Page 9 of Loving Justice
“I wonder what Sheriff Dussan would think if he knew you were sleeping with his wife? The mother of his children.” The words were out, and there was no fishing them back. She’d paved a new road between her and Kent.
“Where do you get your information? From the same rumor mill as Freedom?”
“With my very own eyes. You really should learn discretion, Kent. I did a little investigating. You’re not playing poker every single night with the boys. Unless it’s strip poker over in the next county in some flea-infested motel room. Couldn’t you have at least upgraded to a three-star motel?”
“No one would believe this nonsense.” He laughed.
“Right, Sheriff Dussan might not, but something tells me he would. Something tells me he doesn’t trust you any more than you trust him.” She stood, lifting her chin slightly. “Now that we understand each other completely, there is nothing more to say.”
His face turned three shades of red. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with, sweetheart.”
“I know exactly who I’m dealing with. A coward who hides behind photos. Now stay out of my life.”
On her way to the door, she heard him say, “Congratulations on the engagement. I wish you luck.”
Every soft hair on her body lifted, her knees wobbled, but she kept walking. Once she was in her car and driving away from Kent’s house, she could breathe again.
She had taken a risk mentioning Molly. Although Justice had no proof of the affair, she’d suspected for some time that while the sheriff was playing poker with the boys, Molly was playing with Kent. Justice had always paid close attention to details. The telltale exchanges of loaded looks between Kent and Molly had made it obvious.
Now that the seed was planted, Justice hoped Kent would back off.
*****
Pok stepped out of the hallway where he’d been hiding, feeling somewhat satisfied with seeing Downs rejected. He stood at the window, probably watching the bitch leaving. Pok grinned, feeling like the universe was playing right into his hands.
“She’s lying,” Pok finally said, planning to get on Downs’ good side. The man was dangerous, but so was Pok. “About marrying someone.”
After a long hesitation, Downs strolled over to the mini bar and poured more bourbon into his glass. His eyes were filled with anger, but his expression was blank when he turned to look at Pok. “How do you know?”
“I’m observant. That’s why you hired me.” Pok tracked his dirty boots over the bearskin rug, ignoring Downs’ low growl. “That was a close call.” Pok lifted his gaze to Tribe, who hovered near the doorway, appearing about as empty-brained as a peanut. “Good thing I parked my truck out of sight.”
Downs rounded the mini bar, wrinkles breaking through his Botoxed features. “Despite your…unique set of skills, you don’t know everything.” He dropped down onto the chair where Justice had been sitting. “Have a seat, Rigs.” Downs used Pok’s fake name, mainly because he knew it raked over Pok’s nerves.
Reluctantly, Pok sat on the couch, staying on the edge just in case he needed to make an unexpected move. He didn’t trust Downs, or his thug. He had a feeling their arrangement was running out of benefits now that they were suspecting that Pok had a plan of his own.
Downs set his glass on a coaster on the coffee table and steepled his fingers, looking at Pok with a narrowed gaze. “You must lay low. You’re like an elephant in a China shop.”
“None of them suspect anything,” Pok said calmly. He didn’t lie, but he was no longer following Downs’ orders, either.
Downs continued to stare as if Pok was as irrelevant as a speck of dirt. “What information did you bring me today?”
“A true delicacy.” Pok reached into his front pocket, withdrew the folded paper, and tossed it onto the coffee table.
“I sure hope this isn’t a waste of time.” He snatched up the paper, dangling it between his fingers.
“Trust me, you won’t be disappointed,” Pok said in a smug voice. Since Downs had hired him to infiltrate Sagebrush Rose Ranch and rock the boat, Pok had been entertaining himself by swiping things off Sam Rose’s desk. The old man thought he was losing his mind. Maybe he was without Pok’s interference. He’d noticed the patriarch seemed off-kilter these days, and now it all made sense.
Unfolding the crumpled paper, Downs skimmed the document. The wrinkles around his eyes smoothed. Did he feel a sense of gratification reading that Sam Rose was diagnosed two weeks ago with incurable pancreatic cancer? “Where’d you get this?”
“I printed it off his computer. He stepped away for a moment. The cowboy is on his last leg.” Pok rubbed his hands together in delight. He found pure joy in seeing the Rose family slowly being dismantled. Soon, Pok’s plan would come together, and he’d have everything he wanted.
Downs tossed the paper onto the table and leaned back into the cushion, inhaling sharply. Anger reappeared. “Sam’s a fighter. Even cancer will have a hard time bringing him down. I might hate the sum’bitch, but he’s a feisty ol’ shit.”
“He has less than a year to live. Then all your troubles will fade away,” Pok said confidently.
“You seem to be enjoying this news more than I am.”
“Are you getting soft?” Pok didn’t like weakness. Yet again, if Downs had lowered his steel walls, Pok would have had the opportunity he’d been waiting for. The egotistical Downs had been added to the kill list. Pok hated the man—hated his unbearable confidence. All his life Pok had faced men like Downs.