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cronies. He’d have to be more careful.
    Or else he might find himself at the business end of Fargo’s gun.
    Because Cold Plains was a nice town.
    And Samuel aimed to make sure no one believed otherwise.

Chapter 6
    B o Fargo walked into Samuel’s office, his thoughts still on the doc. Rafe Black said all the right things, but Bo’s gut told him the doc was hiding something. He’d have to keep an eye on the man to see if his instincts were spot-on, or if he was just being extra paranoid.
    Samuel Grayson, the man behind the plan, looked up from his desk, an efficient smile on his face. “How was your visit with Dr. Black?” he asked conversationally, steepling his fingers as he awaited Bo’s answer. The thing about Samuel was that he seemed soft and nice, but the man was meaner than a junkyard dog when riled. Bo found the contradiction a little disconcerting. He preferred that people act one way or another, not both in a sneaky way. But no one told Samuel how to act or be, not even Bo. “I trust he was cooperative?” Samuel asked.
    “Yes,” Bo answered, vacillating on whether or not to share his misgivings about the doc. For whatever reasons, Samuel seemed to like Dr. Black, and Bo didn’t like the idea of being the bearer of bad news. However, one thing Samuel didn’t abide and that was being in the dark, and since he counted on Bo to keep him apprised of the goings-on, he decided to spill. “He said all the right things, but I don’t trust that man. What do we know about him? Not much. I think he’s hiding something.”
    “Such as?”
    Bo shrugged. “Dunno. Just something in my gut that says he ain’t being truthful about everything.”
    “Interesting.” Samuel pursed his lips in thought. “What was his reaction when you asked him about the infirmary?”
    “Cool as a cucumber. He denied asking about one and even made some jokes.”
    “It would seem a man intent on finding something would be more surprised at being questioned. How reliable was your source of information?”
    Bo thought of the woman, a woman who had reportedly been turned down by the good doc for a date, and he realized the information might be unreliable, and he shared as such. “Seems the doc isn’t so much into dating. The woman who told me, word has it she’d been rejected in the romance department by the doctor.”
    Samuel chuckled softly. “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, right?”
    “So they say,” Bo muttered. Women served two purposes in Bo’s life: food and sex. And sometimes he preferred the food. He cleared his throat. “What now?”
    “Rafe Black is, by all accounts, a good man. He’s smart, responsible, yet keeps his head down. I like that in a Devotee. Work harder at bringing him into the flock. We could benefit from a man such as himself being on our side. And who knows? Maybe if he proves worthy, he will find himself working behind the curtain, in the infirmary. But until then, watch him. Carefully.”
    “You got it, boss,” Bo said dutifully, his belly starting to growl, signaling the dinner hour more efficiently than any clock. “Anything else?”
    “Yes, actually, there is.” Samuel’s expression lost its easy benign softness, that air that he was just a good-natured man out to better his slice of the world. Here was that duality that Bo found unsettling. Now Samuel looked hungry and ruthless. “I’ve tired of my present company. I want someone fresh—young, preferably, but not too young, of course—mid-twenties with a trim figure and nice big breasts. That’s important, Bo. The breasts must be natural, none of that fake silicone garbage. When I squeeze a woman’s breast, I want to feel the flesh give in my hand. Am I clear?”
    “Of course,” Bo said, hating these particular assignments. There was something unnatural about handpicking another man’s bed partner. But he did as he was told because he liked his life. It was easy and people respected him. Sure, it was out of fear, but Bo