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Pretty Lawless
by Jodi Linton

Copyright © 2015 by Jodi Linton. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Chapter One

Gunner

I’m an asshole.

A really big fucking asshole.

And for better or worse, that’s exactly why I’m in this goddamn situation right now. For the first time in my life, I’d thought everything would fall into place. Sucker. But then I saw a pair of red cowboy boots strut out onto the porch this morning, and I knew one of my life’s biggest screwups was fixing to bite me in the ass. And I’d fled the scene like the criminals I pride myself on locking behind bars.

I pressed a boot on the gas pedal, picking up speed. My gun rested snug at my hip, and my gaze focused on only one thing…the road ahead. If she’d read the note I’d left by now, well, maybe she’d consider meeting up with me so we could talk. Out of everything in my pitiful broken-down life, Laney was my breath of fresh air. She had the ability to make me feel worth more than the motherfucking piece of shit I’d allowed myself to become.

And I loved her.

That’s why what I’m about to do—no, what I did—was so screwed up.

“Tell me again. What’s the name of the fed we’re meeting up with?” Luke questioned, bringing me back to task.

“Guessing I should say how much I appreciate you sticking your neck out on this case.”

He snorted. “Can’t believe I agreed to accept those bogus murder charges.” His shit-eating grin grew wider. “Better be getting myself a fake sexy wife to go along with this damn new life of mine in the Witness Protection Program.”

I felt the annoying tic in my neck pick back up, making my shoulders unnecessarily tense. “Yeah,” I replied dryly and turned the wheel, speeding through an empty desert. “As soon as I’m able to gather enough evidence on Redbud, you’ll be the first to know. But for now, I need to keep my only witness safe, and Pistol Rock ain’t gonna cut it, buddy.”

His head hit the seat. “I’ve got the worst motherfucking luck.”

“You don’t have to tell me.”

If someone had told me weeks ago I’d have Luke Wagner, the bane of my existence, riding shotgun in my Yukon instead of popping the question to Laney in front of the fireplace on Christmas Day, well, hell, I’d probably have fallen over dead.

But look at me now, card-carrying prick-of-the-year-boyfriend winner—exactly where I always knew I’d wind up. In the asshole driver’s seat.

“Sampson. Kyle Sampson,” I replied as I made a hard right turn. “He’ll be holding your hand until the exchange with Agent Burrows.”

Luke snorted and looked over his shoulder. “Why the tagalong, Wilson? Afraid I’m going to shoot you in the back of the head and then go fornicate with your girl?”

When Cavanaugh laughed from the backseat, my knuckles involuntarily tightened around the steering wheel. This was not the time to pick up old battles. I needed Luke, and he fucking knew it.

A firm hand patted my shoulder. “Boys, you two have made this ride extremely enjoyable.” Detective Cavanaugh leaned over the front seat. “But I can’t wait to never see you pricks again.”

I couldn’t agree more.

Dust whirled about, fading into a cloud of hazy smoke as I pulled up next to the single black Lincoln Town Car idling out in the Chihuahuan desert. Barely six hours ago, I’d left the love of my life stunned with betrayal in my quiet hometown of Pistol Rock, Texas. To say Christmas Day hadn’t played out in my favor would’ve made my parents roll over in their graves. Duty had always won over love. And, damn, it was time to make a change…and fast. Shit. Why did my boss have to call and ask me to move the witness right after Laney had left on a grocery run? I still didn’t understand the Lord’s sick sense of humor. There was no need for her to be at Luke Wagner’s house this morning. But hell, she’d been there, watching me with a pair of sullen brown eyes. Eyes that had just last night begged…no, pleaded with me to consume her.

Now I was in the middle of the desert outside El Paso, staring down a bunch of dudes.

“Y’all ready to make the exchange?” I said, hand pressed against my gun while I lumbered out of the Yukon. Bitter wind lashed at my face. Kyle Sampson, the federal marshal, named as the case’s new handler, nodded my way as he stepped around the driver’s side door of the Lincoln.

I cocked my head, gesturing at the man I’d never seen becoming an ally—old friend and even older enemy Luke Wagner. “Luke. Home sweet home awaits. And thanks for your help.”

He kicked the dirt with a brown boot tip. “You’ve gotta explain things to her, big guy,” he drawled, gaze pinned on the dry, hard ground. “She’s gonna be pissed, Wilson. I don’t want her to think I’m a murderer.”

“I’ll explain everything when I see her. Although if she hates your guts more than she hates me, that might be a nice outcome.”

“In your dreams. She’s gonna be damn upset that we went behind her back.”

“Jesus, Wagner.” I regarded him with animosity. “You and I both agreed in order to protect Laney I’d need to be an ass. If I remember correctly, you even told me you’d lead Laney off her cousin’s trail. Didn’t exactly go as planned, did it?”

Luke sneered. “That girlfriend of yours can kind of be a pest.”

The devil on my shoulder egged me on to press him a little more. I pushed up my hat along my forehead and eyed him down. “Tell me, Luke. Why did you call Laney this morning?”

“Don’t look at me like I’m some snitch.” He bent down and picked up the duffel bag lying next to my dusty black cowboy boots. “All I wanted to do was tell her I’d be going on a sort of work-related vacation.” He slung the bag over a shoulder. “How was I supposed to know you and”—he gestured at Brock Cavanaugh, the Odessa homicide detective my boss had pulled into the loop after he’d gone and stuck his neck in our murder case—“Mr. Big City Cop were going to swing by my humble abode on Christmas to arrest me?”

Brock nudged me in the elbow. “Let’s make the deal, Ranger.” He checked his watch. “I’m not in the mood to waste Christmas Day out in the goddamn desert.”

I grabbed Luke by the arm and moved us both in the direction of the parked Lincoln. “Ready to shuck the Wagner name, pretty boy?”

Luke jerked his arm away. “I thought you knew I asked Santa for a stint in the Witness Protection Program.”

Maybe one day we could all have a laugh over some drinks about this shitty-ass predicament. Then again, maybe each and every one of us was looking at thirty to life.

“Okay.” I pinched my hat low, moseying out into the middle of the pack. Brock was two feet behind and the fed a bull’s-eye aim ahead. Still didn’t trust either of the men standing guard at my side. In my line of work, I’d crossed paths with too many dirty cops. Finger nuzzling the trigger of my gun, I reached out and patted Luke on the back. “I’ll call the marshal in a day to make sure you were handled with care.”

Luke snorted. “Me, fragile? I think you’ve got me confused with another guy.” He looked me square in the eyes. “Promise me you’ll call Laney as soon as the dust kicks up beneath your tires.”

“Sure thing, old friend.” Waving the fed on over, I peered back at Brock. “You wanna get Mr. Wagner’s paperwork from the Yukon?”

Brock tipped his chin, gesturing at Luke. “If I’d known this one was going to be such a pain in my ass, I would’ve never followed up with you after word got around about him bellying up on Redbud. Rat’s a rat, if you ask me.” Brock rubbed a hand over his face. “Kind of funny, don’t you think, that you’re sending the guy who screwed your chick into the Witness Protection Program. Fuck, that must feel good, Wilson.”

“Not a rat, Detective.” Luke took a step, muttering, “I’m just real good at surviving.”

Jesus Christ. I placed a hand on Luke’s shoulder, gaze narrowed at the good old boy detective. “Just get the goddamn file.”

“Fine.” Brock hissed out a breath, then walked away.

A crow cackled on a flyby, circling about for the scent of death. When I finished this case, I would settle down. Once I handed off Luke, I’d make sure Laney understood how crazy in love I was with her. My phone sat heavy in the front pocket of my jeans, my fingers itched to make the call, and yet there was something off about the way Brock was taking his godforsaken time to gather the paperwork. The same black crow circled back. Smiling, I turned to Luke—taking my sight off Brock for only a split second—and then it clicked. How in the hell did Cavanaugh know about Laney and Luke? He couldn’t, because that little piece of personal information wouldn’t have been in the case reports. Shit. I’d ventured out into the desert with a dirty cop. I’d been played a fool.

Instinctively, I reached for my gun and dug a boot heel into the dirt. Brock’s mouth curled up in disdain—my gaze fell on his automatic—then he lifted his piece and aimed directly at Luke.

“Lower your weapon, Ranger. I’m only here for the pretty boy. Got no beef with you unless you try to shoot me. Then we have a damn fucking problem.”

“Paid you off, too, huh?” I slipped a finger around the trigger. “Did he offer you a sweet retirement package?” My brows arched, and the blood soared as a wave of adrenaline coursed through my every nerve ending. “I’m not in the business of losing a witness.”

Brock glanced about the wasteland. “Have it your way, Wilson.” Then he pulled the trigger.

“Get the fuck down,” I shouted, launching myself in front of Luke while pulling my gun and firing off a round.

The fed hit the ground, his attempt at speech garbled in the blood pooling in this throat. Luke smacked into my side, cursing and out of breath. My hat slipped low on my forehead, and my palms were lined in sweat. A blistering, skin-clawing pain etched up the length of my leg. As my back hit the dirt, I heard the chilling sound of a bullet whizzing past my head.

And all I saw through the blackness was Laney’s pretty smile.