by Aimée Thurlo
“This is a lousy place for that. If there’s any problem, they’ll put boxing gloves on both of you and throw you in a cage together to settle it.”
“You’ve been here before?”
“No, but people talk.”
“Don’t worry. I’m a master of tact and diplomacy,” he said, with a twinkle in his eye. “If that fails, and we end up fighting, I’ll make sure he goes down, then hold him there for the cops.”
“But what if something goes wrong?”
“I expect I’ll take a few punches, but like you said, they make you wear heavy gloves. Those protect you somewhat.”
“So you’ve been here before. I should have known,” Holly said.
“Nah,” he grinned. “Like you said, people talk.”
They went inside and managed to find an empty table just as some oil workers were leaving. It was in the far corner, next to a square, ten-foot high enclosure made of chain-link fence and metal posts that extended from floor to ceiling.
To their right, extending from the far end of the bar, was a circular platform set around a shiny chrome steel pole. Narrow steps led up from the floor, and two spotlights illuminated the dancer’s tiny stage.
“So they have a stripper, too?” Holly said as they sat down.
“How do you think all those fights get started?” Daniel said, then took a quick look around the room.
A tired-looking blond waitress wearing a tight T-shirt and baseball cap with a Bucking Bronco patch came over within a few seconds. “What can I get ya, honey?” she called over the din of country-western music coming from ceiling-high speakers. Her frozen smile and pale blue eyes were on Daniel.
“Draft. And how about you, babe?” Daniel answered, a wide grin on his face as he turned to Holly.
“A cola,” she answered primly.
“Gotcha,” the waitress replied, rolling her eyes at Daniel in mock sympathy. “Be right back.”
Holly looked around at the patrons, mostly oil workers and a few cowboys judging from the blending of wide-brim hats, the scent of sweat and oil, and caps with company logos. “Now what? Did anyone follow us in?”
“Not yet, so we’ll wait,” Daniel said, checking the entrance again out of the corner of his eye.
Chapter Twelve
An eternity passed and a few regular customers came in, and were greeted by those inside the tavern. Yet no one paid any particular attention to them. Daniel had just left to talk to the bartender when a tall, muscular man with greased-back black hair and a day-old stubble stumbled in her direction. She tried not to make eye contact, hoping he’d veer away.
Unfortunately, seconds later, he placed a beefy hand on her shoulder. “They’re playing our song, pretty lady. How about you get up and dance with me?”
“Um, no thanks,” she said, turning away. The liquor on his breath was nearly overpowering.
“Come on, sweet thing. Just a spin or two around the floor.” He reached for her hand, but just then Daniel appeared.
“She doesn’t want to dance, friend,” Daniel said. “Walk away.”
“Out of my face, Chief,” the man said.
As he reached for Holly’s arm again, Daniel stiff-armed him in the chest, sending him reeling back three steps.
“You want a piece of me?” the man said, regaining his balance. “Come on, then. Let’s do this.”
A whistle suddenly split the air, so loud everyone turned to look. A big, barrel-chested man carrying a taped up baseball bat stepped out from behind the bar. He spit out the silver coach’s whistle, then pointed the business end of the bat at Daniel, then to the burly thug.
“You two have a beef? You either take off with your tail between your legs, or settle it like men. I’m talking in the cage—until somebody goes down or yells uncle. Whadda you say, you men, or crybabies?”
“This gentleman didn’t mean any offense. He’s just had too much to drink,” Holly said quickly. “There’s no need for a fight.”
There were collective groans from all around the room.
“So what’ll it be? You gonna hide behind the girl and run for the door?” the man said, getting into Daniel’s face.
“Let me buy you a beer, and we’ll call it even,” Daniel said through clenched teeth.
“And here I thought you’d bleed red, not yellow.”
Daniel shook his head, then looked at the bartender. “Get the gloves.”
“You don’t have to do this,” Holly said, trying to reason with him. “We’ll walk out.”
Daniel leaned closer to her. “We’d never make it out the door without more trouble, trust me. This is a setup. Let me handle this guy first, then we’ll go outside and look for the sedan.”
All eyes were on Daniel and the big gorilla-looking guy who’d given his name as Roger as the cage door was opened, and closed behind them.
Roger immediately rushed Daniel, faking a punch to his face. Daniel slipped the punch, which brushed his cheek, and landed a solid blow to his attacker’s chest. Roger’s forward momentum carried him into Daniel, and they both crashed into the wire, then rebounded out.
The big man staggered back, launching a kick that caught Daniel in the thigh. Daniel grimaced in pain, then limped to the side, barely avoiding the solid connection from a roundhouse that glanced off his temple.
Everyone rose to their feet, shouting and placing bets.
Holly looked around, trying to figure out how to stop it. This had not been part of their plan. They were after the man who’d tailed them, not the hulk inside the cage.
“Put a stop to this,” she yelled to the bouncer.
The man shook his head, and pointed to the floor, reminding her that this would end only when somebody went down.
As she moved toward the entrance, reaching for her cell phone, a figure came up from behind her. He grabbed her arm, and yanked her into the dark foyer. All she could see was a black baseball cap and that blue bandanna over his face.
“Let go!” As she struggled to break his hold, she realized that Daniel had been right. They’d been set up. Desperate, she rammed her elbow into his midsection and broke free.
Holly ran back inside, screaming, but the man followed her. Since everyone else in the Bucking Bronco was yelling, too, no one paid any attention to her. The crowd was focused on the pair fighting inside the cage.
A hand grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back hard toward the foyer again. Holly swung her fist around and connected with something, maybe the man’s nose, and broke free.
She pushed her way through the rowdy crowd, most on their feet, but there was no place to run. Realizing that the man was closing in on her again, and out of options, she broke away from the screaming crowd, and ran for the stripper’s platform. Grabbing the pole, she began doing an awkward dance.
Soon some of the men turned away from the fight to watch her. Roger, too, shifted his gaze, and that’s when Daniel caught him with a right cross that sent him to the floor.
Holly knew she’d be safe as long as she remained the focus of the room. With that in mind, she unbuttoned the two top buttons of her blouse, then ducked down, showing some cleavage as the men cheered and whistled.
“Enough of this,” Daniel said and slipped off the heavy boxing gloves. “Open the damned door,” he yelled to the bouncer.
He stepped out, then pushed his way across the room and through the crowd clustered around the stripper’s stage.
“Let’s go, woman!” Daniel yelled, catching Holly’s eye. He raised up his arms. “Jump.”
She leaped off into his arms, wrapping her legs around him. He caught her, his eyes gleaming with an inner fire that any woman with a heartbeat would recognize.
Daniel whirled her around and kissed her as the men cheered. Though she’d expected something hard and possessive, his kiss was gentle, filled with tenderness despite the drama of the moment. Before she could catch her breath, he tossed her over his shoulder and walked toward the door. Everyone was still cheering, and as th
ey reached the foyer the bouncer handed them their jackets.
“Ya’ll come back, okay?” he said with a wide grin.
Once they were outside, Daniel set her down and they ran to the SUV.
“I lost the man following us, but you were right. It was a setup. Even with all those people around, he came after me in there,” she said, telling him what had happened as they fastened their seat belts.
Daniel looked around the parking lot, but failed to see the sedan. “Maybe a BOLO will help,” he said, and called Preston.
“My brother will be able to get the other departments involved now,” he told Holly after hanging up.
“So now what? Where should we go?” she asked.
“My office. It’s just outside Hartley, and it’s impossible to get near that place without at least one set of cameras picking you up.”
Twenty minutes later they arrived at a large rectangular warehouse enclosed by a tall chain-link fence on all four sides of the three-acre lot. Dried out alfalfa fields surrounded the grounds.
Daniel stopped at the gate, entered a code on a number pad, and the door slid open. As Daniel drove through, the gate closed behind them. Lights came on as they went closer to the building, which was located in the center of the property.
“I’ve refitted the place to fit the needs of my business. It used to be an old farm equipment warehouse that was repossessed by the bank,” he said.
Once inside the metal, pitched roof building, Holly saw the place was mostly empty. There was a large desk in the center of the main room, and around that, freestanding dry erase and cork boards that held what appeared to be tactical maps. A rectangular glass table stood by itself just beyond the desk, but a power cable leading from the table to a wall outlet suggested it wasn’t just a table.
Two desktop computers were against one side wall, along with several heavy, locked file cabinets. There were also bookshelves filled with what looked like technical journals and DVDs. Along the back, between two interior doors, was the kitchen area, complete with a refrigerator, small stove, several cabinets and a long counter. A round, bistro-style metal table with two chairs was nearby.
At the opposite end wall was a sitting area with a couch, two chairs and a coffee table, all enclosed within a low barrier comprised of stacked, painted cinder blocks.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Daniel said, shrugging off his leather jacket. The plain dark blue wool sweater he wore over his collared shirt accentuated Daniel’s broad shoulders and his lean middle.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked.
“Positive,” he said. “I’ve taken worse in training ops.” He gave her a heart-stopping smile. “I still can’t believe what you did back at the Bucking Bronco. That was fast thinking. Until you got up on that platform everyone was watching the fight.”
She shuddered, thinking about it and he pulled her into his arms.
Although she knew she should have moved away, his body felt hard, strong and oh, so good! “That little stage was the safest place for me to be.”
“How far would you have gone?”
“Let’s just say I was grateful you finished off Roger when you did,” she said, stepping out of his arms.
His grin was slow and utterly masculine. “I didn’t get to see much of that dance. Maybe you’ll give me a repeat performance?”
His words teased her imagination. “In your dreams.”
“I’ll have plenty of those now,” he said, his voice a rough whisper.
She shivered, then realizing that he’d seen her reaction, diverted his attention by pointing to the thermostat.
“Are you cold? I’ll turn up the heat,” he said with a nod, stepping over to the wall and pushing the up button on the programmable device. “I keep it at sixty whenever I’m not here.”
“When do you usually get home?”
“Unless something’s going on at night, I’m here by seven, give or take. Most of my work is done at the client’s site, like at the plant. It’s rare that I have to bring anyone here to my office because I prefer to train people on the turf they’ll be protecting. When I bring personnel here it’s to run computer simulations that’ll showcase the potential risks to their facilities. They get an overview of the entire operation and can see exactly what needs to be done. I can demonstrate the results of an electronic or computer attack on their systems, too. That table over there is really a touch screen monitor that allows clients to view and evaluate potential threat scenarios in real time.”
She thought of her own business office. Everything there, from the furnishings to the layout, reflected her personality. By contrast, Level One Security’s office felt like command headquarters—all precision and focused objectives. Yet Daniel had a gentle side, too. Though he chose to keep it hidden, she’d felt its impact all through her when he’d kissed her.
“Are you hungry? I can make you something for dinner,” Daniel said, interrupting her thoughts and gesturing toward the kitchen area.
Before she could answer, a tall, good-looking Navajo man wearing jeans, a loose blue corduroy shirt and boots entered the room from one of the two interior doors. “Don’t let my brother fool you,” the man said, flashing her a confident grin. “To him, a meal is two or three of those plastic dish meals that read ‘peel back to vent.’”
“You here already?” Daniel said, trying and failing to suppress a grin. “This is my brother Gene. He’s staying here for a while.”
“In your office?” Holly asked, looking around again.
“Daniel lives here. There are two rooms in the back that hold cots and metal wardrobes—his version of bedrooms—so he calls it home,” Gene said.
“As far as my brother’s concerned, if there’s no hay or tack visible and a couple of horses in the stalls, it can’t possibly be a real home.”
“Wait—you live here?” she asked Daniel, surprised.
Gene burst out laughing. “I bet that cut deep, bro.” He gave her a big smile. “I’m Gene, the good-looking one in the family.”
She didn’t offer to shake hands, not sure if he was comfortable with the custom or not. “Pleasure,” she said. “I’m Holly.”
“Keep an eye on the monitors, will you?” Daniel said, updating his brother on recent events.
“No problem. You’re safe here,” Gene told Holly, then walked to one of the computers by the wall.
“Now, as I was saying before we were so rudely interrupted,” Daniel said with a quick grin, “there are some cold cuts in the fridge that could make a great roast beef sandwich. You up for some food?”
“Just don’t touch the sliced bread, Holly,” Gene said. “It’s got hairy gray stuff growing on it. Take some of the French bread I brought. It’s sitting on the counter.”
“Why didn’t you throw out the moldy loaf?” Daniel asked, glowering at him.
“And spare you a bite of that penicillin? Hey, it’s winter and you’ve got to keep your health.”
“Freeloader. You’re lucky I don’t kick your sorry butt out of here,” Daniel said, opening the refrigerator.
“Yeah, yeah. Strong words for a soft, city boy.”
“You’re welcome to put that to a test, farm boy,” Daniel called back, then winked at Holly, who’d taken a seat at the round table.
From where she was sitting it was easy to see how different Gene and Daniel were from each other. Gene moved with slow measured strides. Daniel prowled along the counter like a tiger on the hunt, a symphony of confidence and focus. Just watching him made her fingertips tingle with the desire to touch him.
He met her watchful gaze and smiled. “I’m just a regular guy. No superpowers, no cape.”
She smiled but said nothing, unsure of how to answer without revealing even more of what she’d been thinking. He could read her thoughts much too easily as it was.
Regardless of what he’d said, Daniel was far from ordinary. He had the courage it took to defy the odds and fight for what was right. Yet it was the magic
she’d found in his arms that held her spellbound. It would be a long time before the memory of his last kiss faded from her mind.
“You and Gene are very different,” she said, forcing her thoughts back onto safer channels.
He nodded, glancing at Gene, who was over by the monitors. “We were a lot to handle when Hosteen Silver first took us in. I’d turned fourteen and Gene was thirteen. I’d come from two years in foster care and Gene through four. Hosteen Silver never tried to preach to us, though. What he did was work our butts off hauling water, doing chores—nothing was taken for granted. By the end of each day we were beat, but we never had to worry about going hungry or staying warm in winter again.”
“How come you didn’t stay on the Rez?” she asked.
“Hosteen Silver taught us that to walk in beauty we’d need to find our own paths in life. For me, that meant serving in the Army, then starting my own business.”
She nodded, still trying to figure Daniel out. The place he called home was Spartan at best. Even the kitchen was equipped only with essentials. The only things on the counter were the loaf of French bread Gene had brought, a small microwave and coffeemaker.
“We’ve got company,” Gene called out.
Daniel’s expression changed in an instant and he strode to the computer monitor.
“Relax. It’s family. Preston’s here,” Gene said a second later.
“Let him in,” Daniel said.
“Do you think he managed to track down the guy who was following us?” Holly asked Daniel.
“We’re about to find out,” Daniel said, then turned and gave her a quick smile. “No matter what happens, I’ll be right there beside you.”
She watched him go into the next room, his words still playing in her mind. Beside her. That’s what he’d said. Not in front of her or behind her.
Daniel, who’d stepped over to the doorway to greet Detective Bowman, never saw her smile.
Chapter Thirteen
Detective Preston Bowman had a booming voice that commanded attention by sheer volume alone. He stood tall, shoulders thrown back, his gaze taking in everything. He seemed as indomitable as a force of nature yet, paradoxically, there was an incredible stillness about him. In this case, Holly suspected it was the calm before the storm.
