Ronnie’s five-year marriage to Lyle had transformed from a fairy tale romance to a horror story in a blink. The first few months everything had seemed wonderful, including the lavish vacations and sparkly jewelry Lyle had given her. But then he started traveling for business more and more, which Ronnie found out later were fully paid trips to his clients’ high-priced estates. Laundering money, snorting cocaine, screwing blondes, and skimming whatever he could when nobody was looking came next for Lyle in whatever order suited him at the moment.
Fast forward five miserable years to Ronnie sitting in a hard aluminum chair under bright lights. All sorts of authority figures had a bang-up time dragging her through the mud while trying to pry answers from her that she didn’t have. The FBI had been especially thorough in their attempts to make her talk. However, much to the Federal Bunch of Incompetent bungholes’ disbelief, she was clueless about the piece of shit with whom she’d been sharing a marriage bed—not that they spent much time in that bed together after the first few months of their happily-ever-after life. It turned out that stress, cocaine, and too many loose women left Lyle’s penis feeling deflated most nights, unlike his ego. His office couch offered him more privacy than her bed, which he probably needed since any talking in his sleep might give away his dirty secrets.
“All of the above,” Mississippi said, cutting through her stumble down memory alley.
She blinked away the nightmare that was her life until a few months ago. The interrogation lights, jail-time threats, and multiple moments of humiliation faded, leaving her neck deep in drink and food orders in a bar filled with bikers, miners, cowboys, and truckers. Not to mention the campers filtering in from the Dancing Winnebagos RV Park located a hop, skip, and jump up the road. The new website that Ruby’s sixteen-year-old daughter, Jessica, had created recently for a school project was already paying off with a thirty percent increase in reservations.
“Are you serious?” she said to her FBI pal. Considering Lyle’s history, she wouldn’t be surprised if every bounty hunter in the galaxy was on the hunt for her.
Mississippi moved even closer to her. “Yes,” he said next to her ear. “According to this morning’s briefing, your husband’s plea deal last month landed several key players from a Dallas crime ring in prison with a likelihood of twenty-plus year sentences for selling AR-15s and AK-47s to a particularly violent Mexican drug cartel across the Texas border.”
“AR-15s and AK-47s are …”
“A problem.”
“I know that. I was going to confirm that those are illegal in Mexico.”
“Definitely. Mexico has some of the strictest gun laws in the world. The cartels down there take advantage of those laws by using illegally obtained weapons to extort businesses, control their territories, and threaten Mexican citizens.”
And now Ronnie’s lousy ex had gone and pissed off the people who supplied the drug cartels with firearms. Wasn’t that just fucking beautiful. “Well. That is sure to make some nasty people real happy with Lyle.”
“They’re pleased as punch, and even more so since he’s basically unreachable at the moment—tucked away all safe and sound in a cushy prison that’s more like a spa and sports club for the rich.”
The disgust in Mississippi’s voice fed the toxic brew bubbling inside of Ronnie’s gut. “So how many new problems do your buddies down at the Bureau figure might be coming our way now that the sentencing has been doled out?”
“At least two and as many as five to seven if the cartel decides to join in the fun and games.”
“Shit.”
Ronnie stared unseeingly at the pool table. As if she didn’t have enough of a dust devil swirling around her with some killer hell-bent on finding those damned diamonds, murdering everyone along the path to them. Not to mention the other criminals Lyle had pissed off in the past. Oh, and of course there was the fact that the last two hired hit men—well, one was actually a woman who went by the nickname “the Husky”—also knew about the diamonds, thanks to Katie’s big mouth. Those two were in prison now, but convicts were allowed to make phone calls, and that meant there could be even more curious folks interested in those stupid diamonds. Grady was going to want to lock Ronnie in the jail cell with her sisters when he heard this latest news.
“Did they give you any names to help us out like they did the last time?” she asked, blinking away the gloom and doom crowding the edges of her vision.
“Not yet. As soon as I hear something, I’ll let you know.” He stepped back, glancing over her shoulder again. “And your boyfriend, too.”
Grady and Mississippi had tag-teamed to deal with a previous hired killer, figuring out where he was holed up and rushing in with guns at the ready. The FBI knew that whoever came for Ronnie was going to have to go through Grady first, so the sheriff was lucky enough to be included on their newsflashes along with her.
“Sheriff Harrison will be absolutely giddy when he hears your news.” She glanced toward the bar and saw the bartender waving to get her attention. She held up her index finger. “I need to get back to work.”
“One more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Without being obvious, check out the blonde in the blue dress over by the jukebox.”
Ronnie slid a glance in that direction. The woman was cute, curvy, and cuddly looking, all of the things Ronnie grumbled about when it came to females these days thanks to Lyle’s obsession with the fairer-haired version of her sex.
“What about her?” she asked. Did Mississippi have a thing for blondes, too?
“Do you know who she is?”
“No, why?”
“Because she’s been watching you with definite interest since she walked into the bar twenty minutes ago.”
Ronnie snuck another glance from under her lashes. Sure enough, the blonde was looking her way. “Maybe she likes my dress.”
“Or
