Haystacks and Hoaxes (Cowboy Brand of Justice #3)

Chapter 1 Highway Shenanigans

One week before Christmas

M ila Kingston’s cell phone rang. She almost let it roll to voicemail. After professionally applying makeup to seven high schoolers on their way to a Christmas party, she was running late to the airport.

Unfortunately, she was between jobs and needed the money — the same reason she couldn’t afford to ignore a phone call right now. She had a dozen job applications circulating for forensic artist positions, and there was no way to tell a junk call from the call of a prospective employer.

Blowing out an impatient breath, she lifted the phone to her ear. “Mila Kingston speaking.”

“Oh, hey, Mila! This is Rock Hefner, calling from Lonestar Security.”

She nearly dropped the phone. “Um…hi.” Rock Hefner? She did a silent jig of exultation. He was only the guy in charge of interviewing candidates for her dream job. No biggie…ha! This wa s huge!

Her knees grew weak. Since she was standing beside her bed, she took a seat on the mattress. Her hip bumped into the suitcase she’d been about to zip closed.

“Do you have a minute to talk?” Rock Hefner’s voice was a delicious baritone. Blockbuster movie material.

Not really. She gripped the phone tighter. “Absolutely,” she lied.

“Great.” He sounded like a really nice guy. He also sounded relieved. “Listen, I know Christmas is only a week away, but what are the odds of scheduling an interview with you this week?”

“This week?” Her voice rose to an incredulous squeak.

“If it’s not possible, I understand,” he assured hastily. “I knew it was a long shot when I picked up the phone?—”

“I can do it,” she interrupted. “Just name the time.” The only long shot from where she was sitting was the fact that an unemployed makeup artist like herself had gone back to college and gotten certified as a forensic artist. It wasn’t exactly a normal career progression, and she had zero job experience in the field, so there was no way she was letting an opportunity like this pass her by. Not even for the all-expenses-paid cruise to the Bahamas her mom and stepdad had gifted her.

Sorry, Mom and Dad! On the upside, if she landed the job, she’d be able to afford to pay them back. They’d have more fun without her, anyway. She was pretty sure they’d only invited her because they felt sorry for her becoming a runaway bride. Literally. She’d been on her way to the altar when she’d discovered that the son of the biggest car dealership owner in Heart Lake had been cheating on her. Her refusal to go through with their marriage had additionally gotten her fired from the beauty salon owned by his mother.

“My afternoon is free if you’re available.” The faintly wistful note in Rock Hefner’s voice managed to waft across her raw nerves without scraping them further. He sounded genuinely eager to meet her.

Fancy that. He must not have gotten the memo about her wayward teenage years. Her stepbrother, one of the partners who owned the firm, would make sure he read a copy. With any luck, though, it wouldn’t happen until after she got hired.

“My schedule is wide open, sir. I can head there now, if you’d like.” She hoped that didn’t make her sound too desperate.

“Only if you drop the sir.” His voice was teasing. “We don’t go by titles around here. Do you mind if I call you Mila?”

“Not at all.” She was relieved he hadn’t said anything about her last name. Yet. Maybe he’d assumed it was merely a coincidence that hers was the same as his boss’s.

“Fantastic.” There was a pause. “Let’s see. It’s nearly one o’clock. How about you meet me in my office at two?”

“It’s a—I’ll be there.” Out of sheer nervousness, she’d almost said it was a date. Fortunately, she’d managed to correct her poor choice of words in the nick of time.

“Since fighting for street parking during the peak of the holiday shopping season is a losing battle,” he drawled, “I’ll let our gate guard know I’m expecting you. Just flash your driver’s license at him, and he’ll let you in the parking garage. My office is on the first floor, second door to the left in the same hallway you enter the building on.”

“I’ll be there.” Her heart raced with excitement. It was roughly two hours before her flight was scheduled to depart. Yeah, she was definitely missing out on the Bahamas.

“Great! I look forward to meeting you, Mila.”

“I look forward to meeting you, too.” She disconnected the line, then wanted to kick herself for doing so. Had she hung up on him too soon? Should she have waited until he’d said goodbye?

She glanced down at the outfit she’d originally planned to travel across the country in, a tan cropped blazer over wide-legged black knit pants, and decided it was chic enough for an interview. Just by looking at the pants, there was no way of telling how much stretch was in the fabric or just how comfy they were. Kicking off her white sneakers, she slipped her feet into a pair of black ankle boots, and voila! Her casual outfit had been transformed into business casual.

Who needs a fairy godmother for stuff like that? If only she would be able to think on her feet just as quickly during the coming interview!

Moving around the corner to peek into her bathroom mirror, she fluffed her hands through her shoulder-length blonde hair. After a moment of consideration, she tied a white and tan scarf around her neck and added a gold bracelet.

Done.

She didn’t need to look like a future vice president, only like someone who knew her way around a sketchpad with a pen.

Even though she’d attached a handful of sample sketches to her Lonestar application, she grabbed her newest sketchpad on her way out the door. It contained her latest drawings in the event Rock Hefner asked to see more of her work. It was equally possible she might find something she wanted to sketch before returning to her home sweet home.

She was squeezed into a minuscule, one-bedroom apartment that was under four hundred square feet, including the closets. However, she’d managed to rent a spot on the second floor with a lake view that so many of the locals coveted.

Myself included.

Her stepbrother would probably be less than thrilled when he found out she could see his posh, Mediterranean style mansion from the tiny balcony off her living room — but only if she squinted hard enough at the distant foothills where it was tucked, and only during the winter time when the trees became bare like they were now.

As she stepped into the living room, she gave his ostentatious home a mocking, two-fingered salute. Prepare to be boarded, captain. Though she’d yet to receive an invitation to his mountain fortress, she was about to storm into his life through the back door of Lonestar Security.

It was cold enough to make her shiver when she headed outside. Since she’d splurged on an apartment with a lake view, she’d chosen not to splurge on covered parking. Instead, she’d parked her stripped-down SUV out in the elements. Once upon a time, it had been an Escalade, but it was missing most of the stuff that made it an Escalade, including its sound system and back seats. It was a set of wheels, though, and it ran well. For that, she was grateful. Her stepbrother had lent it to her after her car had been totaled. Well, technically, it was after her second car had been totaled, but who was counting? Besides him, of course. And her mother, who never stopped bemoaning what she referred to as her daughter’s seat-of-the-pants approach to life.

Joke’s on both of you! Mila couldn’t wait to prove just how wrong they were about her. So far, she hadn’t told either of them about the scholarship she’d secured to return to college or the new certification she’d earned with it.

But you’re about to find out.

She had to yank harder than usual on the door handle of the Escalade. It made a crackling sound as it opened, since it had been frozen shut. According to Decker, the enormous, cave-like vehicle was armored and therefore indestructible (extra emphasis on the even-you-can’t-destroy-it part). He hadn’t been kidding. During the past two weeks alone, it had been rained on, hailed on, and sleeted on; and not so much as a single pockmark mottled its sleek black paint.

Unless he insisted, she might never give it back to him. She felt too safe while driving it — so much safer than she had in her last tiny coupe that had gotten t-boned at a stoplight.

Not my fault. Even though Decker had acted like it was. He’d become downright snobby after leaving the rodeo circuit — starting a security business with a friend, getting elected to the town council, and snagging a filthy rich Remington for a bride.

For every reason she could think of, it was probably best not to show up too early for her interview and risk a run-in with him.

It left her with an hour to burn, so she drove in the opposite direction of Lonestar Security, working her way counterclockwise around the lake. Beyond the lake were a few subdivisions. She cruised past them and struck out into cattle country.

Fenced-in pastures lined the road on both sides. Her heart twisted with melancholy as she approached the ghostly remains of Monty Chester’s farm. She slowed her speed to look her fill of the tall, weathered log entrance.

In the past, the iron gate had been propped open, a silent invitation to passers-by to enter and stay a spell. Not today. The gate was shut and secured by a chain and padlock. It looked as uninviting as someone standing there, screaming for her to keep out.

She greatly missed sweet ol’ Mr. Monty Chester in his cheery Santa suits and other costumes. In disturbing contrast, whoever had inherited or purchased his place was about as friendly as a rattlesnake.

In a burst of defiance, she pulled in front of the locked gate and parked there. She had so many wonderful memories of the farm — visiting it, meeting its delightful owner, and eventually becoming one of his most faithful volunteers. It felt wrong to now be locked out, looking over the fence from the other side. She wanted back in. Oh, how she wanted back into the one place in this miserable, backwoods town where she’d actually been happy!

Peering through the windshield, she could see no sign of life beyond the gate. No hired hands to waylay with questions. Not so much as a stray cat slinking around. Guess this is as far as I can go. As long as she stayed in the vehicle, no one could accuse her of trespassing.

I hope.

Since she didn’t have unlimited time to spare, she kept her motor idling as she pulled out her sketchpad and propped it against her steering wheel. Grabbing a pencil from the console, she nibbled on the end of it for a few seconds.

Trying not to think about how vacant the farmhouse looked, she reimagined what the place had been like while Monty Chester was still alive. Maybe it was her way of coping with the grief of knowing that she’d never step through another one of his corn mazes. Or maybe it was because she’d picked her last pumpkin from his massive, two-acre patch, ridden on his last hayride, and served her last mug of hot apple cider at his snack shack. Sighing, she lowered the tip of her pencil to the blank page. The skeletal remains of what had once been the happiest patch of land in Heart Lake began to take shape.

She drew a backdrop of winter sky touching down to the field in front of where she was parked. A few flicks of her pencil tip added the wind gusting crisply off the mountains. She added tall, dry grasses leaning sideways in the wind, extra tall haystacks, and the not-so-square walls of the old farmhouse rising in the middle of it all. Though the haystacks were turning grayish brown, they hadn’t yet rotted enough to reveal the cages Monty Chester’s staff had constructed beneath them. They weren’t really haystacks. Only the outsides of them were covered with hay. Inside were cozy little havens from the wind, complete with picnic tables where families had been welcome to sit while they sipped on hot chocolate, coffee, and apple cider.

A puff of smoke caught her eye, drawing her attention back to the farmhouse. Though the smoke hadn’t been present when she’d first driven up, it was there now — puffing sideways to the left of the chimney, probably since that was the direction the wind was blowing. The little white puffs reminded her of the smoke rings blown by the caterpillar in Alice in Wonderland. Someone was clearly inside the farmhouse.

Guess the place isn’t vacant after all.

It might as well have been, though. The curtains in the front windows were pulled closed. One end of the porch swing had come loose and was dangling against the floor. An old urn was lying on its side, anchored in the dirt that had once held a cheerful collection of daisies.

Time flew by like it always did while she was sketching. A hasty glance at the clock on the dashboard told her she’d finally killed enough of it.

Gotta get to my interview.

Excitement coursed through her as she reached for her cell phone. She typed an excuse to her mother to explain her forthcoming failure to show up at the airport.

Got a last-minute job interview. I’ll pay you back for the cruise. Bon voyage!

She didn’t want to leave her parents with any expectation that she’d straggle up to the gate at the last second. Almost immediately, her phone started ringing. Her mother’s name flashed across the screen. Mila ignored her call. There was no time to get into a shouting match over what her mom had just last week referred to as her unending string of poor life decisions.

This wasn’t one of them.

Tossing her phone and sketchpad into the passenger seat, she shifted into reverse and backed away from the gate. Her phone continued to ring as she drove away from the farm. Though it grated on her nerves, there was no point in answering it. Her mother was probably imagining dozens of ways to punish her daughter upon her return from the holiday cruise. Some of her favorite methods were the silent treatment andthe cold shoulder. When she thawed out, she’d add in a few mortally wounded looks and the renewed threat of moving to some tropical island, leaving her only child to fend for herself. Oh, please do! Though her mother had dutifully relocated to Heart Lake after getting remarried, she remained a city gal at heart. Mila was surprised she’d lasted ten years already in such a small town. It probably helped that her parents traveled a lot due to her stepdad’s job as a farm equipment salesman.

As usual, there wasn’t much traffic on the road. Mila passed two trucks pulling cattle trailers. Then a lone white utility truck gained on her from behind. She watched his approach in her rearview mirror, debating whether to speed up and get to her appointment quicker or slow down and let him go around her. He made the decision for her by closing in and tailing her so badly that it felt like he was trying to push her down the road. She immediately let her foot off the gas pedal.

No sooner did she reduce her speed than he whipped into the passing lane.

“What a drama king,” she muttered. There was no need for him to yank his truck around like that. She’d been going the posted speed limit. Okay, maybe a mile or two under, but only because she couldn’t afford a speeding ticket. Starving college students had to consider stuff like that, and she’d only graduated a few weeks ago.

Instead of passing her, he drove a zigzagging pattern in the passing lane, nearly bumping into the side of her vehicle.

“Whoa!” She hugged the right shoulder, wondering if he’d been drinking. Either that or he was trying to taunt her into a drag race.

“Not happening, mister!” She irritably pressed down harder on the gas pedal. If he wasn’t going to pass her like a sensible person, she might as well get back to driving at a normal speed.

He immediately increased his speed to match hers, driving in an even choppier zigzag.

“Really?” Her heartbeat raced sickeningly. Venturing a quick glance at the driver, she couldn’t see much. He had a sock hat pulled low over his forehead, and the collar of his jacket was pulled nearly up to his ears. It felt like he was deliberately hiding his reckless, law-breaking mugshot from view.

She silently prayed for another horse trailer to come along. Or any other vehicle, for that matter. It no longer felt safe being on the road alone with the joker beside her.

He violently swerved her way again, nearly running her off the road this time.

It was such a close call that she momentarily forgot how to breathe. Temper flaring, she did something she’d never done before. She gunned her motor. Enough was enough! “Eat my dust!” It was time to find out what her stepbrother’s armored SUV was capable of. To her astonishment, it shot ahead, quickly leaving the utility truck behind.

Yeah, baby! Her heart raced and her breathing turned choppy as she gripped the steering wheel. Speeding for the first time in her life was accompanied by a thrilling rush. No wonder so many people did it. It also felt dangerous. A collision at this break-neck pace wouldn’t end well.

The initial prickle of excitement faded as the other driver sped up to close the distance between them. Oh, no you don’t! Now that she’d seen what the SUV was capable of, Mila laid her pedal to the floor. The needle on her speedometer moved from seventy miles per hour to eighty miles per hour and higher.

Her pursuer remained in the left lane, flying down the highway at the edge of her blind spot. Another vehicle appeared on the horizon. Her stomach tightened with dread as she tried to anticipate what the daredevil beside her would do next. He continued to speed head on toward the other vehicle, causing its driver to lay on his horn. At the last possible second, the white utility truck swerved back into the lane behind her. The driver then jammed on his brakes and hung a right at the next intersection. His tires screamed in protest as he raced away.

Mila’s entire body wilted in relief. She immediately slowed her speed, thankful that the ordeal hadn’t resulted in a speeding ticket or worse. By the time she rolled up to Lonestar Security’s parking garage, she had a bead of sweat forming on her upper lip. Her hand shook a little as she held out her driver’s license to the gate attendant.

He gave her a curious once-over before handing it back and waving her into the garage.

She parked and retrieved her phone from the passenger seat, only to discover she’d missed no less than six calls from her mother. Go figure. The woman was probably having a meltdown like she always did when something didn’t go her way. Mila almost felt sorry for her stepdad. Then again, he was the one who’d married her. Your problem. Not mine. Mila shook her head and turned her phone completely off, shoving it in her purse so it couldn’t make so much as a peep during her interview. Then she retrieved her sketchpad and exited the vehicle.

“Second door on the left. Second door on the left,” she chanted beneath her breath as she marched across the dimly lit lower-level parking lot and pulled open the glass entrance door. She was so busy mentally rehearsing her opening remarks to Rock Hefner that she nearly plowed into the man who was exiting the building.

Large hands closed around her shoulders to steady her, while an all-too familiar voice jangled her senses. “Mila! What are you doing here?”

Her heart sank. “De-e-eck,” she drew out her stepbrother’ s name slowly. “I was about to ask you the same thing,” she joked.

He didn’t look amused. His gaze narrowed on her as he dropped his hands from her shoulders. “No, really.” Even though he’d been leaving the building during their near collision, he followed her back inside. “What are you doing here?” He’d traded in the dusty jeans from his bull riding days for a navy pinstriped suit. It made him look every inch like the man who’d married up with Chanel Whoopty Do Remington.

She lifted her chin. “I’m paying someone a visit.” It was sort of true. Not an outright lie, at any rate.

His gaze dropped to the sketchpad tucked beneath her arm. “I’m gonna need a little more information than that.”

“Really, Deck? You don’t write. You don’t call.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “And now you expect a play-by-play of everything you’ve missed in my life.” She teasingly spread her hands, entirely forgetting that she was holding her sketchpad. It slid to the floor with a papery thud.

She bent to pick it up, but he was quicker. Whisking it out from beneath her fingers, he quickly flipped through the first few pages. He paused over one. “Who drew these?” His gaze narrowed in suspicion on her.

“Somebody I know.” She made a swipe for the sketchpad.

He handed it back. “Somebody with the same initials as you, eh?”

She forced a smile through her gritted teeth. “There are lots of people in the world who share my initials, Councilman Kingston.”

“So help me, Mila, whatever you’re up to…” His expression twisted into a frown as he started to turn away from he r. Then he swung back in her direction. “If you’ve somehow bamboozled Rock Hefner into interviewing you, the answer is no.”

“He called me!” Her temper flared closer to the snapping point. “Not the other way around.” All she’d done was submit an online application.

Decker’s expression grew stony. “We don’t have any openings for makeup artists. Even if we did, the answer would still be no. Lonestar Security is no place for your drama.”

“Ouch!” Her face heated with mortification. Tell me how you really feel. “I have multiple certifications, thank you very much!” This wasn’t at all how she’d pictured him finding out.

“Unless one of those certifications happens to be in forensic art,” he shot back, “there’s no point in being here.”

“As a matter of fact, it is.” The ensuing surprise and consternation that stained his features was downright satisfying. “I went back to school.” She gave a little twirl and extended her hands in a ta-da pose. “You’re looking at a fully certified forensic artist.” Albeit an unemployed one, but she was doing everything she could to change that.

“Which you would know,” she reminded in a taunting voice, “if you hadn’t skipped every important milestone in my life since I arrived in town.”

A vein in his neck ticked. He was silent for a moment. “Listen. I’m sorry about missing your wedding.” He didn’t offer any lame excuses, which was oddly comforting. Just a simple apology with no window dressing.

“Almost wedding,” she corrected, wishing the floor would open and swallow her up. “It was a complete disaster. You didn’t miss much.” There was no way he hadn’t heard. Evidence of her misery had gone viral online. Photos and video clips of her mad dash from the altar were forever etched into the digital landscape.

Looking unexpectedly sympathetic, Decker rubbed a hand over the lower half of his face. “If it makes you feel any better, I was glad to hear you didn’t go through with it. Your ex is a Class A dirtbag.”

“I can’t argue with that.” Mila wished her mother could see that. Carla Kingston had been so busy salivating over an alliance with the filthy rich Bentleys that she’d initially tried to brush off their playboy son’s indiscretions as a simple misunderstanding.

Decker nodded uncomfortably. “How about I clear my schedule for the next hour so we can go on a long-overdue coffee break?”

As badly as she wanted to say yes, he seemed to have forgotten about her forthcoming interview. Or he was deliberately ignoring it. She swallowed a sigh. “Is there any chance your offer will still be good after my interview?” An interview he probably had the power to cancel on the spot. Please, please don’t!

“Sure.” His hard mouth twisted with supreme annoyance. “Or you could just save everyone the trouble and come with me now.”

She bristled at his not-so-subtle insistence that she didn’t stand a chance of getting hired. “It was nice seeing you, Deck.” She lifted her chin. “Say hi to Chanel for me.” She stalked around him, resisting the urge to kick him in the shins.

“How about you come over to the house and tell her yourself?” he retorted.

She kept walking. “Because I’ve never been invited to the Taj Mahal.” Not even for Chanel’s baby shower. Her mother had been invited, but Mila’s name had been notably absent from the invitation. Since it was before she’d moved out of her parents’ house, she could only assume she’d been deliberately excluded from the pinkies-up event.

“I just invited you,” her stepbrother called after her, ignoring her insulting reference to the mansion he lived in.

She didn’t say anything. She wasn’t ignoring his invitation; she simply didn’t know how to respond to it. Was he even being serious?

“If you won’t do it for me, do it for Gwen. She deserves to know her aunt.” His words were accusing, as if he blamed Mila for the distance that had always been between them.

It felt like such a low blow that she paused outside the door of Rock’s office, fighting tears. “I’ll do it for both of you.” It was all she could do to speak in a normal voice. She truly wanted to be a part of both his and his daughter’s lives. If your snobby wife will allow it. It sort of killed Mila that they lived in the same town and almost never saw each other.

Applying for a job at Lonestar Security was the first step in her plan to change that situation. She was tired of feeling like she was the only person in their blended family who didn’t measure up. She was even more tired of her stepbrother acting like she plain old didn’t exist. It would be a little harder to do that after she started working for him. If was probably the better choice of words. If he allowed it to happen.

“Good.” Triumph edged his voice, as if he’d just scored a point or something. “Assuming you make it for dinner this evening, you can also be one of the first people to meet the two Golden Doodles I adopted this afternoon.”

Her head whipped in his direction. “You seriously brought a pair of furry flea magnets to the Taj Mahal?” She knocked on Rock’s door, smirking. “Does your wife know about them?”

Her stepbrother scowled at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come in,” Rock called.

You dish it out. I dish it back. Trading insults was what siblings were supposed to do, right? She twisted the door handle open and stepped into Rock’s office, leaving it ajar. If Deck wanted to eavesdrop on them, so be it. In some ways, she hoped he would. He might learn a thing or two — like the fact that the pesky younger stepsister he’d never wanted had a few dreams and goals of her own. You’re not the only one going places, mister!

Her frustration with his attitude evaporated the moment her attention zoomed in on the man seated behind the desk in front of her. He was younger than she’d been expecting. And a lot better looking.

“Hi. I’m Mila.” She moved his way with her hand outstretched. Whew! It wasn’t every day that a girl got to meet a guy who looked like he could star in an action thriller.

“Hey, Mila.” He stood. “Thank you again for your willingness to come in for an interview on such short notice.”

Her heart gave a silly flip flop over the way his shoulders and arms flexed beneath his white dress shirt. Not that a jobless woman in an interview should be noticing details like that.

Focus, Mila! Focus!

He walked around his desk to meet her in the middle of the room.

She blinked in surprise at the cane he was leaning on and the way he was dragging his left leg.

A wave of lightheadedness shook her as he grasped her hand in his. “I, er…I’m grateful for the opportunity.” She’d always been a sucker for flawed heroes — guys sporting scars and attitudes as troubled as their pasts — which was probably why her life was a big fat zero in the romance department.

As far as she could tell, though, Rock Hefner’s scars were the physical kind. It was new territory for her. Safer territory. He couldn’t be all that bad on the inside. Otherwise, her stepbrother would’ve never hired him. That she was sure of. He might not think much of his stepsister, who’d skidded into his life as a rebellious teenager, but he was otherwise a truly decent person. The way he’d so willingly lent her a vehicle was proof enough of that.

She was dimly aware of her hunky, wounded interviewer ushering her to a small, round conference table on the side of the room. He held out a chair for her. She gingerly took a seat and faced him expectantly.

Though her interview had yet to begin, she already felt heavily invested in it. Her parents might never speak to her again for skipping their holiday cruise, and some joker had nearly run her off the road on her way here. Oh, and one of the company’s owners had made it devastatingly clear that her chances of getting hired were zilch.

Admittedly, the odds were stacked against her.

Story of my life!

This time, though, Mila had every intention of beating the odds.