“Sir, you can’t go in there. Mr. Phillips is on the phone.”
“Yeah, well, if he wants his paycheck, he’ll get off the fucking phone.” Damon clamped down on his temper and softened his tone, along with his expression. He flashed the receptionist one of his most disarming smiles. “Sorry, I’m a little frustrated. You’re just doing your job. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”
She smiled back a little shyly. “It’s okay.” She stood up. “I’ll just tell him you’re here.”
He kept his smile in place, softened it even more, kept his eyes on her face, making her blush. He had skills when it came to women. He was good-looking and he knew how to be charming. Add to that, he had money and plenty of it. Women fell all over him. As long as he stayed in control, he knew exactly how to handle them.
He checked her name on the sign on her desk. “I appreciate that, Amy. But I’ll just tell him myself.” Before she could stop him, he’d pulled open the frosted half-glass door and walked into private investigator Marvin Phillips’s office.
Phillips swung his feet down from the top of the desk. He was about the same height as Damon, a little over six feet, but older, in his midforties. He was balding, while Damon had a thick head of wavy black hair. He preferred hiring people who were physically inferior. It gave him a little edge.
“Get off the phone,” Damon demanded.
The detective’s features tightened. “I’ll have to call you back.” Phillips hung up, but didn’t rise from behind his desk. “I thought you were coming in this afternoon.”
“I’m tired of waiting. I want results. Where is she?”
“I don’t know where she is. Not yet. I told you that when you called. I’ve found her for you twice already. I can do it again—if you’re sure that’s what you want.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means chasing this woman all over the country is not a good idea. Surely by now, you realize she isn’t coming back to you.”
“What the hell do you know? She’ll come back. It’s just a matter of time.” He didn’t tell the detective he didn’t plan to give her any choice. Victoria belonged to him. He’d bring her back whether she wanted to go with him or not.
“She was in Carlsbad a little over three weeks ago,” Damon said. “You must have found something since then.” He didn’t mention what had happened to him in New Mexico. Every time he thought about how Tory had tricked him, humiliated him, made a fool of him, he wanted to wrap his hands around her pretty neck and squeeze.
It had taken him hours to drag himself into the kitchen, get his bound hands on a butcher knife, and cut himself free. When he found her, she’d pay for that, along with everything else she had done.
“Did you talk to Lisa Shane?” he asked. “They were best friends. She must know where Tory is.”
“I talked to her. She hasn’t heard from Victoria since she left Phoenix. I’m working a couple of other angles. Sooner or later she’ll turn up again.”
“I’m paying you a small fortune. The longer it takes, the more money you make. That better not be what’s going on here.”
Phillips rose from his chair. “I said I’d come up with something and I will. Sooner or later everyone makes mistakes. She’ll turn up somewhere and I’ll find her.”
“I’m tired of waiting.” Damon strode to the door and pulled it open. “You’ve got a week. Then I’m done with you.” Turning, he stormed out of the office.
A week. Then he’d do it his way.
The thought sent a rush of adrenaline through him. He wouldn’t waste time. He’d do what had to be done to get the answers he needed.
He almost hoped the detective failed.
*
Josh worked the rest of the afternoon. One of the mares was ready to foal. He had brought her in from the pasture and put her in the barn, then gone back to work on the cow barn, which, as the oldest structure on the ranch, was practically falling down.
He was gutting the interior, knocking out the old rotted boards that made up the stalls. As he slammed the hammer against the wood, splintering it and sending pieces flying, he thought of his encounter with the redhead working in the other barn.
She was a handful, that was for sure. Stubborn to a fault, and prickly even when he was trying to help her. Since she was only going to be there one more day, he’d wanted to make things a little easier, give her a less difficult job, something that wouldn’t make her hands bleed and her back ache.
He shook his head. Bullheaded woman. If she weren’t such a pain in his ass, he might admire her. At least her word was good. She’d said she’d give him three days’ work as a stable hand and she was determined to do it.
The hell of it was, it wasn’t going to matter. The last thing he needed was a sexy little redhead distracting him from the goals he’d set for himself. And Tory Ford was a definite distraction. Soft curves in all the right places, high full breasts, lips the color of strawberries.
Every time he thought of her, he remembered the way she looked in those blue denim stretch jeans, bending over to shovel out the stall. The rhinestones on her back pockets flashed like beacons, pointing to her perfect little ass.
He’d wanted to move up behind her, drag those fancy jeans down over her hips, wrap his hands around that narrow waist, and—
Josh clamped down on the thought. Tory was a nice young woman, the mother of a sweet little girl. She deserved to be treated with respect.
But the fact was, he was a man, and though he hadn’t been celibate since his return to Texas, he’d been too busy to make up for all the months he’d been deployed in the Middle East. He needed her gone before he took advantage, and he intended to make that happen tomorrow.
He sighed as he picked up the hammer. At least with Mrs. Thompson here, he didn’t have to worry about the little girl and neither did Tory. In the meantime, he had plenty to do.
Working off a little of his frustration, Josh slammed the hammer against the rotted wood.
*
The hours slid past. When Tory checked on Ivy, she found Mrs. Thompson teaching her to play Candy Land. They both seemed to be having fun.
Earlier Josh had suggested Tory bring Ivy out to the barn after lunch to visit the litter of kittens one of the feral cats had recently birthed. Ivy was excited to see them. The little girl ran all the way there.
“Where are they, Mama?”
“In that last stall, sweetheart. They’re curled up in the straw.”
Ivy whirled around, blond ponytail flying, and raced ahead, then slowed to walk quietly into the stall. “Oh, Mama, aren’t they cute?”
Tory smiled. “They’re having their lunch, same as you just did.”
A few feet away, Ivy sank down in the straw to watch them nurse. The mother was gray with white fur on her chest. There were two gray kittens, two orange. Tory had noticed a big orange tom prowling around the barn.
“There’s four of them, Mama.”
“They’re too little to handle yet,” a deep voice said. “But they grow up fast.” Josh stood outside the stall, his arms folded on the top board as he looked down at them.
The grin slid off Ivy’s face. She reached for Tory’s hand. “I wanna go back in,” she said, sinking into herself the way she had begun to do whenever there was a man around. Especially a big man like Josh.
He looked from the little girl to Tory, must have read the concern on her face. “It’s all right,” he said softly. “I was just getting ready to saddle Sunshine and give her a ride. Enjoy the kittens.”
He turned and walked off and Tory could hear him talking in that soft way of his to the palomino mare in the second stall. Leading the horse out of the stall, he began to groom her, his brushstrokes swishing through the air. It didn’t take long before the mare was saddled and ready.