Wyoming Bold wm-3

by Diana Palmer

  “Women who aren’t beautiful can have other traits just as worthy,” Rourke pointed out.

  “Not my thing. I don’t like plain women with ancient attitudes.”

  Rourke glanced at him. That had been said with pure venom. “Known a few of those, have we?”

  “One.” Carson thought back to Carlie and what he’d said to her. He closed his mind. “Life’s too short not to appreciate beauty when it drapes itself over your arm and purrs like a kitten.”

  Rourke smiled. “Yeah. I guess you have a point.” He looked out the window. His face was hard as nails. “Variety is less abrasive than trying to cope with just one woman.”

  “I totally agree,” Carson said.

  Rourke glanced at him. “You’re putting Dalton’s back up. Did you notice?”

  Carson pursed his lips. “Jealousy,” he said with a flash of white teeth. “And he should be jealous. If I were a little less scrupulous, I’d take her right out from under him. She’s...special.”

  “Very special.” Rourke hesitated. “Do you know about Tank?”

  Carson glanced at him. “He’s a rich rancher.”

  “He served in Iraq with a forward unit,” Rourke said. “He waded in when a tank pinned down his unit, and blew it up. That’s where he got the name.”

  “Impressive.”

  “He came home with hardly a scratch. He was at a loose end. His brothers were parlaying the ranch into an empire, but Dalton wanted more excitement. He liked the idea of a federal job, with those nice benefits. One of the officers he knew pulled a few strings and got him a job as a border patrol agent.” His expression became somber. “One day, a DEA agent came into his office and asked for immediate assistance with a drug bust going down. Dalton had no reason not to believe the man. He went with him, walked into an ambush and was almost shot to pieces in the attack that ensued. He was in the hospital for weeks, undergoing surgery after surgery.”

  “Good God!” Carson said heavily.

  “He’s walking again, and he doesn’t have any obvious marks on him. But I can tell you that it left scars he’ll never lose, physical as well as mental. He had to leave the job, obviously. Mallory and Cane had bought this ranch several years earlier and the two of them had sweated blood to grow it while Tank was in Iraq, and later, working for the feds. They’ve made some amazing improvements here, turned the place into a totally green operation. It’s skyrocketed in worth since they took it over.” He shook his head. “Mallory’s got a real knack for investments. Tank does the marketing and Cane shows the cattle. They’re amazingly successful.”

  Carson was quiet. He was thinking about Dalton’s injuries and especially about the ones that wouldn’t show. That would make it hard for him, with a woman.

  “He never spoke of how bad it was,” Carson said.

  “That’s like him. He doesn’t advertise his problems.”

  Carson was reminded of Carlie’s shoulder, where he’d seen the odd fit of the fabric. He wondered if she, too, had scars that didn’t show.

  Rourke drew in a long breath. “God, I’m tired. I just hope Marquez can come up with some answers that will help us solve this case before anyone else is hurt or dies.”

  Carson’s lips made a thin line. “That makes two of us.”

  * * *

  TANK HAD STOPPED by the gift shop at the hospital while Clara went in to see her daughter. Merissa was just out of intensive care, into a room. Tank made his purchases and then made his way up to the floor where her room was.

  He held his hand behind him as he entered after a light tap.

  “Come in,” Merissa said in a weak, but happy tone. Her eyes lit up at the sight of him. She smiled.

  “Hi, kid,” he greeted softly. “How’s it going?”

  Kid? Then she remembered. He’d said, “What are friends for?”

  Her face fell.

  He saw that, and his heart sank. He moved closer to the bed. “How are you feeling?” he asked gently.

  “Better, thanks,” she said huskily. “Sick. Tired. Scared,” she added, glancing at Clara.

  Clara pressed her hand. “I’m fine. I have plenty of protection.”

  “Okay,” Merissa said, relaxing a little. She looked past her mother at Tank. “Something’s come up. Hasn’t it?”

  He raised both eyebrows.

  “Sorry,” she said shyly. “Can’t help it.”

  “I wasn’t criticizing. But yes, something has come up. I just can’t tell you about it.” He was probably being paranoid, but he didn’t even trust the hospital room not to be bugged. He must be spending too much time alone, he figured.

  “Okay,” she said. She was quick. He didn’t want to talk in here. Maybe he thought the room was bugged. It wasn’t beyond imagination. After all, that man had managed to get into her bedroom at the cabin and tamper with her headache pills.

  “Brought you something,” he said.

  “You did?” Her face brightened when she smiled. “Is it something nice to eat? Something besides gelatin and soup? Maybe?”

  “It’s a T-bone steak in a plain wrapper,” he whispered in a conspiratorial tone.

  “Wicked!” She laughed.

  Her face lit up when she was happy. She was beautiful. He had to shake himself to stop from blurting it out.

  He drew his hand from behind his back. “It’s probably corny...”

  She took the small ceramic sculpture from his hands. It was a hawk. No. It was two hawks, one male, one female, sitting together on a limb. The piece was carved from wood and hand-painted. It was beautiful.

  Tears stung her eyes. “I’ll treasure it forever,” she choked out. She looked up at him. “Thanks!”

  He smiled. He’d been uncertain, but that smile made his whole day. “I’m glad you like it. Merry Christmas.”

  “I didn’t get you anything,” she said miserably.

  “Oh, that’s not a Christmas present,” he replied. “Just an impulse thing.”

  “Okay, then, I feel better. Thank you again. Did they say when I could go home?” she asked Clara.

  Clara sighed. “Nobody tells me much. But I can go ask, if you like.”

  “Would you?”

  Clara smiled. “Of course. Be right back.”

  She left the room and Tank dropped into the chair beside Merissa’s bed. He took her small hand in his and held it tightly.

  When she met his searching gaze, everything since their last meeting went right out of her head, and she thought her heart would beat her to death.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  TANK LOOKED INTO her eyes with aching longing. He wanted to tell her how jealous he was of Carson, how he wished he could take back the things he’d said, that he didn’t want her for a friend. He wanted her for the rest of his life.

  But how could he do that, now that he’d ruined everything?

  “You’re troubled,” she said softly. “Can you talk about it?”

  His lips made a thin line. He shrugged. “I wish I could,” he said.

  Her fingers closed around his. “Something to do with that man,” she guessed.

  He just nodded. He turned her hand over and winced. There was a big bruise on the back of it.

  “It just looks bad, that’s all,” she said. “They couldn’t hit a vein at first so they had to put the needle there, for the drip,” she added. She smiled, indicating her other arm, where a drip was still running into a needle in the fold of her elbow. “They got it right this morning.”

  “I’m so sorry,” he said heavily. “We all are.”

  “There’s no need for that,” she said gently. “This criminal is very good. He started when he was barely in his teens. Someone trained him, someone very expert in espionage.” Her eyes were almost opaque. “Someone in a tropical place. Palm trees. Cruise ships.” She flushed.

  “Keep going,” he said, encouraging her. “He likes sharks...”

  She blinked. “Yes. He likes sharks. He acts the same. No emotion, no regret, just a predator who t
akes advantage of opportunities.”

  He wanted to ask her if she’d seen a watch in her visions, but he was paranoid about being overheard. Just in case the man had managed to bug her room, and why wouldn’t he; it was stupid to say anything that might be overheard. Sharks excluded, he mused. If the man was listening, that information wouldn’t set him off. After all, he was aware that people knew he’d mentioned sharks once.

  “You look tired,” she commented.

  He managed a smile as he looked at her. “I haven’t been sleeping well.”

  “I can imagine,” she replied. “All this worry about what he’s going to do next...”

  “No!” His fingers closed around hers. He shrugged and didn’t meet her eyes. “I was worried...we were all worried...about you.”

  “Oh.”

  She sounded surprised. He met her searching eyes. “My brothers came to the hospital with me when you were admitted. Their wives wanted to come, too, but I didn’t think it was wise to try to bring Harrison down here, or a very pregnant Bolinda.”

  She smiled. “How very nice of them!”

  “They like you,” he replied.

  She flushed a little and laughed. “They don’t think I’ll curdle the milk?”

  He shook his head. “We’re modern in some of our attitudes. No pitchforks and torches. Stuff like that.”

  She did laugh then.

  He drew in a breath. “At least you have a little more color today.”

  “I’m feeling much better. I don’t know what they’ve been pumping into me, but it really has helped.”

  “Any visitors? Besides us, I mean.”

  “Just Carson.” Her eyes softened. “He came and sat with me for a few minutes.”

  His face grew cold. He let go of her hand. “I just saw Carson. He didn’t mention he’d seen you.”

  “He felt guilty because he left us alone in the house,” she replied, “and gave the man an opening to tamper with my meds.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “That it wasn’t his fault, of course,” she replied. “I know you don’t like him,” she added perceptively. “But he’s not what you think. He’s a good person.”

  He almost bit his tongue trying not to tell her some of the things he knew that Carson had done.

  “How’s Mama doing?” she asked to divert him. “She seems okay, but she was very worried. And she’s still getting over Dad being shot.”

  He lost his jealousy all at once. “She’s doing very well. That was an accident of fate. Your father was a cruel, vindictive man. We make our path in life, then we walk it. His ended as violently as he lived.”

  She sighed. “I suppose so. It’s still hard.” She looked up. “Are your parents still alive?”

  He shook his head. “Our mother, died some years ago. So did our father. It’s been just the three of us for a long time.” He smiled sadly. “You know, there’s nobody in the world who feels the same pride for you that a parent does, or the unconditional love you get. A parent will excuse things that the world won’t. I suppose we’re poorer for the lack of them.”

  “I always hoped for a father who’d be loving and kind,” she replied sadly. “Mine was neither. I learned to stay out of his way almost as soon as I could walk. Mama took a lot of blows that were meant for me.” She closed her eyes. “My childhood was a nightmare.”

  He smoothed his fingers over her soft hand. “I’m sorry for that.”

  “Me, too.”

  She wasn’t resisting so he linked his fingers into hers. It gave him a thrill, like parachuting from a great height. “Any other visitors?” he asked.

  She smiled. “Not really. Just the sheriff’s deputy. He asked me a lot of questions for a report.”

  “I guess Cody sent him,” he said.

  “I guess.”

  He glanced at the hall. Hospital workers were moving trays off some sort of mobile rolling cart. He grimaced. “I suppose it’s supper time and I have to leave,” he said reluctantly.

  “They really have very nice food here,” she said. “Well, except for the gelatin.” She whispered loudly, “Can’t you please smuggle me in a steak?”

  “I heard that,” one of the volunteers called through the door with a chuckle.

  “Sorry. Couldn’t help it,” Merissa replied.

  The woman came in with a covered tray and placed it on the hospital table that looped over the bed. “You’ll like this. It isn’t steak. But it’s good.” She lifted the cover.

  “Roast beef!” Merissa exclaimed. “And carrots! I love carrots!”

  “Her first solid food, I gather?” Tank asked the woman.

  She laughed. “However did you guess? Only someone on a liquid diet would go all googly-eyed over carrots.” She rolled her eyes. “And there’s this, too.” She put fruit juice, milk and a small serving of vanilla ice cream on the tray.

  “I’ve died and gone to heaven,” Merissa whispered.

  “Not quite, but you came close, I hear.” The woman chuckled again. “Now you eat every bite, okay?”

  “Okay,” Merissa promised.

  Tank smiled at her. Odd, he thought, the way her voice sounded. It was familiar. He wished he could place it. He almost asked if they’d met, but it would appear as a pickup line, and he wasn’t doing that in front of Merissa.

  The woman went out. Merissa enthused over the food. But when she tasted the roast beef, she made a face.

  “How very strange,” she murmured.

  “What?”

  “I’m just paranoid, I guess, but it tastes a little funny. It smells like someone got happy with the garlic. I guess it’s just my taste buds,” she added, and started to fork it into her mouth.

  “No.” Tank took the fork with the meat on it. He sniffed it. He frowned. He knew that smell all too well. He’d worked, very carefully, with a commercial grade of Malathion. First the capsules, now this...!

  “You’re not eating that.” He opened his cell phone and called Cody Banks.

  “Hi, Tank. How’re things?” he replied.

  “Did you send a deputy to the hospital to question Merissa today?” he asked.

  The other man laughed. “Well, not yet,” he said. “I mean, she’s barely out of ICU...”

  That was when Tank remembered the voice on the phone. He’d called the surveillance company and talked to a woman about installing the security cameras. That was the voice. The woman who brought in Merissa’s tray. She wouldn’t be working in a hospital if she was an accomplice for the assassin who was after Tank, and that was who she sounded like.

  “Tank?” Cody asked when there was a long pause.

  “You’ll think I’m crazy. But can you send your investigator over here right now?”

  “Why?”

  “Don’t hang up. I think the assassin has an accomplice working here, and part of Merissa’s meal that the woman just delivered may have something in it. Something dangerous. It smells like commercial Malathion. We already know that was what was put in the capsule she ingested.”

  Cody knew Tank. He wasn’t an alarmist. His word was good enough for the sheriff. “I’ll not only send him, I’ll come with him. Don’t let them take that tray away until I get there.”

  “I won’t.”

  He hung up. Merissa was listening, and she looked more nervous than ever.

  “Cody didn’t send a deputy over here to see you,” he said. “Tell me everything you remember about the man.”

  She frowned. “He was medium height, wearing a uniform,” she said. “He was wearing a bib cap. He seemed very nice. He asked about my mother, and remarked about how lucky I was to still be alive. He said the man probably hadn’t meant to kill me at that point in time, or he would have put a bigger dose of poison in the capsules. He said that perhaps he was waiting for just the right moment to erase me, when it would have the most impact.” She looked at Tank. “That’s a strange thing to say, isn’t it?”

  Tank was really worried now. He wanted to go out
into the hall and find that damned woman, tie her up, make her talk. He wanted the man, the rogue agent. He pulled out his phone again and called Rourke.

  “You’d better come down here. Make sure my brothers are in the house with their wives and that Carson is with them.”

  “I’ll do it right now,” Rourke said without a single argument.

  “Rourke?” Merissa questioned.

  He smiled. “He once fed a man to a crocodile,” he mused. “I’m hoping he hasn’t lost his touch,” he added, just in case that paisley-shirt-wearing snake was listening.

  “Dalton!” she exclaimed. “Shame!”

  He curled her fingers closer into his. “On second thought, maybe something more creative than a crocodile.”

  She was solemn. “He burns.”

  “Yes, he burns to kill me...”

  She shook her head. “No, Dalton,” she said softly. “He burns. Alive.” She shivered. “I saw it. I couldn’t see his features, but I know it was him in the vision. He burns. He screams...”

  He nipped her thumb gently with his fingers. “Don’t dwell on things like that,” he said softly.

  “That’s what I see. That’s the kind of thing I see, all the time. Death. Violence. Pain.” She drew in a long breath. “All my life. I had a friend when I was in grammar school. I knew she was going to die, and how. I tried to warn her. She thought I was joking. I told her not to go swimming in the lake that day, that a man driving a boat, drinking, would run over her.” She closed her eyes. “She just laughed. They went swimming. A man was driving a speedboat too fast, drinking. He didn’t see her. He ran right over her and the propellers caught her.” Her face was tragic. “After that, I didn’t want to have any friends.” She looked up at him. “People say this is a gift. It’s not a gift, it’s a curse. Nobody in his right mind would want to see the future if he knew what was lying in wait for him.”

  “I suppose I’ve never thought of it like that.”

  “I’d love to be just normal,” she said sadly. “You know, have a regular job, do regular things, get married, have kids...live a happy life.”

  “Why can’t you?” he asked softly.

  “My children would suffer because of me,” she replied. “They’d pay the price for my...gift.”