Page 23 of Dead Man's Hand

The snow was falling harder as he pulled up in front of the Rice Motel in Whitehall. It was still dark, the hour late. The crack of dawn wasn’t that far away. For a moment he just sat in his pickup watching the snow, watching the parking lot, hoping she was inside number nine and that he would soon be calling DJ with the good news.

Still, he couldn’t help being a little leery. This felt almost too easy. That and the one man’s words back in Butte about DJ not being able to trust those closest to him. He didn’t see anyone else in the parking lot and there were only a couple of cars in front of two of the other motel rooms. On the surface, everything looked fine.

Still, as he got out of the pickup, he felt the hair spike on the back of his neck. He moved quickly to the motel unit door and knocked. No answer. He knocked again, then he tried the knob, his anxiety growing. The knob turned in his hand and with just a little push, the door swung open.

“Keira?” he called again. “Keira?” It was pitch-black inside the room, but as his eyes began to focus, he could see that there was someone in the bed. She was either a sound sleeper or... He raised his voice. “Keira?” He took a step in, his heart in his throat for fear that Grandville’s men had already gotten to her.

Buck heard movement off to his right side. He turned, but not quickly enough. He caught a glimpse of Titus Grandville an instant before he was struck with something hard and cold. He staggered and went down hard.

AFTERDRIVINGNORTHtoward Helena and the airport there, DJ tried Keira’s cell. He couldn’t risk the Butte airport. He’d already decided that he would get the PI to bring Keira to him. Somehow, he’d talk her into going to Florida with him. The Grandvilles might run Butte, their tentacles stretching even into the states around them, but they wouldn’t come after them in Florida. If she wouldn’t go, he’d know that she still loved Luca and had no intention of leaving him.

The call went straight to voicemail—just as it had earlier. Had trusting the PI been a mistake? Or had the Grandvilles been waiting for Crawford? If so, then they already had Keira. He tried Crawford. The call went to voicemail. Disconnecting, he felt worry bore deep into him. He told himself that he should have heard something by now.

“She could have stepped out to get something to eat,” Sadie said, no doubt seeing his concern. She didn’t sound any more convinced than he was.

He’d left a message for her to call, but his instincts told him she wasn’t going to because she either couldn’t or wouldn’t. He’d been set up tonight at the poker game. Grandville had been two steps ahead of him the whole time. Keith and Lloyd had been low-rung thugs. Now Grandville would send his A-team after them, the men Keira had told him about, Butch Lamar and Rafe Westfall. Paying Grandville off was no longer an option. Maybe it never had been.

He’d had a bad feeling from the moment things had gone south at the poker game. Something was at play here, something that had him off-balance. He kept thinking about what Lloyd had hinted at, something about those closest to him turning on him. There was only one meaning he could get from that.

Keira.

If he couldn’t trust her, Luca Cross was to blame, he told himself. Hadn’t he worried that Keira was still in love with him, that she would go back to him, that he would get in trouble again? He told himself he shouldn’t have ever let her marry the man, like he could have stopped her.

But even as he thought it, he knew he couldn’t blame Luca. Keira had taken to life on the ranch even as a young girl, fascinated with the criminals who came and went. He’d caught her learning sleight of hand tricks by one of the cons when she was five. She’d been good at it. He’d seen the pride in her eyes.

“It’s in her genes,” Charley had always said with a laugh. “She was born to this life. As much as we don’t want to be anything like our biological parents, we are part of that gene stew. Just need to make the best of the hand you’ve drawn. Remember that, DJ. Accept who you are.”

He thought he had, even though he hadn’t known his gene pool. But he had wanted to believe it didn’t have to be Keira’s future. He’d done his best to protect her, but he’d only been a boy himself back on the ranch. After that, he hadn’t seen her much because he’d been trying to stay alive and not starve.

Thinking about his own biological stew, he wondered about this twin sister, if he really was her twin. Ansley Brookshire. She’d certainly landed in the lap of luxury, he thought uncharitably. By now she knew that if DJ was her twin, they weren’t in the same league—not by a long shot. Maybe she would change her mind about meeting him—let alone having him stand up with her at her wedding. He wouldn’t blame her if she did.

As Charley used to say, “It’s all in the cards and how you play them.” Isn’t that what worried him? DJ thought. Was Keira in the game?

He refused to believe it. He called again and this time left a message. “Where are you?”

BUCKOPENEDHISeyes to darkness. For a moment, he didn’t remember anything—especially where he was. On the floor in a motel room. It took him a moment to adjust to the light coming through the partially cracked blinds. As his memory returned, he rolled over so he could see the bed. Empty. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, his head a little clearer.

He was surprised to realize that his gun was still in his holster. How long had he been out? He checked for his phone. Still in his coat pocket. He hadn’t been out that long even though it was now daylight outside—and still snowing, and Keira was gone. He couldn’t be sure she’d even been the body he’d seen covered in the bed.

The only thing he knew for sure was that he had a bump on the side of his head the size of a walnut. Nor was there any doubt that Titus Grandville was behind this. He hoped he’d get the chance to return the favor.

As he felt steadier, he got to his feet. Turning on a light, he checked out the motel room. No sign of a struggle. No blood. He checked the bed. It had been slept in, but also no blood. Keira had either been taken—or had walked out on her own.

But whoever had hit him had been expecting company. Had they thought it would be DJ? They must have been disappointed.

He peeked out at the parking lot. His truck was still right outside, but the rest of the parking lot was now empty. The two vehicles he’d seen earlier were gone. Either they had been early-rising guests, or they’d been Grandville’s men.

As he started to turn out the light and leave, he felt something in his other coat pocket. He carefully pulled it out. The unsealed envelope hadTo DJwritten on the outside.

Buck frowned as he opened the flap and quickly read the contents. Pulling out his phone, he called DJ.

DJHADDRIVENas far as Helena last night. They’d parked in a Walmart lot, sleeping in the back of the SUV. This morning, he and Sadie had eaten breakfast at a local truck stop. Now, not even a mile from the airport, he knew he had to make a decision. He hadn’t heard from either Keira or the PI. Both could be dead, although he doubted Grandville would kill Keira—not until he got whatever it was he wanted out of DJ.

Crawford was another story. He’d trusted the man, still did because Sadie did. He just hoped he hadn’t gotten the man killed. He was mentally kicking himself for involving other people in this when his phone rang.

With a wave of both concern and relief, he saw it was PI Buck Crawford. He picked up. “Was my sister there?” he asked.

“No.”

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