Texas Tough (The Tylers of Texas 2)

Will strode out the back door and headed for the barn. The sun was up. He could already feel its heat shriveling his skin. It was going to be a long day.

Stella was sitting at the bar enjoying a smoke while Nick and the waitress—whatever the hell her name was—finished polishing the tables and chairs. The Blue Coyote might not be the classiest place in Texas, but she did like things clean.

They’d almost finished when she heard a business-like knock at the front door. Glancing through the plastic blind slats, she could see Abner in uniform, flanked by two deputies—clean-cut young men who looked like ex-military. A cramp tightened in the pit of her stomach. This couldn’t be anything good. But she had to let them in.

Abner avoided her eyes as they walked in and whipped out their badges. Clearly he’d had no choice except to make the arrest. But the little Judas would pay the price later on.

Abner gave a subtle nod in Nick’s direction. The taller of the two men stepped around Nick, jerked his wrists behind his back, and whipped out a set of handcuffs. Nick was shaking, his eyes bulging like a frightened animal’s.

“Nikolas Tomescu,” the shorter man snapped, “you’re under arrest for the murder of Coy Fletcher. You have the right to remain silent . . .”

“No!” Nick found his voice. “I didn’t do anything! Tell them, Sis! Tell them I’m innocent!”

They shoved him out the door and propelled him to the waiting police vehicle. Stella sagged against the bar. She’d always protected her brother, but right now there was nothing she could do. She’d never felt more helpless in her life.

Glancing back over her shoulder, she saw the waitress standing at the end of the bar. The woman’s features quickly assumed a look of concern. But Stella had been quick enough to see the earlier expression on her face.

The skinny bitch had been smiling like a satisfied cat.

CHAPTER 13

By the time they shoved him in the police cruiser, Nick was blubbering like a child. Heartsick, Stella watched the vehicle pull out of the parking lot. She could have argued with the officers but she knew it wouldn’t have done any good. The iron-jawed deputies had ignored her. Abner had refused to look her way.

She would deal with Abner later. But not while there was a chance she’d still need him.

Nick was innocent. Stella knew it to the depths of her heart. He looked tough and mean, but he didn’t have it in him to shoot a dog, let alone a man. And even if he’d done it, he wouldn’t lie to her. He wasn’t clever enough for a big lie like that.

Whatever happened, she couldn’t let him go to prison. Nick would become a victim in prison, abused and tormented. Prison would destroy him. But she couldn’t dwell on that now. She had to focus on how to save him.

He was going to need a lawyer—and not that blond Tyler woman. Tori Tyler knew too much and there was too much bad blood between them. But Stella had connections. She would use them to get Nick the best lawyer in Texas.

But first it was time to pull some strings. She would make a list of the people who owed her favors and call anyone who might be in a position to help.

At the top of her list would be a certain U.S. congressman.

The waitress was still standing at the far end of the bar. Stella turned on her. “What are you gawking at? Get your lazy butt moving! This bar opens in an hour and you’re going to have to run the place by yourself!”

Garn Prescott was driving back from Lubbock, where he’d addressed a women’s luncheon. He was congratulating himself on the speech and looking forward to the bourbon waiting for him at home when the jangling ringtone on his cell—the opening notes of “Deep in the Heart of Texas”—broke into his thoughts.

With a sigh, he fumbled the phone out of his pocket. Eyes on a passing hay truck, he pushed the answer button without looking at the name of the caller.

“Hello?”

“Garn, baby, it’s me.”

At the sound of that smoky voice, his mood tanked. He’d been wary of Stella ever since he’d figured out where those big campaign contributions of hers were coming from. The two of them were still hooking up, and so far she hadn’t made any demands or threats, but Prescott knew she’d backed him into a corner. One word to the right people and he’d be finished in politics, maybe even on his way to jail.

He’d been a fool to accept money from her without checking out the source. But desperation had led to denial, and her generous sexual favors had sealed the deal. He didn’t have any solid evidence against the woman—getting it would involve other people and put him at risk. But he’d finally forced himself to face cold reality. There was no legal way she could’ve gotten so much spare cash—and she’d had no reason to give it to him except to bait her trap.

The anxiety was making him physically sick. He’d sold his soul to a very clever, very sexy devil, who had a grip on him where it hurt the most. Short of murder, there wasn’t a damned thing he could do.

“Hi,” he muttered. “What’s up?”

“We need to talk,” she said. “It’s an emergency. Where are you?”

“On my way home, about fifteen minutes out of Lubbock.”

“I can meet you halfway, at that truck