Debbi Rawlins

Own the Night


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      Frantic, she scanned the crowd, spotting the older man who’d talked to her walking in the direction she’d come from. “Sir, wait.”

      He ignored her and kept going, but then her voice barely carried above the music coming from the bar.

      In fact, no one seemed to have heard her except a cowboy in a tan shirt, who swung her an inquiring look.

      “That man,” she said, pointing and hurrying toward the older gentleman, pushing her way through the crowd.

      “Mr. Gunderson?” The cowboy frowned, but just when she thought he would ignore her, too, he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Hey, Gunderson.”

      The older man stopped, his posture erect and imposing, and he slowly turned around, his mouth a hard, thin line. He obviously wasn’t someone who appreciated being summoned, and judging by the sudden tension radiating from the crowd, it didn’t happen very often.

      She felt a dozen pairs of curious eyes boring into her as she approached him. “My bags,” she said. “They were right next to me while I was talking to you.”

      With his forefinger, he pushed back the brim of his hat. He had icy, piercing blue eyes, almost lifeless. He might’ve been an attractive man at one time, but he had a hard, cynical look that left her cold. “What about them?”

      “They’re gone. Did you see anything? Someone had to have come up behind me while we were talking….”

      “Can’t say that I did.” He gave her a cool smile, then started to walk away.

      She caught his arm. “You must have.”

      He peered purposefully at her restraining hand, shook it off and said, “I believe I just told you I didn’t.”

      Was he being a bastard because she’d turned him down for a drink? She tensed her shoulders, tempted to hurl an accusation at him. If he hadn’t seen anything, then maybe he was involved. “Really?”

      His eyebrows rose slightly in challenge. “Really.”

      Damn him. “All right.” She adjusted her lapels, keeping her gaze level with his, furious that her hands shook a little. But only because she was angry and helpless, and she really would’ve loved to knock this guy down a few pegs. “The name’s Gunderson, right? I’ll need it for the police report.”

      His mouth twitched into an oily smile. “Wallace Gunderson. Everyone in Blackfoot Falls knows me.”

      “I bet they do,” she said sweetly, her eyes telling him a different story. “I imagine we’ll be speaking again soon.”

      “Looking forward to it.” He touched the brim of his hat and strolled across the street toward a big luxury SUV.

      She muttered a strong, unflattering oath, and spun toward the sheriff’s office.

      “FOR GOD’S SAKE, ROY, THE guy’s got over forty years on you. How the hell could you let him get away?” Noah yanked off his hat and pushed a hand through his hair in frustration. “Go make sure his truck is still there. Block it off if you have to.”

      “Cripes, boss, you know that old son of a gun is as wily as a fox staking out a henhouse. The darn varsity kids were out making a nuisance and, well, it could’ve happened to any of us.”

      “Just go. Avery shouldn’t be driving.”

      His face flushed, the deputy swung open the door just as a woman was about to enter the office. She was tall, taller than Roy, who muttered an apology for nearly running her over.

      She seemed unfazed as she slipped past him and met Noah’s eyes. “Are you the sheriff?”

      Damn it all to hell. Not another one. Those women from the Sundance didn’t quit. This made three in two days, barging in, pretending she needed help with one thing or another. He’d begged Rachel to pull the silly reviews and pictures of him off her website, but she claimed they were good for business. He was gonna have to start working on his computer skills so he could hack in and do it himself.

      “I’m Sheriff Calder.” He settled his Stetson back on his head and discreetly got a look at her high heels. She had to reach six feet in those damn things. “What can I do for you?”

      “I need to report a theft. It just happened. If you hurry you can probably still—”

      He held up a hand. “Slow down.”

      Her brown eyes flared with temper, then narrowed. She pointed at the door, and not in a flirty way. Maybe she wasn’t faking. “While you’re taking your sweet time, someone is getting away with my things.”

      “Which would be?” he drawled, aware of his condescending tone, but she’d pissed him off. Taking his sweet time. Shit. And if this really was another theft … great. Just what he needed. The whole county was going to hell. “You’ll have to describe what was stolen.”

      “Everything.” She took a quick breath. “My luggage, laptop, purse … oh, God, my iPhone and wallet. Everything.” She briefly closed her eyes, her long dark lashes sweeping the tops of her pale cheeks.

      Noah took in her tailored, navy blue slacks, the expensive-looking blazer over a cream-colored blouse buttoned clear up to her throat. “You staying at the Sundance?”

      “The what?” She gave her head a small shake. “The Sundance … yes, but I haven’t checked in yet. I only just arrived in town.”

      She wasn’t the typical Sundance guest. In fact, she didn’t seem the type interested in staying at a dude ranch. More the high-powered, corner-office type used to getting what she wanted. The kind of domineering woman he’d quickly tired of in Chicago.

      Her tongue darted out to moisten her pale pink lips, and she looked helplessly toward the door. By the time she turned to him again, she was back in control and glaring. “Why are you just standing there?”

      “Look, I know you’re upset, but I need more information. Why don’t you have a seat?” He pulled out the worn black vinyl chair, and she eyed it as though it might bite her in the ass. “Have a cup of coffee while I take down some—”

      “Listen, Sheriff, I’m not trying to tell you how to do your job, but—”

      “Glad we understand each other.” He sat in his own chair, behind his desk, and wasn’t surprised when he met her eyes and found they were shooting daggers. “Where did the theft occur?”

      She had a wide, generous mouth, which pulled thin with annoyance. “Near the bar,” she said tightly.

      “Were you inside?”

      “No, I haven’t been drinking,” she said, her hoity-toity tone indicating she wouldn’t step foot in a place like Sadie’s.

      “Ma’am, that wasn’t the question. You could be hiding a flask under that jacket for all I care.”

      Her lips parted and she blinked. Then she startled him by grabbing her lapels and pulling open her blazer. “No flask, no nothing. That’s my point. Everything. Is. Gone.”

      He wouldn’t say “nothing.” She had a nice rack. Noah cleared his throat, forced his gaze away from her breasts and back to the blank incident report he’d pulled out of his desk drawer. “Please describe for me what happened.”

      She heaved an annoyed sigh, and he couldn’t help but glance surreptitiously at her chest again. Her blouse was made out of some kind of light silk and he saw that her bra was lacy…. “I was on my way here, rolling my luggage behind me, and just after I passed the bar—”

      “Let’s back up. You were on your way here, to my office?”

      “Yes, I, um …” She flushed slightly, started to avert her gaze, then lifted her chin and looked at him dead-on. “I was coming to find out how I could get to the Sundance.”

      He