Chapter Two

“Harp,” Ashleigh said as she popped her head into Harper’s office. With her straw colored hair pulled up into a French twist and her moss colored eyes standing out against her pale skin. Even living in New Mexico hadn’t earned her a tan. Ashleigh had been Harper’s paralegal since she started working in the Third District. Two years older than Harper, she had become her best friend. “Connelly wants you in his office.”

Harper closed the file for Julio she’d been reviewing before getting up. “Any indication of his mood?”

“Let’s see…it’s a day ending with a Y, so I’d say shitty with a dash of inadequacy.”

Rolling her eyes, Harper sighed as she prepared for his latest tirade. Since he’d lost the Governor’s race last fall, it was as if he felt Harper was to blame. She wasn’t of course, but her ex-husband Dylan Maxwell was and to Arthur Connelly that made her culpable in his failure. Never had it crossed old Art’s mind that he could possibly be the reason he didn’t win. Nope, to him Harper’s choice to divorce Dylan half way through the campaign was to blame.

Entering the office with its two leather bound chairs across from a slightly battered, but still imposing maple desk, Harper steeled herself for his latest assault.

“Tell me something,” he grumbled. “How did you pass the bar?”

Harper bit the inside of her lip, so he couldn’t see her frustration. What was she going to say? That she spent six weeks prepping every free minute and drove Dylan crazy with her note cards spread around the apartment because she’d get distracted. Or should she point out she was in the top five percent of the lawyers who took the bar that weekend? No. None of that mattered. She must have put a comma instead of a period on a warrant and he was ready to pounce. “Same way you did, hard liquor and sleeping with the proctor.” Harper crossed her arms and leaned against the doorjamb.

“You’ve pleaded out three drunk driver cases last week.”

“They’re serving time.”

“On the weekend with no treatment programs.”

“First time offenders caught in a sting.”

“They were all represented by Burns and Channel, is there a reason you went ahead and gave them all the same deal?”

Harper raised an eyebrow at her boss. She could imagine what he thought, but she didn’t want to bite.

“Who at Burns and Channel represented them? Could it have been Jason Whitmore?”

“Yes, it was. It also was a group of people caught in a sting who were barely over a point eight. Since when do we have to deal with that crap?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, is it below you? Do you know how many lives drunk drivers take each year in New Mexico?”

“Something tells me I’ll find out in a few years when you run again.”

Connelly crossed his arms and leaned back in his padded chair.

“Look, these were the twentieth case brought in the last three months from stings, not sobriety checks, but stings.”

“They’re effective,” he grunted.

“Do you know how I could give the stat so quick?” Harper asked but Art didn’t look impressed. “Burns and Channel are looking at a class action suit for harassment. Something about people coming from Max’s Bar, you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

Connelly brought his chair forward and rested his arms on the desk as his eyes went into politic mode.

Harper was surprised Art Connelly would even go after the bar owned by one of the Governor’s biggest supporters. She knew what his end game was, enough DWI’s from one location and he could go after the bar.

“What cases are you currently working on?”

“The rapes around the University campus. The Uni cops have a few suspects, they’ve been having me review to see if there’s enough for an indictment. At least that was my plan for the day, unless there is something else I need to focus on.”

“How long will it take?”

“The lead detectives for the city will be here at eleven. They have until three to release the suspects currently in custody.”

“Who’s on the docket for new cases?”

“Rawlins is on call.”

Connelly steepled his fingers. “You were late this morning, why was that?”

“Consult with Rusty down in Tender Root.” Harper hitched her thumb over her shoulder. “I’m sorry is there a reason you called me in here?”

“Bertrum Rust has been ruffling some pretty big feathers over something that’s already been resolved.”

“And that would be?” Harper asked, as she finally stood straight up and entered the inner sanctum that was Art’s office. “Rusty barely makes an arrest. His job is usually to break up fights and bring the guys in to the jail to cool off.”

“When did Bertrum call you?”

“Last night. He left me a message.” Harper had a bad feeling about Art’s intentions and now, she really wanted to take that side trip to Mexico.

“There are accusations flying around about that murder at the Winston ranch. Now that man was encroaching on land owned by Federated Gas and all people can talk about is the ranch hand double dipping. When the hell did it become a crime to have more than one job?” Art’s robust face reddened as spittle foamed at the sides of his mouth. “You and I both put ourselves through school with shit jobs didn’t we?” Slamming his fist on his desk sent papers flying up and knocked over his penholder.

Art’s untreated bi-polar nature had made Harper wary of any interactions with him. A nervous chill made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up on end. In the next minute, he could turn into a monster storming through the office destroying all in his path or he might calm completely, leaving Harper’s heart pounding and her mind thinking she was the crazy one.

“What ever Bertrum asked you to do, don’t.”

Right, a middle ground, Harper wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Now Rusty’s thoughts about a conspiracy seemed a bit stronger. Federated had money and Art needed it to run again. Not that Harper wanted more tension in her office, but she wasn’t about to let a murderer retire to the Gulf Coast either. The environmental costs were going to max out Federated’s insurance coverage, but a civil suit brought by two families…that could be bankrupting. In ten years, they could be the largest electrical supplier to chapter eleven. Funny, how fifteen minutes ago, Harper was mildly interested in the Julio Vasquez case and Rusty’s request for her to go to Mexico. Now, her mind was trying to remember where she put the names she picked up at the last Border Justice Convention. Better yet, who were the ones that seem to actually care about justice not politics?

“We’ve been friends for a long time,” Harper said playing Art as much as he was thinking he was playing her. “He’ll just keep calling me, I can only ignore him so long before he stalks our office.”

“Let me worry about that.”

“What if I finish up with the detectives and I’ll have Ashleigh finish up any indictment charges? I have some vacation coming. Why not let me use it for a change?”

“Where would you go?” Art asked.

“I don’t know, my sister wants me to see my niece in Santa Fe, then again I might just pack up for a wild weekend in Dayton Beach with my brother.”

“Isn’t it hurricane season?”

“You’re right, Santa Fe it is.”

* * * *

“Goddamn it Lester, I swear I might as well put a bullet right through your thick skull!” MeMaw howled as she trudged up to the cabin with a basket weighing down her arm. “One of you damn boys come out here and get that shit eatin’ sooner before he goes and drinks up that damn river.”

Sunny ran from the house after MeMaw’s dog.

She walked in and took count on the residence in the cabin. Satisfied, she placed the heavy basket on the table. “I swear that animal ain’t got a lick of sense to him. Aren’t those mutts supposed to know poison when they smell it. Next time, I ain’t lettin’ Mel save his life. No sir, he’s stupid enough to drink poison, let ‘em die. It’s the natural order of things.”

“Hi MeMaw,” Clay greeted as he accepted a kiss on the cheek from her.

“My baby, all bruised and battered. How you doin’ this mornin’? You feelin’ a bit better? I heard that knuckle headed brother went and opened his mouth to that Italian girl you brought home that she was still a bastard.” MeMaw had a way of running off at the mouth and ignoring the fact others were there. Being the matriarch of the Long family, she took her job of keeping the wild Long men on the straight and narrow. With two assaults on her family, the one that founded this area of New Mexico, she wasn’t about to let Monty’s generation ruin the Long name.

“It’s all good now, MeMaw.”

“Oh, that’s nice to know.”

Sunny came in with the rattled mutt Lester, no longer skin and bones like when Melody rescued him. Now he had a nice coat of shaggy hair.

“And you,” she scolded. “I know you’ve got designs on my granddaughter, but I expect her to wear a white dress when she gets married.”

Monty coughed back a laugh.

MeMaw gave him a sour look. “Did I ask for comments from the peanut gallery? No, I did not. I’m just sayin’, well…”

“MeMaw you didn’t even wear white on your wedding day,” Monty pointed out.

“Look at the comedian,” MeMaw jawed. “That’s the way the photos printed back then. I most certainly did wear white.”

“And God didn’t strike you down at the altar?” Monty asked.

“Always the smart ass funny man.” She waggled her finger at him as her lips formed a thin line. “I tell you what Montgomery Long, your mouth has been writin’ checks your ass can’t cash since your first word.”

Clay had always been MeMaw’s favorite, something about the two of them had created a deep bond. If Clay was the one who could do no wrong, Monty was his opposite, at least where MeMaw was concerned. He had to admit he did bring it on himself most days. Not all, but most. He respected his grandmother deeply, but the two of them rubbed together like pieces of sandpaper.

“MeMaw,” Clay interjected saving Monty from himself. “Would you get me some of that orange juice from the fridge?”

“Of course baby,” she replied as she eyed the boys sitting around the table. “Now tell me boys, what kinda trouble are you all getting in today? I’m tired of seein’ you guys hurt and bleeding, so please tell me you’re not doing that again.”

“Today,” Miles said as he rubbed his chin. “I can honestly say we aren’t getting into any trouble…today.”

“I knew it,” MeMaw spat. “I swear, ya’ll went and inherited that wild streak of old Clement Long. Thank God, my own boys didn’t work my heart like you five hooligans have or I wouldn’t have lived to see you.”

“Does that mean I’m not part of the group?” Sunny asked Monty.

“Probably, or I’m counted twice.”

“Oh, you’re part, only Walter hasn’t drove me batty.”

“Sweet, I’m an honorary Long for real.” Sunny beamed as he slapped his arm around Monty’s shoulders.

“You fuck my sister with that mouth?” Monty’s expression remained stone still.

“On occasion.” Sunny grinned.

Then MeMaw double hand slapped both men hard on the back of their heads. “That mouth,” she scolded. “And hell yeah, he’s family. If you ain’t figured that out by now, you’re dumber than those tests said you were.” MeMaw started unpacking a week’s worth of meals packed in Tupperware purchased sometime in the seventies. Although, she’d never put a lo-jack on them, people knew if they weren’t returned when empty life could be painful. Theresa Long wasn’t a hoarder by any stretch of the imagination because she didn’t get more of one thing. She believed in repairing an item, not replacing.

“Wait!” Monty said catching up to MeMaw statement. “What tests?”

“Now Clayton, baby, I’ve been up and cooking all night for you,” MeMaw said ignoring Monty as usual. “You won’t have to leave this cabin except for to visit the doctor.” She popped her head over the open door of the fridge. “And you will go to your appointment, even if he doesn’t give you lollipops anymore.”

“You know Clay always liked the stickers better.” Miles laughed.

Savannah came out of the bathroom wearing cutoffs, an old t-shirt of Clays and her hair wrapped up in a towel.

Lester’s head popped up as he gave out a few warning barks, not moving from the couch.

“Goddamn it Lester,” MeMaw called as she trotted out of the kitchen with her box like body and thick legs stiff from years of walking on the uneven ground of New Mexico for most of her life. “Oh my, things are better I see.”

“Hello, Mrs. Long,” Savannah greeted nervously. “You’re here early.”

“I could say the same for you.” MeMaw looked over at Clayton who ducked his head as if he were eight years old again. “I see my food and care is not needed here now. Not with a good woman by your side. Come on Lester.”

“MeMaw thank you for the food,” Clay said as he stood again and walked her to the car making sure Lester didn’t take off again.

“Well,” Monty said clapping his hands together. “Are we renting a car or stealing Walt’s?”

 

* * * *

 

“How soon do you want to leave?”

“I got a reservation at a resort in Guaymas,” Rusty’s voice was hard to make out over the phone. It was obvious he was in his patrol car with the window cracked. “We can take off this evening.”

“What if I didn’t get the time off?”

“Please.” Rusty laughed. “How quickly did you grab the Vasquez file when you got to your office?”

“You’re not that convincing,” she lied and nibbled on her bottom lip.

“Oh, so it’s because you would be alone with me that was the draw?” he teased.

“Because I really needed a girlfriend’s weekend?”

“Funny, we’ll be able to check in with the local police on the way to the resort. He’s in a little town north of Guaymas inland a bit more.”

“Then why not stay there?”

“Safety. I told you Federated owned the town.”

Harper’s gut pulled in a bit at that. Mexico made her nervous on levels she didn’t think existed. Growing up close to the boarder didn’t help her nerves. Stories filtered across more than people. Her mother’s emergency room stories were enough to give Harper nightmares through school. “What time will you be picking me up? I assume you’re driving.” Harper wasn’t sure why she was smiling so wide, but she wished her ex wasn’t standing in her doorway because she couldn’t help changing her voice to a sing song tone with a Southern twang. “That would be the gentlemanly thing to do.”

“You okay Harp?” Rusty asked with a bit of confusion in his voice.

“Of course, silly, I washed my bikini, but are you sure I’ll even need it?”

“Strategy meeting at the office?” Rusty probed.

“Probably, but you know how I get when I drink before three.”

“Meet me at Good Eats and we’ll leave by three. We’re going to fly out of El Paso.”

“That early?” Harper blurted then remembered her audience. “Guess you can’t wait to get me on that beach. See you in the morning.”

“You know I mean three tonight right?”

“Honey, please we couldn’t be more on the same page.”

“Why don’t you turn around in the chair and play with yourself?” Rusty teased. “Let’s get Dylan ready to kill.”

“Tempting, but no.”

“See you in a few hours Harp.” Rusty hung up.

Harper then steeled herself for another run in with Dylan.

Standing at six foot five in the doorway, Dylan Maxwell filled the space with his lean frame. A cowboy through and through, Harper had fallen in love with the rugged man with sandy blond hair and light green eyes. Today, he was suited and booted for the business meeting, New Mexico style. A bolo tie with a turquoise and silver medallion for the clasp with the button up white shirt and charcoal suit cut perfect for his long legs, ending in a pair of rattlesnake boots. She only knew the origin because she bought them for him. With a hand on either side of her doorjamb his suit jacket was open displaying his belt buckle from the New Mexico state rodeo championship…high school that is.

“Dylan,” Harper said as she crossed her arms.

“Let me guess, that call was from Ashleigh and you’re just trying to get me jealous.” Dylan drew out the words as if he were from the panhandle of Texas, not the southern part of New Mexico.

“You think I’m so immature that I’d fake a relationship?” Harper felt the shame from doing just that burning up her throat, but kept her game face on. “As if I care what you think.”

“Honey, if you haven’t had time to tame that hair of yours I know you haven’t had time to find a new man.”

Harper gritted her teeth against his remark. She couldn’t count the hours she’d wasted straightening her natural curls. The offhand remarks about her hair getting nappy, always set her running to a stylist. Strange, how embracing the hair she’d been born with had been so empowering. Of course, she also hadn’t seen her mother since the official split, but that would be her second step in claiming her life again.

“Harp,” Dylan purred as he stepped into her office.

She pushed her chair back a bit.

“Darlin’, we hit a hiccup—”

“Is that what they call picking up prostitutes now? A hiccup. I’ll have to remember that.” She picked up the Vasquez file and flipped a few papers up and over the top.

“Darlin’ you’ve taken this too far.”

Thank God, New Mexico was a no fault divorce state or she would have never gotten it pushed through. Dylan fought her every step. Sadly, that couldn’t stop him from saying darlin’ in a way that made her legs weak and her body tremble from the memories of when he used to say it next to her ear. Harper swallowed back the hormones racing from the sound of his voice. “Dylan, you made your bed, or back alley, now you have to live with the consequences.”

“You still love me, darlin’ and you know it. Harper Maxwell you are the only woman I ever loved.”

“Sadly, I’m not the only one you’ve fucked in the last six years.”

“I chose her because I didn’t want to get involved.”

“And not using a condom…” Harper twirled her finger. “Is that because you didn’t want to litter? Or because you knew I was allergic to penicillin and you wondered what doctors use after you gave me the clap.”

Dylan placed his hands palm down on her desk and leaned over, so they were face to face. “You’ll never find another man like me.”

She didn’t want to smell his cologne, or smell the mint from the gum she knew he was chewing. “Promise?”

“Come back to me Harp. You know your mama loves me.”

“She doesn’t have to sleep with you. Makes it easier.”

“Harper Jean, you know we are meant to be together. That’s why my ring is still on your finger.”

Harper tucked her left hand under the file.

“Art says you’re goin’ to visit Kennedy in Santa Fe, how about you and I meet up for dinner one night.”

“I’m not going to see Kennedy.”

“Lying to your boss.” Dylan tsked in disapproval. “Or lying to me. Just don’t lie to yourself Harp. You love me. Always have and always will.”

Harper tossed the file on the desk as Dylan turned and walked out of her office. When clearly out of sight and hopefully out of the office, she covered her eyes with her hands.

“Have you finished…?” Ashleigh’s voice trailed off.

Harper dropped her hands and gazed at her paralegal.

“Exactly how many days are you taking off? Because something tells me it’s a month less than you need.”

“Why am I attracted to himbos?” Harper asked exasperated. “The fucker called me darlin’ and I’m like befmewfmieowfewfnig.” She babbled with her hands flying like a struggling toddler talking to an imaginary friend who could actually understand pure gibberish.

“Is that one of those big lawyer words I haven’t learned yet?”

Harper glared at her friend.

“Look, Dylan is a ten, I’m sure when he takes off his shirt, women get whiplash. Truth be told, I may or may not of turned my head when he walked by my desk. It doesn’t hurt that he gives a good wink and smile—”

“Is there a point coming soon?” Harper snapped.

“Right.” Ashleigh shook her head as if she needed to come out of a trance.

Harper knew it well, she’d been fighting going back in for the last three months.

“My point is, it’s not like he’s Connelly.”

Both women burst into laughter at the comparison or lack of one.

“If Dylan would have run.” Ashleigh sighed.

“Gotcha. It’s out of my control. What I don’t get is why he’s trying to get me back?”

“Okay, on paper he’s lower than pond scum, but the reality of him—women would kill to be on his arm.”

“As one who’s been there, the packaging is better than reality. I know this. I am an intelligent woman who knows ninety percent of the strippers are gay and yet a set of abs with a smile makes me clench.”

“Maybe you’re really a twelve year old boy trapped in a smokin’ hot woman’s body?”

“Wouldn’t I just be feeling myself up all the time?”

“Okay, your hormone levels are that of a twelve year old boy.”

Maybe she should see if Rusty would take pity on an old friend and knock out a few orgasms on this trip. Harper dropped her head on her desk in defeat. She was strong, determined and intelligent. She didn’t want to be screwed, Dylan could do that all day long. Harper Maxwell wanted to be loved, just once she wanted to be the focus of someone. She’d never been that for Dylan, not even on his best day. The only time he stared into her eyes was to see his own reflection and she settled for that because she didn’t know better. No more, Harper vowed. No more pretty boys. No more putting herself second. Now was her time and if she had to fight every instinct she had…she would.

 

* * * *

 

“You do realize he’s my brother,” Walt said as he finished cinching his saddle to his horse. Anyone who saw Walt, JT and Clay together knew they were kinfolk. Sure, Monty and Miles, being cousins did have their similarities, but Monty’s cousins weren’t cut from the same cloth they were photo duplicates. Each one aged a bit more than the other. Maybe Clay was a few inches taller, but in the face…identical.

“Is that why you’re always around?” Monty asked as he opened the gate to the pasture for him. “I thought it was because you were cheap labor.”

“Speaking of labor, how are we supposed to run this ranch four men down?” Walt wrapped the leather harness around his gloved hand. “I knew I’d be down one today with Clay being out, but sorry Monty, no last minute bachelor party.”

“But JT is already on a plane.”

“I thought you said this was a last minute thing.”

“It was.”

“Then how exactly did you get him a ticket and on a plane by nine?”

“He’s in the central time zone.”

Walt shook his head. “Did that even make sense to you?”

“Time is relative.” Monty smiled. “And Sunshine knows how to get last minute deals.”

“What about Betsy?”

“I don’t know how she is at booking flights.”

Walt’s eyes cut to Monty as he breathed in slow to calm himself. “You’re telling me JT just left his ranch to rush to Mexico for a weekend of debauchery and his fiancé didn’t bat an eye?”

“Must be why he’s marrying her.”

“Where’s Miles?”

“Packing supplies.” MeMaw wasn’t the only one who could tell when Monty was full of shit. JT did have a plane ticket and he may be at the airport, but his flight didn’t take off for at least an hour and a half. “Water, condoms, you know the usual.”

“You know something,” Walt said as he looked out to the ranch hands waiting for him on their horses. “There ain’t shit slick to a can of oil. I don’t know what you dip shits are up to, but you need to find your own replacements.”

“So we good?” Monty checked, not that it mattered. Julio was coming to justice and he wasn’t about to let his sister’s attacker spend one more night free and easy. This man almost killed Melody and Monty may forgive at some point in his life, but he would never forget. Melody was barely two years younger than him and they went everywhere together as kids. Growing up on a ranch meant he couldn’t just run next door to a friend’s house. That’s why the Longs had a bond that never broke.

“Where are you staying? I might just pop in for the last day.”

“You think Tina’s gonna let you go to a bachelor party?” Monty roared with laughter. “Tina, your wife, seriously?”

“JT is my brother. There is no question as to who should be attending this party.”

“Didn’t your bachelor party days end like a decade ago?”

“Montgomery, you’re full of shit.” Walt shook his head then stared into those deep brown eyes all the Long’s possessed, but at this moment belonged to Monty. “You know I can’t practice law in Mexico right?”

“Can you fake it?” Monty asked with a slight lilt to his voice.

“Don’t swallow the worm,” Walt groaned as he mounted his horse. “And leave the info with Tina, so we can identify the bodies.” With a swift kick to both sides of his horse, Walter took off to deal with what was left of their herd.

With one obstacle out of the way, Monty was ready to head into town and follow up with old Sherriff Rust or better yet, Deputy Sue Anderson. After a fifteen minute drive and a fresh shirt on, Monty spritzed some cologne or as his brother calls it whore juice on his collar and hopped out of the truck he’d borrowed from Walter. Deputy Sue had been unhappily married for at least six of the past fifteen years. Monty’s senior by six years she kept in shape and he couldn’t understand why her husband didn’t eat her up every night. Thankfully, he didn’t.

“Well, if it isn’t Montgomery Long,” she mewed as he sauntered up to her cruiser that was conveniently parked a block from the local school.

Her window was down and Monty decided to lean his back against the rear passenger door. He could make out her long fingers, she’d painted the palest shade of pink he’d ever seen, drumming on the side of the cruiser. Her wedding band with matching tiny diamond engagement ring still held its place on her third finger. The tanned skin of her forearm only extended half way to her bicep since she usually wore short sleeved khaki colored uniforms.

“Deputy Anderson,” he deferred to her surname because he knew she liked being in control. “I was wondering if you’d been able to get me that address you promised me?”

“And when would that of been?” she asked.

Yes, he saw her piercing blue eyes reflected in the side mirror. Games were fun, but if he had things to do and cousins to scoop from the airport in El Paso. He turned and bending down, he was at her open window.

She inhaled his cologne with her eyes closed. Her lips pursed a bit as if she was remembering the last time they’d tasted his flesh.

Oh, how a man could ignore her, he would never understand. “I believe we were discussing it a few days ago when you pulled me over.”

“Let’s see…I was working nights and you’d just turned down that road before your ranch.”

“Yeah, the one no one ever uses anymore.”

“No one but your grandma.”

“Who was fast asleep at home,” Monty said with a wink.

Sue’s face flushed with color as she turned away.

He could see a few stray blonde curls had escaped her tight bun around her neck. “Exactly how long did you detain me?”

“Not long enough.”

“Well, how ‘bout you give me that information and I’ll be more than happy to let you lock me up for as long as you want.”

“Montgomery, you are all sorts of trouble.” She smiled wide and passed him a torn sheet of paper.

“Where is this?” he asked.

“Do I look like I keep a relief map of Mexico on me? I don’t know.” She placed her hand over his and became solemn. “Just promise me you won’t try to be a hero. I know there’s a bounty on the guy, but it’s not worth you losing your life.”

“Now Sue, you know I’d never do anything to hurt the parts of me you like.”

“I like all of you, Monty.”

“Of course you do,” he said with a wink. “But if I’m gonna be honest, you know those eyes of yours do me in every time.”

The flush returned this time burning from her neck up to her forehead.

“Now you better get back on patrol before people notice.”

And by people, he really meant her damn husband. Then again, if it wasn’t for him, Sue would probably want a relationship. Being tied to one woman? What a disgusting idea.

Back in the truck, Monty called Sunshine to get their route set up. Julio was tucked away in a small village in Western Mexico. Sunny figured it would take them about nine hours or so to get there, depending on the boarder patrol. The trick will be coming back with Julio in tow. Smuggling across the Mexican boarder wasn’t exactly the easiest thing to do. Crossing in the desert wasn’t always ideal either. Either way, they had to convince the family that they were hitting Cancun, instead some town on the Gulf of California…shit. Why did he have to go west?