Cowboy at Midnight

by Ann Major

  Not that he cared, when he sprang between her and the front door.

  “Let’s just forget this,” she said. “Forget the other night….”

  When she tried to move past him, he grabbed her arm and held on tight. “No. I want us to work this out. I care about you too much, Amy.”

  “You’re a fool, then. There is no us. It won’t work. Like I said, I’m too messed up.”

  “Do you want to stay stuck in this hell you’ve created for yourself for the rest of your life?”

  Struggling to pull her arm free, she went even whiter. But he was too far gone to care.

  “Take your hands off me. You’re making a scene,” she whispered.

  His gaze veered toward her stricken-looking father and mother, toward Liam, whose unsmiling face held vague menace now.

  “I was trying to help,” Steve whispered. “But all right, you win.”

  As abruptly as he’d seized her, he let her go. Raising both hands, he backed up and stood still as a statue until she flung the door open and ran out. Then he stormed out after her and loped alongside her the whole way to her car. When she pulled out her keys and accidentally unlocked all her doors, he sprang into the passenger side.

  She was sobbing as she jammed her key into the ignition. “Get out or you’ll be sorry!”

  “Amy, you’re too upset to drive.”

  A flick of her wrist had her keys jingling again. The engine growled to life. “This is all your fault. You had to pry.”

  “Let me drive you home.”

  “Last chance, buster. Get out now!”

  “Amy, please—”

  “I said get out!”

  He slammed his door and folded his wide arms across his thick chest.

  “Buckle your seat belt,” she muttered as she snapped her own together.

  “Amy—”

  “Last chance. Get out!”

  When he stayed where he was, she stomped on the accelerator and wheeled out of the parking lot so fast her tires screamed. He caught the acrid stench of burning rubber.

  “For God’s sake, Amy—”

  “Shut up! Just shut up! Do you think I want to be unhappy forever? Is that what you think?”

  At the sound of more hoarse, racking sobs, he turned. Pale brilliance sifted from a streetlight and bleached all color from her wet, tortured face.

  “Aw, hell, darlin’. I’ve gone and made you cry.”

  Nine

  Ignoring Steve, Amy hunched forward over the steering wheel and focused on her driving. She was frowning at the flying road. Steve took a deep, fortifying breath as the Toyota zipped frenetically through traffic, surging north up a wide lane of Congress Avenue toward the brightly lit capitol building. Steve cinched his seat belt as tightly as it would go and then gave his shoulder harness a yank as the Camry weaved around other cars chaotically.

  One second she was honking at a red truck in front of her that was stopped at a light. In the next she was racing around it, running the light, causing several oncoming cars to slam on their brakes and nearly ram each other to avoid hitting her.

  “Do you have a death wish?” Steve ground out through gritted teeth.

  Clenching her jaw, she leaned even farther forward, not bothering to answer him.

  “What about me, Amy? Do you want to kill me, too?”

  She whitened.

  “What about those other people out there? Kids even?”

  A muscle jerked in her cheek, but she merely pressed her lips together all the more tightly.

  “Amy, what’s the matter with you? At least get out of town before you drive like a maniac.”

  She kept her head lowered, her narrowed eyes fixed on the road, her lips still clamped together. But he breathed easier as she let up on the accelerator. For a few minutes she drove at a more reasonable speed, even stopping for all the lights, only gunning it when they turned green. But no sooner did she hit Mo-Pac, the north-south freeway on the western side of Austin, than she stomped on the gas pedal again. Instantly they were flying north, lane hopping, passing streams of cars and trucks.

  “Do you always rebel when your mother pulls your strings?”

  “Shut up! You’re pulling them, too!” She tapped the gas pedal harder.

  Maybe talking to her wasn’t such a good idea.

  Tires squealing, she swerved off Mo-Pac onto Ranch Road 2222. A few years ago it had been a twisting rural road. Now it was a busy thoroughfare that ran through posh, hilly, northwest Austin. She zoomed up and down the steep cedar-covered hills, sped around dangerous curves so fast they skidded onto the shoulder several times. At one point when they careened over the top of a hill, they had a breathtaking view off to their left of all of West Austin, including the Colorado River and the famous red 360 Bridge.

  Not that Steve was in any mood to enjoy the scenery. He was too worried about Amy. Her face was still ashen. Her blue eyes were wild and laser bright. She was out of control, and the Toyota was slicing through the flying dark at a hundred miles an hour.

  The Camry’s tires screamed as she made a turn too fast. When his shoulder harness caught, he held his breath. Artificially lit Tuscan villas and oversized Provençal cottages bled past them in splashes of garish color. When she came upon a slow-moving truck too fast, she hit the brakes so hard he had to brace a hand against the dash to keep from flying forward.

  She passed the truck on the right. He shot her a glance and thought better of saying anything. But when they came upon a second truck at the top of the hill and she had to hit the brakes again, that was all he could take.

  “Amy!”

  Glassy-eyed, she stared ahead. He wondered if she had forgotten he was there. His brother Jack had nearly died when Ann had driven out of control like this. She’d slammed head-on into a truck, killing both herself and the truck driver. It had taken a guilt-stricken Jack years to get over that accident.

  Steve had had enough.

  “Is this how you killed Lexie?”

  She banged her fists against the steering wheel and screamed. Tears of anguish rained down her cheeks. Instead of slowing down, she pushed the gas pedal to the floor.

  He leaned over, grabbed the gearshift and down-shifted into neutral. Then he yanked the keys out of the ignition.

  “What are you doing?” she screamed, fighting to control the car.

  “Pull over. You’re in no shape to drive.”

  “Give me the keys!”

  She was straddling the center line as they hurtled over the top of a hill. A Cadillac was in their lane, driving too slowly. In the distance he saw the lights of an oncoming car.

  “Go ahead! Kill me the way you killed your best friend! Kill all those other drivers out there, too!”

  Amy honked, hit the brakes and spun the wheel to the right. The Toyota fishtailed on loose gravel and flew crazily to the left across the double yellow lines into the oncoming lane. The other car honked and swerved, missing them by inches as it whizzed past.

  Then they were off the road, sliding endlessly in more gravel before the car skidded into a log, stopping so abruptly Steve was thrown forward.

  His forehead smacked the windshield, and everything went black.

  When he came to seconds later, he was aware of violets, aware of Amy’s trembling arms cradling his head as she dabbed at something oozing above his right eye.

  “Wake up. Don’t die. Don’t die,” she whispered in a subdued tone through strangled tears. “Please don’t die.”

  “Are you okay now?” he asked.

  “Me? Are you okay?”

  “I’ll live. What about you?”

  Before she could reply, a fist rammed against her window. When she opened the door, a man with a black cowboy hat and a cigarette dangling out of his mouth grabbed her arm and yanked her from the car by her arm.

  “What’s wrong with you, girl? I’ve been behind you since Mo-Pac. You drunk or high on somethin’?”

  “I was upset.”

  The man stared at he
r hard. Finding no sign of drunkenness, he finally released her. “Don’t you know a car’s the same as a lethal weapon? You could’ve killed somebody.”

  “I…I’m sorry,” she said, weeping with genuine remorse as she rubbed her arm. “I shouldn’t have driven like that. I… My passenger’s hurt.”

  The stranger leaned past her and studied Steve. “You okay in there, mister?”

  “I’m fine,” Steve said even though he was starting to feel a little shaky. Ignoring the tremor in his hands, he opened the door and got out. “I’ve got the car keys.” He jingled them. “I’m going to drive her home if the car’s all right.”

  “Okay, young lady. You’d better not drive like a wild hellion again. Sooner or later your luck always runs out.”

  Amy swallowed convulsively.

  “I was gonna call 911,” the man said, “but your friend here seems responsible. Don’t you ever forget, girl, cars aren’t toys. Nobody has the right to drive like that—ever!” He turned to Steve. “I’ll wait and make sure your car starts before I leave.”

  “Thanks,” Steve said as he knelt and looked under the car. He walked around it before leading Amy to the passenger seat. Then he went around the back of the car and slid behind the wheel.

  Even though the Toyota started, he popped the hood, got out and looked under it. When he finally backed away from the log, he got out and inspected the damage one last time.

  “A few scratches on the bumper, but not many,” he said as he got back inside the car. “The cut on my head is just a scratch, too. We got off lucky. Real lucky.”

  “This time.” Amy was shaking too violently to say more.

  “Where do you live?”

  “Off Enfield Road.”

  He felt fine now, although he wasn’t in the mood for conversation. Apparently, she wasn’t either. She stared out her window, and he focused on the road. They drove south, back to town in tense silence. Ten minutes later when he pulled into the drive of the address she’d given him and he saw the tall, ultramodern limestone mansion and enormous, tiled pool, he whistled.

  “Nice,” he said, his low tone a little edgy.

  “All I’ve got is the garage apartment. The owner’s a divorcee with a teenager. Cheryl lets me live here because I’m additional security.”

  “Don’t tell me your mother arranged this?”

  “How did you know?”

  He wrenched the keys from the ignition and turned and studied Amy’s lovely white face that was framed by glimmering golden silky waves. Her eyes held fresh guilt along with that deep, impenetrable sadness that always tore him in two.

  “Easy,” he said as he got out. “She probably calls Cheryl from time to time to check up on you.”

  “That’s right.” Amy opened her door, and rock music blasted them.

  He winced at the loud music, which was the last thing he needed. “Where the hell’s that coming from?” he muttered.

  “Kate’s probably at the pool.”

  “Kate?” Then he got it. “Right, the teenager.” He sighed. “Impossible species. They should all be exiled to another planet until they’re twenty-one at least.”

  “She lives in the main house with her mom.”

  “She’s a bit spoiled from the sound and look of it,” he said.

  “It’s not her fault.”

  “Right. She’s misunderstood by her mean old mom.”

  “Her mean old dad.”

  On their way to Amy’s apartment, they had to pass the pool and the kid. Kate was curled up on a chaise longue, sipping a glass of iced tea. At least, he hoped it was tea. She had huge dark glasses, blue spiked hair and big pouty lips. Her yellow string bikini didn’t cover much, so it was easy to count her piercings, of which she had way too many. Rings shot sparks at Steve from her navel, eyebrows, lips, ears and tongue as her blue head bobbed back in forth in time to the shrill beat of electronic vibrations that passed for music these days. The lyrics were streams of curses screamed at a shrill volume loud enough to puncture the eardrums of any mammal unlucky enough to be within ten blocks.

  “That music’s obscene,” Steve said.

  “She’s just crying out for attention.”

  “Lucky girl. She’s about to get it. Introduce me, why don’t you?” The nerves in his eye pulsed as savagely as the beat.

  “Hi, Kate,” Amy yelled from her stairs. When Kate ignored her, Amy cupped her mouth with her hands and screamed, “This is my friend, Steve.”

  Kate yawned and turned the music slightly lower. “What happened to your friend?” She pointed to her own right eye and then made a fist as if she was about to sock herself. “He get in a fight or something?”

  “Or something,” Steve mumbled. “Kid, would you mind turning it down a little? Amy and I need to talk.”

  Her pouty lips puffed up. “Did you get so fresh, she slapped you?”

  That did it. Steve strode toward the pool. “Are you going to turn that down or not?”

  “This is my house, you know,” Kate said sullenly. “You can’t come here and order me around like I’m your kid or something.”

  God help him, if his kid ever acted like her…

  “Is your mother here? I’d like to talk to her.”

  The kid’s smirk held triumph. “She’s out on a date.” Kate lifted her iced-tea glass in a mock toast.

  “And she left you behind? I wonder why?”

  “What do you know about anything?” The girl slammed her drink down so hard it spilled everywhere.

  “I know if I lived next door I’d call the cops. That’s what you want, isn’t it? Then your mom would have to come home.”

  “What do you know about anything?”

  “That’s happened before,” Amy interjected.

  Kate’s lip protruded even further.

  Steve walked up to the girl. “Turn that down. Please.”

  Kate shook her blue spiky head. “If you don’t like it, go home.” She twisted the knob and made it louder.

  With one swift movement he grabbed the boom box and headed toward the deep end of the pool.

  Kate got up and ran up to him. “Give that back!”

  He dropped the boom box into the water. The music strangled after two gurgles.

  “You can’t do—” Kate bit her lip as he strode past her up the stairs to Amy’s apartment.

  He didn’t look back at her as he climbed the stairs. “Sorry about that,” he said to Amy once he was inside the honey-colored walls of her apartment. “I don’t know why she got to me. I guess I’m not much on letting kids call the shots.”

  “It’s my fault. I upset you, and you’re hurt. There’s a limit to what anybody can take. But she’s not so bad. She’s just a mixed-up little girl.”

  “Who’ll grow up into a mixed-up young woman. She’s not so little anymore, either.”

  “So you noticed the way she filled out that bikini?”

  He ignored that. “If kids don’t learn there are clear limits and consequences for bad behavior, they’ll get worse and worse until they’re—”

  “Totally out of control,” Amy finished, a shadow of pain flashing across her narrow face “Her father left Cheryl,” she said quietly. “He gives her zero attention. She’s acting out.”

  “Like you tonight.”

  She hissed in a deep breath and turned toward the sink.

  “What was that all about, Amy?”

  “You’re hurt,” she said as she rustled in a drawer until she found a clean dish towel. She ran water out of her kitchen tap until wisps of steam curled around her. Then she soaked the towel and squeezed soap onto it.

  When she crossed the tiny kitchen and came up to him, she touched his face with the warm, wet towel. Carefully her hand smoothed the wayward lock of his hair out of the way. Even more gingerly she washed the skin beneath his eye. Soon because of her gentle care, his eye no longer throbbed. All he felt was a dizzying warmth due to her nearness.

  “What’s going on Amy?” he asked softly. �
��With you? Between us?”

  Her eyes intense, she gazed up at him. “I told you. There can’t be an us.”

  “I want to know why.” He gave her a long look, which she returned. He had the feeling she couldn’t stop staring at him any more than he could. She was so damn pretty and hurting so damn much. He was about to take her in his arms when her cell phone bleated.

  She started, swallowing a quick, nervous breath. Then she took his hand and pressed it against the wet rag so that he would go on holding it against his brow. He grinned when she bent over to rummage in her purse for her phone. She did have a great butt.

  “It’s Mother,” she said, whirling around again and setting the phone on the counter. “I—I can’t talk to her now.”

  “Answer it and tell her that, then.”

  “I can’t.”

  He grabbed the phone and flipped it open. “Steve Fortune. How are you, Ms. Burke? Yes, I know. She was upset. I’m afraid she can’t talk right now, but she’ll call you tomorrow. Yes. First thing.”

  Amy’s pale face went as rigid as a stone wall. “You don’t have to tell her that.”

  “Shh,” he mouthed, still talking to her mother. “Yes, she’s still very upset. Sorry, but I can’t talk right now, either.” He snapped the phone closed. “Now, what’s so hard about that, darlin’?”

  “She’s not your mother.”

  “It wouldn’t matter if she was.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Amy sucked in a deep breath that made her chest expand and then another that made her breasts stick up pertly.

  “Quit looking at me there!” she snapped.

  “Don’t stick them out, then. Slump or something.”

  “Men. You’re like a species from a different planet.”

  “Mars, I believe, is the latest theory.”

  Without smiling, she shook her head. “You shouldn’t have done that—talked to her, I mean.”

  “You shouldn’t have done a lot of the stuff you’ve done tonight. Hell, the way you drove, I’m lucky to be standing here getting chewed out for a little ogling and talking on the phone to your mother. Hey, lighten up.” He softened his tone. “Isn’t a wounded man entitled to a few rewards?”