by Diana Palmer
Mikey shifted his feet. “It’s early days yet. I just asked her to a movie.”
“A drive-in, at that,” Paul mentioned with a grin.
“You’ve got a drive-in theater in Jacobsville?” Jon exclaimed. “They went out in the fifties, didn’t they?”
“In the sixties, mostly, but we’ve got a local guy who’s trying to bring them back. He even built a small café on the premises with restrooms and pizza. So far, he’s a raging success.”
“My dad talked about going to drive-ins,” McLeod mused. “He said it was the only place he could kiss my mother without half-a-dozen people watching. Big family,” he added.
“I can’t place that accent, McLeod,” Paul said. “You sound Southern, but it’s not really a Texas accent.”
“North Carolina,” McLeod said. “My people go back five generations there in the mountains. The first were Highlanders from Argyll in Scotland.”
“Mine came from Greece and Italy,” Paul said. “Well, mine and Mikey’s,” he added with a glance at his cousin.
“Mine met the boat yours came over on,” Jon said with a straight face. He was part Lakota Sioux.
There was a round of laughter.
“I have some Cherokee blood in my family,” McLeod volunteered. “My great-grandmother was Bird Clan. But we’re mostly Scots.”
“Can you play the pipes?” Jon asked curiously.
McLeod shrugged. “Enough to make the neighbors uncomfortable, anyway.”
“I had a set of trap drums,” Paul recalled wistfully. “We had some really loud, obnoxious neighbors upstairs when I lived in Newark, long before I moved here.” He didn’t add that at the time he’d had a wife and child who were killed by operatives of a man he put in prison. “I was terrible at playing, but it sure shut the upstairs neighbor up.”
“You bad boy,” Mikey teased.
“A man has to have a few weapons,” he said drolly.
“Back to Cotillo,” McLeod said. “We have someone watching you from our service down in Jacobsville. You don’t need to know who, but we’re on the job. I offered, but they shut me up immediately.”
“They did? Why?” Mikey asked.
“They say my restaurant allowance is abused.”
They all looked at him. He was substantial, but streamlined just the same.
A corner of his mouth pulled down. “They say I eat too much. Hey, I’m a big guy. It takes a lot of food. Besides, I hear some of the best food in Texas is at that café in Jacobsville.”
“It is,” Paul agreed. “Everybody eats there.”
“So would I, if they’d let me. The boss said we needed somebody who liked salads and tofu.”
Now they all really stared at him.
He glowered back. “She’s a vegan,” he said with spirit. “She gets upset if anybody mentions a steak.”
“Tyranny,” Paul teased.
“Anarchy,” Mikey seconded.
“She should move back east, where she’ll have plenty of company,” Jon agreed. “I’m not giving up steaks, and I don’t care if the SAC is a vegan or not.”
“That’s what I told her,” McLeod replied. His black eyes sparkled. “Shut her up for ten minutes at least. But that’s when she assigned me to him,” he indicated Mikey. “She thinks it’s a mean assignment.” He chuckled. “I didn’t try to change her mind.”
“Good thing,” Jon said. “I know your boss. She has a mean streak.”
“She mustered out of the Army as a major,” McLeod replied. “Honestly, I think she believes she’s still in it.”
“They make good agency heads,” Jon said.
McLeod nodded. “But I’m still not eating tofu.”
They all laughed.
“What about Cotillo?” Mikey asked after a minute.
“Why does that name sound so familiar?” Paul wondered. Then his face cleared. “Of course. It’s that town across the border, you know, the one where an unnamed person that we all know offed the drug lord El Ladron and his buddies in a convoy.” The unnamed person was Carson Farwalker, now a doctor in Jacobsville, who’d thrown several hand grenades under El Ladron’s limo and was never charged.
“There’s a cactus called ocotillo,” Jon Blackhawk mused, “but that little town over the border was actually settled by an Italian family back in the late 1800s.”
“Interesting,” Mikey remarked. He sighed. “But the man is more worrisome than the town right now.”
Faces became somber.
“When our CI finds out anything, I’ll pass it on,” McLeod said. “Meanwhile, he’s got somebody watching Carrera down in the Bahamas.” He indicated Jon.
Jon nodded. “Our field office has him under surveillance. And Carrera has some protection of his own, for himself and Tony Garza. You know, just because Carrera went straight doesn’t mean he doesn’t still have some pretty formidable ties to his old comrades. We understand he has two of them staying in the house with Della, his wife, and his two little boys.”
“Two of the best,” Mikey agreed. “I know them from the old days.”
“Mikey,” Paul said with real affection, “you never left the ‘old days.’”
“Well,” Mikey said with a sigh, “we are what we are, right, Paulie?”
“Right.”
* * *
Bernie didn’t really know how to dress for a drive-in movie, so she settled for pull-on navy blue slacks topped with a blue-checked button-up shirt and a long blue vest that came midthigh. She thought about putting her hair up in some complicated hairdo, but she left it long and soft around her shoulders. She’d toyed with having it cut. It was hard for a woman with disabilities to keep it clean and brushed, but she couldn’t bear the thought of giving up the length. She had all sorts of pretty ribbons and ties to put her hair up with when she went to work. Even jeweled hairpins for special occasions. Not that there had been many of those, ever.
She glanced in the mirror and smiled at the excited, almost pretty girl in the mirror. She was going on a real date, with a man who made movie stars look ugly, and he liked her. She almost glowed.
There was a hard tap on the door. She got her coat and purse and opened the door. Mikey was wearing slacks and a designer shirt under a nice jacket. His shirt was blue, like hers.
He grinned at her. “Well, we seem to match.”
“I noticed,” she teased.
He gave her a thorough appraisal and felt his heart jump as he locked eyes with her. She was unique in his experience of women, which was extensive. She was so different from the aggressive, sensual women he’d liked in his youth. His tastes had changed over the years. Right now, Bernie was the sweetest thing in his life. He hoped he wasn’t putting her in danger by being close to her.
“You ready to go?” he asked. “We must both be insane. A drive-in movie and it’s just a week until Halloween! It’s cold, even for south Texas!”
“I love drive-ins,” she said softly. “And I don’t care if it snows.”
He chuckled. “Me, neither, kid.” He took her hand in his and felt her catch her breath. He felt just the same. “Come on. I’ve got something a little less noticeable than the limo to go in.”
A little less noticeable, she thought with surprise when she saw what he was driving. It was a luxury convertible, very pretty and probably very fast.
“Oh, my,” she said.
“It goes like a bomb,” he said, as he helped her inside the late-model Mercedes convertible. It was a deep blue color. The interior was leather, with wood trim on the steering wheel and the dash. She sank into luxury as she fastened her seat belt.
“Oh, my,” she said again as he touched a control and her seat heated up and began to massage her back. “This is heavenly!” She closed her eyes and smiled. “Just heavenly!”
He chuckled. “I’m glad you like it. I go f
irst-class, kid. Always have, even when I was young and full of pepper.” He didn’t like remembering exactly how he’d gone first-class. She made him feel guilty about the things he’d done in his pursuit of wealth. She didn’t seem to covet wealth at all.
“I’ve never ridden in a car that had heated seats,” she said excitedly. “And even a massage! It’s just amazing!”
He smiled. He hadn’t considered how uptown the car was to someone who probably rode around mostly in cabs that barely had heaters and air-conditioning. “Don’t you drive?” he asked.
She felt the words all the way to her feet and averted her eyes so that he couldn’t see the sadness in them. She couldn’t have afforded a car. “I used to,” she said softly. “Not anymore.”
“You should go back to it,” he replied as he pulled the car out into the street and accelerated. “I love to drive.”
“This car must go very fast.”
“It does. I’d demonstrate,” he teased, “but you’d have to come bail me out of jail.”
She laughed, the old fear and guilt subsiding. “I would, you know,” she said softly. “Even if I had to sell everything I own.”
He flushed.
“I mean, I’d find someone who could...” she began, all flustered because of what she’d blurted out. She was horribly embarrassed.
His big hand reached out for her small one and tangled with it. “Stop that,” he chided gently. “You shouldn’t feel guilty for enjoying somebody’s company. Especially not mine.” His hand contracted around hers. “I’m used to women who want what I’ve got,” he added coldly.
“What you’ve got?” His fingers tangling gently with hers had her confused and shaky inside.
“Money, kid,” he replied. “I’ve got enough in foreign banks to see me well into old age, even if I spend myself blind.”
“Oh.” Her hand stiffened in his.
He glanced at her and chuckled. “Now you think I suspect that you’re only going out with me because I’m rich. Not you,” he added in a deep, husky tone. “You’re not the sort of woman who prefers things to people. I knew that right off. Proud as Lucifer, when you fell in front of the car and I made sarcastic remarks about how you’d fallen.” He sighed sadly. “Worst mistake of my life, thinking you were like that. Believe me, I felt about two inches high when Santi found that cane you used.”
She bit her lower lip. “I’m clumsy, sometimes,” she said. “I fall over nothing when I’m having flares. I wish I was healthy,” she added miserably.
“My little grandmother would sit and cry sometimes when the pain got really bad,” he recalled quietly. “I’d fill a hot water bottle for her and read her stories in Greek to take her mind off it.”
“You can speak Greek?” she asked.
“Greek, Italian, a little Spanish,” he replied.
“I learned to read Greek characters,” she said. “They’re the Coptic alphabet, like Russian.”
“Nice,” he said, glancing at her with a smile. “Yes, they are. Hard for some people to learn, too.”
“I love languages. I really only speak English and Spanish.”
“Spanish?”
“Well, we deal with a lot of bilingual people, but some of the older people who come from countries south of ours don’t understand English as well as their children. I can translate for them.”
“Brainy,” he teased.
“Not really. I had to study hard to learn the language, just like I had to study hard to learn to be a paralegal. I went to night school at our local community college,” she added.
“I imagine that was hard,” he said. “Working and going to school at the same time.”
“It was,” she confessed. “I wanted to learn the job, but I missed class sometimes. There was a nice woman who was studying it at the same time—Olivia, who works in our office—and she took notes so that I could catch up on what I missed. The professor was very understanding.”
“You’re a sweet kid,” Mikey said softly. “I can imagine that most people bend rules for you.”
She laughed. “Thanks.” She glanced at him as they drove a little out of town to the wooded area that housed the new drive-in. “Did you go to school? I mean, after high school?”
“I got a couple of years of college when I was in the Army,” he said. “Never graduated. I was too flighty to buckle down and do the work.”
“What did you study?”
He chuckled. “Criminal justice. It seemed like a good idea at the time. I mean, considering what I did for a living.”
She just stared at him, curious.
He felt his cheeks heat. He glanced at her. She didn’t understand. “Didn’t Sari talk about me at work?” he said.
“Just that you and her husband are first cousins and that you’re close,” she replied, and her eyes were innocent.
She wasn’t putting on an act. She really didn’t know what he’d been, what he still was. He hesitated to tell her. He loved the way she looked at him as if he had some quality that she’d never found in anyone else. She looked at him with affection, with respect. He couldn’t remember another woman who’d cared about the man instead of the bank account. It made him humble.
He drew in a breath. “Well, Paulie and I are close,” he agreed. His hand tightened around hers. “I meant, didn’t you know about the trouble Isabel and Merrie had three years ago, when they were being stalked by a cleaner?”
“Oh, that,” she said, nodding. “There was a lot of gossip about it,” she added. “I don’t remember much of what I heard, just that a man who was big in organized crime back east called off the hit man. She painted him.” She laughed. “They said he walked her down the aisle when she married Paul. I didn’t know her then, except I knew the family and that they were well-to-do. I never moved in those circles. I’m just ordinary.”
“Honey, ordinary is the last thing you are,” he said huskily as he pulled onto the dirt road that led to a drive-in with a huge white screen and a graveled lot with speakers on poles every few feet. “And we’re here!”
He paid for their tickets and drove them through to a nice parking spot right in front of the screen. He looked at the ticket. “We’ve got a ten-minute wait,” he said.
“What are we going to see?” she asked. “I didn’t pay attention to the marquee.”
He chuckled as he cut off the engine and turned to her. “You didn’t notice?” he teased, black eyes sparkling as they met her pale ones.
“Not really,” she confessed. “I was excited just to be going out with you.” She flushed. “There are some very pretty single girls around Jacobsville, including Jessie, who works with us.”
His fingers tangled softly with hers, caressing, arousing. “Jessie doesn’t do a thing for me,” he told her. “She’s like the women I used to date back east. Brassy and out for everything they can get from a man.”
“I guess so. We’re not really like that here,” she added. “Money is nice, but I have all I need. I’m not frivolous. My biggest expense is the drugstore. And the doctor,” she said sadly.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said solemnly. “You’re not of less value as a woman because you have a disability.”
“Most local men thought I was,” she replied. “I won’t get better unless they come out with a miracle drug,” she said. “There are shots I could take, but they’re really expensive and there’s no guarantee that they’d work. There’s also infusion, where they shoot drugs into you with an IV and they last several weeks.” She lowered her eyes to the big hand holding hers. It was strong and beautiful, as men’s hands went. Long fingered, with perfectly manicured nails.
“I read about those shots,” he replied. “Just before my grandmother died, I was researching new drugs that might help her. The pain got so damned bad that they had to give her opiates to cope with it.” He made a face. “Then th
e government steps in and says that everybody’s going to get addicted, so now you get an over-the-counter drug for pain even if you’ve got cancer,” he added angrily. “Like that’s going to help get illegal narcotics off the street! Hell, you can buy drugs, guns, anything you want in the back alley of any town in America, even small towns.”
“You can?” she asked curiously.
“Of course you can. Even in prison.”
“Wow.”
He chuckled. “Kid, you really aren’t worldly.”
“I guess not,” she said with a good-natured smile. “I don’t have much of a social life. Well, I do have Twitter and Facebook, but I don’t post very often. Mostly, I read what other people write. My goodness, I must be sheltered, because some of the things people post I wouldn’t even tell to my best friend!”
“What sort of things?” he teased.
“I’m not saying,” she replied.
He made a face. “That didn’t hurt, that didn’t hurt, that didn’t hurt...” And he laughed, softly and with so much mischief that she burst out laughing, too.
He looked around. “Not so many people just yet. So.” He caught a handful of her long, beautiful platinum hair and tugged her face under his. “Don’t panic,” he whispered as he bent his head. “This is just a test. I’m practicing mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, in case I ever have to save you...!”
Chapter Five
Bernie held her breath as she watched his firm, chiseled lips hover over hers. She could taste the coffee on his mouth, feel his breath as his face came closer, so that his dark eyes filled the world.
She clutched at his jacket, more overcome with emotion than she could have dreamed even a few weeks ago.
“I love your hair, Bernadette,” he whispered as his hand contracted in it and his mouth slowly covered hers for the first time.
She gasped under the soft pressure, but she wasn’t trying to get away. He gazed down at her. Her eyes were closed, her eyebrows drawn together. She looked as if she’d die if he didn’t kiss her.
