Wyoming Bold

“No, the boss and I had a falling out,” Rourke replied heavily. It wasn’t quite the truth, but it was close enough. “Things have gone from bad to worse. And Tat won’t speak to me at all.” The last was said with subdued rage. Tat was a socialite journalist who’d gone with Rourke and General Machado to retake Machado’s country in South America. Rourke and Tat, his nickname for her, had a very long history. Rourke had known her since she was a child. They had a rocky friendship.

“Put her neck hairs up again, did you?” Tank asked.

Rourke cursed. “She’s gone in with the troops, over in Nganwa,” he said, naming a small country involved in a nasty revolution. “I tried to stop her, but she wouldn’t listen. It’s a bloodbath over there. I know seasoned mercs who won’t go near the place!”

“Journalists are usually protected,” Tank said quietly.

“Sure they are. Want to hear how many bought it last year on assignment?” he asked pessimistically.

“Sorry to hear she’s in danger,” Tank said finally.

“Her own damned fault. Stupidity has a price. For two bits, I’d go in and drag her out...” He hesitated. Swallowed. “Send me the ticket. I’ll be right up.”

“I’ll email it on my alternate account,” Tank said.

“Good man.”

“Thanks, Rourke,” he said quietly.

“Hey, what are friends for?” came the reply.

* * *

MERISSA WAS WEARING a soft beige dress that clung to her slender figure, outlining her pert breasts and tiny waist and flaring hips. She wore flat shoes with it, and her blond hair waved in soft curls around her elfin face. She wore a small Christmas tree pin on the dress and a matching clip in her hair.

She smiled shyly at Tank, who stared at her with open admiration. “If it’s too dressy...” she began self-consciously.

“I don’t very often see women in dresses these days,” he replied with a gentle smile. “I think you look lovely.”

She flushed and then laughed. “Thanks.” She indicated her shoes. “I can’t wear high heels. I suppose this looks peculiar...”

“It looks fine.” He didn’t question the odd remark. “Ready to go?”

“Yes.” She peered into the living room. “See you later, Mom. Lock the doors,” she added firmly.

Clara laughed softly. “I will. Got your key?”

“Yes.”

“Have fun.”

“Thanks.”

Tank stuck his head in the door and grinned. “I’ll take good care of her,” he promised.

“I know you will,” Clara replied.

* * *

ROURKE HAD ARRIVED the day before. He got to work at once on the security cameras, swept the house for bugs—and found several—and swept the truck just before Tank got in it for his date.

“We’re going to Powell to have supper,” he told her. “Sorry, but we’ve had a hitch in our security.”

Merissa was very still. “It was him. The man in the suit.”

He glanced at her quickly. “Well...yes, we think so.”

“How ironic,” she said breathlessly. She shook her head. “He’s very confident.”

“He is, but it will be his undoing,” he said coldly.

She didn’t speak. Her face was drawn.

He stopped the car at a red light as they approached Powell. “What do you see, Merissa?” he asked very softly.

She swallowed. “Something bad.”

“Can you be more specific?”

She glanced at him. “I don’t know.” Her face contorted. “It’s just a feeling right now. I can’t...I can’t see what it is.”

He reached across the seat and caught her soft hand in his. “It’s all right. We’ll handle it.”

She felt a jolt all the way to her feet at his touch. His hand was big and warm, callused from work. She looked down at it in the light from the streetlamps. It was a beautiful hand, very masculine, with neatly trimmed and clean flat nails.

“You have beautiful hands,” she burst out.

He chuckled. “Thanks. Yours aren’t bad, either.”

She grinned.

He felt the same electricity that she did. It was comforting, to have that physical contact with another human being. Tank had imagined himself in love a couple of times, but it had never been this intense. He wanted to protect her, take care of her. She was a strong, capable woman. She could support herself, and did. But she made him feel taller, stronger.

“What are you thinking?” she asked suddenly.

He squeezed her hand gently. “That this is one of the best ideas I’ve had in years.”

She laughed. “Thanks.”

“You’re comfortable to be around.”

“Not many people in Catelow would agree with that.”

“They don’t know you. People are afraid of the unknown, of anything that isn’t scientific.”

“Well, this certainly isn’t scientific,” she agreed. “I’ve spent my life seeing things that terrify me.” She glanced at him. “So many people want to know the future. But if they could see what I see, they wouldn’t. It’s never good to know what lies ahead.”

“I have to agree.”

“I mean, it’s one thing to have a handle on the weather, or what fashions will be in vogue the next year, or if you’re going to meet someone who will change your life. But to want to know what’s going to happen to you in a year, two years... You should never want to know those things.”

He rubbed his thumb gently over the back of her hand as he drove. “You never talk about your father.”

Her hand jumped, as if it had been jolted by electricity.

He looked toward her. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She swallowed. “You’ve...heard things.”

He pulled into the parking lot at the Chinese restaurant and cut off the engine. He turned to her. “Honestly, yes, I have.” He searched her eyes, huge in that pale face. “You don’t have to talk to me about him if you don’t want to. We barely know each other.”

She hesitated. “He was...brutal.”

“Was?”

She bit her lip. “We haven’t seen him in years,” she said. “We don’t know where he is. But we’re always afraid that he might come back.” She closed her eyes and shivered. “He was a big man. He was so strong...!”

“He hurt you.”

She looked up at him with tragic eyes. “Me, and Mama,” she agreed heavily. “I was so happy when he left. She threatened him. She told him what would happen if he stayed in Catelow. She knew, you see, and it wasn’t only a premonition. He beat up one of our farmhands and almost killed him. Mom told him that the man would press charges and he would go to jail. It’s the only reason he left.”

“I see.”

She drew in a breath, and shook her head. “No, you don’t. I lived in terror all my life that he would kill my mother.” She closed her eyes. “Once, I got brave, and tried to stop him.”

“With almost fatal results,” he added.

Her eyes were huge. “You know?”

“Catelow is a very small town, Merissa,” he pointed out. “Yes. I know.” His expression hardened. “If I’d been here then, he’d never have touched either of you.”

Her face lightened, and her eyes widened. “He would have been afraid of you.”

He searched her eyes. “Are you? Afraid of me?”

She swallowed. “Not so much anymore,” she said. “A little, maybe.”

His face softened. “A little?”

She shifted on the seat. “Not in the way you mean. You...confuse me. You make me uncomfortable. But not in any way I’ve felt before....”

While she was talking, he unfastened his seat belt, and hers, and moved closer. “Uncomfortable?” he asked, propping his hand on the door beside her ear.

“A...little,” she stammered. He was very close. She could smell the spicy cologne he wore, feel the heat from his body. His lips were at her forehead. “Just...a little,” she amended.

He laughed softly. “Just a little?”

She struggled to keep her breathing steady, but it was a losing battle. One of his hands came up and rested against her cheek. His thumb worked at her soft lips, parting them very gently.

“I like making you...uncomfortable,” he whispered as his head bent. “Just a little.”

His chiseled mouth traced her lips, teasing them apart very tenderly, so that he didn’t frighten her. She was very nervous. Her hand came up to touch his, and it was ice-cold. He didn’t need a program to know that she wasn’t used to having a man this close. It made him feel more protective than ever.

“Easy, now,” he whispered, and his lips parted hers so that he could ease between them. “Easy...does it.”

His mouth moved down onto hers. It was unfamiliar. It was disconcerting. But after a minute, it became more familiar, more comfortable. Very soon, her lips relaxed. Her body relaxed.

She liked it.

He drew her closer, but slowly, gently. He wrapped her up against him like fragile treasure and worked on her mouth until he made her hungry for him.

She reached up, around his neck, and clung to him quite suddenly as the hunger flashed in her like lightning. She kissed him back with the same urgency that he kissed her.

But very soon, it became clear that he was going to have to start undressing her or stop kissing her. It had been a very long dry spell.

He drew back, flattered that he had to uncouple her hands from his neck and ease her away from him.

He smiled gently at her embarrassment. “Don’t worry. It’s all perfectly natural.”

“It...is?”

“Yes. It is.” He brushed back her hair, loving the feel of it. “We should go inside.”

She swallowed. She could still taste him on her lips. He tasted of coffee and mint. She smiled slowly. “I guess so.”

He chuckled. He got out and helped her down. He held her hand all the way into the restaurant.

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