Wyoming Cowboy Justice. Nicole Helm

sat inside and planned whatever they were planning, maybe she could find a clue in one of those.

      She quickened her pace, making it into the stables first. There were four horses in stalls, huffing happily, and a surprising amount of tidiness inside for the lack of it out. She made her way to the empty stall toward the back. It could fit a motorcycle or—

      “Hands up,” a husky feminine voice commanded.

      Laurel whirled at the sound, hand on the butt of her weapon, and then scowled. “Vanessa, do not point a gun at me.”

      “Got a warrant?” Vanessa Carson asked, holding an old-looking rifle pointed directly in Laurel’s direction.

      “Is that a musket?” Laurel asked incredulously, then shook her head. “Regardless, stop pointing it at me. That’s an official order.”

      With a hefty sigh, Grady’s sister lowered her rifle. Laurel felt the same thing she always felt when she looked at her former best friend. Regret, and a pang for a childhood before things had been poisoned by some stupid feud.

      “Why are you sneaking around our stables?” Vanessa demanded.

      “Official reasons.”

      Vanessa smirked and pulled her phone out of her pocket. She held it up to her ear. “Hey, Grady. I’m out in the stables. We’ve got an uninvited visitor.”

      Laurel threw her hands in the air, frustrated beyond belief. “When will you all realize I am trying to help you. Help Bent.” It was all she’d ever wanted to do. Help Bent. Even people who hated her because of her last name knew that was true.

      “Helping Bent usually translates to helping the Delaneys when it comes to your people, Laurel. Why should this be any different?”

      Laurel had a million arguments for that. Even though she’d beat her head against that concrete wall time and time again, she had no compunction about doing it again now. But she saw something out of the corner of her eye.

      Something that looked suspiciously like a skinny teenager running for the mountains.

      Laurel didn’t hesitate, didn’t concern herself with Vanessa’s musket, of all things, and most definitely didn’t worry about the impending arrival of Grady.

      She pushed past Vanessa and ran after the quickly disappearing figure. She ignored Vanessa’s shouts and put all her concentration into running as fast as she could.

      “Clint Danvers, stop right there,” she yelled, gaining absolutely no ground on the kid, but not losing any, either. “Bent County Sheriff’s Department, I am ordering you to stop!” She could threaten to shoot, of course, but that would cause more problems than it’d ever solve.

      Clint darted behind a barn at the west edge of the property, and Laurel swore, because he could go a couple different directions hidden behind that barn and she wouldn’t be able to see which one he chose.

      Her lungs were burning, but she pushed her body as fast as it would go, cutting the corner around the barn close. Close enough she ran right into a hard wall of something that knocked her back and onto her butt.

      She would have popped right back up, ignoring her throbbing nose and butt, but the hard object she’d run into was Grady himself. And now he was standing there, giving no indication he’d let her pass.

      She glared up at him and his imposing arms folded over his chest. “I detest you,” she said furiously, even knowing she should tamp down her temper and be a professional.

      His all-too-full lips curved into one of those wolfish smiles. “My life is a success, then.”

      “He’s getting away, and if you think that’s going to go over well for him, you’re sorely mistaken.”

      Grady jerked his chin toward the house. “Ty’s after him on his bike. We’ll have him rounded up in a few.”

      “Oh,” Laurel managed to say, blinking. That was not what she’d expected out of Grady. At all. She figured he’d purposefully stepped in her way so Clint could escape.

      “But I’m not going to let you talk to him, princess.” He held out his hand as if he was going to help her up.

      She pushed herself to her feet. “Let me?” she muttered. As if he could let her do anything in her official capacity.

      “But I am going to clean you up. I think you might have broken your nose.”

      She touched her fingers to her nose, surprised to find a sticky substance there. She’d been so angry, she hadn’t even realized her nose was bleeding. “I could arrest you for assaulting an officer.”

      “Babe, you ran right into me. That’s not assault. It’s not watching where you’re going.”

      She didn’t screech or growl or pound her fists into his chest like she wanted to. No, she took a deep breath in and then out.

      She had a job to do, and Grady Carson could break her nose, threaten her sanity, but he could not stand in her way.

      * * *

      GRADY DIDN’T LIKE the uncomfortable hitch in his chest at the sight of Laurel’s face all bloody. It was her own damn fault she’d crashed into him. He’d heard her coming, of course, but he hadn’t known she’d turn the corner at the same exact time he had.

      At full speed.

      She was entirely to blame, but somehow he felt guilty as he walked her back to the main house. “We’ll clean you up, then you can be on your way.”

      “I’m just going to come back with a search warrant. Clint is the only potential witness in a murder, Grady. I can’t stop going after him until he answers some questions.”

      He hated that she was using that reasonable, even-keeled cop tone with him when there was a trickle of blood slowly dripping down her chin.

      “Ain’t none of my business what you got to do, Deputy,” he said as lazily as he could manage, even though he didn’t feel lazy at all.

      His teenage half brother was a dope, plain and simple. Grady didn’t think Clint had actually killed anyone, but he had a bad feeling based on Clint’s running away that Clint knew something. Considering Clint’s mom had kicked Clint out of the house just last week and had lectured Grady on getting him sorted out, Grady could only feel pissed and more of that unwelcome guilt.

      He hated feeling guilty. So, when Ty pulled up on his bike, alone, Grady cursed. “Where the hell is he?”

      “I don’t know, man. Disappeared.”

      “That’s impossible.”

      Ty shrugged. “Noah took one of the horses to go search the trees. What the hell happened to her?” Ty asked, gesturing toward Laurel.

      “Your cousin broke my nose,” the infuriating woman stated.

      Ty’s eyebrows winged up.

      “I did not break her nose. She ran into me at full speed and broke her own damn nose.”

      “Want me to go open the saloon for you?” Ty asked.

      Grady nodded and fished his keys out of his pocket. He tossed them at Ty. “I’ll be there soon.”

      “You don’t have to do this,” Laurel said as Ty rode off. “My nose isn’t really broken. It’s just bleeding. I can clean myself up in my car.”

      “How do you know it’s not broken?”

      She shrugged. She was a tall woman, but narrow. Narrow shoulders, narrow hips. Her hair always pulled back in a bouncy brown ponytail. Her face always devoid of makeup. Her body always covered up. The complete opposite of his type.

      Which was why he’d never quite understood why his gaze tended to linger on her when they happened to be in the same vicinity, or why he got such a kick out