Riley's Retribution. Rebecca York

new ranch manager is a good man,” someone said. “You should rely on him.”

      When Mrs. Rogers’s gaze shot to him, Riley wished he could sink through the floor.

      She looked as though she wanted to set the speaker straight. Before she could bad-mouth him, he took her arm and steered her through the door.

      As soon as they were on the street, she turned fierce eyes to him. “What did Sandra mean—my new ranch manager?”

      He struggled to keep his voice even and reasonable. “As soon as you left, one of those busybodies asked me what I was to you. What did you want me to say—that I was your lover? Or maybe I picked you up along the road, and we got friendly real fast.”

      She had opened her mouth to make another comment. But she shut it again. He watched her struggling to get control of her temper before saying, “You don’t have the job yet.”

      “I’m aware of that.”

      “We need to finish our job interview,” she murmured, stepping into a small courtyard where the walls of two buildings cut the wind.

      He followed her into the small enclosure. “Okay.”

      She gave him a narrow-eyed look. “You said you grew up on a ranch and that you’ve worked on several spreads in Texas and Wyoming.”

      “Yes.”

      “And you did a stint in the Special Forces.”

      “Yes.”

      “My husband was in the service, and he hated ranch life,” she said with a challenge in her voice.

      “Well, I’m not him. I came home to ranch work after the service,” he said, the lie sticking in his throat.

      But it seemed to satisfy her…for the time being. He could also tell she hadn’t quite made up her mind.

      She sighed. “I’d better go to the sheriff’s office.”

      “I’ll go with you.”

      “Why?”

      “Is that a trick question? I think he’s the kind of guy who will behave better if there’s a witness along—particularly a witness of the male variety.”

      “You have him pegged there.”

      “You’ve known him a long time?”

      “No. He’s new in town.”

      That was interesting, Riley thought. “What brought him here?”

      “Maybe he likes being a big fish in a little pond.”

      “He likes to throw his weight around?”

      “Unfortunately, yes. And since he got here, the town has become a lot more…lawless.”

      “Like how?”

      “Like an increase in cattle rustling.”

      “And shooting incidents out on the highway?”

      “Yes,” she muttered.

      They walked across the street to the office. Courtney breathed out a little sigh when the clerk told her that Pennington was on his dinner break. Instead of enduring an interview, she was able to fill out a form reporting the gunshot incident, and they were out of the office in under twenty minutes.

      “You’re not going to leave the slug with him?” Riley asked.

      “No.”

      “Why not?”

      “Because it’s evidence, and I don’t want it to disappear.”

      Riley considered that as they climbed back into the SUV.

      COURTNEY WANTED to get out of town as quickly as possible—and back to the ranch. But she couldn’t leave yet.

      “Mike’s Gas Station is at the edge of town. We need to stop there and arrange to have my truck towed.”

      “Yeah, I saw it.”

      On the way to Mike’s, she called Jake Bradley again and told him she’d stopped at the doctor’s to make sure the baby was okay. Jake had been at the ranch since her grade-school years. She knew he’d be concerned.

      As she arranged to have the truck towed and fixed, she watched Mike eyeing her and Riley Watson with interest. But she wasn’t going to offer explanations.

      Finally they started home. And it was a relief to be away from people who wanted to ask questions about her relationship with this good-looking stranger. She could just imagine some of the speculation. Had she hired him because he was young and handsome? Did she hope he’d marry her and take over the ranch? Was she looking for a guy to warm her bed at night?

      She cringed inwardly. He might be attractive and sexy and strong and reliable, but that didn’t mean she was going to climb into bed with him—again.

      That “again” made her cheeks hot, even though bedding down with him had been perfectly innocent. She hoped.

      She also hoped that Harold Avery, the old geezer who owned the motel hadn’t seen her. If he had, the news would be all over town. She wanted to ask what Watson had said when he’d checked in, but she kept her lips pressed together.

      Damn. The knowledge that she and this man were already the subject of speculation made her want to tell him she’d changed her mind about the job. Yet she silently admitted that she’d be acting against her best interests. And she knew darn well that she wasn’t being fair to him.

      It was after dark when they approached the bridge again, and she couldn’t help the little frisson of fear that slithered down her spine.

      When he slowed, her gaze shot to him. “What are you doing?”

      “Going up there to have a look.”

      “No.” Courtney heard herself say, the one syllable coming out high and strained.

      “Now that we’re not in a hurry to get to the doctor’s, I want to find out what happened.”

      “The guy’s long gone. And you’ll just be poking around in the dark.”

      “Maybe he left a shell casing to go along with that bullet. Maybe he dropped a cigarette butt. Or leftovers from his lunch.” Without asking permission, Watson pulled to the side of the road.

      She knitted her gloved hands together, holding tight, fighting her fears. She felt exposed out here on the highway, but she knew Watson was right. If there was still some evidence up on the bridge, they ought to find out what it was before it conveniently disappeared. Not that she was accusing the sheriff of anything dishonest. But there had been too many cases around here lately where the bad guys got away.

      Watson opened the glove compartment and pulled out a flashlight. Then he stepped out into the cold and closed the door quickly to keep the heat inside.

      She forced herself to sit quietly while the man who might or might not be her new ranch hand scaled the bridge abutment.

      The clouds had blown away, and the moon had come out. In its pale light, she saw him move with agility and grace. Under other circumstances, she might have enjoyed watching him climb.

      He made it to the road, then strode onto the bridge, where he switched on the light and shone it down toward the blacktop.

      When he disappeared from view below the concrete railing, she felt her breath catch. But she could still see the light moving around up there.

      The man was out of sight for several minutes during which she sat in the SUV gripping the edge of the seat.

      She had just decided to go look for him when he popped back into view.

      From his position above the highway, he waved to her, then began to climb down

      “What