Desert Heat. Kathleen Pickering

Harley Road Glide he’d ridden across the country to the strong, brown, wild-eyed stallion he’d rented to take him the final mile to his destination: the two-bit town of Adobe Creek.

      He’d only been on a horse a few times as a kid in New York. It was something his father seemed to think was important, but the horses they’d ridden were from a local riding stable and docile. This horse looked much more muscled than the mounts Tico remembered and way too unmanageable.

      The stable hand holding the reins eyed Tico’s leather vest and fake sheriff’s badge, letting his gaze rest on the cowboy hat as black as Tico’s hair. Shaking his head, the old man beckoned Tico closer. “Well, Sheriff. This here is Diablo. You good with animals?”

      “Deal with ’em every day.” Tico didn’t want to mention the animals he dealt with were the two-legged kind and usually fleeing a crime scene in Brooklyn. “Are you Charlie Samuels?”

      “Nope. Charlie’s off today. I’m Seth.” He held out the reins. “Diablo was out this morning. Gave him a good run. He should be a pussycat now.”

      The grin on Seth’s face didn’t match the horse’s agitation; the animal threw his head back as Tico approached. Tico used two fingers to push his hat back on his forehead. “Got anything tamer?”

      Seth shook his head. “You said you wanted to look like the Lone Ranger. Diablo is the closest I got to big and white.”

      “This horse is brown!”

      He spit a wad of chewing tobacco into the dirt. “Yep. Closest I’ve got.”

      Tico took the reins. He wasn’t getting anywhere with this guy, and he was running late for his meeting at the Adobe Creek Police Department. The horse sidestepped as Tico put his foot into the stirrup.

      “Hey! Easy, fella.”

      Diablo continued to move away from him. With one foot in the stirrup, Tico had to hop on the other to keep from falling.

      The stable hand chuckled. “Don’t worry. If Diablo tosses you out there, he’ll know his way back.”

      The horseman’s gibe was all Tico needed. He grabbed the saddle horn and leaped into the seat, coming down hard on the horse’s back. Diablo bucked once, then bolted. Tico almost went flying.

      “Whoa!”

      Tico kept his seat, but the hard landing jammed his back something awful. Seth yelled, “Bring ’im back by five. He gets ornery without his dinner oats.”

      The horse ran for a good quarter mile in the dirt along the two-lane highway that led into Adobe Creek. Tico bumped his butt for most of the ride until something clicked. He got a better grip with his legs, leaned forward and found a rhythm with the horse’s gallop. Reins wrapped around his hands, he continued to cling to the saddle horn—the only thing that saved him from falling on his ass when the horse had bucked. He wasn’t about to let go now. No telling if Diablo would buck again.

      It was nothing short of a miracle that he was still in the saddle, and a sense of excitement zinged through his system. Riding those narrow paths in the reeds along Brooklyn’s shores as a kid had never offered the power and freedom of galloping in the open, barren desert. The sun was hot on his shoulders, and the air filling his lungs was cleaner than anything he’d known. It felt as if his Judumi blood was waking up. Not a good thought. If his father hadn’t been such a dirtbag, maybe Tico might have liked the idea of being half Indian.

      No need for that nonsense now.

      The unexpected flash of emotion about his Judumi heritage left him unsure whether he’d made a good decision taking this job or using this horse to break the ice with his hosts. He’d already gotten feedback on how the investigating team in Adobe Creek had blown a gasket when they’d learned he’d been brought in as a consultant. Opinions flew.

      Ex–gang leader.

      Strings pulled to place him in police boot camp.

      A hard-ass cop who lost a partner in a drug raid.

      Tico had been cleared of any wrong, but rumor on the force was that Tico had betrayed his partner to the gang they were breaking. Nobody except his mentor and the two remaining men on his team trusted Tico anymore. He was bone weary from having to prove himself over and over again. Even as a gang leader he hadn’t been all bad, just angry. He’d learned the difference a little too late.

      So this time, he wanted to take the Adobe Creek team totally off guard. No doubt they expected a tough, opinionated, half-Judumi outcast to ride in and throw his weight around. Instead, Tico had decided to ditch his Harley for a horse and use comedy to make the team think twice before judging him. He didn’t have time to earn their trust. Too much was happening too fast on this case. He needed to win them over, complete this assignment and get his tail out of Dodge as quickly as possible. He had a job to do. It didn’t help that Adobe Creek was his father’s hometown and a place where Tico claimed he’d never step foot.

      Ever.

      Now it was time to take control of this damned animal if he was going to make his joke about being the lawman-to-the-rescue and get this frustrated team to work with him. The profile picture of the team leader rose in his mind. Meg Flores. Something about those dark brown eyes, the determination in her jaw, had him thinking she’d be just as stubborn as this damned horse. He sensed a kindred spirit there, and the idea had bothered him for the entire ride across the country. But he wouldn’t jump to any conclusions until he met her in person.

      He focused his attention back on the horse, gently pulling both reins to slow Diablo, but the damned fiend bucked again. In a blink, Tico flew out of the saddle, giving him a bird’s-eye view of a police cruiser heading toward him before he hit the desert floor hard.

      So much for being one with the animal. Good thing Tico was in shape. The momentum from the blow to his left side sent him rolling onto his feet. The fall had knocked his hat off. Half his hair had been pulled from his ponytail. With every inch of him aching, he watched the horse run toward the police cruiser. The car stopped. An officer leaped from the passenger side to intercept the horse. The animal slowed to a walk as if to greet the man.

      “What the...?” Tico picked up his hat and slapped it on his leg. That damned horse liked everyone but him. Why should a horse be any different than anyone else he knew?

      Taking a step, he felt as if he’d suddenly become bowlegged. He could already feel where the bruises would rise on his left hip. He made himself take shorter strides to keep from limping. The officer who detained the horse wore sunglasses, so Tico couldn’t read his eyes, but from the way his mouth twitched, the burly man was trying to keep from laughing.

      “Your horse?”

      Tico waved a hand. “Yeah. Thanks. We just met and aren’t getting along.”

      The cop gave a pointed look at the sheriff star pinned to Tico’s vest. “Did the outfit come with the horse?”

      Tico chuckled. This guy had a sense of humor. His police badge said Quinto. Tico turned his gaze to the mountains in the distance, doing his best John Wayne. “Never been out West. Trying to get a feel for the area.”

      “You staying in Adobe Creek?”

      “For a little while.” Tico put his hat back on his head to shelter his eyes from the glaring sun. “Been hired to work with your detective squad.”

      The officer didn’t even flinch. “The expert from New York?”

      Tico held out a hand. “Tico Butler. NYPD. I’m better with investigations than horses.”

      Ignoring his offered hand, the officer gestured to the desert. “What are you trying to do, kill yourself out here?”

      No surprise, the guy wouldn’t shake his hand. Wiping his palm on his pants, Tico stared at the unruly horse. “Thought I’d have a little fun before work. Didn’t think my horse would mind as much as he does.” He scratched his chin. “He sure seems to like you.”

      “Horses