Classified Cowboy

WYATT DIDN’T SAY a word on the drive out to the crime scene. He was in no mood to deal with Nina Jacobson. Against his better judgment—almost against his will—he cut his eyes sideways. They zeroed in on that red lacy thing that peeked out from under her half-zipped hoodie.

The red lacy thing and the creamy smooth flesh that it barely covered. He growled under his breath as his body reacted to what his eyes saw.

Snapping his gaze back to the dirt road, he clenched his jaw and lifted his chin. Forget what Nina Jacobson is or isn’t wearing, he warned himself.

He had enough on his plate right now. If there was one thing he knew, it was how to separate his personal and professional life.

Yeah. Separate them so well that one of them no longer existed. His awareness turned to the slight weight of the star on his chest. That star, with its unique engraving and aged patina, represented who he was.

Wyatt Colter, Texas Ranger.

And as he knew very well, there was no place in a Ranger’s life for personal complications.

“Would you at least tell me what Shane said?”

Nina’s voice broke into his thoughts. It was breathy and low—sultry. Like a hot summer Texas storm. Like her.

He didn’t bother to answer her.

Shane Tolbert had sounded groggy, embarrassed and angry all at the same time. But that was nothing compared to how he was going to sound—and feel—once Wyatt had ripped him a new one, right before he did the same for Sheriff Reed Hardin.

Wyatt’s first act upon hearing about the discovery of the bodies less than forty-eight hours ago had been to demand two guards on the crime scene twenty-four hours a day. Sheriff Hardin had countered that one guard per eight-hour shift was plenty. “Nobody’s bothered the scene,” the sheriff had said. “There were a few folks who drove up there on the first day, right after the road crew discovered the bones. Most notably Daniel Taabe and a couple of his cronies, who wanted to know if what the road crew had unearthed was a historical burial site. But after that … nothing. My deputies can handle things just fine.”

Wyatt had requested the extra men from his captain, but the captain had sided with the sheriff.

Now, as he’d known he would be, Wyatt had been proven right. If there had been two men guarding the site, this wouldn’t have happened.

He roared up to within a few feet of the crime-scene tape and slammed on the brakes.

To his amusement, Nina uttered a little squeak when the anti-locking brake system stopped the Jeep in its tracks.

He jumped out, leaving the engine running. He stalked over to Sheriff Hardin’s pickup, where Deputy Tolbert was sitting on the tailgate, with Doc Hallowell and the sheriff hovering over him.

“Need to go to the hospital?” Sheriff Hardin was asking as Wyatt walked up.

Doc Hallowell shook his head. He reached inside the black leather bag sitting beside Tolbert.

“Sheriff,” Wyatt said.

“Lieutenant.” Hardin didn’t look at him. He pointed a pocket flashlight at Tolbert’s head. “That’s a nasty cut.”

“I’m going to stitch it right here,” Doc Hallowell said, searching in his bag, “as soon as I can dig out my suture kit.”

A doctor making a house call or a crime-scene call. Wyatt shook his head. Small towns. They were a mystery to him.

“What happened?” Nina asked from behind him.

Wyatt wished he could pick this damn crime scene up and transport it to a secure location. He desperately needed some time alone here. Just him and the crime scene, and maybe Olivia Hutton, the top-notch crime scene analyst. He could use her expertise, but while she was available to him as part of the task force, she hadn’t been called in yet, since this was classified as a cold case. He made a mental note to call her and ask her opinion.

Tolbert looked up at Nina sheepishly. “Got myself conked over the head. I heard something and went to investigate. I’m thinking there were at least two of them. One to distract me and the other to bash my skull in.” He winced as Doc Hallowell poured alcohol on the gash on the back of his head. “Ow! I guess I’m lucky I’ve got a thick skull.”

From the corner of his eye, Wyatt saw the thinly disguised look of disgust on Nina’s face. She really didn’t like Tolbert.

“Doc,” Wyatt said. “can I look at that cut before you start working on it?” He pulled out his own high-powered flashlight and shone it on the deputy’s skull.

The gash looked fresh, of course. And it was edged by an inflamed strip of scalp, which disappeared into Tolbert’s hair. As far as he could tell, it had been made with a honed-edged instrument, like the edge of a plate or a board, or maybe even a hatchet, if it wasn’t too finely sharpened.

The doctor had trimmed the hair around the gash, and now he was stitching it, quickly and neatly. Wyatt watched with casual interest as he tied the stitches. He counted seven.

“Any idea what they hit you with?” Wyatt asked.

Tolbert shook his head. “No clue. Something with an edge. Maybe the back side of an ax. You see how much it bled.”

Wyatt gestured to Nina. “Professor, can you get a couple of photos of the wound?”

“Hey,” Tolbert said, ducking his head. “It’s humiliating enough without a record of it.”

Nina snapped a couple of shots.

“I need it for a match with a possible weapon,” Wyatt explained.

“Stay still, Shane,” the doctor said. “I’m almost done.”

“They just hit you once?” Wyatt asked.

“Ow, Doc!” Tolbert exclaimed, blinking as Nina’s camera flashed. “Are you done yet?”

Hardin took a step backward. “Lieutenant Colter? Looks like Doc’s getting Shane fixed up. Why don’t we check out the crime scene?”

Wyatt looked at Tolbert, then at Hardin. He had a lot more questions for the deputy, but the sheriff obviously wanted him at the crime scene—or away from Tolbert.

“You mean nobody has checked out the damage yet?” Wyatt replied.

When Wyatt turned to head over to the burial site, he saw that Nina was there. As he watched, she crouched down to sit on her haunches—the exact position she’d been in earlier.

Only this time he knew who she was. How could he have thought she was a middle-aged, sedentary professor of anthropology? Granted, it had been raining and she’d been cloaked by that oversize black hooded sweatshirt. But looking at her now in the same position, he couldn’t believe he’d mistaken the feminine curve of her back and behind for a male’s.

She pushed the hood of her sweatshirt off her head and shone the beam of her high-powered flashlight along the ground.

By the time they walked up beside her, she had sat back on her heels, her face reflecting disgust and anger.

“One of my bones is missing,” she said.

Chapter Four (#ulink_302c76d7-fe33-5f46-8a24-0f06969eefb1)

“Which one?” Wyatt burst out. “Which bone is missing?”

Nina shook her head. “Whoever did this made a mess. Tromped all over the site. But I think it’s the largest one. The one that had a piece of pelvis attached to it.” She looked up at him, her dark eyes snapping.