Whiskey Rose

By Melissa Jones

Matt Harrison is a Texas Ranger. It's not his job it's who he is, a part of him. Nothing is more important. But when his partner is killed and the Rangers aren't going to investigate the death of one of their own. Matt knows he'll have to find the killer on his own no matter the cost. He goes undercover at the scene of the crime, The Whiskey Rose. Unfortunately, Rose the owner and namesake of the Saloon begins to make him doubt everything he thought he was certain of.

Rose doesn't want Matt in her business, not the Saloon or her personal life. But she has a lot to lose if the Texas Rangers descend on her world so she agrees to let him assume the identity of her fictional husband in exchange for keeping the investigation quiet. Now she just has to keep him from uncovering all her secrets and stealing her heart in the process. No easy feat when he makes such an appealing husband.

When a new murder proves there is still a killer in their midst Rose comes to realize a Texas Ranger might be a good thing to have around and Matt realizes that there are some things more important than his badge.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Melissa Jones
• Release date: Jan 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310672040

Melissa Jones

MELISSA JONES was born in London, where she now lives. This is her third novel.

Book preview

Whiskey Rose

By Melissa Jones

Whiskey Rose

Melissa Jones

Copyright 2014 by Melissa Jones

Smashwords Edition

Whiskey Rose © 2014 Melissa Jones

This ebook is for your personal enjoyment and may not be resold.

All Rights Reserved.

All characters, locations, and situations in this book a fictional and products of the author’s imagination.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

About the Author

Other Books in the Fallen Series

Chapter 1

No one should ever have to look into a rough pine box and see a friend, or a loved one for that matter. Matt Harrison had seen his share of pine boxes. He had filled his share of pine boxes. None had ever hurt the way this one hurt. Ben Jenkins, good naturedly known as Benji, was his best friend. Was took on a significant meaning now. He didn’t move as he stared down into the box. He wouldn’t cry. Rangers didn’t cry but he felt an ache deep within where no other emotion existed.

The man in the box looked nothing like Benji, and yet he did. Benji lived in his hat, a dirty, sweat stained, and sun bleached, brown cowboy hat. It never left him. Matt had seen him bathe in that hat and sleep in the hat. But the hat was gone now. Benji’s hair was neatly combed, it was probably the first time since childhood, and he was dressed in a black suit with a string-bow tie. It was as far from his usual wardrobe as you could possibly get. He even looked freshly shaved and his bushy fu manchu mustache was trimmed. Matt’s cool blue eyes narrowed slightly and he finally looked away from Benji’s pale form back to the undertaker.

Why does he look like he’s headed to Sunday service?

You should look your best when you meet your maker, don’t you think, son?

Matt glared at the tall morbid looking man, he was wearing a similar black suit and he wondered briefly if the man had a side business dealing single use suits. That wasn’t what had him glaring. If anyone was going to call him son, it had better be his mother and she had been gone a long time. This man was maybe five years his senior and certainly hadn’t earned the right to call him son.

I am not your son. he said coolly.

A man standing against the wall cleared his throat and stepped forward. Matt. Why don’t we go back to my office?

Matt glared at the undertaker a moment longer before he relented, and followed the other man out.

What happened, Jack?

I wish I knew. Jack’s spurs jingled as he crossed the dusty road. He was the local sheriff now, but he still wore the unofficial uniform of a Ranger. Although he supposed the shirt and vest were really just the uniform of a lawman.

What do you know?

Found him in Round Rock. Someone cut his throat. I wish I could tell you I got ‘im but the truth is I got nothin’. No witnesses, no unrest in the area. He wasn’t wearing his badge; if I hadn’t known him, I might not have been able to identify him at all.

Where’s his hat?

What?

Benji’s hat, it might as well have been his left foot. Where is it?

Jack stopped walking and looked at the ground before he looked up and met Matt’s eyes.

I didn’t find his hat. I did find his badge and the rest of his belongings in a rented room. Jack started walking again.

Round Rock; we took down Hardin in Round Rock. Could this be a two year old retribution?

I don’t think so. We took out all the power at the same time as Hardin. There is a whole new regime moved in there now, the Cannon boys. It’s still a pretty rough place, but if anyone had a score to settle, I would think he would have come for me first, after all I am still fairly local. Do you have any idea what he was working on?

No.

You going to go find out?

Right after I brief the Captain.

You know he’s not going to let you work the case.

I don’t plan on asking his permission.

Jack made a sound that sounded like the beginning of a chuckle but it fell short. Apparently even Matt’s career sabotaging choices weren’t as amusing when they were burying a friend and comrade.

Anything you need… anything… you let me know.

I will.

Matt stood on the boardwalk across the road from a local saloon. It wasn’t the only one in town. In fact this town had more saloons than anything else. This one was definitely the liveliest. The sign read Whiskey Rose. The road in front was bathed in light and noise that was spilling out despite the late hour. This was his starting point. Jack had told him that Benji had been found in the alley behind the saloon. That didn’t mean he had been here but it certainly gave him a reason to start here.

He wasn’t wearing his badge for two reasons, the first being that there was no law in this town. The nearest law was Jack and he was ten miles away. The second reason was the fact that his Captain had expressly forbidden him from coming here. He didn’t have the backing of the Rangers. He was on his own but he would be damned if he was going to let Benji’s killer get off scot free.

Matt walked through the swinging doors and immediately realized what the draw was for this particular saloon. Only two things drew this many men to one place. Women or gold. In this case it was the former. There was standing room only and still the ratio of men to women was better than the average. Even the bar keep was a female. He couldn’t remember ever having seen that before. He worked his way across the room till he could put his back against the wall. The air was charged with anticipation. They were waiting for something. There was a band setting up on the stage but he doubted the band itself would draw this many cowboys. It had to be a woman. At least one, he just wasn’t sure if she was going to be a dancer or a singer.

Get you a drink, Sugar? He looked around for the source of the question and found a short, black haired woman at his side. The creamy white complexion and light colored brows told him the hair color wasn’t natural.

Bourbon. She walked away with what he could only describe as a sashay. She was wearing a bright yellow gown that had a number of embellishments but it wasn’t all that revealing. Still he felt compelled to watch the gentle sway of her backside until it was blocked by the crowd. He looked around and noted that none of the women were dressed in anything revealing, though they were all dressed in some of the brightest colors he had ever seen, they were all very pretty to varying degrees, but he still couldn’t find the draw for this many people.

A hush fell over the crowd and his attention focused back on the stage. The woman reappeared with his drink, along with several others on a tray. A woman with bright red hair stepped up onto the stage, and the crowd broke out in rowdy cheering. As soon as the men settled down, the woman began to sing. She had a sultry voice that stirred something purely male in him. The sound caused the hair on his arms to stand on end. Two lines into the song, the band began to play along with her. The music almost seemed to take away from the voice. It was still like nothing he had ever heard before. For the first time in his life he realized what the siren’s song must sound like. The realization snapped him out of his trance. He was here for a reason. He wasn’t going to be led astray by a siren’s song. He took advantage of the other men’s distraction and scanned the room. He never forgot a face. He was looking for anyone wanted, or any known outlaws. Anyone who could have recognized Benji, anyone that Benji could have pursued here. He didn’t see anyone that looked like a potential suspect. He downed the Bourbon and it wasn’t a moment before another woman was there to retrieve his glass. This one was blond, and a good six inches taller than the first had been.

Can I get you another, hun? She smiled at him and he smiled back automatically.

Maybe in a few. Is there a card room here?

Not on Friday and Saturday. Only Katrina on Friday and Saturday. Let me know if I can get you anything. She winked at him as she moved away. He watched her collect drink orders all the way across the room back to the bar. He looked back at the stage, ‘Katrina’, the woman had said. Katrina had moved on to another song but it was no less entrancing to the crowd of cowboys that were hanging on her every word. He eased his way back through the crowd toward the door. Once he slipped out into the cool night air, he felt a little less like a fly caught in a web. He looked both ways, up and down the road, but he didn’t see a single soul. Clearly, anyone in a five mile radius was here to hear Katrina sing. He slipped between the buildings into a dark alley and made his way silently toward the back of the building. This is why he didn’t wear spurs. He wanted to hear what was around him not his own jingling feet.

The back of the building wasn’t much different than the side. There were a few stacked crates but nothing that could effectively conceal a body. Or a killer, for that matter. Whoever had killed Benji hadn’t bothered to hide the crime. It was a crime of passion or rage because it hadn’t been a robbery. Matt walked slowly up and down the alley twice. What had brought Benji here? He could have been following a lead but if he was, he hadn’t mentioned it to the captain. In fact as far as the Captain knew, Benji was here on personal business. Just one of the reasons he had refused to declare him killed in the line. The other reasons were political. Matt wasn’t going to let it lie though he intended to find out exactly what had happened to his friend. If he had been killed in the line of duty, he would see to it that everyone knew the real story, even if it cost him his career. The first step was finding some leverage on the Whiskey Rose.

Rose closed the door and leaned against it wearily. She flipped the deadbolt then automatically she began pulling the pins out that were holding her wig in place. She carefully placed the blond cap on the wig stand on her vanity next to two others. She took off the hair net next. Then she buried her fingers deep in her hair and shook like crazy. She sighed as the hair on her arms stood on end. There was just something therapeutic about literally letting her hair down. The shoes were next in her routine. She sat down and rubbed her feet for five minutes each, before moving to the next step. Her night time routine was always the same. She never changed it, never even added subtle variations. Her routine reminded her that she was in control of her life. Reminded her that this was only temporary, that everything she did served a purpose. Once she completed the routine she sat down on the edge of the bed and retrieved a Bible from the night table drawer. She ran her hand over the smooth leather cover. She flipped it open and stared for a moment at the faded photograph that was marking the page. She read through the scripture that was marked. Feeling relaxed enough she laid down on the bed. She drifted off to sleep holding an image of a blond curly haired toddler in her mind.

Matt looked up at the wooden building frame, it looked quite a bit different in the light of day. All the people were gone now. It seemed almost deserted, as if the building its self were sleeping in the crisp morning air. He was ready to head back in now though, now he was armed with exactly what he needed… information.

Matt stepped though the swinging doors. This time he was met with the scent of coffee rather than smoke and booze. He even thought he detected a hint of bacon.

Sorry Darlin’ we’re not open yet. Try Maggie’s up the road. She’ll get you a hot breakfast. The suggestion came from a blond woman with a soft Texas drawl standing behind the bar. She was tall with exaggerated curves in all the right places, she was beautiful but he expected nothing less from this place now.

Thanks for the tip. I am looking for Isaiah Madison.

The woman’s attention seemed to focus on him. He could tell she was evaluating him. He kept his posture carefully relaxed and tried to look friendly.

Who shall I tell him is callin’?

Won’t do any good, he doesn’t know me.

Then what is your business with him?

It’s personal, he said and smiled. She returned his smile but he could see she was a little annoyed.

Just a minute, she walked through a door just past the end of the bar. She returned seconds later followed by a broad chested bear of a man with dark hair and a handle bar moustache.

Help you? The man asked. He was very to the point. There were no unnecessary words, not even ‘can I’.

I certainly hope so. Is there some where we can talk privately?

Anything you have to say, you can say in front of my daughter. The man said and Matt smiled. He’d been told Isaiah ran this place with his daughter but he expected she was more of a behind the scenes figure. Certainly not the toothsome woman behind the bar. He didn’t see the resemblance, but then again that would be like comparing a grizzly to a wood nymph.

Maybe you want to hear what I have to say before you make that decision. Matt looked long and hard into the other man’s eyes hoping he would get his meaning. He did.

What did you say your name was?

I didn’t. The two men stared at each other for a moment before the older man relented.

Come with me.

Once they were ensconced in his office Isaiah dispatched with the pleasantries.

What is it that you want? He asked dropping down into the chair behind the desk. Matt tossed Benji’s badge on the desk before he sat down.

We’re not breaking any laws here Ranger. So what is this, a shake down?

The man that wore that badge was my partner. He was murdered behind your saloon. Isaiah's expression lightened perceptibly.

I am sorry for your loss Sergeant but as I told the Sheriff, we didn't see anything. I'm not saying he wasn't here. He very well could have been. We are very busy on the weekends, but no one remembers him and no one saw what happened. Matt felt a surge of temper that he quickly reined in. No one remembered him, he remembered, he wasn't going to let him be forgotten.

It is very likely there was a murderer in your Saloon possibly frequently in your Saloon.

This ain't a church. The very nature of our business attracts some very unsavory characters.

"You would know, wouldn't you Mr. Madison? Or should I