BIG SKY SECRETS 03: End Game

BIG SKY SECRETS 03: End Game by Roxanne Rustand Read Free Book Online

Book: BIG SKY SECRETS 03: End Game by Roxanne Rustand Read Free Book Online
Authors: Roxanne Rustand
Tags: Christian Romantic Suspense
night.
    Smothering a cough, she stepped into the entryway.
    A sun-browned cowboy loomed close, a wide grin revealing tobacco-stained teeth. “Hey, purty lady—where’d you come from?”
    Another raised a glass in her direction, his eyes glazed. “Buy ya a drink, ma’am?”
    Both of them were wiry and weathered to the hue of old leather. Maybe they were stronger than they looked, but neither had the calculating look in his eye that she’d hoped to find, or had the kind of build that could easily drag a body up a half mile of rugged trail.
    She leaned close and lowered her voice. “Thanks. But I’m looking for a friend. A real big guy named—” she thought fast “—Bull Carraway. Real jealous guy, if you know what I mean.”
    The two aging cowhands melted back into the crowd.
    She pressed on, slipping through a trio of grizzled men in well-worn shirts and dusty boots. Past a couple of fresh-faced young cowboys, their faces sunburned, foreheads white as fresh cream, who blushed deeper red and ducked their heads, tongue-tied and shy, as she passed.
     
    A sense that she was being watched crawled up her back.
    She eased farther into the crowd, angled toward a corner and glanced back, but saw no one staring at her—just a milling crowd that had closed in behind her, voices raised to be heard over the driving beat of some honky-tonk song she didn’t recognize.
    Someone bumped into her and she wobbled on her high heels, tipping precariously before she could grab for a post near the end of the bar.
    “Having fun?” A low voice growled against her ear, the man’s big hand settling possessively at the small of her back to steady her. “Fancy lady like you doesn’t belong in a place like this.”
    She froze. Then forced herself to relax and smile, remembering her ruse. “I just thought I’d like to get out for a while. I like the band, don’t you?”
    She turned partway and found herself looking into the hard eyes of a man dressed better than most of the others. Western-cut blazer. Pressed slacks. Custom boots. A slick, confident smile on his full lips, though his belly bulged over his belt and strained the buttons of his shirt, and his heavy jowls swelled over his collar. His smile stretched faint scar lines over his nose and left cheek.
    She pursed her mouth into a pout. “My fiancé is such a drag, sometimes. He’d rather stay home and watch the sports channel than have some fun.”
     
    The man bared his teeth in a wolfish smile. “Sounds boring to me.”
    She frowned and rested a hand on her hip. “Are you from around here? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”
    He pulled a business card from his pocket, his smile morphing into one of self-satisfaction, as if he was already sure she was his for the night. “Milt Powers. Insurance executive, actually. I come through this area several times a year. Want a drink?”
    She quelled the urge to roll her eyes. Executive—my foot. He’d looked like a possibility at first, but his travels didn’t parallel what she was looking for, and the gold-embossed card was one for a company that did advertise in Montana. The logo matched the TV ads and even bore his smiling face, name and address. Hardly what he’d share if he were trying for anonymity.
    She offered an apologetic smile. “I don’t think so. My…um…fiancé said he’d stop by later. Promised me one dance before I have to go home.”
    The interest in his eyes evaporated. With a shrug, he turned back to a blowsy redhead at the bar, and Megan moved on, slowly winding her way through the deepening haze of smoke, hiding her careful survey of the patrons with what she hoped was an air of a woman on the prowl.
    Again, she felt someone staring at her, the sensation boring through her spine, and she turned slowly. Caught the eye of a few cowboys who grinned drunkenly back and raised their beer bottles at her. But…it wasn’t them.
    A beefy rancher-type, mid-forties with a bottle in his hand, gave her a

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