Her Twin Wilde Cowboy Masters (Wilde, Nevada 1)

lead her to Trent’s whereabouts.

This story would’ve been one hell of a scoop to tempt her boss with. But she wasn’t here for this or any story for that matter. She wasn’t even here for a sabbatical, though that had been what she’d claimed to her chief editor at The Denver Sun. She was here for Trent. Nothing else.

Her ability to stay focused was something all the editors she’d worked for had always deemed exceptional, though one in particular had called her methods “a bit insane and incredibly reckless.” So be it. Her supervisors might’ve shied away from her tactics, but they’d never turned down the pages she’d brought to them. Ever. She’d won more than her share of accolades in journalism. What did any of them matter now? She would gladly give them all back to find her brother.

Her purpose, her goal, her mission was much more important than any of those in the past.

If I fail…

Mac shook her head. She didn’t want to let her mind go there. Not now. Not ever.

Approaching Coyote Street, she once again glanced around the mining town. The intersection of Coyote and Main was the heart of Wilde. To her right on the southeast corner was the town’s City Hall and Courthouse. It looked like a miniature of the State Capitol Building. The bronze statues in front were of the founding family of the town, the original Wildes. Three men—Ezra, William, and Jacob—stood behind their wife, Daphne. Mac had read the plaque and a couple of the books in the local library about the history of Wilde. She wondered what kind of life Daphne had back then. If the smile on the image depicting her was any indication, she’d been happy. Her descendants remained the true movers and shakers in the area. Austin’s family still owned the silver mine that employed the majority of people in the area.

Continuing her trek, she glanced across the street to the Wilde Silver Mine’s offices, which sat on the southwest corner of Coyote and Main. The northeast corner had the Horseshoe Bar & Grill, next door to her destination. On the northwest corner was the spot the old Hotel Cactus had sat. Maude Strong, the owner, wasn’t one to procrastinate. Giant dozers were parked next to the remaining rubble, which was being cleared away to make room for the new Hotel Cactus. Maude had stretched out the plans at Norma’s on many occasions. Everyone seemed thrilled she’d decided to rebuild it in the same fashion as the former building erected in 1909. The architect was allowed to update the electrical, the plumbing, et cetera, but nothing more. Rooms remained in the exact configuration as had been. There was one addition that Maude had allowed. A swimming pool and hot tub in the back.

Most tourists would look at this village with its gas streetlamps, hitching posts, and quaint storefronts, as a throwback to an earlier era. Outer appearances could be deceiving. She’d learned in her short stay in Wilde that the sleepy community’s façade concealed the truth to the casual observer. Behind closed doors, Wilde was wild, indeed.

Not too different from her own hometown, but not exactly the same either.

She looked at her cell to check the time. 5:59 a.m. She picked up her pace to just shy of a run.

Unlike home, the residents here were unified in their embrace of the unusual. Polyamory relationships were typical here, not the exception.

In the short time she’d been in Wilde, she’d grown to appreciate the town more than she’d thought possible. That was saying a lot given her travels around the world chasing leads, hoping to get the jump on the next big story. Keeping an emotional distance from people and places was important to staying objective. How had Wilde gotten past her walls? Was it the unity of the place? The charm? She wasn’t sure how, but it had.

Most places in the States could fit into one of several categories on her list.

Bustling metropolises, like Los Angeles, Dallas, and Chicago. Crumbling and struggling cities, like Detroit and Pittsburgh. Suburban sprawls. Pick any manufactured McMansion locale with iron gates and too-perfect parks. Quaint towns, like Fredericksburg, Texas, and Eureka Springs, Arkansas. Wilde didn’t fit any of these norms, not even close.

Though she hated how little she’d uncovered since her arrival, Mac knew she had to be patient and remain undercover. Posing as a waitress wasn’t new to her. The story that had gotten her a byline in every major paper in Colorado had come about because of the same kind of ruse at a steakhouse in Denver. She’d blown the lid off of a cover-up by the then attorney general of the state for his son, who had killed a young woman.

When she came to Main Street, she crossed the empty lane to the other side. She turned left, remaining on the sidewalk on Main, though on the opposite side she’d just come from.

She’d been shocked at how many murders had occurred in Wilde recently. Odd little town indeed. Two psychopaths had left a trail of bodies before being brought down. Jessie Wilde and her cousin Charly Wynn were at the center of the bloodshed.

Thankfully, the chaos in Wilde had settled down, and Mac had gotten a better chance to finish her work—finding her brother.

Certainly, Austin Wilde had something to do with Trent’s disappearance. Wyatt or Wade at least knew something.

Facts. That was what she had to find. What had she learned so far about the president of the local silver mine? Coffee. Scrambled eggs. Dry toast. Two slices of crisp bacon.

Nothing useful.

Perhaps today would be different. Perhaps today she’d get something that would lead her directly to her brother. As she walked into the café, her gut tightened. Anna was pouring Austin his morning coffee.

Damn.

Hopefully tonight at The Masters’ Chambers with Wade would be more fruitful. Hopefully.

Chapter Five

Mac thought the past twenty-four hours had been quite a roller coaster. She felt like she might be losing her edge, her investigative detachedness—hell, even her hope that her brother might actually be found.

Wade squeezed her hand. “You stay close to me, Mackenzie. Understand?”

She nodded, happy to remain next to him. The Masters’ Chambers was more theatrical than she’d imagined it would be. Also, she’d found it odd she had to fill out paperwork at the reception area. The rules, better known as “protocols” here, were strict, and management expected them to be followed. The giant bouncers around the place didn’t help to make her feel any better. Not a single one had a smile on his face. Fierce was the best way to describe them.

“Keep your eyes off of other men. Don’t look them in the eye, sweetheart.”