She's My Kind of Rain (Sue Thomas FBEye)

Chapter One

Gagged, bound, and blindfolded, Jack had no way of communicating with the woman trapped with him in the box of the bouncy truck. He could feel the small tremors of fear coursing through her body at being deprived of her sight, and he wished for a way to reassure her, to let her know they'd be fine—or at least he hoped they would be—not that he had any idea how they'd ended up in that predicament.

Upon tracking Mercer into town, they'd booked a room for the night at the local motel, also called Betsy's Saloon. They'd discovered an interesting meal—he'd never eaten bison before but it'd tasted better than he imagined—and they'd enjoyed a wonderful evening on the dance floor—not that he'd been very adept at square dancing, but he recognized a slow song when he heard one. All in all, a perfect evening with the woman of his dream, even under the guise of surveillance. Mercer had eaten alone and received a phone that had appeared irrelevant. After Mercer left, Jack had suggested a walk to keep up with him and Sue had accepted.

Mercer had met with a local resident. In order not to raise any suspicion, he and Sue had entered a video store. Jack had chatted with the owner while Sue had eavesdropped on Mercer's conversation from the window looking into the back alley.

According to Sue, Mercer had talked about horses—and only horses—before returning to the saloon for the night. As Jack was ready to retire to his room with Sue, two masked gunmen had spoiled his plan for the rest of the evening. The men had taken his gun and found his badge. From there, their night had spiraled down.

Gagged, bound and blindfolded, they'd been tossed at the back of a truck with a bad suspension before someone had flung a manure-smelling tarp over them.

Jack found solace in the idea they were together, and he wanted to believe that his presence comforted Sue.

They rode for what seemed like hours and hours...and hours.

***

The late afternoon breeze carried the dry dust of the naked field into town. Exiting the old pickup he'd requisitioned at their Billings temporary field office, Myles took a deep cleansing breath—and coughed it out. Spring definitely hung in the air, from the thawing of the ground to the emergence of early blooms. He felt transported in his backyard amidst his rose garden until a burly man bumped his shoulder and walked away.

Brushing the dust from his plaid shirt, Myles entered Betsy's Saloon. A middle-aged man wearing a blue flannel shirt with its sleeves rolled up past his elbow welcomed him.

"Where can I find a cheap room?"

The man studied him from head to toe. Myles wished he hadn't shaved in the morning to add to his roguish appearance, but that was a detail that would take care of itself as the week progresses. With his tousled hair, washed-out jeans, and worn out work boots, Myles felt pretty confident he looked just like the man he pretended to be...a transient worker waiting for his big break.

"Why? Are you short on cash?"

"Yeah...I heard a guy named Billy Wrinkley comes here to recruit workers for mines in the far north."

The man raised a brow. "Pay is great, buddy, but those Canucks work the guys like crazy. Fifteen-hour shift, ten days in a row—no entertainment."

"I want money, I don't care about entertainment."

"Suit yourself, but you're out of luck. Billy came yesterday. He won't be back for at least another week."

Myles already knew all that, which was why Tara had suggested that cover. It gave him a week in the small town to snoop around while supposedly waiting for Billy.

"A week?" Myles shook his head, exaggerating the motion. "Where am I supposed to stay? They don't stop people from sleeping in their truck, right?"