Page 3 of Cowboy Breaking Point

What those were, he had no idea. One minute she was in his life and the next, gone.

He heaved a sigh and dumped the bitter coffee down the drain. In the small town of East Canon, there were only two convenience stores, and one made a half-decent cup of joe.

With any luck, the place would be robbed while he was there and give him some real purpose in life again.

He was past the point of admitting he wasn’t all right.

With a glare at the wallpaper border sporting roosters parading around the perimeter of the kitchen and dining room, he gnashed his molars.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to beat all. His plans were wasted energy flushed down life’s toilet.

He and Dove were supposed to be in this house together, ripping down that ugly goddamn wallpaper. They were supposed to be working together on the Sentry task force that he had spearheaded and she had provided all the support to bring to realization.

When things got tough, Dove always brought her look-on-the-bright-side outlook and made him see that the world wasn’t just shadows and trouble. Her sunnier disposition always gave him the morale boost he needed.

Sentry was theirbaby. This house was meant to be theirhome.

What happened? Not having closure was gutting him on a daily basis.

When his phone rang, he brought it to his ear automatically without glancing at the caller.

“Livingston.”

“It’s Lexis. We’ve got a body.”

He stared at the opposite wall of the kitchen where a giant-sized fork and spoon hung but he didn’t really see the décor. “A body,” he repeated.

“A fisherman’s body was found.”

“Why are you calling me about it? I thought Jennings was the new body guy.” Jennings Abel was also a new recruit to the Sentry team and he made it clear from the start that he didn’t mind taking the worst jobs. Looking into dead bodies discovered around the rundown town was up there on the list of crap that Quaide didn’t want to deal with.

“Because I knew you’d be awake.”

“Because I’m an early riser?” Quaide walked over to the giant fork and reached up to remove it. Then he thought better of it and dropped his hand. Starting any of these projects would swell into a huge commitment, one he didn’t have time for until he was completely settled into his new role here.

Or his mind was less cluttered by thoughts of Dove.

“Because you’re not sleeping,” Clay broke into his thoughts.

“Ah. Right.” He’d gotten maybe three hours of sleep the previous night, but even that was broken. “Give me the location of the body.”

Clay told him the spot and that a medical examiner would be meeting him there. When they ended the call, Quaide walked through the silent, outdated house to his bedroom to grab his sidearm.

So far, his room was the only space that he finished renovating. The old, cheap wood paneling got ripped out and new drywall fixed in place. It was painted a pale blue-gray shade. It took him three weeks of sleeping in this room to realize it matched the exact shade of Dove’s eyes.

Taking a minute to check his weapon, he accepted how bad he had it for the woman who’d left him. Six weeks hadn’t done a thing to erase her from his mind either.

After a short drive, he arrived at the local prime spot for Colorado fly fishermen. Several cops were already on the scene. They spotted Quaide and one came forward, picking his way down the grassy bank.

Quaide was careful to keep his footprints off the soft, muddy spots so he didn’t mess up the crime scene. Working with Sentry had forced a switch in his thinking. In the Marines, he barreled into the thick of battle. After that, most of his work for the FBI didn’t involve close fieldwork like this.

The cops could handle the bloated body of a guy who had a heart attack on shore. But if they believed the death to be from natural causes, Quaide wouldn’t be called in.

The officer cocked a brow at him. “You Lexis’s man?”

Quaide’s feathers ruffled for two reasons. First,hehired Lexis to head Sentry. It burned a little that he no longer held any position of authority and was viewed as an underling. Second, this officer must be half his age.

His smooth baby face suggested that he might be too young to grow a beard. It was far too early and Quaide wasn’t nearly caffeinated enough to be dealing with this brand of bullshit.

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