Free Whatcha Gonna Do With a Cowboy by Jodi Linton Page B

quietly in the backseat as we barreled toward Pistol Rock.
    “Well, Laney,” Luke began, “Are you gonna continue to be as rude as your mother, or are you at some point gonna introduce me to your friend?”
    “How dare you,” I said, smacking him in the arm. “It’s been a long day and I forgot. That there is Federal Marshal Colt Larsen. He’s here on a case all the way from Tarpon Pass.”
    “Nice to meet you, Colt,” Luke said, eyeing him warily in the rearview mirror.
    “The pleasure’s the same, Luke,” Colt replied, watching the flat and empty country pass his window. “How do you know Laney?”
    Luke smiled effortlessly, laying the charm on thick while he tipped his hat back at me. “Oh, Laney and I go way back,” he said. “Ain’t that right, Laney?”
    I shrugged. The heat had rendered all the fight out of me. “He means we grew up together,” I confirmed. “I used to make Luke mud pies on the playground.”
    “That’s sweet,” Colt said. “My little sister used to do that with me, too.”
    Thankfully, that put a quick end to any further bullshit Luke might have come up with. All I wanted was to ride in silence and enjoy the blast of cold air from the vents, and that was never going to happen so long as Luke knew he had someone to pick on. Colt slid down on the bench seat, reclining his head on the seat back. Luke turned on the radio, and the rest of the drive into Pistol Rock was almost blissful.
    It was high noon when we rolled through town and cut a path down FM 167 heading out to my house. I’d asked Luke to drop by my place so I could pick up the cruiser before hightailing it over to the station. No way was I gonna hang out with Marshal Larsen all day again. The man wasn’t good for my blood pressure. We eventually turned onto my unpaved driveway, leaving a trail of dust behind us as the truck rolled over the parched dirt. Luke parked next to my neglected vegetable garden and killed the engine. He looked over with that pussy-killer smile and those “God, I wish those were mine” blue eyes beaming at me.
    “Well, sweet cake, you’re home,” he said deliberately, drawling out the words.
    I pushed open my door and hopped out of the cab. “Thanks for the lift. You didn’t have to go out of your way like that.”
    “I know,” he replied, cocky as ever.
    Colt reached for his door, but Luke caught him by the arm. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he demanded. “Because I know you’re not even thinking about going inside Laney’s house.”
    Colt looked at me, then back at Luke. “I was going to have her swing me by the station, then drop me off over at the Pistol Rock Motor Lodge.”
    “Can’t you see the lady’s beat? I’ll haul you around until you can arrange for a rental or a replacement vehicle. It ain’t like I have anything better to do,” Luke told him as he gave me his grin. “Laney, it was good seeing you again. And don’t you hesitate to call when you need something. You hear me?”
    “You got it, Luke.”
    Then he fired up the engine, and I was left watching his rusty tailgate disappear down the twisty, dirt road.
    I went back to work to answer the gazillion and a half questions that Colt’s superiors had about the highway shooting, then did the paperwork on that same incident. Like Colt, the marshal’s service also seemed to suspect the shooting had to do with Missy/Kate crossing the Perez gang at some point, though I was hard-pressed to figure out what, unless maybe she’d taken one of their members for the financial ride of his life.
    When the paperwork was done, I did as much checking into the Perezes as the NCIC database would allow. What I found scared me enough to understand why Missy/Kate might have been desperate enough to marry Coach Granger, hide out in a place as off the grid as Pistol Rock, then do whatever she could to finance her escape when the Perezes found her. I mean, hell, they’d shot up Colt’s Jeep, and as far as I