Big Sky Standoff - By B. J. Daniels Page 0,4
never found out, because he’d had four long years to think about it. And he knew in his heart that someone had set him up. He just didn’t know who.
“I’ll never forget that day, the first time I came face-to-face with you,” he said, smiling to hide his true feelings. “One look into those gray eyes of yours and I knew I was a goner. You do have incredible eyes.”
“One more rule, Mr. Savage. You and I will be working together, so save your charm for a woman who might appreciate it. If there is such a woman.”
He laughed. “That’s cold, Jack, but like I said, I understand our relationship perfectly. You have nothing to worry about when it comes to me.” He winked at her.
Jack’s look practically gave him frostbite.
Fortunately, the waitress brought their lunches just then, and the burger and fries warmed him up, filling his belly, settling him down a little. He liked listening to the normal sounds of the café, watching people come and go. It had been so long. He also liked watching Jacklyn Wilde.
She ate with the same efficiency with which she drove and did her job. No wasted energy. A single-minded focus. He hadn’t entirely been kidding about her being a legend in the prison. It was one reason Dillon was so damn glad to be sitting across the table from her.
He’d been amazed when she’d come to him with her proposition. She’d get him out of prison, but for his part, he had to teach her the tricks of his trade so she could catch a band of rustlers who’d been making some pretty big scores across Montana. At least that was her story.
He’d seen in the papers that the cattlemen’s association was up in arms, demanding something be done. It had been all the talk in the prison, the rustlers becoming heroes among the cellies.
What got to him was that Jack had no idea what she was offering him. He hadn’t agreed at first, because he hadn’t wanted to seem too eager. And didn’t want to make her suspicious.
But what prisoner wouldn’t jump at the chance to get out and spend time in the most isolated parts of Montana with the woman who’d put him behind bars?
“Where, exactly, are we headed?” he asked after he’d finished his burger. He dragged his last fry through a lake of ketchup, his gaze on her. It still felt so weird being out, eating like a normal person in a restaurant, sitting here with a woman he’d thought about every day for four years.
Her gray eyes bored into him. “I’d prefer not to discuss business in a public place.”
He smiled. “Well, maybe there’s something else you’d like to discuss.”
“Other than business, you and I have nothing to say to each other,” she said, her tone as steely as her spine.
“All right, Jack. I just thought we could get to know each other a little better, since we’re going to be working together.”
“I know you well enough, thank you.”
He chuckled and leaned back in the booth, making himself comfortable as he watched her finish her salad. He could tell she hated having his gaze on her. It made her uneasy, but she did a damn good job of pretending it didn’t.
He’d let her talk him into the prerelease deal, amused by how badly she’d wanted him out of prison. She needed to stop the rustlers, to calm the cattlemen, to prove she could do her job in a macho man’s West.
Did she suspect Dillon’s motives for going along with the deal? He could only speculate on what went through that mind of hers.
She looked up from her plate, those gray eyes cold and calculating. As he met her gaze, he realized that if she could read his mind, it would be a short ride back to prison.
She said nothing, just resumed eating. She was wary, though. But then, she had every reason to be mistrustful of him, didn’t she.
Chapter Two
Rancher Shade Waters looked across the table at his son, his temper ready to boil over—lunch guest or not.
In fact, he suspected Nate had invited her thinking it would keep Shade from saying anything. He hadn’t seen his son in several days, and then Nate had shown up with this woman.
“I suppose you heard,” Shade said, unable to sit here holding his tongue any longer. “Another ranch was hit last night by that band of rustlers. If they don’t catch those sons of—”
“Do we always have to