Too Fast to Fall (Jackson Hole 1.10)

He watched the car pass, looking carefully to be sure the kid was alone. He was.

A second engine started. A tortured squeal of metal and fire. Nate winced and watched the edge of the snow carefully where it disappeared around the bend of the drive.

There. Harder to spot because the vehicle was white, but once it cleared the bend, there was no mistaking the familiar sound of that engine, not to mention the jagged black marks where a logo had been scraped off the white van.

“No,” he breathed in utter disbelief. “No. Not happening.” It couldn’t be happening, because he was going to sleep with Jenny Stone, and he couldn’t sleep with a woman who was involved in this situation.

But he couldn’t deny that the guy in the driver’s seat of the van looked exactly like Ellis. Nate memorized the license plate number as he tried to talk himself down.

Ellis was obviously involved with Victor, who was likely involved with growing illegal drugs. But that didn’t mean that Jenny knew anything about it. The guy was her ex-husband. She said she’d only seen him once in ten years. A bad association, maybe, but not a damning one. Jenny didn’t have a record. Nate knew that for a fact.

He blew out a deep breath and forced some of the tension to leave his body. This was probably just a terrible coincidence. He could press her a little harder, see if she gave any sign of guilt. She was damned open, as far as he could tell, all her emotions stamped on her face in clear relief. He’d be able to tell if she was lying.

Once enough time had passed, he slipped back out to the dirt road and approached the cabin. There were no other cars parked in front of it, and above the heater, the only sounds he could hear were distant raven caws and the faint thump of snow falling from nearby trees. The sun suddenly emerged, adding instant warmth to the air, but it glared from the windows of the cabin, turning them into two-way mirrors. If there was anyone inside, they’d be able to see Nate as clearly as if he were standing in the spotlight. All he could see were tree and sky and snow reflected in the glass.

Taking a chance, he headed toward the side of the cabin and pressed his cupped hand to the window to cut the light. Empty, but for a sagging old couch and a broken table. He didn’t spot anything that looked new except one folding chair and a flashlight. Oh, and the plastic tarp greenhouse in the backyard. There was no mistaking that.

It listed slightly to the south, as if the northern winds were slowly easing it backward. His first impression was that Luis didn’t have to worry too much about this operation, it wouldn’t hold up under the coming spring storms. But when he approached, Nate saw that though the thing had been built slightly off-kilter, it was fairly solid. He walked around, looking for an entrance, but all of the plastic sheeting seemed to be heavily weighted down with cement blocks. Apparently, they wanted to discourage any curious cross-country skiers from investigating.

Nate didn’t want to leave any indication that someone had been poking around. He didn’t want to set off any alarms or raise any suspicions, so after another circuit around the building, which looked to be about fifteen by twenty feet, he stopped at an overlap in the plastic.

This seemed to be the door, if it could be called that. The propane heater hummed away nearby. A hint of warmth shimmered off the sheeting.

Nate slipped his gloved hand beneath the edge of plastic and eased it forward to create a gap. Warm air steamed past his face. He tugged a little harder. He could finally see something. The edge of a rough wooden table. Empty pots stacked in a corner. Shovels and buckets. He pushed the first layer of plastic forward and got a glimpse of what sat in rows on the table. Cheap plastic pots with tiny plants growing from them. He tilted his head. He couldn’t see much, but they definitely looked like miniature marijuana plants.

“Shit.”

Well, at least it was better than meth. Somebody could lose their life messing around with that. Still…

Now he had a better idea who was involved. He’d watch again tomorrow morning to see if any other players showed, and then he’d call it in. James was gone. There didn’t seem to be any reason to worry he’d contributed. And it didn’t have the feel of a major investment. Best to get it over and done with.

But first, he had to call Jenny.

CHAPTER FIVE

JENNY DID THREE things before she even ate breakfast. First, she showered and shaved. Everywhere. Then she polished her toenails. After all, no one had seen her bare toes since October. She wanted to make it a positive experience. Finally, trying not to grin down at her smooth legs and red toes and the little black panties she was wearing, she called about the driving class.

It was held on three consecutive Monday evenings from six to eight and the next class started in March. Jenny signed up. She’d have to tweak her schedule, but Rayleen wouldn’t mind. It would give her extra ammunition to crack insulting jokes, and there was nothing that woman loved more.

Then Jenny stretched out on her couch with a happy sigh. She had the whole day off. Winter was the busiest season in Jackson, but it also meant a surplus of workers. Jenny normally worked a six-night week in the summer, but in the winter she could pick and choose, depending on how much she needed the money. There was always a pack of snowboarding bartenders waiting to fill in. And right now the rent on her little one-bedroom apartment was paid, her car insurance rates hadn’t yet gone up, and she needed to preserve her sanity more than she needed to save for a new pair of heels.

At the moment, her sanity seemed to hinge on the prospect that Nate Hendricks would call, that she might be seeing some fantastically dirty action, and that Ellis would leave her the hell alone. She was scrubbed, exfoliated, shaved and polished, and ready for all three. She even had a reasonable amount of hope for two of those. And two-thirds’ worth of sanity was better than none at all.

When her phone rang in the middle of a reality show cooking competition marathon, Jenny snatched up the phone and grinned at the unfamiliar number. It was Nate. She knew it was. And she smiled when she heard his voice.

“What time do you go in to work?” he asked.

She smiled harder. “I don’t. What about you?”

“It’s my day off. You’ve probably had lunch already—”

“I haven’t!” Okay, that had been a hairbreadth too eager. Or maybe more than that, since he paused for a long moment before speaking. But screw it, if he wanted her to play coy, he could go to lunch with his disappointment. Last night, she’d been nervous. Now she was just pissed that she hadn’t already gotten in his pants. She wanted to get it over with. Not the sex, but the nervousness. The doubts and worries. She wanted to get to the good part.

“I could call that new place on the square,” he finally said. “I’m not sure if they’re open for lunch.”

Jenny glanced at her pitiful little kitchen, then down at her T-shirt and black panties “I could make something. If you’d like to come over.”

Despite her internal pep talk, Jenny’s heart began to pound before the words had even left her mouth. Oh, God. Oh, God. There was no mistaking her invitation. Was there? He had to know. What if he insisted on the restaurant? What would that mean? Her bravery started to sneak away. “If you want to go to a restaurant, I—”