woman ain’t bad to look at, but she’s a heap more trouble than she’s worth.”

“Exactly!” Stella crowed. “See, me and you think alike. Man would be a fool to take up with Russ. Not only does she think she’s good as a man, but—and this is just between us—her mama was a witch.”

“A witch?”

“To the bone,” Stella said, tapping his leg to punctuate each word.

“Well, Stella—honey—I don’t know about the witch part, but I do know she’s got a mean disposition and hard to get along with, which brings me to wonder if maybe you aren’t reading your beau all wrong. After all, why would he want Rusty when he could have a sexy, sweet woman like you?”

“Hell, it ain’t just her. Him and his whole family’s had a hard-on for that ranch long as I can remember. Why you think Danny married her after he got her knocked up?”

“Way I hear it, the pregnancy was an accident and he married her to give the child a name.”

Stella howled in laughter. “That what she told you? Well, she’s lying to your face, honey. Truth is, Danny set out to get her. He watched her for nigh onto a year before he got her drunk that night and knocked her up.”

“He must’ve had it bad for her.”

“He had it bad for her ranch.”

Clay shook his head. “What’s so special about that ranch?”

Stella laughed again. “You ain’t heard? Supposed to be some treasure buried out there. Something Rusty’s ma brought back from across the ocean, something handed down from her folks. Some folks say it’s a treasure from somewhere way overseas that belonged to Rusty’s mama’s folks way back. Others say it’s some kind of magical gypsy thing.”

“And the Stikeleathers went to the trouble to get her married to Danny to try and get it?”

“Yep.” She hooted another long laugh. “Damn fools. All it got was Danny dead and the rest of them chasing after their own tails trying to bully Russ into hooking up with one of the other dimwit brothers.”

“You including Davy, your beau, in that dimwit group?”

“Hell no. Davy’s a lot of things, but he’s no dummy. That fella’s got smarts. Why, look at all the shit he’s had his family do to—” Her eyes grew round and she clamped her lips shut.

“Do to what?” Clay asked.

“Nothing, forget it.”

“Come on now, darlin’, you’ve got me curious. What I hear is that Davy’s as dumb as the rest of his family. Now you say he’s smart. Which is it?”

“What difference does it make?”

“Like I said, just curious.”

“Curiosity killed the cat,” she said with a giggle.

Clay forced a chuckle. “Well ain’t that the truth. But I’m not a cat, and it’s downright mean to get a man’s curiosity up then leave him hanging.”

“You’re hung, all right,” she said and made a grab for his crotch.

Clay fended off her advance, capturing her hand in his. “Easy, darlin’, no need to rush.”

“You a slow hand, big boy?” she asked teasingly.

“Something like that,” he said with a smile. “Now what were we talking about? Oh yeah, Davy. You said something about all the stuff he’d had his family do?”

Stella frowned for a long moment then shook her finger at him. “I get it. I get it. I should’ve known. You ain’t here ‘cause you got the hots for me. You’re here for her. You think I’m gonna spill the beans on Davy.”

On wobbly legs she got to her feet. “Well, you got it wrong, mister. I ain’t no rat, and I ain’t no fool. Now get the fuck outta my house ‘fore I call the law.”

“Honey, you got it all wrong,” he protested.

“The hell I have.” She backed away from him. “Get out! Get the fuck out!

Clay knew when to cut his losses and this was one of those times. Besides, she’d already confirmed that Davy and his family were behind the trouble at the ranch.

Without a word, he stood and left. Back in his truck, he thought about what he’d learned as he headed for the bar to get Rusty.

* * * * *

Clay had no sooner left the apartment than Stella was on the phone, calling Davy. She had to try three times before he answered, and when he did, she could tell he was drunk.

Without giving him a chance to do more than say hello, she started in telling him what happened. Only in her version, Clay had lured her out of the bar by telling her he had information on how Rusty was trying to renege on her deal with him, and pin all the trouble on the Stikeleathers.

Davy didn’t say a word until she ran out of steam, and then all he said was, “Anyone asks, I was with you all night. You got that, Stella. I was with you all night.”

“Sure, baby, whatever you say,” Stella replied and hung up the phone. Russell would be sorry he tried to play her for a fool. It was clear from Davy’s directive that he planned on doing something he needed an alibi for. Stella smiled to herself and looked for the bottle. Might as well celebrate with a drink.