The Cattleman by Angi Morgan Page A

fill her in on his adventure at the canyon.
    “I’m going to find who the cartel has spying at the Rocking B. I’m ending this once and for all.”

Chapter Six
    “I’m telling you that they ain’t doing nothing except riding. Day after day, that’s it. Burke ain’t going nowhere. He ain’t taking off like he used to. Not even to town. And there ain’t been a soul come to visit them. Nobody. That makes it too risky.”
    The past several weeks had been very frustrating for their organization. Their Rook had been captured, leaving only the three of them. The promised weapons had been confiscated. And this American imbecile was getting on his nerves.
    “We want him out of the way. Do you understand?” he asked, expecting the appropriate response.
    “No. Spell it out for me. ’Cause you don’t and won’t ever pay me enough to take care of that kind of a problem. Do you understand?”
    Impertinent fool. If the organization had anyone else to take their place on the ranch, his men would chop the body in pieces for the Coahuila desert mountain lions to feed upon. They needed this little pawn, much to his distaste.
    “I understand perfectly. It’s a shame you do not. All we require is an opportunity to present itself.”
    “They ain’t givin’ you none.”
    “I have excellent hearing and I heard you earlier. Perhaps we are paying you enough to give them a false lead? Once they’re in the open, I have men who understand their jobs and can take care of the problem.”
    “When are you thinking? There’s no way I can pull something off before tonight. But everybody’s talking about what happened last year, him being shot and all.”
    “Tomorrow will be soon enough.”
    “I’ll call ya.”
    The line disconnected.
    “I’m sure you will,” he said, setting the phone on the table.
    As he sat on the gold brocade settee, he studied the four chess boards to his left. Each one a separate opponent. One—the Rook’s board—would go unfinished. He didn’t care for that scenario.
    Unfinished bothered him.
    As did the unfinished business of Nick Burke. He shouldn’t have trusted the money-fixated foreman to take care of that particular problem last year. His personal men would have been more efficient and they might have had control over the property by now.
    “Working in that area is one constant irritation after another.”
    “What’s that, senor ?” Michael set a dinner tray on the end table.
    He’d been so deep in thought that he hadn’t noticed he was no longer alone. It re-emphasized just how annoyed he was.
    “Nothing, nothing. I was thinking aloud. Nothing to bother with, Michael.”
    “Do you need anything else this evening, Senor Obispo?”
    “No, and tell the rest of the staff I do not want to be disturbed.”
    “Very well, senor. Buenas noches. ” Michael gently pulled the door closed, leaving the room silent.
    Perfect.
    They all knew him as Senor Obispo. “Mr. Bishop.” He pulled the dark wine-colored bishop from the game he’d been playing with the Rook. He would have won in four moves.
    Senor Obispo could afford to bask in his victory. He rolled the cool marble between his fingers and gripped it in his palm. Mr. Bishop needed action—swift, sincere, artless. He stared at the other three boards against the wall. His opponents were merciless. He mustn’t fall behind in any of the games.
    The one adversary he truly wanted to outmaneuver was Burke. The game would be simplified when he did. How many moves would it finally take to defeat him? An inconsequential nobody who didn’t know he was at war?
    Tomorrow. His answer was patience. Tomorrow the game would change.

Chapter Seven
    Hand to hand. Hip to hip. Chest to chest. Back to front. Tense muscle to tense muscle.
    Beth drew in the sexy scent off Nick’s shoulder pressed very near her mouth. Nice. Enticing. Erotic. Off-limits.
    “No, not spread. You’ll lose your balance. One foot slightly ahead.”
    “Like this?” His lowered