Too Hot To Trot (#3, Cowboy Way) (20 page)

Her good mood vanished, and fear froze her insides again as she yanked the telescopic handle out on her new suitcase.  But then Heather glanced back at the counter just as Zack turned toward her, holding her eyes as he walked in his loose-hipped stride that was like the best music she’d ever heard.  The warmth of his wide smile melted her heart and the icy fear again and it pooled south.  That cowboy hat, his long blonde curls brushing his shoulders—and that damned smile just did something to her.  His faith that everything would work out when this was done was the only thing keeping her from falling apart since their plane touched down in Tulsa.  The only thing that would keep her sane until they boarded the plane back to Houston, or he boarded it and she took her seat on the prison bus.

When this was over, Heather would owe Zack Taylor her life.  She would work three jobs if that’s what it took to pay him back every cent.   She’d work at his ranch for life for free, if he’d let her.  Not only had she decided she loved it there, felt safe, that would mean she could be with him forever.  But she knew she was dreaming, and if she let herself go there it would turn into a nightmare for both of them. 

Zack Taylor was just a good-hearted man who was trying to help out a hot-mess of woman.  He loved his little slice of peaceful heaven on the far side of Houston, and his laid-back lifestyle.  If she was in his life, that peace would be gone, because Heather always found herself in trouble of some kind, or it found her.  Even after this, that wasn’t likely to change.  Fitting into the straight-laced box of his lifestyle would be impossible for her.

The blonde woman in the silky blue wrap-dress who couldn’t seem to take her eyes off his ass was his type of woman.  High class, from a good background and socially correct, other than ogling a good-looking backside or two.  And Zack’s ass was definitely stare-worthy.  It was obvious from her perfectly cut hair, painted nails and tailored suit she was here on some kind of business, not to try and keep herself out of prison. 

Heather was just pretending to be that kind of woman right now.  You could put lipstick on a pig, dress her up in a black dress and pearls, but at the end of the day, she’d still be a pig.  Zack was a high-bred stallion, and she was a pig who wallowed in slop most of the time.  Two different species who would never mix.  Because she loved him, Heather was going to do him the biggest favor she could when this was over.  Get the hell out of his life as fast as she could so he could find a woman in a blue-wrap dress who smiled at him like that when he finally realized she was staring at his ass.

A flash of olive green caught her attention and Heather gasped, grabbing for Zack’s wheeled duffle that just passed her on the belt.  She caught it, but the forward momentum of the fast-moving belt yanked her off of her feet.  A strong arm closed around her waist, and dragged her and the duffle off the belt with a laugh. 

“Whoa, sweet thing!” Zack said with a laugh, helping her find her balance. He pulled her to him for a hug that hugged her insides too.  “They’ll put a sticker on your pretty ass and you’ll wind up in China!  We’ve got too much to do for me to find you there.” With a kiss to the top of her head, he finally stepped back, lifted the duffle on end and pulled out the handle. He picked up her suitcase, folded the handle and plopped it on top of his duffle.  “Let’s go, or we’ll be late for our appointment with destiny,” he said with a grin, taking her hand.

Destiny was something Heather had been running from for twelve years now.  It looked like it had finally caught up to her, and she was damned glad that Zack Taylor was the one by her side when she had that meeting.  At least now she’d see his beautiful smile when they put the noose around her neck.

Chapter Nineteen

“I’m sorry, Ms. Morgan.  This is at least some hope they’ll eventually be dropped, and it gives you time to gather proof that Jack Thomas tried to rape you.  It’s the best I could do.”

Heather felt like her new Tulsa attorney, Randall Bowman, had just dropped an anvil on her head that went straight through the floor and sucked every ounce of hope Zack had built inside of her down that sinkhole with it.  Zack had spent five grand on the man, because he was her best bet to get the charges dropped according to Rex, and the best he could do was have the inevitable delayed. 

But his previous words were no less than she expected.  Exactly what she’d told Zack would happen.  Bowman had zero faith that they could gather enough evidence after twelve years to convince the prosecutor to charge, much less convict, Jack Thomas of trying to rape her.  And the information he’d gathered about her juvenile background and her adult life since it happened, was going to make it damned tough to defend her against the charges filed against her.

The man’s face flushed, and his brown eyes held sympathy, but no more hope than Heather felt.  “He’s been a cop here for a long time—fifteen years.  That goes a long way in the courtroom with a jury, and with the detective in the Crimes Against Children Division that I spoke with.  Harry won’t agree to file charges or call a Grand Jury, until we give him more than we have, which at this point is your word against Jack Thomas’s.  We need more proof, and frankly, I’m at a loss as to what that could possibly be, since it’s been so long.”  He held his hands up.  “If you have any ideas, I’m open to hear them.”

Heather jumped in her chair, and turned when Zack spoke up.  “A man who is pre-disposed to raping fifteen-year-old girls, raping women, has done it before, will in all likelihood do it again.  Correct?”  He didn’t seem to be upset at all at what Randall had just told them.  His face was angry, but still determined.

Randall leaned back in his chair to tent his fingers over his chest.  “I’d say you’re correct.  That’s why there’s an offender registry,” he replied calmly.

“That man is working with
juvenile
offenders now, fifteen-year-old girls.  That’s like putting a fox in charge of watching the henhouse.  I’d just about bet he’s used his position of authority to make moves on one or more of them.”

Bowman’s eyes sparked with interest, he pursed his lips while he dragged his eyes to the ceiling, evidently considering Zack’s words.  The corner of his lips kicked up and his eyes swung back to Zack.  “You sure you’re a cowboy?” Randall asked with a dry laugh, as he leaned forward again to put his elbows back on the desk.  “You make a very good point.  I’ll talk to the detective to see if he can get Jack’s case records, but I have to warn you, it could take a little while since they’re juvenile records.”

“All we’ve got is time,” Zack replied, standing, before he reached his hand back to help her to her feet. 

“He also may not agree to contact them,” Randall continued, his voice losing some confidence, his face thoughtful. “It’s not his job to go out in search of victims, but since he’s a friend, he may do it.  No guarantees though.”

Heather’s knees buckled, but Zack shored her back up with his arm around her shoulders. “If he says no—we’ll just have to think of something else,” he said firmly, as he reached across the desk to shake the attorney’s hand.  “See if you can make it work though, and find out fast, because I don’t want her worrying.” Zack glanced back at Heather and her heart squeezed.

His words, this new plan, didn’t make her feel any better, worry less than she had five minutes ago.  Like Randall said, there were no guarantees and this seemed to be a hope and a prayer kind of thing.  All Heather had done for the week they’d been in this godforsaken town was worry, and all Zack had done was comfort her.  He had to be exhausted from it, and she needed to hide her fear better to stop
him
from worrying.

“Try to talk to her mother again too,” Zack said, his hand tightening on her shoulder.  “She knows what happened, even though she says she doesn’t.  Since they’re not married anymore, can she still not be forced to testify?”

“She was married to him when it happened.  Unless you can convince her to voluntarily testify, I doubt it.  And a hostile witness is the last thing we need, anyway.”  His eyes slid to Heather.  “She has enough going against her.”

Zack blew out a frustrated breath. “I guess the fact that she was in a mental institution for two years won’t help either.”

“Nope.  I’d let that dog sleep,” Randall agreed immediately.  “I’ll use her mental records to show the conditions in the home, if I can get them and they’ll allow it, but that’s doubtful.”

“We’ll just have to hope we can find the other girls he’s abused then.  They have to exist, because a zebra like him doesn’t change his stripes.  That’s why those predator lists are so long.”

“That’s our best bet, I think,” Randall agreed.

With a nod, Zack turned her toward the door, ushered her out, then turned back.  “Call us when you hear something.”

“Will do,” Randall said, reaching for his phone. 

Zack led her through the lobby, out the front door of the office and down the steps.  At the bottom he stopped, his arm slid from her shoulders and he tipped up her chin.  “Stop it,” he grated, his eyes boring into  hers.

“Stop what?” she asked, her lower lip trembling.  So much for hiding her fear, she thought, biting her lip to stop the shaking.

“Being a pussy quitter,” he shot back.  “If I gave up that easily when I got on a bull, I’d have been on my ass in the dirt in three seconds.  Just hang on, baby, we have five seconds left. Plenty of time to spur that bastard to the buzzer and win.”

Well Heather felt for sure she was going to get gored in the ass by this bull before the ride was over.  But Zack wasn’t going to let her quit, until that horn was firmly embedded.  Randall had suggested talking to the prosecutor about a plea, which would reduce her charges and get her less time, but Zack said hell no.  He was forcing her to finish this.  To go after Jack, even when her high-priced attorney told her it was probably useless.  More than once.  Zack Taylor refused to quit on her, or let her quit.  The only person in her life who ever had. 

Her heart swelled in her chest so big, it felt like it stopped beating, as she looked into his determined blue eyes.  “I love y—”  A shot of adrenaline woke her up when Zack’s eyes widened and Heather realized what she’d almost said.  Good God—she was an idiot.  Dragging her eyes from his, she turned toward the rental car, and stepped off the curb.  “Y—your determination.”

“You need to find yours too, sweet thing,” he said in a strange tone, as he followed her to the car.  Once he was behind the wheel, Zack put the keys in the ignition, but stopped to look at her for a very, very long minute.  Heather didn’t look at him, she kept her eyes out the window, and breathed again when he finally cranked the car. 

She needed to be more careful not to let those words even load in her brain, much less escape out of her mouth.  That was going to be the toughest thing she did in the next few weeks.  Because she knew now, without a doubt, she was absolutely head-over-heels in love for the first time in her life, with a man who wasn’t only out of her league, he played in an entirely different ballpark.  One where the Cleavers were in the stands watching him play, not Morticia and Gomez Adams.

Two very long days later, Heather and Zack sat at a small café on the outskirts of Tulsa having a greasy breakfast that she only pushed around in her plate with her fork pretending to eat, because she knew Zack would give her hell.  His phone rang where it sat beside the salt shaker, and the bite of toast she’d taken lodged in her throat.  Zack held her eyes, as he picked it up and answered.  “We’ll be there in thirty minutes,” he said hanging up the phone.  He picked up his fork and shoveled up a bite.  “Eat up, angel—Randall wants to talk to us about the list.”

The list.  Her last chance. 

Heather’s stomach rolled, as she watched Zack quickly finish his breakfast, swallow down the last of his coffee.  Thank goodness he didn’t notice she hadn’t finished hers when he scraped back his chair to stand.  He threw a couple of bills on the table, helped her out of her chair, and she followed behind him on leaden legs.  That lead settled in her chest during the ride to Randall Bowman’s office.  It got heavier when Randall’s secretary led them into his office.

He was on the phone, so Heather collapsed in a chair in front of his desk, and Zack took the one beside her.  Randall finally hung up, then blew out a breath.  “Harry agreed to make the calls off-duty, unofficially to talk to those girls.  It’s about two hundred calls he’s got to make, and I cashed in every favor I have with him for the next hundred years or so to get it done.”

“Thank you,” Zack said, sitting up straighter.

“I don’t want your thanks, but Harry needs your help.  That list is too much for one person to weed through, and although it’s totally against protocol, definitely pushing the envelope of the law, he is giving you half to help him call.  He doesn’t want Jack Thomas to catch wind he’s investigating him, that’s internal affairs job, and Harry would get his ass in a crack.  He’s putting his career on the line here to help me, so don’t let
anyone
know what you’re doing.”

His secretary came into the office with a thick stack of papers in a manila folder.  She didn’t say anything, just laid it on the desk and pushed it across to Randall.  He scratched something hurriedly on his notepad, tore it off and shoved it inside.

“Harry wants Heather to make the calls and she’s to identify herself as Detective Munson’s assistant,
Mary,”
Randall said, and sickness rolled in Heather’s gut.  Making those calls, hearing another girl tell her that Jack had abused them, would probably be the final straw to her sanity.  “If you get any inkling you have something, call him.  The number is inside the folder.” 

“Mary it is then,” Zack said as he stood, took the folder and tucked it under his arm.  He reached his hand down to her. “Alright, Sybil, we have one more name to add to your list of personalities.  Let’s go, we have work to do, angel.” 

Heather shot him a glare, as she took his hand.  She had seen that movie about the woman with twenty or so split personalities, and had a mother just as crazy.  By all rights, living with Linda Morgan, then Thomas for fifteen years should have made her just as crazy as Sybil.  But she wasn’t—she was as sane as Zack Taylor was and was tired of his little jokes.

“Don’t ever say that again,” she hissed under her breath, as he stopped at the elevator.  Zack looked down at her, and frowned.  “I am
not
crazy, have never had a less than sane moment in my life.  I know
exactly
who I am—Haley Morgan.  I only became Heather Morrison to survive something no kid should have to face, to get away from parents who should’ve never had a kid in the first place.  But that’s not something you would understand, because you were
lucky
enough to be raised by two
sane
parents!”

“Whoa, sweet thing,” he said gripping her shoulders.  He dragged her to his chest, and hugged her tight, that hug she felt inside again, and her breath came out on a shudder. “I’m sorry, baby—I didn’t mean anything by it, I was just joking, but I won’t ever say that again,” he promised, dropping a kiss on her hair.  “I would
never
purposely hurt you, and you’re right, that was insensitive.”  Zack pushed her away, so he could look into her eyes, and his were remorseful, soft and concerned, making Heather feel badly for overreacting—
again
.  She’d been doing that a lot lately, because her insides felt like a mound of fire ants had formed in her stomach.  “After this is over, you can just be Haley again, reclaim what they stole from you.  We’re going to make that happen, okay?  This will be over soon.” 

Zack was obviously very upset that she was upset.  Why the hell had she even gotten so upset over something so stupid as that? 
Because you love him, and want his respect
.  “Let’s stick to Heather—just call me Heather,” she said, feeling a little stupid for making such a big deal out of this.  “I’ve almost been that name longer than the one I was born with.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it—when this is over you can make that choice.  Right now, we have some calls to make,” he said, guiding her into the elevator with his hand at her lower back.

On the way back to the hotel, Zack stopped to buy her a disposable cell phone.  She assumed it was so people wouldn’t trace her number back to him, or be clued in she wasn’t Detective Munson’s assistant.  Smart move on his part, but then not surprising. 

Zack Taylor had turned out to be a very smart, extremely intuitive man.  Very thoughtful too, and funny when he wasn’t joking about her background.  Handsome didn’t begin to describe his square jaw, caring blue eyes and white blonde hair—not to mention his tall, tight body—he was sexy as hell. Mouth-wateringly sexy. 

After he parked the car, he appeared at her door and smiled as he opened it to help her out.  And gentlemanly, she added, as he led her toward the front door of the hotel, and inside. 

“Smile, angel.  It’s not going to be that bad,” he said, squeezing her shoulder.