Circle Eight Millennium: Lazarus

Circle Eight Millennium

Beth Williamson

Lazarus Graham has always been the black sheep of his family. Leaving behind the ranch his family had owned for nearly two hundred years, he lives life as a Texas Ranger. Tough, hard, and inflexible, he has no time for life’s fripperies.

Beatrice Cartwright never expected to run into her childhood nemesis again. Yet Laz Graham sauntered into her store to investigate a crime nearby. Then the man had the nerve to not remember her.

Being a Graham isn’t easy, and it’s about to get a lot harder for one stubborn lawman and the woman who still owns his heart.

Title Page

About the Book

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

About the Author

Copyright Page

‡

September, 2015

Brier Creek, Texas

“H
ell and biscuits.”

Beatrice Cartwright peered at the shards of broken glass under the edge of the counter. The broom and the vacuum hadn’t reached it. There was no help for it. She’d have to move the case.

This was not good news.

She’d have to remove the bolts from the bottom and then find some burly redneck to move the damn thing. The last two days had been a nightmare and it kept getting worse.

“Bea?”

She peeked over the top of the case to see her friend Kim standing at the door. The window beside Kim was busted. That was how the thieves had entered the store.

Kim twirled in a circle, her dark brown and purple hair swirling with her. She’d been trying to cheer up Bea since the burglary. “What do you think? Chloe just redid the color.” She pursed her lips and posed like a model on a catwalk. “C’mon, Queen Bea, gimme something.”

Bea grimaced. “Don’t call me that.” She got to her feet. “I’m trying to get this place cleaned up so I can reopen.”

The thief had done more than steal inventory. He’d caused thousands of dollars in damage. It was the first time she’d had something like this happen since she had taken over the store. It was frustrating and frightening, but she couldn’t let it stop her from moving forward. Bea was one of the few female business owners in town. She’d be damned if she failed to keep her parents’ store open because of one idiot.

Kim looked around, her brown eyes wide. “Why the hell did they break all the glass?”

“I could probably guess, but the truth is, I have no idea.” Bea set the dust broom on one of the few display cases that wasn’t broken. “It’s not like I have any inventory in here at night. It’s all in the safe. All they got was ammunition, cleaning supplies, and a few range bags. Mostly, they broke shit.”

Kim shook her head, the purple locks shining in the sun streaming through the broken windows. “Asshole.”

“True dat.” Bea sighed. “The crime scene techs took all kinds of fingerprints and stuff. The cops said a Texas Ranger was going to come by to investigate. Something about a string of break-ins across the county. My insurance company adjuster left about an hour ago. Now I wait for the ranger.”

“What about the glass? Did you call Lenny Redman?” Kim was an eccentric girl who could put people off. If it wasn’t her sense of style, it was the camera. She always had it with her and snapped pictures of everything, including of the jagged pieces of glass in the store.

“He’s gone over to the McLellans’ place. He’ll be back later.” Bea didn’t really look forward to the town glazier’s visit. The cost to replace so much glass would be staggering. She worried her insurance wouldn’t cover everything that needed to be fixed or replaced. And her display cases were the ones her father had bought forty years earlier. No doubt she couldn’t replace them and, if the glass was irreplaceable, she would be heartbroken to lose another piece of her parents’ legacy.

“Do you want some lunch?” Kim offered. “I was going to meet Rose at the café.”

“I’m not in the mood to eat. You go on and enjoy.” Bea wanted to wallow in self-pity for a while. Much as she loved Kim, the woman had more energy than half a dozen toddlers hopped up on marshmallow Peeps. Right about then, Bea hardly had the wherewithal to smile.

“Text me if you change your mind.” Kim hugged her, the scent of lavender and vanilla washing over Bea. They’d been best friends since third grade and Kim was the one constant in her life.

After Kim left, Bea went back to inventorying the shelves and taking pictures. It was boring but it was
something
. Otherwise, she would spend too much time nursing her anger over the burglary. And the damn ranger who was at least an hour late.

She spotted the flyswatter behind the cash register and snatched it up. She crouched down beneath the large display case again, intent on getting the glass shards out without moving the damn thing.

“Hello?” A man’s voice rang through the interior. “Is anyone here?”

Bea got to her feet, the filthy flyswatter in hand, her kinky blonde hair flying. Standing there in the doorway was the very last person she ever wanted to see in her life.

Lazarus Graham.

All six foot two of him with rich, dark brown hair, beautiful eyes, and shoulders wider than the state of Texas. He’d gotten bigger in the last ten years, which only served to accentuate the sheer size and masculinity of him. Oh, he was a perfect specimen.

Too bad he was such a pompous ass.

Laz didn’t know
whether to howl or curse a blue streak. Beatrice goddamn Carmichael. He should have remembered the store belonged to her parents, but since he and his sisters hadn’t frequented the gun shop much as kids, he’d rarely stepped foot inside. Until the moment he saw the girl who had hated him since they were eight.

Fuck.

“What the hell do you want?” Her sharp whiskey voice cut through him.

“I’m looking for the owner.” That sounded as stupid as a bag of hammers.

“You’re looking at her. Now get out.” She waved a ratty-looking flyswatter toward the door. “Two steps behind you.”

“No.”

Her blonde brows went up toward that frizzy halo of hair. Freckles still smattered across her nose and cheeks. And the one feature he could never quite forget, those beautiful breasts, strained against a
Firefly
T-shirt that had seen better days.

Jesus please us. She was still a knockout, not that he would ever tell her that. Bea hated him almost as much as he disliked her. It annoyed the hell out of him that he found her hot and sexy.

“You do realize this is a gun store? I
am
armed.” She gestured to her waist. “At all times.”

Any Texan worth his salt had a gun handy, but she took it to another level. The woman knew more about guns, weapons, and their capabilities than any person in Brier Creek. She’d threatened more than once to shoot his balls off.

Laz needed to get control of the situation and his reaction. So he pulled out the only tool left in his arsenal, being a hard-ass cop.

“Miss, are you threatening an officer of the law? You do realize that’s a crime.” He put his hands on his hips. “I’m here to investigate. If you are the owner, then I suggest you work with me. I’m Ranger Graham.”

The shock on her face gave way to disbelief and then finally to cold anger. “Are you trying to tell me you don’t know who I am?”

“If you’re the owner of this shop, I suggest you enlighten me as to who you are.” He crossed his arms and widened his stance. Cool and calm on the outside, rioting emotions deep inside. He wouldn’t, couldn’t, let any of that out. He needed to do his job and get out of there as soon as possible. If his family knew he was in Brier Creek without stopping at the Circle Eight, the hell that would rain down on him would scorch the earth.

“You’re still an asshole, Lazarus Matthew Graham.” She slapped the flyswatter on her leg. “My name is Beatrice Cartwright and I own this shop. Somebody broke in, then proceeded to destroy every piece of glass and steal about five grand in stock.” She waved her arm at the visible damage. “If you’re investigating, then get it done then get the hell out.”

Laz touched the brim of his hat then pulled the notebook out of his shirt pocket. He walked around the store creating a diagram of the interior and noting the damage done. If someone could have flames shoot from their eyes, Bea would certainly have done it. His back burned from the heat of her gaze.

Or perhaps it was guilt.

The truth was, he had made mistakes from the time they had been children. She had always set him off balance and that pricked his pride. Therefore he’d acted like an ass. He’d never apologized for any of his stupidity, which just made things worse. In a perfect world, they might have been friends, or more. Instead they were two people who sniped at each other, never to be more than impolite strangers.

Too bad she was friends with all three of his sisters, particularly Rose. At least he thought they were still friends. Laz hadn’t been back to Brier Creek in almost ten years. Now he’d stepped into the past and opened himself up to a shit storm from multiple directions.

“What time did you close the store the night of the burglary?”

She harrumphed. “Same time as I always do. Six o’clock.”

“Do you have surveillance cameras?” He pointed at the obvious domes on the ceiling. “Or is that for show?”

Her expression hardened. “Yes, I have surveillance. I installed it myself.”

“I have the owner as Patrick Cartwright. Is he here to corroborate your information?”

Her mouth dropped open. “Are you kidding me? Are you fucking
kidding me
?”

Laz had deliberately closed himself off from Brier Creek and everyone he’d grown up with. He was the black sheep of the great Graham legacy. The rancher’s son who refused to be a rancher. Apparently he’d missed a few bits of information, such as what happened to Bea’s father.

“I’m going by the information the dispatcher had—”

“Shut up, Laz. Just shut up.” She ran her hand down her face and stepped around from behind the display. Bea wore a pair of shorts that revealed more than they covered. His attraction to her hadn’t disappeared and now it notched up even farther.

Shit.

“If you had bothered to come home in the last decade, you’d know that my parents were killed in a plane crash. Both of them died when I was twenty. I’ve been the owner of this shop for eight years. Me. Your dispatcher is an idiot.” She walked through the dark blue curtain covering a doorway and disappeared.

Laz let out a long breath. He’d intended to do his job and leave. When he had been assigned to investigate the crime, which was a string of smash and grabs in the county, he had resisted. A lie. He hadn’t resisted, he’d refused. Then his boss told him in no uncertain terms, he wasn’t allowed to say no. So he had to drive back to Brier Creek, the town he’d avoided since he was eighteen.

Here Laz was, now distracted by a woman who hated him but whom he could spend a week in bed with, and the impending doom of his family discovering he was in town. It wasn’t a comfortable place to be.

Apparently he’d missed a devastating period in her life when her parents had died. Taking on the responsibility of a business—a gun business—at age twenty took big brass balls. Bea was one of the few people with enough gumption and smarts to do it. He was glad for her, even if he could never tell her. Too many years of acrimony had soured any friendship they might have had. And, of course, there was the fact he’d been gone for so long.

Shaking off the past, he focused on what he needed to do and combed over the damage, noting the similarities to the previous crimes. The oddball thing was the other crimes were at different types of businesses. There was a dry cleaner, a craft store, a travel agency, a florist, and now a gun store. The only thing they had in common was they were owned by individuals, not big box stores or chains.