Riding High Page 18

  “Don’t shoot,” the other one said.

  “Come out with your hands up.”

  Flynn saw one of the men stuff something in his jacket pocket before he and his buddy walked out from the enclosure into the open.

  “Get down on the ground, put your hands on your head, and spread your legs wide.”

  Both men complied and Flynn had started to check them for weapons when he felt someone behind him.

  “What’s going on?” Gia asked and blanched when she saw the gun in Flynn’s hand.

  He continued frisking the men. “Gia, call the police, please.”

  “Okay, but who are they and how did they get in here? The gate’s closed.”

  Anyone determined enough could get around that gate on foot. But he didn’t have time to make conversation now. Without zip ties or handcuffs he had to hold his semiautomatic and search the men at the same time.

  “Just call the police,” he said. “And open the gate.”

  She padded across the lawn in her slippers and disappeared inside the house. While she was gone, Flynn searched both men’s pockets, dumping all the contents onto the ground. He wanted to go through it before Rhys or one of his officers came but had his hands full.

  “You move and I’ll shoot,” he told his captives.

  The smaller of the two had pissed his pants. Flynn didn’t think they would try to escape, but he wasn’t taking any chances, keeping the gun trained on them while he squatted down to sort through the flotsam from their pockets. He wanted to know what the big one had found so interesting. Damned if he could tell. The pile consisted of wallets—Flynn went through them looking for ID—a few loose bills, a ring of keys, a business card, chewing gum, and a memory stick.

  Flynn pocketed the card and the memory stick just before Gia came back outside.

  “They’re on their way,” she said.

  He slid her a glance and nodded. “You should wait in the house. It’s cold.”

  “Not really.” She pulled the robe tighter around her. “I want to know what they were doing here.”

  “Evidently, going through your garbage.”

  “Gia, where’s Evan Laughlin?” the big one asked.

  Flynn stuck the toe of his boot in the man’s side. “Shut up.”

  “Ah Jesus, you didn’t have to do that,” the man said, groaning.

  Gia came closer and bent down to look at the guy. “Who are you?”

  “I’m with Tattletale.”

  Flynn had never heard of it, but he assumed it was a tabloid. Maybe one of those online pieces of shit.

  “Why won’t you people leave me alone?” Gia said. After everything that had happened at the meeting last night, finding two yahoos in her garbage had to be the coup de grâce. “I don’t know where Evan—”

  Flynn pulled Gia up and put his finger to her lips. “Hush.”

  “Who’s the guy, Gia? Is he your bodyguard? Your lover?” Even on his belly, the jerk off was looking for a story.

  Flynn nudged his boot into the guy’s flank. “What did I tell you?”

  The third time in a month, the sound of a siren broke the air.

  Gia closed her eyes. “I can’t believe this.”

  Annie came marching across the grass in her nightgown, a denim jacket, cowboy boots, and scary hair. She took one look at the scene and her eyes got big as saucers.

  “Were they trying to break in?

  “Into my trash,” Gia said. “Apparently they thought they’d find the scoop of the century digging through my garbage.”

  “Why would anyone do that? It’s disgusting.” Annie winced.

  The siren got closer and stopped. A car door slammed and Flynn shouted, “Back here. All clear.”

  Rhys came running around the house. Flynn assumed backup was ten minutes out because Rhys lived here and the station was at least fifteen minutes away.

  “According to Connie, you’ve got prowlers,” Rhys said.

  Flynn nodded and pointed at the two bozos on the ground. “I found them digging through Gia’s garbage bins.”

  Rhys’s brows shot up. “The trash cans, huh?” He looked at Gia and Annie. “Everyone okay?”

  “No, he kicked me.” The guy in the dirt started to get up and Rhys told him to stay down.

  He pulled a pair of metal cuffs out of his back pocket, crouched, restrained the idiot, and read them both their Miranda rights.

  Two more sirens came up the hill. Rhys used his radio to give the officers his location. “We’ve got the situation contained, but I need another set of cuffs.”

  Sloane, followed by a young officer Flynn didn’t know, came rounding the clubhouse turn. It looked like the entire department had shown.

  Sloane cuffed the other guy, got both men up, and escorted them to two Nugget PD SUVS parked in the driveway. The other officer—Wyatt, Rhys called him—went with her.

  “I’ll meet you at the station in a few,” Rhys said, and turned to Flynn. “I need to take your statement.”

  Annie, who hadn’t witnessed much, went back to her apartment, but Gia stayed. Flynn told Rhys how he’d heard a noise, went down to investigate, and found the two men in the garbage enclosure. Rhys took the stuff Flynn had confiscated from the men’s pockets, finished his report, and was on his way.

  “I’m sorry you have to keep running off my trespassers,” Gia told Flynn as they went inside the house.

  “You don’t have to apologize. I’m glad I was here and you didn’t have to handle it on your own.”

  “Are you going back to bed?”

  It wasn’t like he had gotten that much sleep in the first place. “I was thinking about it. Why?”

  “I’m wide awake now.” Once they got in the kitchen she put up a pot of coffee. “I wonder if those guys would’ve tried to come in the house if you hadn’t caught them.”

  “I doubt it. But make sure to keep your doors and windows locked.”

  “Maybe I should put a dead bolt on the guest apartment . . . for Annie.”

  “I’ll do it tomorrow . . . today. Hell, what time is it?” He looked at the clock over the stove. Six. Yeah, he wasn’t going back to bed.

  He stuck his head in the fridge out of pure habit, not hunger, though this was when he usually ate breakfast at the ranch.

  “I’ll make you bacon and eggs if you want,” Gia said.

  “Yeah?” He scratched the scruff on his chin. “All right. Thanks.”

  He sat at the center island and watched her prepare breakfast. The robe she had on was one of those kimono things—silky and very clingy. Flynn was trying not to look at the way it molded to her hips, ass, and breasts as she moved around the kitchen but was failing abysmally. The fact was, he liked morning sex. Always had. And visions of Gia on the granite counter with her legs spread . . . God, he was doomed.

  “I don’t think those paparazzi guys helped my case with Rhys,” she said as the smell of frying bacon filled the kitchen. “I’m attracting too much trouble.”

  “One thing doesn’t have anything to do with the other.” Although her program was likely to garner attention, bringing even more press to town.

  She’d remembered that he liked his eggs sunny-side up, he noticed as she served them onto a plate with a couple of pieces of toast. Flynn dug in while she nibbled at hers.

  “I thought they’d finally given up on me and had moved on to the next story,” she said.

  He’d sort of thought so too, which raised the ugly question of why the slimy bastards were back again. Flynn had his suspicions and they weren’t good. There was no need to voice them at this point and get Gia unnecessarily worried. Not until he did some checking around and had Toad make some calls. But if he was right, they needed to have their ducks in order because things were about to get nasty.

  Chapter 16

  Sunday afternoon Gia went into town to meet the girls at the Ponderosa. They planned to have an early dinner. Harlee had heard about the men who’d broken into her garbage and wanted the dirt. F
lynn had warned her to be careful of what she said, as if she could somehow incriminate herself.

  At least they would spend much of the evening talking about Dana’s wedding. Gia was sick of the spotlight and hoped to avoid her immediate neighbors after Saturday’s debacle. They all needed time to chill. But that didn’t mean she was giving up.

  Of course the minute Gia got out of her car she bumped into Tawny and Lucky, who were walking across the square. She was tempted to tell them she was meeting people and didn’t have time to talk. While it would’ve been fine in New York, blowing off your neighbors in Nugget was a strict no-no. Gia had learned at least that much.

  Tawny hugged Gia, which stunned her, given the tenor of Saturday’s meeting.

  “I’m sorry about yesterday and how contentious it got,” Lucky said. “You can’t blame us for being protective of our own backyards. Tawny and I aren’t totally against your idea; we just want to make sure it doesn’t change the environment. We all value the safety and tranquility we have here. But I will tell you this—and I think I can speak for everyone—we’re thrilled with the Christmas tree farm. That’ll be a great addition to the community.”

  “Give everyone time on the residential program,” Tawny added. “People around here don’t like change.... They could still come around. We just don’t want you to think there’s any ill will. We’re all neighbors.”

  “Of course not,” Gia said, though Clay wasn’t exactly subtle about what he thought of her and her plans. “I hope everyone will continue to mull it over. I never intended to bring in ex-cons or drug addicts. And I swear to you there are no plans for a reality television show.” The last thing Gia needed in her life was more drama.

  Tawny rested her hand on Gia’s arm. “Clay’s a good person. He didn’t mean it the way it sounded. On another topic, we heard you had intruders last night.”

  Gia let out a breath. Everyone here knew everyone else’s business. And surely the Rodriguezes had heard the sirens. “I hope the noise didn’t disturb you or any of your guests.” Now that the weather was good the cowboy camp had to be booked solid.

  “Nah,” Lucky said. “Everyone okay?”

  “Yeah. Flynn caught them and we called the police.” Jeez, she’d made them sound like a couple. We called the police. “They were reporters from a cheesy tabloid. Harmless but annoying.”

  “Good. I’m glad Flynn got ’em. But you call us anytime there’s a problem. Give me your cell phone.” Lucky waved his hand at her and she automatically gave it to him without thinking.

  “I’m giving you all of ours; don’t hesitate to call.” He plugged them in and handed her back her phone.

  “You want mine?”

  “Yeah,” Lucky said and entered her cell and landline into his smartphone as she recited the numbers.

  “Dana, Harlee, and Darla are waiting for me.” She nodded her head in the direction of the Ponderosa. “I’d better get going, but thanks for the kind words of support. I appreciate it.”

  Tawny hugged her again and they waved goodbye as she went inside the Ponderosa. It wasn’t as busy as usual, but the jukebox still blared. Sophie greeted her with a warm smile.

  “Heard about the trouble at your place. I bet you can use a drink. I’ll bring one over on the house.” Sophie motioned to a table in the back where her three friends waved. “Floyd, our bartender, has been experimenting.”

  “Thank you, Sophie.”

  “Oh, and the Christmas tree guy is Buzz Henderson. I’ve got his number behind the bar. I’ll bring it with the drink.”

  Just when Gia thought the whole world hated her, Tawny and Lucky had been so sweet, and now Sophie. She’d work on winning Clay over too. Reality television, she huffed to herself. Before all her trouble she’d had a respected show, best-selling books, and a syndicated column in top metropolitan newspapers. She’d also been a successful investment banker who’d probably handled more money in a day than Clay made in a year selling beef cattle. He didn’t know the first thing about her and what she’d come from. How dare he insinuate that she was staging a public relations coup?

  She wandered back to the table. Dana held up a pitcher of margaritas, ready to fill Gia’s glass.

  She put her hand over the top to stop her from pouring. “Sophie is bringing me something special because I was the victim of garbage pickers.”

  Harlee laughed and Gia could’ve sworn margarita came out of her nose. “We want the whole story, especially the part about Flynn wrangling them to the ground.”

  “Was he naked?” Darla asked, giant plastic flamingo earrings swinging as she bobbed her head.

  “No. He had his clothes on.” Flynn in jeans was still pretty spectacular, though she suspected Flynn au natural was breathtaking. “But he had a gun and held it on the guys like he knew what he was doing.”

  “Of course he knows what he’s doing; he used to be an FBI agent.” Harlee poured herself more margarita. “I just want to say right now that the dipshits who trespassed onto your property do not represent the rest of us reporters. I have never in my entire career dug through someone’s trash. Not once.”

  “What’s the worst thing you ever did?” Dana asked Harlee.

  “I ordered a pizza once at a crime scene. Reporters gotta eat. In her own way, Gia was a reporter too.”

  “Uh, more like an advice columnist. I never actually interviewed people, though I had experts on my show.”

  A waitress came to the table and brought Gia a frothy concoction garnished with mango, pineapple, and an umbrella. Gia took a sip.

  “Mmm.” Floyd had outdone himself. “This is fantastic.” She passed the drink around the table while the server took their orders. “Tell Sophie and Floyd thanks. I love it.”

  After the waitress left Dana said, “More about Flynn.”

  “He made the two men get down on the ground, frisked them, and waited for the cops to come. That’s it.” She didn’t mention the fact that she was so thankful he’d been there that night or that he was sexually driving her out of her mind.

  “He stays at your place a lot, doesn’t he?” Darla took a second sip of Gia’s drink. “So good, right?”

  “It’s a busy time with the cattle. They’re having their babies now.” Poor Flynn had a heavy load, but he never complained. He was a hard worker.

  “How did the meeting go?” Dana asked.

  “What meeting?” the other two said at the same time.

  Dana looked at Gia like uh-oh, I spilled the beans, didn’t I?

  Gia didn’t think there was any reason to keep it a secret any longer now that six of her neighbors knew.

  “I’ll tell you, but it’s not for publication.” Gia looked directly at Harlee, then told them her plan for the residential program and how Clay and Rhys had rejected the idea.

  “Forget Clay and Rhys, I love the idea,” Darla said. “And I want to volunteer to give all the participants dress-for-success hairstyles.”

  Looking at Darla and her usually loud ensembles—purple hair, glitter press-on nails, and clothes a smidge too tight—no one would believe she was capable of creating anything tasteful. But the hairstylist was truly gifted. Gia had had the best stylists in the business do her hair and Darla could hold a candle to any one of them.

  “If you go forward with your proposal and still have opposition from the people who live next door to you, I’m gonna have to write about it,” Harlee said.

  “I know. But for now nothing is happening except that I’m planting Christmas trees.”

  Harlee looked unimpressed. “Not really a story. But I’m writing about the Tattletale guys. Give me some good quotes.”

  “Like what?” Gia asked.

  “Did you fear for your life? Did you feel violated?”

  Gia rolled her eyes. “You’re starting to sound like a tabloid now. Flynn told me not to be quoted.” By now everyone knew Flynn was her attorney. And of course there were the rumors that they were having wild animal sex. “Just write it from the polic
e report. You can use what I told you, but don’t attribute it to me.”

  Mercifully their food came and Harlee stopped interrogating her long enough to eat.

  “It’s time to talk about wedding stuff now,” Dana said. Gia caught her eye and mouthed, Thank you.

  They talked about whether it was out of fashion to throw the bridal bouquet, what everyone thought her something borrowed should be, and whether Gia planned to bring Flynn as her date.

  “He’s my lawyer.” Gia didn’t need a date and taking a man to a wedding told the world one of two things: You were serious about the guy or you wanted everyone to believe you were serious about the guy.

  She didn’t want to send either of those messages, though Flynn had a way of bolstering her courage. Let’s face it, most of the guests were going to search her out of the crowd, talk behind her back, and lay bets on whether she was complicit in the biggest financial fraud in U.S. history. She was a walking freak show. If it wasn’t Dana, Gia would decline the invitation, stay home, and eat good pastry instead of overly sweet wedding cake. But her former real estate agent had become a dear friend and she wanted to be there on her important day.

  “Just bring him,” Harlee said and grinned. “He can help you fend off people like me.”

  Harlee had a point, but Gia didn’t know if Flynn would even want to go. Most men didn’t like weddings and she could see why. Bad food, “The Hokey Pokey,” and lots of obnoxious toasts.

  “We’ll see,” she said, because it was the easiest way to get them off her back.

  They finished their dinners. Darla ordered mud pie and chocolate cake for them to share. Afterward they called it a night. Gia drove home to an empty house. Flynn had court in the morning and Annie had school.

  She opened the gate with her clicker and watched through her rearview mirror to make sure it closed securely behind her. Once inside the house she turned off the alarm. The silence creeped her out so she flicked on the TV, went in her bedroom to change into sweats, and made it back to the living room couch in time for the nightly news.

  The landline rang. She muted the TV and got up to grab the phone from the kitchen.