Return of the Cowgirl

by Eve Gaddy

  “Bye, now,” Wyatt said. “Take care and we’ll see you soon. Can you put Mitch back on?”

  “Yes,” she said with relief. “He’s right here.” She remembered she’d wanted to thank them. “Thank you for buying my ticket back to the States. I’d like to pay you back.” Somehow.

  “That’s not necessary,” Jack said. “We’ll talk about it when we see you.”

  “All right. Goodbye.”

  “Are you okay?” Mitch asked in a low voice. He searched her eyes. “Never mind. I’ll be off in a minute.”

  She nodded, went into the bathroom, shut the door and buried her face in her hands. Oh, my God. I didn’t recognize one single thing about them. How can they be my brothers when I remember nothing?

  “What’s going on, Hardeman?” Jack asked. “Bring us up to date.”

  “Yes, and tell us about your plane reservations,” Dylan said.

  “All right, but it’s a long story. Glenna’s in the bathroom, so let me talk and then you can ask questions. Do they know about what I told you earlier?” he asked Dylan.

  “Yes. Go ahead.”

  “I think we’ve found why the Villareals are after her.” He wasn’t going to tell them about Glenna’s pregnancy and miscarriage. That was for her to tell. Unless he discovered it was important for them to know and even then, he’d try to convince Glenna to talk before he said anything. “This is still at the speculation stage, but I think Glenna discovered that her employers had started running a counterfeiting business. Making US dollars.” He went on to tell them about the money they’d found.

  “The hell you say.”

  “Yes. Their cattle business went to shit. And to top that off, their herd was decimated by disease. I’m not sure which of those came first. At any rate, they tried an alternate stream of revenue.”

  “You’re sure about that?”

  “Given their lifestyle, yeah, they have to have another source of income.”

  “How do you know the money is counterfeit?”

  “I’ve had some experience with counterfeit bills. It’s counterfeit.” He continued, telling them everything in more detail. When he finished, they all started firing questions at once. “Hold it,” Mitch said. “One question at a time.” They didn’t look happy but they shut up.

  “What are you going to do with the money?” Jack asked.

  “I think it would be best to take the fake money and dump it in the local authorities’ lap. They can deal with the US. I don’t want to take Glenna back to Argentina. We don’t know if the authorities there will believe her, not to mention, there’s still the matter of the embezzling accusation and the fact that I believe the Villareals are still after her. I want to get this evidence into someone else’s hands as soon as possible. The sooner I get her out of South America the better.”

  “That’s for damn sure. Considering she was almost kidnapped earlier today.”

  Was it only this morning that had happened? It seemed like much longer ago.

  “When is your flight?” Wyatt asked.

  “I haven’t made reservations yet. I’ll try to arrange them tonight, but the airlines require at least twenty-four hours to check our passport numbers. During that time we’ll go to the authorities. I’ll text Dylan the details when I have them.”

  “Take care of her.”

  “Don’t worry. I will.” He clicked off and shut his computer, but left it running. He’d get busy on the reservations as soon as he checked on Glenna. She still hadn’t come out of the bathroom. Mitch knocked on the door. “Are you okay?”

  “No.”

  “What’s wrong?” Dumb question.

  She yanked open the door and he almost fell into the bathroom. “Gee, I don’t know. Maybe I’m upset because I can’t remember a goddamn thing about my life before a few weeks ago. I don’t remember my brothers. I don’t remember the US, much less a ranch in Marietta, Montana. I didn’t even remember that I spoke English, for God’s sake, until you started speaking it to me. The only person I know in the whole damn world is you, and you obviously can’t wait to be rid of me. So, no, I’m not upset. Nothing at all is wrong!” Her voice rose until she was practically shouting the last words.

  “I don’t want to get rid of you.” Which was a stupid thing to say, considering everything her tirade had entailed.

  “You don’t?”

  “No. I’m trying to protect you, and the best way to do that is to get you out of the country.”

  She gave a choked-off laugh. “I’d say I don’t need protecting but that would be a big fat lie.” She pushed past him into the bedroom. “I’m sorry I got hysterical. I don’t usually—Oh, shit, I have no idea if I do or don’t. There I go again.”

  “Why this orgy of self-castigation?”

  “That’s not what I’m doing.”

  “Seems like it to me. Look, give yourself a break. A lot of shitty things have happened to you in a very short time, not the least of which is you lost your memory. Of course you’re feeling bewildered and confused. Anyone would.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and raised her chin pugnaciously. “I don’t like it.”

  “Yeah, I get that. Do you want to talk about it?” Not that he could think of much to say to make her feel better. Even at the best of times he wasn’t any good at talking.

  She shrugged. “Not really. I pretty much said it all during my hissy fit. And don’t deny that’s what it was.”

  He smiled. “I wasn’t going to.” She looked exhausted. Exhausted and beat down. He didn’t think that was her usual manner. “Get some sleep. You can have the bed. Things will look better in the morning.”

  “No, I’m not taking the bed. I’ll be fine on the couch.”

  He shrugged. “Whatever you say. I’m going to see about plane reservations.”

  She went back in the bathroom with her backpack and came out wearing flannel pants and a T-shirt. He’d pulled out the sleeper bed while she was gone and tossed a pillow on it.

  “Mitch? What do we do now? About the counterfeit money? Give it to the police in Argentina? Do I have to go back there?”

  She got in bed and pulled up the covers. All he could see was her hair and part of her face. “No, I don’t want you anywhere near Argentina. Tomorrow morning we’ll take the fake bills to the local authorities. They can get in contact with the proper US authorities. Likely the Secret Service.”

  “The Secret Service? That’s who handles counterfeiting? Really?”

  “Yes. They have an anti-counterfeiting department. There could be an office in Santiago, but I think the sooner you get this evidence out of your possession, the better.”

  “But the Villareals won’t know that I’ve given it to the authorities?”

  “If the Argentine police can tie it to them and raid their operation they will.”

  “Mitch?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why do you think I remember things like the Secret Service but I can’t remember my brothers?”

  He looked up from the computer and rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know much about amnesia but from what I’ve read, memory is quirky like that. In most cases, most of your memories come back. It just takes time.”

  She was quiet a moment, then asked, “What if they don’t?”

  Chapter Nine

  Glenna rose up on her arm to see Mitch’s reaction. Not that she believed he’d have a solution but she was going crazy wondering if her life would ever return to “normal” and what in the hell normal was for her.

  He sighed and turned his chair to face her. “The first thing you do is stop thinking of every worst-case scenario. There’s no reason to believe you won’t get your memory back eventually.”

  “There’s no reason to believe I will, either.”

  “Damn, Glenna, you’re just going to have to take some things on faith. Stop working yourself into a frenzy over something you don’t have any control over.”

  Glenna flung herself back on the bed. “I
hate not having control.”

  “Don’t we all,” he muttered. “I need to make these reservations. The sooner I make them the sooner we can get out of Chile.”

  “And you want me to shut up.”

  His only answer was a hmm. Glenna sat up again and saw he’d turned back to the computer. Since he wasn’t paying attention to her, she let her gaze roam over him. He was hot, no doubt about it. Early to mid-thirties, medium length dark hair, hazel eyes, a strong jaw and the beginnings of stubble, not to mention the gun residing in the back holster, made him look dark, dangerous and sexy. He wore jeans and a T-shirt that showed off sleekly muscled arms and a hard, manly chest. She bet there were some serious muscles there, too.

  She hadn’t intended to throw herself on his chest and cry, but he’d handled it surprisingly well. Apparently, she wasn’t afraid of men because having Mitch hold her while she cried had only made her want to snuggle against him more. He was very, very comforting. Dependable, though why she was so sure of that when they’d only met this morning baffled her.

  He saved you from the kidnappers, stupid.

  Oh, yeah. But hell, besides that, he really was the only person in the world who she knew right now. Not that she knew much about him. “Are you married?”

  He grunted. “I’m working here.”

  “So you are married. What’s she like?”

  “What’s who like?” He turned his head to stare at her.

  “Your wife.”

  “I’m not married.”

  “Ever been married?”

  He heaved an exasperated sigh. “Can we postpone the twenty questions until after I’ve booked our flight?”

  “If you promise to talk to me and not blow me off.”

  “Fine. I promise. Now be quiet.”

  She knew she should go to sleep, but she couldn’t. Her mind was racing and she couldn’t shut it off. She tossed and turned and pounded on her pillow, but none of it helped. She considered turning on the TV but if Mitch didn’t want her talking to him, he probably wouldn’t go for the TV either.

  Finally, he shut down his computer, turned the bedside table lamp on low, set his gun beside the lamp, and laid his shoulder holster over a chair. He went into the bathroom and when he came out he’d taken off everything except his jeans. His chest was even better than she’d imagined and the washboard abs didn’t hurt a bit either.

  What was she doing, ogling the guy? Trying to forget about all the other shit, that’s what.

  He turned off the light and got in bed. All without saying a word.

  “I’m not asleep,” she announced.

  “I could be if you’d be quiet.”

  “You said you’d talk to me when you finished booking our flight. Did everything go all right?”

  “We should be on a flight to Miami leaving day after tomorrow. So we’ve got one day and a night to get your evidence to the local cops.”

  “Good. You never answered my question. Have you ever been married?”

  “Yes. A long time ago. Now go to sleep.”

  “Did she break your heart?” she asked, ignoring him.

  He gave a crack of laughter. “Yeah, you could say that.”

  “What happened?”

  “If I tell you will you shut up and go to sleep?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Well?”

  “I’m thinking.”

  “Think quickly because I’m about done.”

  “Okay. I’ll try to go to sleep. Now, tell me what happened.”

  “Why are you so interested?”

  “I think it’s because you’re the only person I know and I don’t even know you. Not really.”

  He sighed and grumbled something she couldn’t make out. “Her name was Eliana. She was Brazilian. We were married for just long enough for her to take me for almost everything I had and get the hell out of town. She wound up back in Brazil, via the rest of South America. It took me six months to track her down.”

  Good God, no wonder he seemed hard at times. “Did you get your money back?”

  “Nope. She’d spent it.”

  “That’s awful. What did you do?”

  “Wasn’t much I could do except to learn from the experience. I couldn’t make her pay what she didn’t have. Besides, it was my fault as much as hers.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  “If I hadn’t been so naive and trusting, she’d never have managed to play me like she did.”

  “Somehow you don’t seem like the naive, trusting type.”

  “I’m not anymore.”

  “No, you aren’t. At least, not with me. You didn’t believe me at first. About the amnesia.”

  “No. You have to admit it’s pretty far-fetched.”

  “I suppose it is.” But he had believed her, eventually. “How did you get into your current profession?”

  “I used my experience tracking down Eliana to go into the PI business. Specializing in finding missing people. Particularly in South America.”

  “Is that why you speak Spanish so well?”

  “Mostly. I have a good ear for languages.”

  “Why did you marry her?”

  He laughed. “Good question. She was hot and she worked it. Man, did she work it. I was young, stupid, and driven by hormones. Which, come to think of it, is the same thing.”

  “And you’ve never trusted a woman since.”

  She didn’t think he was going to answer. Who could blame him? Mitch’s feelings about women were none of her business. “I’m sor—”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “That’s sad.”

  “I didn’t say there’d never been women in my life.” Why did it seem important that she know that? Because he’d admitted to being a loser when he was young? And why the hell was he talking to her so frankly? He never talked about Eliana. Never. That had happened years ago. It was just a bad memory and a hard lesson learned.

  She laughed. Not just a chuckle but a full-fledged laugh. “Oh, I’m sure there have been.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Don’t be modest. You have to know women find you attractive.”

  He barely stopped himself from saying, Do you? “Whatever I say you’ll either think I’m being overly modest, or conceited as hell. It’s a no win.”

  “You’re right. I’m being nosy. Ignore me.”

  If only he could. “We should get some sleep.”

  She lapsed into silence. But it didn’t last long. “Are you expecting trouble?”

  “Always. Why?”

  “I just wondered about the gun. You didn’t use it earlier when those men tried to abduct me.”

  “I didn’t need to. But it’s nice to have it, just in case.”

  “Do you need it often?”

  “Occasionally. I try never to use it, especially down here. I have permits but that doesn’t matter a damn if you shoot a local.”

  “Even a criminal?”

  “Yep. Any local.”

  “So why even have it?”

  “If it’s a choice between not shooting and saving my ass, or the person I’m protecting, I’m going to save my ass.”

  “I thought you were a PI. Are you a bodyguard too?”

  “I have been at times. I thought we were going to sleep?”

  She was quiet, then said in a very small voice, “I can’t sleep. I’m worried.”

  “About what, specifically?”

  “Meeting my family I don’t remember. Going to the ranch I don’t remember. Taking the fake bills to the police. What if they throw me in jail? And you too?”

  “Why would they do that?”

  “Because they might not believe us. Because...what if they’re on the Villareals’ payroll?”

  “I can see the Argentine police being on their payroll, but it’s a little far-fetched to think they’d have Chilean authorities on it.”

  “It was far-fetched that those men found me in Valparaiso and tried to kidnap me, t
oo. But they did. And they’re probably still after me.”

  Damn, she had a point. “I wouldn’t worry about the cops. I have a lot of connections in South America. I have some good contacts with Chilean LEOs. No one is going to throw us in jail.”

  “We could take everything back to the US.”

  “No we can’t. I’m not smuggling counterfeit bills into the US.”

  “There must be—”

  “Be quiet,” Mitch said. Maybe he was paranoid, but that had stood him in good stead before. He rolled out of bed, picked up his gun and stopped by the couch on the way to the door. Leaning down, he whispered in Glenna’s ear, “Go into the bathroom. Hide in the tub.” He could see her gearing up to argue, even in the darkness of the room. He didn’t waste time arguing, but pulled her out of bed by her arm and hustled her into the bathroom.

  He stood behind the door to the room, watching as the intruder unlocked the door and then wedged it open in order to hack the door chain. Just as he succeeded, Mitch yanked the door open, grabbed the arm with the gun and took him to the ground. Seconds later, he had him disarmed and face down with his arms behind him. The asshole was so surprised he hadn’t said a word. “In case you’re curious,” he said in Spanish, as the man tried to squirm, “that’s a gun I have jabbing into your neck. So if I was you I’d be fucking still.” He stopped moving immediately.

  “You can come out now,” he said to Glenna in English.

  She opened the door and peeked out. “Is that—”

  “The same guy from this morning? Yeah. Which means his partner is probably around too. Pick up that gun and go look in my bag. I’ve got some flex-cuffs in the front pocket.”

  Light spilled out as she came out of the bathroom and picked up the gun, handling it like she’d done it before. Many times. Not totally surprising since she’d been working on a ranch from the time she was a kid. Still, he’d have thought her more familiar with shotguns than handguns.

  “You know handguns,” Mitch said as she brought him the cuffs.

  “Apparently, I do. It felt comfortable in my hands.”

  Briefly, he wondered where she’d learned about handguns, but he had to admit he liked seeing her take charge. It gave him a glimpse of her true personality.