Angel of Mercy & Standoff at Mustang Ridge

by Heather Graham

  “They’re your brother’s shoes,” Brad said.

  “Yeah, well, my brother had boots, too. And he can’t use any of them now. Boots are a necessity in swampland. Leif’s old leather pair were strong enough to break the grasp of a rattler or a cottonmouth.”

  Ahead of the two men, Wendy was unlocking the door. “Leif’s boots are in the closet. Take them.”

  It had been a long, long night, and it was nearly three in the morning. Too tense to be tired, Brad glanced at Eric, wondering when they were going to tell Wendy what they had decided while waiting for the tribal police.

  Wendy went in and set her purse on the counter. She looked at the two men invading her life, her brother-in-law and the lover she was so afraid of losing.

  “Do you two want anything?” They were staring at her so expectantly, like two big dogs.

  “Yes!” Brad said, suddenly realizing that he hadn’t eaten a decent meal all day.

  “Yes, please!” Eric echoed.

  She opened the refrigerator. “Like what?”

  Brad requested two of the steaks she had just brought home. Eric agreed with that, and he also wanted broccoli in cheese sauce. Brad thought a salad would be great. Eric said they should add some microwave baked potatoes to the menu, too.

  So at 3:00 a.m., they started cooking.

  The conversation remained casual and polite. Wendy kept her distance from Brad, who seemed careful to do the same.

  When they had eaten and cleaned up the dishes, Eric still remained. Wendy looked at him curiously.

  Brad cleared his throat at last. “Uh, Eric is taking the first watch.”

  “First watch!” Wendy looked from Brad to Eric and back to Brad again.

  “First watch, Wendy.” Eric reached over and squeezed her fingers. “I’m going to stay awake, while Brad sleeps. Then we’ll switch. It’s safer that way.”

  “I see.” Wendy set her dish towel on the counter and turned away from them both. “Well, then, good night.”

  She walked down the hallway. Maybe she was just so tired that she felt like a zombie. Maybe she was so desperately in love she was losing her spirit. She showered and dressed for bed in a long cotton gown. She was so overtired that she was afraid she would throw some ridiculous, childish fit if she encountered either of the men, so she hurried into her bedroom and closed the door.

  Sleep eluded her. She heard someone go into the shower—Brad, she assumed. The water roared on, then there was silence.

  A few moments later she heard a soft knock at her door.

  Brad leaned in, his hair still damp and glistening from the shower. “Good night,” he told Wendy softly, then closed the door.

  “Good night,” she called after him.

  She sank back against the pillows for a moment, then threw back the covers and raced to the door. She opened it and saw Brad standing in the threshold. Her heart skittering away, Wendy ran to him. She leaped off the floor, hurtling herself into his arms, locking her legs around him.

  He held her to him, kissing her hungrily. Holding her so, he walked straight to her bed. Together they fell backward onto the billowing sheets.

  Wendy broke from his kiss. “The door. We’re not alone.”

  Brad got up and closed the door. When he reached for her again in the darkness, she was naked.

  And she was waiting for him.

  Forgetting the turmoil of the day, he buried his heart, his soul and his body into her never-ending sweetness.

  12

  Brad was beside her, sound asleep, when Wendy woke, late in the morning. She assumed that he had spelled Eric, staying awake for the second part of the night, and that he’d come to bed after that, to sleep for the first time.

  She showered and dressed. Eric wasn’t in the living room when she came out. Looking out the window, she saw that he was sitting on the lawn, sipping a mug of coffee. Apparently, he had just fed Baby; the big cat was curled up next to him just as sweetly as a Persian kitten.

  She watched Eric for a moment, remembering what he had said before all the commotion had begun last night. He’d made some lousy accusations! She went into the kitchen, poured a glass of ice water and went outside.

  She couldn’t sneak up on him; she knew that. When he looked up and flashed her a smile of greeting, she smiled back. She came up behind him, then squatted down to pat Baby.

  “Sleep well?” he asked her innocently.

  “Fine,” Wendy said sweetly. Then she poured the water directly over his head.

  He sputtered, swearing and jumping to his feet. “What the hell was that for?” he demanded in outrage.

  “You know damned well what that was for! Your wonderful little performance last night!”

  Annoyed by the whole thing, Baby stretched and walked away in search of peace and quiet. Dripping, Eric stared at Wendy, then started to laugh.

  “Well, apparently it didn’t do any harm.”

  “Eric! How could you say those terrible things about me? You’re supposed to be on my side!”

  “Wendy, Wendy...” He opened his arms to give her a big hug.

  Wendy quickly realized that he only wanted to drench her, too. “Eric!” She eluded him, but sat down on the lawn a safe distance from him. He sat down beside her. The sun was high in the sky; he would dry quickly.

  “I am on your side,” he told her.

  “Then what was that all about? Brad’s going to leave. We all know that.”

  “Do we?” Eric arched a brow to her and she flushed. “Oh, yeah, that’s right. You don’t want anything to do with a fed agent, do you?”

  “Eric—”

  “Well, whatever I said, it didn’t seem to do any harm to either of you. Seemed to me that things went well enough.”

  “Eric—”

  “You know, Wendy, your life is your business. And Brad’s life is his business. Your decisions have to be your own.”

  “Then—”

  “I just wanted to make sure that you were both playing with a full deck, that’s all.”

  Wendy groaned. “You’re making me crazy!”

  He grinned, glancing over his shoulder. “Well, morning has broken. Here comes the fed. Excuse me. I think I’ll make more coffee.”

  Wendy twisted slightly. Brad was coming out the front door, shirtless, shoeless and clad only in a pair of jeans. His hair was still tousled, and though she could see that he had shaven, he still looked somewhat bleary-eyed and disoriented. He was carrying a coffee cup. Eric, heading back into the house, paused. The two men exchanged a few words, then Brad joined Wendy outside. He cradled his coffee cup in his hand and smiled at her. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning.”

  They didn’t say anything else for several long moments. He took a sip of the steaming coffee and stared out over the terrain. Baby reappeared and curled up beside Wendy.

  Brad slipped an arm around her. She watched his profile, setting a hand lightly on his knee.

  “None of that was true, you know.”

  He looked her way again, a small smile playing against his lips.

  “What Eric said.”

  He paused. “You didn’t want a baby?”

  She looked down at the ground. “Well, yes, I did. That was true, but the rest—was absurd. I would never try to trap you.”

  He set his coffee cup down and threaded his fingers gently through her hair, kissing her tenderly. “Would you want to trap me?” he asked softly.

  She shook her head. “No one should ever be forced into anything. I wouldn’t, I just wouldn’t, and I hope you believe that.” She spoke flatly, trying to escape his hold. He laughed and pulled her tightly against him. His hand lay beneath her breast, and they could both feel the pulse of her heart.

  “I kno
w that you would never force anyone to do anything. Sometimes it’s difficult to get even an opinion from you.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “You don’t want to admit how you feel.”

  Wendy scratched Baby’s ears and looked out over the water. “I let you know how I feel,” she said softly. “You know that I care.” She turned and stared searchingly into his eyes. “You know that I’m afraid of your work. You’re afraid of what it can do to two lives—you’ve warned me not to care too deeply. Nothing has changed. This—” She hesitated. “This will end. But I want you here with me, for as long as possible. I’ll never regret this time. I—”

  She wanted to be open and honest. But she couldn’t tell him that she had fallen in love with him. She knew that he cared about her, but love was another story altogether. And because she loved him, she would let him go. What she had said was true. She was afraid of losing him...but he had set his priorities long ago.

  His fingers curled tensely around hers. “What were you going to say?”

  She shook her head, looking down at Baby again. Fortunately, she was spared when the door opened loudly.

  Eric had come out. “Hey, Brad, aren’t you supposed to call in at noon? We’ve just got time to make it in to the garage.”

  Brad was still studying Wendy. “Yeah,” he said with a soft sigh. “I guess we’d better go.”

  Before he could slip into the house for a shirt and shoes, Wendy caught his hand. “Brad?”

  “What?”

  “I take it that you and Eric were the ‘hillbillies’ sitting out there fishing and watching that shack that Suarez was talking about last night?”

  He hesitated. “Yes.”

  “Is that what you’re planning to do today?”

  “Wendy, it’s my job. Charlie Jenkins will probably come back to the shack. He’s my link to Michaelson.” He ruffled her hair, then reached down to take her hands. “Come on.”

  “Come on?” She raised her eyes to his.

  He exhaled again in a soft sigh. “Wendy, I can’t leave you here alone.”

  “It’s broad daylight. I know how to use a shotgun. And Baby is with me. People don’t argue with her.”

  “Baby is a big cat, but Michaelson moves around with big guns. He’s been known to carry M-16s. I want you to come with us.”

  She opened her mouth to protest.

  “Please!” Brad said before she could say anything more.

  “All right.” Wearily, she rose with him. The sun cast a golden sheen along the ripples of his shoulders. She didn’t want to argue with him, and she didn’t want to dread the future. She wanted to run her fingers and her tongue over that sleek bronze flesh and feel him come alive to her touch.

  She couldn’t do that. Not now—not ever.

  She was losing him. She felt it. Some force beyond their control was tightening its grasp around them, surrounding them like a writhing python. They had discovered something, and now they were losing it, before they could ever hold it tightly and give it a name.

  “Brad?”

  He paused.

  Placing her palms against his chest, she rose onto her toes. She kissed his lips softly, then slid to her feet against him.

  “What was that for?”

  “I just needed it,” she told him.

  He gave her a quick hug. “I needed it, too. I needed it, too.”

  They headed for the house together. As Brad went into the bedroom to dress, Wendy called to him that he really should be wearing boots.

  “Where are they?”

  “In the closet.”

  Five minutes later, he still hadn’t found the boots. Wendy came into the bedroom and began searching through the cluttered closet. When she glanced up at Brad, he was sifting through the collection of Leif’s clothing that still hung in the closet.

  He shook his head, looking down at her. “Wendy, you’ve got to get rid of these things, really.”

  She nodded, finally locating the box with the boots in them. “You should be glad that I kept this stuff,” she said, handing him the boots. “I don’t think that my jeans would have fit you.”

  He smiled at her, leaned down and brushed her cheek with his knuckles. “Very cute, smarty-pants. But seriously, I hope you don’t plan on stripping every stranger who crash-lands on your doorstep.”

  “What an interesting possibility to explore,” she said sweetly.

  He pulled her to her feet and kissed her. She let out a surprised cry as his palm circled around her rump. “Not amusing, Wendy,” he told her. “Now, behave.”

  “I was behaving!”

  He sat at the foot of the bed and pulled on the boots. They were a little tight, but the rugged leather would provide necessary protection in the swamp. Brad gazed at her curiously. “Want to suggest a shirt?”

  She turned around without a flicker of emotion and pulled out a red plaid. It still hurt, she thought. Even discovering that she was in love again could not completely release the past. She’d never been able to get rid of Leif’s things; it had seemed so cold, so final. She couldn’t throw away Leif’s clothes any more than she could throw away his memory.

  But Brad was right, she knew. She shouldn’t throw things away, she should give them away to someone who needed them. That would be the best way to remember her husband.

  Brad took the shirt from her and slipped it over his shoulders. “Thank you.” She nodded while he buttoned up and slipped the shirttails into his jeans.

  She lowered her eyes, trying to ignore the tight knot of fear in her throat. It was as if a noose were tightening around them. Something was going to happen. She was going to lose Brad—she could feel it in her blood. Then her life would be empty again, and it would be just as if this had never happened between them. No, Grandfather had told her that she would be richer for it.

  She hoped that she could feel that way when he was actually gone.

  Impetuously, she went up on her toes, and she kissed him again, tasting him, inhaling him. She did want to hang on to him, she didn’t want to let him return to his real world.

  It was wrong.

  She broke away, turning around, reaching for the door. “You’ve got to call your boss, remember?”

  “Yeah, I remember.”

  Half an hour later, they were back at the garage.

  Brad went inside to call Purdy. Eric lingered beside the gas pumps, talking to Mac. Wendy hovered near the airboat, afraid that she wouldn’t make much of a conversationalist that day.

  The air was hot and sticky. Listening to the endless drone of a horde of mosquitoes, she absently lifted her hair from the back of her neck. She could see Brad through the glass enclosure. He looked so serious, almost like a stranger. She bit her lower lip. He was serious—very serious about his work. Unlike the man she loved, this Brad frightened her. He meant business.

  She turned away, clenching and unclenching her fingers as she idly walked along the canal. She was so nervous that she didn’t realize how far she had wandered. Nor did she notice the car that crept along the road, or the canoe that moved silently behind her, coming closer and closer.

  She was so involved with her thoughts that she didn’t begin to sense danger until it was almost upon her. And then, it was too late.

  Behind her, a shadow loomed against the sun. Absently noticing the darkness, Wendy turned, frowning.

  Two men stood before her. The first was tall and lean, with watery blue eyes and steel-gray hair. The second man was younger. He was huskily built, brawny. His eyes were brown, but they had the same chill glaze of ruthlessness.

  Every nerve tensed as she sensed danger, cold, sharp, lethal. She opened her mouth to scream, but she was never able to issue a useful sound.

  The brown-eyed man caught her by the n
eck and stuffed a cloth into her mouth. She thought she would choke to death, but she couldn’t even cough properly, he held his hand so tightly against her. Desperate, she tried to lash out, but the smell of the cloth, sickeningly sweet, assailed her. She started to grow dizzy. The sun, the man, the sky, the world...everything swirled before her.

  Dimly, she realized how foolish she had been. She had followed the canal around a curve. Eric wasn’t really so far away, but he was talking to Mac beyond the rise of the grass. He couldn’t see her, and she couldn’t scream, so he couldn’t hear her.

  Her world was dimming so rapidly. She tried to struggle. She tried to free herself from that restricting hand, but it was like a steel band. The man’s fingers bit into her flesh as he held her tighter and tighter. Barely, just barely, she managed to free her right arm and drag her curving fingers against his cheek.

  He swore softly as her nails caught his face, drawing blood. He secured her hand again and hissed out a warning to her.

  But he didn’t lift the soaked rag from her face. The sticky sweetness created a buzz around her. Wendy never felt the cuff he gave her across the cheek. By the time he struck her, she was already falling. The world was spinning to blackness.

  She was unconscious when he hoisted her into his arms and silently turned to follow the other man through the tall grasses to the waiting airboat.

  * * *

  Brad thoughtfully hung up the phone. It was basically over—if not the case, then at least his strange idyll out here. He was going to spend the day prowling through the swamp keeping an eye out for Jenkins or Michaelson. By tonight, he’d have a number of reinforcements out here: a few men to keep an eye on the shack, and more men to spread out, to wait for the drop that was scheduled. They didn’t have Michaelson yet, but he wouldn’t be looking for the man alone anymore. The noose was being tightened—and all they had to do was hope that they didn’t scare their quarry away.

  Purdy was determined to see Michaelson locked up. He was banking on Brad’s eyewitness testimony against the man. And if they played it right, they could catch him red-handed with the drugs coming in from South America. The big machinery was moving. Brad realized that he was just a small part of it now, and he didn’t know whether to feel relieved or deeply bereft.