Page 7 of Montana Justice

Lachlan Calloway

I wasn’t used to waking up groggy.

Then again, I wasn’t used to bringing a beautiful woman whom I barely knew to my house and having ridiculously good sex with her for half the night. So maybe groggy was acceptable. Or at least understandable.

I kept my eyes closed for a moment, savoring the memory of last night. The way Piper had felt in my arms, the fucking sexy sounds she’d made when I’d touched her, the look in her eyes when she’d asked to stay with me. Not just in my guest room. With me .

I’d been shocked when I’d first spotted her across the crowded tavern last night. My brain had needed a full thirty seconds to process what I was seeing. Piper . Little Piper Matthews, who’d cried over her broken bike chain when she was ten years old.

Except she wasn’t little anymore. She was a woman now, beautiful and guarded and carrying herself like someone who’d learned to expect the worst from the world. But when she’d smiled at me, really smiled, I’d caught a glimpse of the girl I remembered.

I’d meant what I’d told her about thinking of her over the years. Wondering if she’d escaped to college, if she’d found someone who saw her worth, if she’d managed to build something good despite Ray Matthews’s poison.

If she’d found a better life than the one she’d had in Garnet Bend.

Her family being run out of town that night eight years ago had never sat right with me, not for Piper or her mother. Ray Matthews had been a Grade A bastard who’d deserved prison, but we could never make the charges stick. Nobody mourned his departure.

But watching Piper that night—eighteen years old and terrified, stuffing her few belongings into garbage bags while her world collapsed around her? That had been wrong. She’d been collateral damage in her father’s war, punished for crimes that weren’t hers.

So, seeing her again? It had been a mixture of a ton of things: relief that she was alive and relatively healthy, guilt that I hadn’t been man enough to question out loud what was happening that night eight years ago, and attraction.

Like, punch-in-my-gut attraction.

Last night had been incredible. Not just the sex, though that had been mind-blowing in ways I hadn’t expected.

It had been the connection between us that had really drew me in.

The way we talked like we were old friends, comfortable and laughing.

Sex had been an unexpected, and fucking fantastic, bonus.

I stretched, running a hand down my face, wishing she were still curled up next to me like she’d been when she fell asleep. She must be in the bathroom or something. I’d give her some space. I understood the need for it.

But then I couldn’t stop thinking about that bruise on her ribs.

Dark purple, days old, covering way too much area to be from any accidental fall down the stairs.

I hadn’t pressed last night. But I wanted to find a way to talk to her about it.

See if I could get her to open up. Was she on the run from some sort of abusive ex?

She’d been hitchhiking when she’d arrived in Garnet Bend—caught a ride, she’d said, like it was no big deal.

But hitchhiking was dangerous as hell, especially for a woman alone.

What kind of situation had she been running from that risking her safety with strangers had seemed like the better option?

And she’d devoured that burger like she hadn’t eaten in days. Now I was wondering if that might actually be true.

I wanted to feed her. I wanted to talk to her.

I wanted to let her know she was safe here—both in my house and in Garnet Bend.

I could help her find work here if she wanted to stay.

She was smart and capable. Hadn’t made it to college, but that didn’t matter.

There were still plenty of jobs we could find for her.

I’d call Lark Monroe over at Pawsitive Connections. She always had work with her animals.

And damn it, I wanted to take Piper out for a real date. I wanted to rewind things back to the beginning and do this right—court her properly instead of jumping straight into bed, no matter how incredible that bed had been.

But fuck, I was getting way ahead of myself here. No need to hire the wedding band just yet, for Christ’s sake. How about just making some breakfast. I slipped out of bed, pulling on boxers and a T-shirt before padding downstairs.

The coffeemaker gurgled to life as I started it, filling the kitchen with the rich scent of dark roast. I grabbed two mugs from the cabinet and set them on the counter.

I opened the refrigerator, mentally cataloging ingredients for what I could make.

Fortunately, I always had breakfast food in the house.

Eggs, bacon, toast, maybe some of those frozen hash browns. She definitely could use the calories.

How many eggs would she eat? Two? Three? I was a fucking mother hen here, but I didn’t even c?—

My wallet sitting open on the counter caught my attention. It wasn’t folded next to my keys like how I’d left it last night—how I left it every time I set it down in the house, so I wouldn’t lose it.

My hands were steady as I picked it up, but something cold was already spreading through my chest. For the first time, I was aware of the utter silence inside this house. A silence that had covered the place since I woke up, but I’d been too busy writing my wedding vows to pay attention to it.

I flipped the wallet open, knowing what I’d find but hoping I was wrong.

Empty. Every bill gone. I’d had about $300 from my recent trip to the ATM.

The small note under my keys caught my eye. I folded it open slowly.

I’m sorry. —P

I didn’t know how long I stared at that fucking thing, and then like a fucking asshole, I walked around my house, just in case I’d misunderstood.

Cash gone. Apology note. What the hell was there to misunderstand?

Then anger hit, hot and immediate. I’d trusted her. I’d been her fucking mark. She’d seen me for the pansy I was and played me exactly right. She was no better than her father.

Last night, her eyes had been constantly moving across Draper’s Tavern, cataloging details. I’d attributed it to nervousness, but what if she’d been casing the room? Looking for marks, for opportunities?

The way she’d deflected personal questions, steering the conversation back to me whenever I got too close. I’d thought she was being modest, but con artists were good at redirecting attention, weren’t they?

Then when we’d gotten back here, when she’d looked at me with those big eyes and said she wanted to be with me… Had that been real at all? Or had she already been calculating how much she could take?

The doubt was acid, seeping into every memory from last night. The way she’d responded to my touch—was that genuine desire or a performance? The soft sounds she’d made, the way she’d clung to me afterward—had any of it been real?

Much more likely: I was just another stupid man who’d been thinking with his dick instead of his brain. Maybe I’d walked right into the trap with my eyes wide open, believing what I wanted to believe until it was too late.

My phone rang, cutting through the spiraling thoughts. I grabbed it without checking the caller ID.

“Calloway.”

“Well, good morning to you too, sunshine.” Beckett Sinclair’s familiar voice carried a note of amusement. “You sound like you wrestled a bear and lost.”

Beckett. One of my best friends since middle school. I loved the man like a fucking brother but did not want to talk to him right now. Not when I was reeling over just how much of a fool I’d been with Piper.

“Just tired,” I said, running a hand through my hair. “What’s up?”

“Calling to grovel appropriately for missing your big celebration last night. Had a work emergency.”

Beckett worked for the recently founded Warrior Security, the Resting Warrior Ranch’s tactical team. So work emergency could be anything from unfinished paperwork to a death threat.

But probably not the latter since we would’ve heard about that in an official capacity. “Everyone okay?”

“Yeah, nothing but a thing.”

I didn’t press.

“I also heard some very interesting news at Deja Brew this morning. That Sheriff Calloway was seen leaving Draper’s around closing time with a very attractive brunette on his arm.

Margie Henderson was practically vibrating with excitement when she told me what she’d heard—apparently you two looked ‘quite cozy’ at the bar. ”

I should have known. In a town the size of Garnet Bend, gossip traveled faster than wildfire. “Margie Henderson needs a hobby.”

“Margie Henderson has made gossip her hobby for the past sixty years, so she’s damn good at it.” Beckett’s voice carried the grin I could picture on his face. “So come on, who’s the mystery woman? Anyone I know?”

“Piper Matthews.”

A pause. “Matthews… Wait. Like, Ray Matthews’s daughter from back in the day? I don’t really remember her much. She would’ve been pretty young when they left, right?”

“Eighteen. Just about to graduate high school.”

“And now she’s back in town, looking for a reunion with Garnet Bend’s finest?” There was teasing in Beckett’s voice, the comfortable ribbing that came with twenty years of friendship. “Must’ve been some reunion for you two to be making the rounds at Draper’s.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Uh-huh. So what was it like?”

I looked down at my empty wallet and that fucking note. “She’s not in town anymore.”

“Oh shit. Is she like her dad? Was she trying to con people?”

“Nah. She didn’t need to find a mark. She had me. I was dumb enough to fall for the big-eyed sob story myself.”

I waited for the jokes. I wouldn’t blame him. Hell, I could already think of a few myself.

But he didn’t. “You sleep with her?”

I scrubbed my hand down my face. “Yeah.”

The silence stretched longer this time. When Beckett spoke again, his tone had shifted, becoming more careful. “You want to talk about it?”

“Nothing to talk about.”

“Lach—”

“It’s nothing, Beck.” The words came out sharper than I’d intended. “Just a one-night thing. She was passing through, we caught up on old times, and now she’s gone. End of story.”

“Roger that.” Another pause. “On to more important things. You ready to start your first official day as sheriff?”

“Yeah.” And what a way to start—allowing myself to get robbed blind. Wouldn’t that instill confidence in the people trusting me to protect them.

“You’ll do great. Hell, you’ve been doing half Charlie’s job for the past two years anyway. Now you just get the fancy title and the headaches that come with it.”

“Just what I’ve always wanted.”

“Hey, if you need to blow off some steam later, I’m buying drinks. Maybe we can find you a brunette who sticks around longer than twelve hours.”

I think I’d had my fill of taking anyone home. “I’ll let you know.”

“You do that. And dude, whatever happened last night, don’t let it mess with your head on your first day. You’ve got this.”

After I hung up, I stared at the phone for a long moment. Beckett would be worried now, but he wouldn’t push. He’d wait for me to come to him if I needed to talk.

But there was nothing to talk about. I’d made a mistake, trusted someone I shouldn’t have, and paid the price for it.

At just over $300, I’d gotten off cheap.

I walked back upstairs to get ready for work. In the shower—the same shower where she’d kissed me with water streaming down our faces—I tried to wash away the scent of her, the memory of her hands on my body. But some things couldn’t be scrubbed clean.

By the time I was dressed in my uniform and ready to leave for the station, I’d managed to lock down the anger and categorically refused to accept that any of it might be hurt rather than just being pissed off.

Lesson learned.

But as I drove through the quiet streets of Garnet Bend, I couldn’t stop myself from looking for Piper. Scanning the sidewalks, checking the bus stop, wondering if she was still in town or if she’d already moved on to her next target.

I’d probably never know why she’d done it. Why she’d made love to me like it meant something, only to rob me blind before dawn. Why she’d looked at me with such apparent trust and longing if all she’d wanted was my money. And why the fuck I’d been so blind to it all.

What a way to start my career as sheriff.