Page 9 of Cowboy Breaking Point

“What did the medical examiner have to say?”

He threw a glance at his buddy. “Have you seen the kid?”

“Who?”

“The medical examiner.”

“That’s Raven Barker-Moore. Not yet. She hasn’t been around these parts long, but everyone says she’s smart as a whip.”

“She’s a kid.”

Clay leaned in to see the screen better. “Do we need Lark to come hack this phone? She’s great with technology.”

“I got it.”

“Do you actually know how to use this system?”

“You’re the luddite, not me.” He referred to Clay’s lack of skill when it came to anything related to technology.

“Iamyour boss. I demand some measure of respect.”

He chuckled. “Of course you’re going to lord that over me. Remember, it was me dragging your puking ass up the trail in bootcamp when you couldn’t complete that run in the heat. Quit trying to micromanage me, Lexis. I said I got it.” Photos popped up on the screen.

The small thumbnail images showcased everything from mountain scenery to muscle cars and a few of the dead man holding up various fish he’d caught, most likely in the very river where he’d been dumped. But one photo had Quaide’s full attention.

The blonde, face angled from the camera, a wide smile on full lips that were all too damn familiar to him. Her hair was the same shade as Dove’s. Her skin, the same creamy pale perfection.

Dove’s marked easily when he got too rough with his kisses and his beard scraped her skin.

His gut tightened.

Clay jabbed a finger at the image. “Who’s this?”

“No idea.” His voice sounded rough.

“You know who she looks like?”

“No. Who?” His heart picked up an extra beat.

“That chick… One you were dating? You had so many women.”

He grunted.

“Wasn’t there a hooker down in Colorado Springs?”

A cough sounded from behind them, and Quaide and Clay swung around at the same time to see Lark entering the room.

Quaide shot his friend a cut-the-shit look before turning back to the screen.

“I’m joking. No, this girl looks like the lovely woman who worked for you. What’s her name?”

The last thing he needed was someone poking around in his business. Even if he considered Clay a friend, he didn’t want to confide in him.

“I don’t know who you mean.” Quaide kept his voice even.

“Robin. Wren.”

He tensed. “Never heard either name. Maybe you’re the guy with hookers in his past.”

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