“Yeah,” John moaned, “but it didn't work.” He rubbed his leg like many of the bull riders do. “A few years back,” he explained, “when I was living a life of sin in L.A. I got shot.” Honest to God the story was completely true. Cassidy could verify it. Except he didn't mention that he had been shot in the leg when Cassidy had exposed his cover to save that sixteen year old girl from a life of porn.
Yes, the cause was good and noble on Cassidy's part. Yes, the girl was placed in protective custody, but damn it they never got a hold of Lewis Trigger, the biggest gun runner in all of California. That was basically the beginning of John's fallout with Cassidy. He may have acted a little inappropriately in the emergency room. Like telling Cassidy she was the worst cop he ever met in his life and also saying he was absolutely positive Trigger wouldn't abuse the girl. But that wasn't completely true, they didn't know if the girl would get hurt.
John just never thought Cassidy would stand up, throw her badge on his hospital bed and walk out of his sick room yelling something about, how ‘she couldn't be involved with someone so immoral both personally and professionally.' After figuring she'd be back when she cooled off, he fell asleep. When he woke up, he was sure she'd have a coffee ready for him just the way he liked it, no sugar and light on the cream. But no, she didn't. Then when he got discharged he figured she'd be at his beach house when he got there. Honestly, he was surprised she made him take a cab.
No again, she wasn't at home. And the most shocking thing was that all her stuff was gone. The only things she left behind were the short black skirts, leather jackets, and pink spiky pumps she wore when working undercover, plus the IUD. He picked up one of her shoes and threw it against the wall so hard it left a hole. He still hadn’t fixed it, and a part of him still couldn't believe she left him. Hence this crazy job at the rodeo.
“Maybe you should go to the doctor,” Shannon suggested bringing John's thoughts back to the present. The clown shrugged a little. “Get something stronger.” Then he looked up at the moon. “Mighty pretty night, isn't it?”
“Yeah, it's nice,” John replied. He shoved his hands in his pockets.
Holy hell, the man was holding his cards tight to his vest. John wasn't an amateur he knew how to break a drug dealer. He decided to pull out the clergy card. “You see being a man of the cloth.” He tugged on his collar. “It's hard to talk to the doctor about these things. They think we should pray away our pain.” He wrung his hands in front of his chest, trying to get Shannon's pity through another wimpy gesture.
Honestly, John was tired of playing the doormat. Especially since Cassidy had shown up. She used to know him as a cool guy with a great swagger. Not that she was particularly impressed with all that. But that was the man she fell in love with. Now she didn't even want to admit that she loved him.
“Maybe you have something you could lend to me,” John suggested to Shannon. He put his hand out, palm up, fingers shaking. Again, playing the wuss wasn't fun.
“Well,” Shannon sighed. “I suppose, since you are in so much pain.” He started to reach into his jean jacket pocket which would have given John proof Mike Shannon was a drug dealer and one step closer to wrapping up this stupid job. But Cassidy came out the back door and ruined everything. God damn that beautiful woman. She must not have realized Mike was out back.
Shannon shoved his hands to his sides and stepped into the shadows. She saw him. “Hi, Mike,” she said grimly. Cassidy didn't miss much.
Then, she turned to John. “There you are,” she said with her mouth in a thin line. She knew what was going on and she knew what she'd just broken up. However she also knew John needed to maintain his cover.
“Kevin is asking for you and I didn’t see you come back into the bar,” she said slowly. “H… he,” she stuttered searching her brain quickly to come up with something, “wants to know the difference between bluegrass and country music. A…and if the opening song for Firefly is country?” She tugged on the edges of her blouse.
Now that was creative. “I'll be there in a moment,” John said. Even though he wanted to talk to the kid and spend more time with Cassidy, he was still hoping to salvage this transaction with Mike. He was a hair’s breadth away from obtaining evidence from the guy.
“No worries,” she said a little too loudly. Cassidy was definitely rusty with the undercover stuff. “We're going to head out soon anyway.” She shoved her hands in her pockets. “He can talk to you in the morning before my ride.”
“After that embarrassment of a wreck you had today, you're planning on riding again?” The man who was supposedly hiding in the shadows said to Cassidy. “And, what the hell?” Mike demanded to know. “Why did your brother complain to Bret Bodner about me?”
“Because a bull almost stepped on my head.”
Hell no, John wanted to yell at her, don't make the man even more defensive than he already is. John would never get a deal out of the guy. Then John remembered, Cassidy wasn't a cop anymore. Just an ordinary citizen feeling attacked. She turned to John. “I’m leaving, I'll see you tomorrow.”
“You girls should stay in your division,” Shannon continued sounding like the chauvinist he was. “That's why we have men’s and women’s competitions,” he spoke slowly and loudly. They could probably hear him in the bar.
Cassidy glanced at John. He could tell she was annoyed that she had to talk to this stupid idiot. Nine times out of ten drug dealers had been dropped on their heads as babies. But then there was the tenth guy, who had above average intelligence and was the ring leader—a Walter White type. That was the guy John wanted to find. Except first he had to go through guys like Shannon to work his way up.
“I've won the entire women's competition,” she told Shannon. “I have to compete against the men because there's nobody else for me to compete against.”
“There's got to be some woman out there who can beat you,” Shannon replied. He fumbled around in his pocket and pulled out a cigarette. Then he found a lighter.
“I need to get ready for my ride tomorrow.” Cassidy turned and reached for the door handle.
“You shouldn't be riding bulls,” Shannon said after taking a drag on his cigarette. “It will mess up your lady parts something bad,” he added as Cassidy pulled the door open. The sound of music and a woman laughing flowed out into the night. “You probably won't be able to have kids,” the jerk added.
She stopped. Most likely she had heard him over the noise of the bar.
Cassidy was the kind of woman men always said inappropriate things to. The goal was to get her attention. She had an aloofness about her that anyone with an XY chromosome felt the need to conquer. She turned around. “Who told you that?”
Shannon's face got red. Now that he had her attention, he wasn't sure what to do with it. “Nobody.” He shrugged. “I just know it for a fact. The bucking loosens things up in there.”
“Well,” she started. “Here's another fact to stuff in that ridiculous brain of yours. I don't plan on having any more kids.” She glanced at John. “The shops closed,” she announced.
Now that hurt. If she was pregnant, John wanted the child.
Without another glance at Shannon, or even a see ya to John, Cassidy went back into the bar. She didn't slam the door, that's how mad she was.
“She's one hell of a woman.” Shannon scratched the back of his neck. “I don't understand why a woman like that would come looking for a man like you.” He shook his head. “I mean,” he started, “no offense, I know you're a good guy and all, but you're a wimp.”
“Thanks a lot,” John said. Holy shit, he wasn’t making any progress on the drug dealing front. Then again, it had taken Cassidy and him two years to be sitting at the table as members of the bikers club. John had to break a few knee caps and Cassidy had to sign on to appear in one of their movies before they received their membership cards and appropriate tattoos.
John decided to try one more time with Mike because he didn't have two years. Besides, he was
already a year into it. “Back to my leg,” he started. “I need something—”
“Like I said,” Shannon told him. “Go see a doctor.” The man pulled the door open. Then he yelled, “Yee haw” as he disappeared into the bar.
* * * *
Cassidy was back in her motel room, taking the makeup off her face when there was a knock on the door. She knew who it was. Good God, if John Risk told her he loved her again, she wasn't sure what she would do. Either hit him or jump into his arms, kiss him all over his body and devote the rest of her life to him.
“Come back tomorrow,” she whispered at John when she opened the door halfway. Kevin wasn't asleep but he wasn't feeling well. A headache, flushed cheeks, and possible fever. Cassidy didn't know what it was and she was a little scared. Her experience with the flu was limited. Plus, it wasn't flu season.
John put his arms out at his sides. “I'm sorry that happened,” he said. “You don't need to justify your bull riding to Mike Shannon.” He leaned against the door jam. “I went outside to take a piss and the guy followed me. So I figured it was the best time to work the case.”
“Okay,” she said. She started to close the door. It was nice of John to apologize, he didn't do that often but she couldn’t stand around and chit chat. She needed to return her attention to Kevin. She could hear him coughing.
John stuck his boot in the door jam. Then he ran a hand through his hair. “I know I'm lacking but I don't have any other words,” he told her. He looked over her shoulder. He could see Kevin lying on the bed, laptop on his chest. “Can you step outside for a few minutes to talk to me?” he asked. There was a glint in his eyes.
“No.” Cassidy shook her head which took a lot of will power, there was always a point in every case when John was getting close to solving it and he looked even more desirable than he did in everyday life. “Kevin's not feeling well,” she explained. She glanced back at her son. Then she tried to close the door again. Even though she'd screwed up plenty of times in the past when Kevin was sick, she was going to try and do it right this time which meant no John Risk.
“Just for a minute,” John begged.
“John,” Cassidy said in a low voice. “Those days of you backing me against a wall and pounding yourself into me are over. I'm a single mom now. I've got to take care of my kid.” She stopped a moment and pushed the hair out of her eyes.
“But—” he sputtered.
“And, since you're so interested in redemption, I'll be honest with you.” She lifted her chin. She didn't mean to say so much but it had been a long day. “I'm hoping this time I can be there for him, make up for all those other times I wasn't there because I was there for you.”
John eyed her for a moment. Finally, he said, “I understand.”
But he didn't understand. He was just saying that because he read it in some stupid book or saw it on a rerun of Oprah. John Risk wasn't compassionate, sympathetic, or even perceptive. He was a predator. A hunter of bad guys and loose women. Yesterday afternoon Cassidy had stepped naked into his crosshairs.
She tried to close the door again but his foot was still there. So, she gave up and returned to the bed. She put her hand on Kevin's forehead as she sat down.
“What's wrong with the kid?” John asked softly. He had followed her in.
“I don't know,” she replied wearily. “He's warm and his cheeks are flushed.” She stuck her knuckle in her mouth, then pulled it out. She didn't want John to know she was worried and feeling a little overwhelmed.
“You're concerned about him?” John asked gently. He looked down at Cassidy with kind eyes.
Okay, so that was perceptive. She'd give him that one but not compassionate or sympathetic. People don't change. Especially people like John Risk.
“Yes,” she whispered. She gulped down the lump in the back of her throat.
John sat on the side of Kevin’s bed.
Kevin pulled the headphones off. “What?” he groaned. “I'm not in the mood for a sermon right now or to be pawed.” He pushed Cassidy’s hand off his forehead.
John ignored him as he lifted Kevin's arm with the tips of his fingers. The man was being careful. Kevin wasn't contiguous, was he? Oh dear Lord, Cassidy didn't know.
“Cassidy,” John said. “Do you know he's got spots all over his arm?” John studied Kevin's face leaning in close. “They're on his face too.” He turned and looked at Kevin's other arm. This time he didn't touch the boy.
“I thought it was acne,” Cassidy explained. Her voice wobbled. She folded her arms around herself. If there was a bad mother award to be given out, Cassidy would win the trip to Vegas hands down. How could she not realize it was something worse than acne?
“This one looks pussy,” John said pointing to a mark on Kevin's wrist. Then John turned the night stand light on. He studied Kevin's face some more. “I don't think its acne.” He turned back to Cassidy. “Wouldn't that come on slowly? Kevin didn't have any marks at the bar tonight.”
Oh God. Cassidy didn't know. Yes, she was officially a failure as a mother. Instead of being home with her son checking for evidence of a contagious disease she was licking John Risk in some pretty private places earlier in the day. She put her face in her hands. “I'm a terrible, terrible mother,” she moaned.
John stood over her. “I don't give a rat’s ass if you're a horrible mother or not.” He gave her a shake on the shoulder. “You have to get this kid help right now.”
John was right Cassidy had to pull it together and care for her son. Later, once Kevin was okay, she would beat herself up for not realizing sooner he was sick. And while she was at it, she would beat herself up some more about having unprotected sex with John Risk, plus add to the mix wearing a pink thong while bull riding. It was a day of bad decisions.
She picked up her car keys. “I'll bring him to the emergency room.” She reached for Kevin's jacket. “Sweetie,” she said to Kevin. “Can you get up?” She reached for his hand, he had his headphones back on. She'd pull him up if he didn't move, maybe he couldn't move.
“I don't want to go to the emergency room,” Kevin replied lifting one of the ear pieces and sinking deeper into the pillows. “I'm not sick it's only a headache and a few pimples.” He returned his attention to his computer. “I'm sure it will be gone by the morning,” he said loudly.
“But you have to go,” Cassidy replied, not that he could hear her. Yes, she was whining. Not a very effective parenting method but she was officially overwhelmed. She really didn't want to but she looked to John for help.
She was completely surprised that he didn't shrug his shoulders, mutter sorry and back out the door. “They're still barrel racing over at the arena.” John read the time on his cell phone. “I bet the clinic is open and there's a nurse on staff. Maybe she can figure out what's wrong with the kid.”
Chapter Nine
Kevin had the chicken pox and Cassidy woke up wondering about how a kid could get them twice? Kevin had them when he was two and Cassidy eighteen. He cried and scratched for three days straight. At the end of it Cassidy wanted out. That was the first time she left her baby with her mother and brothers and hightailed it to L.A. Soon after that Naomi hightailed it to Costa Rica. Yes, the Cooper women had a history of abandonment.
But this time Cassidy was going to do the chicken pox right. She bought aspirin, Benadryl, and calamine lotion. After the nurse diagnosed him last night, Kevin had a hot oatmeal bath in their motel room. It didn't make him very happy but after much prodding he did admit he felt less itchy.
“You have too many brothers,” John remarked a little too loudly for her small car. But Cassidy didn't mind, he was keeping Kevin occupied with a conversation about Cooper family lineage and the boy wasn't itching. “I can't keep them all straight,” he cried. Honestly, when John Risk got a little whiny like Pastor John, Cassidy liked it. Showed her the man was human.
Kevin stuck his nose, with one bright pox on it, between their seats. Yes, he should have had his seat belt on and
Cassidy asked earlier but the pressure from the harness hurt the marks on his chest. Anyway, the road was straight for the next fifty miles. And, at least nobody was drinking and driving in her car. Her damn brothers did that all the time. She had no idea why Rachel and Carrie didn't put a stop to it.
She glanced over at John taking a sip of his coffee while keeping his other hand firmly on the steering wheel. She hadn't intended to bring him along. Actually she probably should have taken a break from the man and his never ending proclamations of love but she couldn't help it. He'd been so supportive last night when Kevin got sick and this morning when he offered to drive them home, she practically jumped at the chance to take a nap in the car.
“There's Logan, Caleb, and Shane,” Kevin explained holding his fingers up. Cassidy checked to make sure his nails weren't bloody or pussy, all looked fine. “Not that many names to remember,” Kevin continued and even though he was sick he sounded like he thought John was the biggest loser in the world.
Poor John, in his role as Pastor John he never got a break.
“You already know Logan and Caleb,” Kevin continued. “The only name you need to remember is Shane. He's in rehab so you probably won't meet him.”
John turned to Cassidy with his eyebrows raised.
“Not drug rehab. He was hurt in Iraq a few years back,” she explained. “Took a bullet to his hip. Shattered the entire thing. We weren't sure if he would ever walk again.” She sighed. “So a cane is better than a wheelchair but he's always in pain.”
“Was he hurt while you were working in L.A.?” John asked calmly. Even though he'd been awake for the last twenty-four hours the man missed nothing.
“Yes,” she replied on another sigh. Why oh why did John want to know about every difficult moment in her life while she was in L.A.? At the time he never took an interest in her family. Then again, she didn't talk about her family. “I kept in touch with them,” she added wearily.
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