Rebecca Zanetti - Under the Covers

“I had a call—need to go to work.” He leaned down and kissed her. Slow and deep. Finally, he stood back up. “Take your time. There’s coffee on, and I think there are bagels in the pantry. Maybe.”

She nodded. “I need to get to work, anyway. Sophie’s show was pushed up, and we have a lot to do.”

He reached in the night table drawer and grabbed a gun to tuck at his waist. “Tonight, Juliet. We talk.” With a hard look, he turned on his cowboy boot and left the room.

Well, that wasn’t good.

…

The rain drizzled the day into gray. Quinn tipped the brim of his hat to shake off the water, his boots sinking in the soggy weeds. The wind cut through his sheriff’s jacket as if it wanted to draw blood. An abandoned barn crumbled behind him, while a dead body lay before him. It had been a while since he’d seen a dead body.

Male, about six feet tall, long, blond hair. Maybe around thirty? “Bullet hole, back of the head,” Quinn murmured. “Execution style?”

“Probably.” DEA Agent Reese Johnson nodded to the state coroner. “You can take him.”

Federal evidence techs bustled around, collecting evidence from grass and dirt.

Reese’s phone buzzed, and he flipped the lid open. “Prints found a match. Leroy Vondoni, recently paroled from Rikers. Shouldn’t be out of New York state.”

“Rap sheet?” Quinn asked.

“Possession, robbery, intent to sell, assault, attempted murder.” Reese tapped his phone. “Nice guy.”

Why the hell was Vondoni in Maverick? More importantly— “While I appreciate you’re calling me in on this, why is the DEA in my county?” Quinn eyed a man he’d trust with his life…in fact, he had at one time. But that didn’t mean the DEA could set up camp in Montana.

Reese tucked his phone in his back pocket. “We got an anonymous tip the body would be here. An hour later, we were wheels up from LA, and here we are. I called from the plane the first chance I found.”

Quinn narrowed his gaze…and waited.

Reese watched the coroner load the body. “I was heading here anyway at the end of the week. Our sources have confirmed there’s a large shipment coming down from Canada, and we think Montana will be the entry point.”

“Drugs?” Irritation washed down Quinn’s throat. What he wouldn’t give for a couple of old guys running moonshine.

“Prescription.” Reese yanked off his Dodger cap and wiped his forehead. “The new front line. Oxy is more valuable than gold on the streets right now.”

“When?” Quinn asked.

“Don’t know. Gut feeling? Soon. What do you think, Sarge? Your gut has to be humming.”

“Sheriff,” Quinn said absently. His gut was fucking rolling. “Soon is right.”

Reese cleared his throat. “Are you going to fight me on jurisdiction?”

“No. I don’t have near the resources the feds do. That fingerprint-scanner thing is impressive as hell.”

“The machine is yours if we catch these guys.” The white scar Reese had earned in Iraq stood out on his forehead. “Though why you don’t take one of the many job offers you’ve received from federal law-enforcement agencies, I’ll never understand.”

“I’m home, and I like it here.” Usually. When there weren’t dead bodies dumped on forgotten acreage. “The DEA can have this case, but I want in. I want to know everything.”

“That means lunch is on you.”

Quinn gave a short nod. “Tell me this is the first body you’ve seen in connection with whatever’s going on.”

“Third.” Reese rubbed his chin. “These guys use people and then kill quickly. No witnesses.”

“Efficient.” Quinn headed for his truck. “Come into town. I have three deputies I want to bring in on this—we’ll keep it to a small task force.”

“Fair enough. I’ll drive with you. Fill me in on the family. Has Colton graduated yet?” Reese followed, turning to toss keys at another DEA agent before jumping into the rig.

“Just graduated.” Quinn started the engine. “He’s taking over as COO of Freeze-Lodge Investments, although he’s been running the financial end of everything for years.” Quinn grinned. “We wouldn’t give him the salary or the title until he graduated.”

“Still MMA fighting?”

“No. Though he’s a tough bastard. He fought for beer money and just a physical challenge, if you ask me. He’s the mellowest of us all.” Well, until his very long fuse blew. Then everyone got out of the way.

“I caught one of his fights on ESPN late at night. He was brutal.” Reese settled into the seat. “With all that money, why do you work the ranch and sport a gun?”

“What else would I do? Sit around and read ledgers?” Quinn mock shivered.

Reese laughed. “Good enough. So, what’s new with you?”

Everything. “Not much.”

“Seeing anyone?”

Hell, yes. Quinn lifted a shoulder. “You’ll meet her, I’m sure. How about you?”

“Hell, no.” Reese shifted his gun away from his hip. “I learned my lesson.”

Quinn chuckled. Sometimes romance snuck up and bit a guy on the ass whether he liked it or not. “How does a hoagie from Mrs. Johnson’s homemade deli sound?”

“Excellent.”

“Good. Now start talking. I need to know how much danger my people are in.” Quinn pulled onto the country road.

Several hours after leaving Quinn’s place, Juliet struggled to align the small painting of horses galloping around the shores of Mineral Lake. She and Sophie had worked all day, and the show was coming together. They’d even harassed Colton into helping them with the bigger pieces.

Juliet hadn’t heard from Quinn, but rumor had it a cattle rustling had occurred at the north end of the county, so he’d probably been busy.

He wanted to talk. Perhaps she should come clean and tell him the truth. He deserved the truth, even if he ended up arresting her. Maybe she could talk him out of cuffing her.

Her laugh lacked humor as it echoed around the room. No way. She couldn’t talk him out of an arrest.

She finished fiddling and eyed the main room as a whole. Deep jewel tones splashed across the oil paintings depicting tribal scenes, landscapes, and portraits of fascinating faces. The next room held charcoals, and the final room drawings. Without question, Sophie Lodge was incredibly talented. This showing would put the gallery on the map.

Pride filled Juliet. While she wouldn’t be able to bask in the success, she’d accomplished her goals. She’d actually set out and done it.

Now, she had to go break Quinn’s heart. But he deserved to know the truth. It was time to confess everything.

Grabbing her coat, she locked the front door and hustled out of the building. The rain had stopped, but a tension-filled breeze swirled down the street.

She wandered past storefronts, small restaurants, and a couple of delis before reaching the sheriff’s building. Breezing inside the two-story brick, she nodded at the elderly receptionist, noting that the sprawling reception room was empty.

“Hi, Mrs. Wilson.”

The receptionist pushed her cat’s-eye glasses up her nose. “The day’s chilly, Juliet. You here to visit the sheriff?”

Juliet nodded.

“Go on back. He’s not doing anything.”

Juliet doubted that. But she skirted the counter and headed down the long hallway, passing several offices and cubicles. His office sat in the northern corner and looked out on the street. She paused at the doorway and gathered her courage.

His unique scent of man and leather hit her the second she stepped inside. The fact that he wasn’t alone hit her next. She faltered.

“Juliet. Did we have plans?” He rose from behind a scarred wooden desk. Lines of fatigue spread out from his eyes, but they warmed on her.

“Um, no.” She glanced at the man rising from the leather guest chair.

Tall, serious, he held himself with coiled strength. Just like Quinn. He held out a hand. “Reese Johnson. I’m an old friend of Quinn’s.”

“Juliet Montgomery.” They shook. She cleared her throat. “Sorry about the interruption. I’ll catch up with you later, Quinn.” She pivoted to go.

“Juliet.” Quinn’s quiet baritone stopped her cold. She turned. He grinned and edged around the desk to lift her chin and brush her lips with his. “You’re not interrupting. What’s going on?”

A man who had no problem touching her, even around an old buddy. Juliet would bet her last penny the old buddy was from the military, too. She forced a smile. “Nothing. Really. I wanted to see if you had dinner plans.”

He frowned. “We’re probably going to work through dinner. Ah, Reese is from the DEA.”

The Drug Enforcement Agency? The words ripped through her with the force of a sledgehammer. “Oh.” She turned another smile on the guest, her posture straightening. Was he in town for her? He couldn’t be, so she focused back on Quinn. “I suppose you have a lot of work to do.”

“Yes.” A puzzled light glimmered in his eyes. He grabbed his coat. “Let me walk you out, darlin’.”

She stumbled as he maneuvered her through the doorway.

Hustling her out of the station, he grasped her coat lapels. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything is lovely.” She donned her smoothest smile.

His dark eyes narrowed. “You’re the most graceful woman I’ve ever met, and you just tripped on a smooth floor. Don’t get all society-like with me. Something is bothering you, and you’ll damn well tell me what it is.”

“Nothing is wrong. I mean, I heard you investigated a cattle-rustling call this morning, and then I didn’t hear from you, so I was worried.” Not true. Not one word was true. She hadn’t worried at all until seeing a DEA Agent in his office.