Page 45 of Cowboy’s Last Stand (His to Protect #1)

“What do you want me to do?”

“Call him. When he answers, hand the phone to me.”

Her fingers trembled as she scrolled through her contacts and selected Jason’s name. She didn’t consider saying no to Wade. The fact that there was a gun on her property horrified her. What if Marcus had picked it up?

Jason answered after a couple of rings. “Natalie?”

The hopeful sound of his voice made a sob catch in her throat.

She passed the phone to Wade. He closed the car door and walked away so she couldn’t overhear the conversation.

As she stared at his uniformed back, her chills receded, and numbness settled over her.

She welcomed the sensation. After the tumultuous night she’d had and the shocking morning, it was a relief to feel nothing again.

*

Jason left Last Chance at sunrise.

He’d reached the outskirts of town in the wee hours of the morning, and he hadn’t considered going back. Walking away from Natalie felt wrong, but what else could he do? She’d asked him to leave. She didn’t want to see him ever again.

He’d made excellent time because his pace was even swifter than usual. Misery dogged his heels with every step, so he went fast in an attempt to outrun it. He kept replaying the harsh words they’d exchanged, kept wishing he were dead, and kept on walking.

If only he could do it all over and tell the truth. He would introduce himself as Mike’s former comrade instead of pretending to be someone else. He would tell her why he’d come here and hold nothing back.

Unfortunately, there were no do-overs in life. Ask Mike.

Jason hated that he’d left without saying goodbye to Marcus. Jason imagined the boy breaking down into tears, and he had to stop on the side of the highway. He stared up at the dawn sky, dragging air into his lungs. He blinked until his vision cleared.

Damn.

When he was in control of his emotions, he continued walking. He would go to San Diego and see Tyler. He could surf and cry for a few weeks. Then he’d put on his big boy pants and accept the job offer from Bradley.

It sounded awful, training EOD techs. He would be like the shop teacher with the missing finger giving safety advice. He’d be a cautionary tale. The idea didn’t appeal to him in the least, so maybe it was fitting. If he couldn’t have Natalie, he wanted nothing. He wanted pain. He wanted punishment.

He skipped breakfast and ignored the hunger pangs. When his phone started ringing, he shoved off his backpack and scrambled to answer it. The number on the caller ID screen buoyed his spirits.

“Natalie?”

He thought he heard a smothered cry of distress.

“Natalie?” he repeated.

“This is Deputy Hendricks.”

“Where’s Natalie?”

“There’s been an accident.”

Jason’s stomach twisted with dread. “What happened?”

“Where are you?”

“I’m on Highway9.”

“I’ll come and get you,” Wade said. “Is there a marker nearby?”

Jason glanced around for a highway marker. He saw a billboard advertising fast food, so he described that instead. “What’s going on?”

“Stay where you are. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

Jason stared at the phone after Wade hung up.

Cursing under his breath, he shoved the phone into his pocket and hefted his backpack.

He didn’t sit tight. In fact, he started running toward Last Chance.

It wasn’t easy with the heavy, unwieldy pack, but the discomfort suited him.

He couldn’t stay idle in the best of times.

In the worst of times, it was impossible. He ran at a breakneck pace.

When the squad car reached him, his chest was slick with sweat. To his surprise, Wade and his deputy emerged from the vehicle with guns drawn.

“Get down on the ground! Hands behind your head!”

Out of breath, Jason dropped to his knees. He tried to comply, but he couldn’t follow their exact orders with his backpack on. His hesitation was judged as resistance by the deputy, who punched Jason in the side. Jason coughed and doubled over in pain.

The deputy yanked Jason’s pack off in a rough motion that nearly dislocated his shoulder.

Then he shoved Jason forward until his face met the gravel.

Jason gritted his teeth, tasting blood, while his arms were wrenched behind his back.

Wade read him his rights as the other deputy cuffed him and jerked him to his feet again.

Jason wanted to spit in the deputy’s ruddy face. Instead, he spat blood in the dirt.

“What happened to Natalie?” he asked.

Wade gave him an impatient look. “Are you going to play dumb?”

“About what?”

“Why were you running away?”

Jason glanced around in confusion. “I was running toward Last Chance.”

Wade and his deputy exchanged a glance. They couldn’t dispute this fact.

“You said there was an accident,” Jason said.

Instead of explaining, Wade led Jason toward the squad car and gestured for him to get into the back seat. Jason could hardly refuse. He was in handcuffs, at their mercy. Maybe if he cooperated, they would tell him what the hell was going on.

They didn’t tell him anything. The clear plastic divider between the backseat and front prevented any conversation.

The ride to town seemed endless, though it was probably less than ten miles.

Jason wondered what kind of accident could have befallen Natalie and also resulted in him becoming a suspect.

Had Billy attacked her in her home?

By the time they arrived at the station, Jason was desperate for answers. Natalie’s car was parked by the curb, and it appeared untouched.

“Is Natalie OK?” he asked again. His voice was hoarse with panic.

“Natalie’s fine,” Wade said. “I just wanted to get you here.”

Jason felt the blood drain from his face.

He’d never hated another human being more than he hated Wade Hendricks in that moment.

He also hated the unnamed deputy, who snuck in another cheap shot on the way in.

Natalie was sitting at one of the desks, looking as shell-shocked as he felt.

He didn’t trust himself to speak, so he said nothing.

They took him to an interrogation room and left him there. His mind was spinning.

Natalie was unharmed, he repeated to himself. That was the important thing.

He endured the bite of the handcuffs, which were cruelly tight, and focused on steady breathing. They’d made a mistake. He hadn’t done anything illegal. He would cooperate with their questions and be released.

Wade reappeared with a man who introduced himself as Detective Schmidt from a neighboring police department.

Jason wasn’t mollified by the presence of an outsider.

Nor was he relieved when Wade removed his cuffs.

The release of tension sent tingling pains up and down Jason’s arms. Jason flexed his hands until the discomfort faded.

Wade, who seemed accustomed to this reaction, waited for it to pass. Then he offered Jason a bottle of water. Jason drank several gulps to wash the taste of blood out of his mouth as the men sat down on the other side of a narrow table.

Detective Schmidt gave Jason a wan smile. He was a small man with a bald head. “What were you up to last night?”

“I was with Natalie.”

“Doing what?” Wade asked.

“Talking,” he replied shortly. “Am I being charged with something?”

“Billy was shot in his trailer. He’s dead.”

Jason stared at Wade in disbelief. A moment later, it dawned on him that Wade wasn’t kidding. No wonder they’d been so aggressive in detaining him. A serious crime had occurred. The sheriff’s son was dead.

“You think I did it?” Jason asked.

“A .38 revolver was found this morning in Natalie’s garage, inside the truck you’ve been working on.”

“It’s not mine,” Jason said.

“I know. It’s Billy’s.”

Jason’s tension spiked. He took another swallow of water, wondering who had planted a gun in the truck. All of the deputies in this town answered to Sheriff Hendricks. He reassessed his chances of being charged, perhaps even convicted, of murder.

“You’ve been involved in an altercation with Billy before,” Wade pointed out.

“One that he instigated.”

Detective Schmidt referred to a list on the table. “Deputies found another weapon in your backpack.”

Jason drew a blank. “What weapon?”

“Brass knuckles,” Schmidt said. “Which are illegal to possess in the state of Texas. There’s an amendment on the books to legalize them, but it hasn’t passed yet.”

Jason considered the irony of his predicament.

He’d taken the brass knuckles away from Billy in self-defense.

He’d intended to throw them into the nearest river.

Now, he was a murder suspect, not a victim, and they could arrest him for possession of an illegal weapon.

It didn’t matter that Wade knew the item had belonged to Billy.

“I understand you’re from Montana,” Schmidt said.

“That’s right.”

“What brings you to Texas?”

Jason studied Wade’s innocuous expression. They’d most certainly run a background check and discovered his connection to Mike. “Personal matters.”

“You’re a war veteran?” Schmidt asked.

“Yes.”

“On disability?”

“No. I’ve been cleared to return to duty.”

“You’ve been inactive almost two years.”

“I was injured. The recovery process took time.”

“Let’s get back to last night,” Wade said. “When did you leave Natalie’s?”

“Around eleven.”

“Where did you go?”

“I walked toward the highway, which is exactly where you found me.”

“Why did you leave?”

“None of your business.”

“You didn’t come back after midnight?”

“No,” he said, and a new thought occurred to him. “There’s a security camera. You can check the footage.”

“I already looked at it,” Wade said. “I have some printouts.”

“Let me see them.”

Wade opened a manila folder. There were a couple of printouts that he passed to Jason.

They were both still frames from last night’s footage.

The first was a shot of him with Natalie on the front porch, engaged in a heated discussion.

He appeared angry, which embarrassed him.

Even though it was a private moment, not a public spat, he regretted raising his voice to her.

The second frame captured something even more private.

It was Natalie walking away from the apartment after their encounter.

Her hair was mussed, her blouse unbuttoned.

She had her bra and panties clutched in one hand.

Detective Schmidt donned a pair of reading glasses for a closer inspection.

“This is Natalie Luna, who was harassed by Billy a few weeks ago,” Wade said. “Jason stepped in to help.”

“How chivalrous,” Schmidt commented. “She looks grateful.”

“You said you spent the evening talking ,” Wade said. “What did you discuss?”

Jason wanted to reach across the table and throttle him, but he didn’t. Wade was needling him, trying to make him lose control. “I’m not saying anything else without a lawyer except this. When we talk , she calls me by my name.”

A flush suffused Wade’s neck. “You’re lucky it’s me in here and not my father.”

“Stop wasting my time,” Jason said. “If you had something on me, you’d be showing it instead of those pictures of Natalie.”

“We have footage of you in the garage.”

“Before or after the shooting?”

“Both,” Wade claimed.

“That’s impossible.”

“A male figure about your size entered the garage two hours after the shooting. Weather conditions were misty, which affects the quality of the footage.”

“It’s not me.”

“Can anyone corroborate your whereabouts?”

Jason refused to answer any more questions without a lawyer present, so Wade and his cohort left the room.

Jason wasn’t sure if justice would be served, no matter what the evidence showed.

He had serious doubts about the fairness of a small-town police department run by a man like Sheriff Hendricks.

Wade, who was one of the good guys, according to Natalie, hated Jason’s guts.

He had no allies here except Natalie. And why would she believe him after he’d deceived her?

Jason buried his head in his hands. He was doomed.