Cowboy Famous: Book 4 (Cowboy Justice Association) (3 page)

“If they win they have to go through the academy. I’m not going to budge on this one. It’s for everyone’s safety.”

Otis and Leroy exchanged a glance and then nodded. “Agreed. We assume most of the people who would be on a show like this are looking for a new line of work so they probably wouldn’t have an issue with more training.”

“Most? What other kind of people would be on the show?” Griffin finally popped open the soda can they’d slid in front of him before the meeting when he’d declined the coffee. A jolt of caffeine would be welcome about now.

“The kind that want to be famous.” This time it was Alice who answered, her expression brightening. “People get on reality shows and act outrageous, and then they become celebrities. Don’t you watch television?”

“Sports.” Griffin shrugged. “I’ve got a TV if that’s the question. A big one. I just don’t spend much time watching it.”

“You might want to turn it on and watch a few shows so you have an idea as to what goes on,” Leroy replied. “I like the one where they sing and dance.”

“My deputies don’t need to sing and dance.” Griffin’s frustration was mounting again. “They need to be tough and smart and know how to deal with people.”

“And you can test them on all of that.” Otis patted the table. “The production company sent over a proposed schedule of events but said we could make changes.” He pulled a thick stack of papers from a folder and pushed them across the table.

“How many people do I have to judge?” Griffin shuffled through the papers, eyeing the roster of so-called competitions. He would need to make some changes—that was for sure. It was clearly put together by someone who didn’t have a fucking clue about law enforcement.

“Six, but you don’t have to judge them. The viewing audience decides who stays and goes,” Alice said brightly. Griffin was getting the idea that she liked this idea more than she’d let on in the beginning.

“I don’t get to decide who I’m going to hire?” Griffin rubbed his temples where a major league headache was beginning to bloom. He was fucked and he knew it.

“Do what bosses have been doing for generations,” Leroy laughed. “Make their lives so miserable that you’re the last person they want to work for.”

Griffin prided himself on being fair and treating his staff well. Torturing someone to make them leave wasn’t a good plan. Shit, it wasn’t even really a plan. If the winner was a nightmare, Griffin would just sit them down and tell them the damn truth. They deserved nothing less.

“Are you on board?” Otis asked, his expression full of hope. “We need your support, Sheriff. Everybody can benefit from this. You especially.”

Griffin sat back in his chair and sighed. Resignation and defeat left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“You’ve left me little choice, Otis. Six civilians. No law enforcement experience. A competition for a butt-load of money in a tiny town in the middle of Montana. What could go wrong?”

Chapter Three

J
azz’s legs were cramped and her eyes gritty and tired. She reached under her bus seat for her purse and backpack, yawning and stretching. Tomorrow morning she’d need to do some yoga stretches to work out the kinks. They’d had a long drive from the Billings airport which had been minuscule compared to LAX, but was apparently the largest damn airport in the entire state.

She peered out of the bus window but couldn’t see much of the town. Just some shadowed buildings and a deserted street. Almost midnight, it was pitch black and the few streetlights didn’t seem to throw off much illumination. Levering out of her seat, she lumbered down the aisle with her heavy bag, her muscles and joints stiff from several hours in the air and on the road. The bus had been comfortable but she was ready to get some real sleep. Something she hadn’t much of since she’d agreed to this crazy idea just two weeks ago.

She didn’t want to be a cop.

Or a deputy.

Or whatever the hell she was here competing to be.

She just wanted a break in the cutthroat world of show business. Not asking for favors, she only wanted an opportunity to show what she could do. Hopefully this was her ticket to something better than waitressing and hoping her power wasn’t cut off.

“Look at those stars.” The woman who had sat across from her in the bus marveled as she gaped at the sky. A nice lady in her mid-thirties, her name was Peggy and she was from some little town in Illinois. Peggy and no last name, Jazz had been told sternly by one of the handlers. Only first names would be used to try and protect the contestants’ personal lives, which was a joke. They would be outed on the Internet within minutes of the show airing, but if the handlers wanted to pretend otherwise Jazz wouldn’t burst their bubble.

Jazz followed Peggy’s gaze and was indeed shocked to see the vast number of stars in the inky black sky. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen the Big Dipper, but there it was bright as day and easily discernible.

“Forget the stars, look at him,” hissed Sandy, the pretty brunette standing next to them. In her early twenties and from New York City, she’d talked incessantly on the bus about how this show was going to change her life. She’d dropped out of college, bored and rudderless, determined to find an easier way to make a fortune and be famous.

At first with all the people milling about Jazz couldn’t see what Sandy was talking about, but when Tony and Gordon stepped aside…

Jazz almost choked on her spit.

A tall, well-built man had his back to her. Faded jeans cupped a bitable butt and a shirt that looked like it had been tailored just for him emphasized his muscular wide shoulders. If this was what all the cowboys looked like around here Jazz was going to have to invest in a drool bib. He made the fussy, pretty boy men in L.A. that blew dry their hair and got manicures look pretty pathetic.

He turned around and her gaze went straight to a classically handsome face with a square jaw and narrowed eyes that seemed to take in everything around him. His dark hair was close-cropped, and on further inspection his nose appeared slightly crooked as if it had been broken once or twice. His lips were flat and Jazz couldn’t help but wonder what he looked like when he smiled. Right now, his face was devoid of expression like the faces on Mount Rushmore.

“The only reason I’d kick him out of bed is to scr–” Peggy began.

“Ladies and gentleman,” an older man standing next to the hot one began speaking, interrupting Peggy’s most certainly ribald comment. “Welcome to Hope Lake, Montana. We hope you enjoy your time here. We know you’re tired so we’ll be checking you into your rooms in just a few minutes, but first I’d like to introduce myself and the man that you’ll all get to know very well during your stay. I’m Otis McClintock, head of the town council, and this man is Sheriff Griffin Sawyer.”

Otis slapped the sexy one on the shoulder and grinned. It was only then that Jazz noticed the gold star glinting in the light from the street lamps on his chest. He was her new boss.

Kind of.

“Is there anything you’d like to say, Sheriff?” Otis prompted, his gaze darting between the stony-faced sheriff and the contestants and crew. “This is your chance to give them a hearty welcome.”

The sheriff crossed his massive arms across his chest, the material of his shirt straining at the seams. Damn, he had to work out several hours a day for a physique like that. He took a step forward but he still didn’t smile. His eyes scanned the group as if he was trying to size each and every one of them up. She couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran through her at the energy he radiated. He practically vibrated with intensity.

“Welcome to Hope Lake. As Otis said, I’m the law in this town and I take that very seriously. Each one of you will be tested both physically and mentally during this competition. Make no mistake…law enforcement is often dangerous. It can also be boring and frustrating, especially when dealing with a public that may or may not have the utmost regard for cops. I hold myself to the highest standard and I will hold you to that standard also. The people of this town deserve nothing less than your best. I will accept nothing less.”

Alrighty then. So much for a pep talk.

Too bad the hunky sheriff was such a downer. It looked like he was planning on being some kind of drill sergeant and whipping them all into shape.

Two hundred and fifty thousand. Nationwide exposure.

She needed to keep her focus firmly on the goal. She was here to win, and if it meant doing pushups in the rain for the hot but cranky sheriff then that’s what she’d damn well do. She’d seen his type in the movies and she could handle him.

Otis waited for a moment, but when the sheriff didn’t say another word he nodded and smiled. “I have your room keys here. Let’s just get you checked off this list and you can get some rest.”

The contestants and crew lined up and the man checked them off on a piece of paper one at a time and handed them key cards. Hopefully she wouldn’t have to share a room. Jazz liked her space in the mornings and evenings. Even though she had a roommate, she still liked the quiet when the apartment was empty or Caitlin was asleep.

Thanking Otis for her key, she threw her heavy backpack over her shoulder and waded into the sea of luggage that had been liberated from the belly of the bus. She’d tied a red ribbon around the handle so she could quickly identify hers. Grabbing the suitcase, she grunted a little at the weight. She’d packed practically everything she owned knowing she could be here for quite awhile. Luckily it was on wheels.

Everything was going fine until she had to pull her two ton bag up over the curb and onto the sidewalk. One try didn’t make it and she had to give it a second go.

“Need help?”

The voice was rich and deep, sending tingles to her fingers and toes. Peeking from under her lashes, the handsome sheriff was looking down at her, his dark eyebrows furrowed. He was probably thinking that if she couldn’t pull her own damn luggage – on wheels – she didn’t have a furry rat’s behind chance to win this competition.

Yep, he’s impressed alright.

“I got it.”

Giving one almighty pull, she heaved the suitcase onto the sidewalk trying to look like it hadn’t almost yanked her arm out of the socket. How high were curbs in Hope Lake anyway?

“Let me help you.”

She’d only let go of the handle for a moment but somehow she’d lost control of this interaction. It wasn’t how she wanted to present herself, but that was the story of her life. He took off toward the row of doors that made up the motel and she had to jog to keep up with his long legs. She was barely five-two but he was easily over six feet tall and his shins alone were probably half a foot longer than hers.

He halted in front of door seven and waited for her to unlock it. Jazz slid the keycard into the slot trying not to meet his eyes. She wasn’t sure what she’d see. Scorn? Impatience? Amusement?

“You must have an anvil in that thing. It’s a wonder you’ve dragged it as far as you have.”

Jazz pushed open the door and slid her hand blindly along the wall looking for a light switch. He leaned across her and found it easily, the sudden brightness making her blink for a moment.

He smelled good. Really good. Kind of clean and earthy with a touch of…maybe citrus or spice. He rolled her bag into the middle of the room and then stepped back into the doorway as if his presence might frighten her. She ought to be afraid. In Los Angeles, she’d carried pepper spray and was always aware of her surroundings, but there was something about this man that made her feel safe. He was big and solid, looking like someone who carried his burdens easily. And he was the sheriff.

“Thanks. It’s packed full since I’ll be here for awhile.”

She didn’t know what else to say and he wasn’t much of a conversationalist. She could hear the chatter of voices not far away but he’d only spoken the bare minimum of words. Letting her backpack slide to the floor, she almost heaved a sigh of relief out loud.

His lips quirked up in a half smile and in the light she could now see he had gray eyes, so light they were almost silver, fringed with thick dark lashes. She would kill for those lashes. Her own were blonde, pale, and scrawny, needing mascara for anyone to see them. One makeup artist on set had told her she needed to wear falsies but Jazz couldn’t imagine putting glue that close to her eye.