Hot Velocity(13)
“Now that I have the stun gun, I can take care of myself.” She stepped away and pulled her cell phone from her purse. As she hit the number for the sheriff’s department, she left the dining room and entered the front living area.
“Sheriff’s department,” a woman’s voice answered.
“This is Sierra Daniels. Is Sheriff Scott available?”
“One moment, please.”
After a short pause, a deep, masculine voice came through the receiver. “Sierra, Sheriff Scott here. What’s up?”
She sighed. “Clay’s at it again.”
“When is that boy going to get it through his thick head you aren’t going back to him?”
“I don’t know. But he’s parked outside Mrs. McCall’s bed-and-breakfast, where I’m staying. I didn’t call, but I had two altercations with him yesterday.”
“Sierra, you did right. We’ll do something about it.”
“I know. I just need to remember to call.”
“That’s right. We’re here to help. I’ll send a unit by,” Sheriff Scott said.
“Thank you.”
“Are you going to be okay?”
Sierra glanced across the two rooms at T-Rex standing by the window, staring out at her ex-husband. “Yes. I’m okay. I can protect myself. I just don’t want him hanging around and scaring my landlady.”
“We’ll take care of it.”
Sierra ended the call and joined T-Rex in the dining room.
Mrs. McCall entered, carrying their plates of steaming eggs.
As they settled in for their breakfast, Mrs. McCall asked, “Would you mind if I put the news on the television?”
“Not at all,” Sierra answered.
“I’d like that,” said T-Rex.
The bed-and-breakfast owner hit the remote for the fifty-inch television mounted on the wall in the corner of the dining room. She gave them a sassy smile as she adjusted the volume. “I love my big television. I occasionally open the dining room during football season. I love my Denver Broncos.”
“I was here during your airing of the last playoff game.” Sierra said. “The food was great, and the company was so much fun.” It had been shortly after her divorce. She’d dared to venture out by herself and had thoroughly enjoyed the football game. “I’m a huge Broncos fan, too.”
Beside her, T-Rex choked on his coffee.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
He set the cup down and covered his mouth. “Wrong pipe.”
Mrs. McCall tuned in to the news station based out of Jackson Hole, Wyoming, the closest station to Grizzly Pass. “Look, there’s Grady Morris on the steps of the state capitol.”
“Isn’t he the guy who was here a few days ago, campaigning for state senator?”
Mrs. McCall nodded. “He’s been campaigning all over the state. The elections aren’t far off and the incumbent is getting old, but he is a favorite.” She turned up the volume.
A woman in a gray skirt suit raised her hand. “Mr. Morris, what’s your stance on global warming? Will you vote for legislation to reduce greenhouse gases?”
The candidate stood straight, his gaze on the gathered crowd more than the female reporter asking the question. “I will study the situation and make the best possible decisions based on the scientific findings and what my constituents want.”
“Great way to avoid the question,” Sierra muttered.
“What about the pipeline running through the state and the southern border of Yellowstone National Park?” A dark-haired man, wearing a dark jacket, held out a microphone. “Will you put pressure on the federal government to put a stop to further expansion of the pipeline access?”
“I will stand by the people and do what’s in the best interest of the people of Wyoming,” Morris responded.
“Another nonanswer,” Sierra noted.
“Is it true, Mr. Morris, that you were once on the Transcontinental Pipeline Inc. board of directors?”
Morris nodded, brows dipping. “Your point?”
“And isn’t it true Transcontinental bought out Rocky Mountain Pipeline?”
Again, Morris nodded, his eyes narrowing slightly.
“And isn’t Transcontinental in the process of negotiating their existing contract for the maintenance of the pipeline through Wyoming and for additional pipelines to pass, as well?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Morris responded. “I haven’t been on the board for nearly seven years. Next question, please.” Morris looked at the others in the crowd.
“Is it true Transcontinental is being investigated for failure to provide sufficient maintenance to the existing pipelines?” The man in the dark jacket wasn’t going to let go of the pipeline angle.
Morris’s mouth thinned into a straight line. “I’ll take other questions from other reporters now.”
The woman in the gray suit held up her hand.
Morris nodded to her.
“Mr. Morris, I’d like to know the answer to the other reporter’s question. Is Transcontinental being investigated for failure to provide sufficient maintenance to the existing pipeline?”
“If they are, it should be available as public record.” Morris straightened his suit coat and stepped down from the top step at the capitol. “If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
“Mr. Morris, if Transcontinental hasn’t been maintaining the pipeline properly, are the people of Wyoming in danger of a pipeline rupturing?”
“I don’t have the answer to that question,” he responded.
The woman in the gray suit followed Morris as he attempted to push through the crowd of reporters. “Will you, as a senator, make certain all measures are taken to protect the people of your state from a potentially disastrous situation with the pipeline?”
Morris didn’t respond. The woman in gray turned to her cameraman. “There seems to be more than meets the eye on Grady Morris’s connection to the Transcontinental Pipeline. I’ll bring you my findings in the evening news.” She signed off and the news returned to the station and the weather report.
“Mr. Morris has an uphill battle if he plans to be the next senator of Wyoming,” Mrs. McCall said. “Too many people are unhappy about the pipeline running through our state to begin with. If Morris is in any way connected with the pipeline shenanigans, he won’t get the votes he needs. And if Transcontinental thinks they’ll put another one in with the first, they have another think coming. Ever since they bought out Rocky Mountain Pipeline, they’ve laid off everyone and quit maintaining the line. I’d be surprised if they don’t get fined and booted off the pipeline altogether.” Mrs. McCall grimaced. “Sorry. I’ll step down from my soapbox now.” She finished her tea and stood. “Can I get you anything? More coffee? Tea?”
Sierra held up her hand. “I’m full. Breakfast was great. If you keep cooking like that, I might decide to live here even after they finish the renovations on my apartment building.”
“Sweetie, you’re always welcome here. You’re practically family.”
“Thank you, Mrs. McCall.” Sierra gathered her plate and stood.
Mrs. McCall paused on her way to the kitchen, staring through the window. “Now, what is the sheriff doing on our street so early in the morning?” She left the dining room and pushed through the swinging door into the kitchen.
Sierra’s pulse sped up. She deliberately stopped beside T-Rex and piled his plate on top of hers. As she passed the window, she could see a sheriff’s car pulled up against the curb where Clay’s truck had been a few minutes before.
A smile curled her lips, and she felt a hundred pounds lighter. “Clay’s gone,” Sierra said.
“Even so, I’m following you to the community center today.” T-Rex pushed back from the table and gathered the glasses.
“You don’t have to,” Sierra reminded him.
He shook his head. “No, but I want to. Can we not argue about it this morning?”
She twisted her lips in a wry grin. “Deal. And thanks.” The smile he gave her spread warmth throughout her body.
And so, she had her escort to the community center. Clay wasn’t there waiting to harass her, but Brenda was driving up as she arrived, and by the stupid grin on her face, she wasn’t likely to let Sierra by without some good-natured ribbing.
Sierra hugged herself around her middle as she walked into the building. The man made her feel cared about and protected. No amount of ribbing would knock the smile off her face.
Chapter Eight
T-Rex waited until Sierra was inside the community center before he left. He didn’t like leaving her with the possibility of Ellis showing up again and making a nuisance of himself. But he couldn’t be there all the time for her. He had a job to do.
Just to relieve some of his anxiety, he stopped at the sheriff’s office.
Sheriff Scott was standing at the front desk, talking to a deputy, when T-Rex entered. He finished what he was saying and turned with his hand outstretched and a smile on his face. “Mr. Trainor. Good morning. What can I do for you?”
T-Rex gripped the man’s hand. “I wanted to thank you for sending a unit by the bed-and-breakfast this morning.”
The sheriff’s smile faded, and he released T-Rex’s hand. “Clay Ellis needs a swift kick in the backside. The man can’t get it through his thick, mean head that things were over between him and Ms. Daniels the day the judge granted her divorce.”