by Diana Palmer
“She’ll kill me,” he groaned.
“No. We’ll take her a pot of flowers,” Gwen said firmly. “She’s a gardener. I know she wouldn’t mind a bribe that she could plant.”
They all laughed.
And actually, Barbara wasn’t mad. She burst into tears, hugged them both and rambled on for several minutes about how depressed she’d been that women never seemed to see Rick as a potential mate as much as a shoulder to cry on.
“I’m just so happy!”
“I’m so glad,” Gwen enthused. “But we still brought you a bribe.”
“A bribe?” Barbara asked, wiping away tears.
Gwen went onto the porch and came back inside carrying a huge potted plant.
“It’s an umbrella plant!” Barbara exclaimed. “I’ve wanted one for years, but I could never find one the right size. It’s perfect!”
“I thought you could plant it,” Gwen said.
“Oh, no, I’ll let it live inside. I’ll put grow lights around it and fertilize it and…” She hesitated. “You two didn’t have to get married?”
They howled.
“She’s as Victorian as we are,” Rick told his mother with a warm smile.
“That’s wonderful! Welcome to the stone age, my dear!” she told Gwen and hugged her, hard.
“Where are you going to live? In San Antonio?” Barbara asked, resigned.
Gwen and Rick had discussed this. “The old Andrews place is up for sale, right in downtown Jacobsville,” Rick said, “next door to the Griers. In fact, I put in an offer for it this morning.”
“Oh!” Barbara started crying again. “I thought you’d want to live where your jobs are.”
Explanation about Gwen’s job could come later, Rick decided. “We want to live near you,” Rick replied.
“Because when the kids come along,” Gwen added with a grin, “you’ll want to be able to see them.”
Barbara felt her forehead. “Maybe I’m feverish. You want to have kids?”
“Oh, yes,” Gwen replied, smiling.
“Lots of kids,” Rick added.
“I can buy a toy store,” Barbara murmured to herself. “But first I need to stock up on organic seeds, so that I can make healthy stuff for the baby.”
“We just got married yesterday,” Rick pointed out.
“That’s right, and this is November.” She went looking for a calendar. “And nine months from now is harvest season!” she called back.
Rick and Gwen shook their heads.
They stayed for supper, a delicious affair, and then settled down to watch the news. Gwen, sitting contentedly beside her husband, had no warning of what was about to happen.
A newscaster smiled as a picture of a four-star general, very well-known to the public, was splashed across the screen. “And this just in. Amid rumors that he was retiring or resigning from the service, we have just learned that General David Cassaway, former U.S. Commander in Iraq, has been named director of the Central Intelligence Agency. General Cassaway, a former covert ops commander, has commanded American troops in Iraq for the past two years. He was rumored to be retiring from the military, but it seems that he was only considering a new job.”
Barbara glanced at Gwen. “Why, what a coincidence. That’s your last name.”
The newscaster was adding, “General Cassaway’s only son, Larry, died in a classified operation in the Middle East just a few months ago. We wish General Cassaway the best of luck in his new position. Now for other news…”
Rick was staring at Gwen as if she’d grown horns. “Your brother’s name was Larry, wasn’t it?” he asked. “The one who was killed in action?”
Barbara was staring. So was Rick.
Gwen took a deep breath. “He’s my father,” she confessed.
Rick wasn’t handling this well. “Your father is the new head of the CIA?”
“Well, sort of,” she said, nodding worriedly.
Rick knew about Washington society from people in his department who had to deal with the socialites in D.C. He was certain that there were no poor generals in the military, and the head of the CIA would certainly not be in line for food stamps.
“What sort of place do you live in, when you go home?” Rick asked very quietly.
Gwen sighed. “We have a big house in Maryland, on several acres of land. My dad likes horses. He raises, well, thoroughbreds.” She was almost cringing by now.
“And drives a…?”
She swallowed. “Jaguar.”
Rick got up and turned away with an exasperated sigh. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I was afraid you’d do just what you’re doing now,” Gwen moaned. “Judging me by the company I keep. I hate parties. I hate receptions. I hate hostessing! I’m perfectly happy working a federal job, or a police job, any sort of job that doesn’t require me to put on an evening gown and look rich!”
“Rich.” Rick ran his fingers through his hair.
“I’m not rich,” she pointed out.
“But your father is.”
She grimaced. “He was born into one of the founding families. He went to Harvard, and then to West Point,” she said. “But he’s just a regular person. He doesn’t put on airs.”
“Sure.”
“Rick—” she got up and went to him “—I’m not my family. I don’t have money. I work for my living. For heaven’s sake, this suit is a year old!”
He turned around. His face was hard. “My suit is three years old,” he said stiffly. “I drive a pickup truck. I can barely afford tickets to the theater.”
She gave him a strained look. “You’ll get used to this,” she promised him. “It will just take a little time. You’ve had one too many upsets in the past few weeks.”
He sighed heavily. “We should have waited to get married,” he ground out.
“No,” she returned. “If we’d waited and you’d found out, you’d never have married me at all.”
Before Rick could open his mouth and destroy his future, Barbara got up and stood between them. “She’s right,” she told her son. “You need to stop before you say something you’ll regret. Let Gwen go home for tonight, and you sleep on it. Things will look better in the morning.” She went to get her cell phone and dialed a number. She waited until the call was answered. “Cash? Gwen Cassaway’s going back to San Antonio for the night and I don’t want her driving up there alone, do you have someone who can take her?”
“No…!” Gwen protested.
Barbara held up a hand. She grinned. “I thought you might. Thanks! I owe you a nice apple pie.” She hung up. “One of Cash’s men lives in San Antonio and he’s on his way home. He’ll swing by and give you a lift. He won’t mind, and he’s very nice. His name is Carlton Ames. He’ll take good care of you.”
Rick was cursing himself for not letting Gwen drive her car down instead of insisting that she come with him. He didn’t like the idea of her riding with another man. They were married. At least, temporarily.
“Go home and don’t worry,” Barbara said, hugging her. “It will be all right.”
Gwen managed a smile. She looked at Rick, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes. She drew in a long breath and put on her coat and picked up her purse. She walked out to the front porch with Barbara, who closed the door behind them.
“He’s still upset about meeting his father,” Barbara said gently. “He’ll get over this. You just get a good night’s sleep and don’t worry. It will work out. I’m so happy he married you!” She hugged the younger woman again. “You’re going to be very happy together once he gets over the shock.”
“I hope you’re right. I should have told him. I was afraid to.”
“Have you talked to your father?”
She shook her head. “I have to do that tonight.” She grimaced. “He’s not going to be happy, either.”
“Does he have prejudices…?” Barbara worried at once.
Gwen laughed. “Heavens, no! Dad doesn’t see color or race or reli
gion. He’s very liberal. No, he’ll be hurt that I didn’t tell him first.”
“That’s all right then. You’ll make it up with him. And with Rick. Oh, there’s Carlton!”
She waved as an off-duty police car pulled up at the porch. A nice young man got out and smiled. “I’m going to have company for the ride, I hear?” he asked.
“Yes, this is my new daughter-in-law, Gwen.” Barbara introduced them. “That’s Carlton,” she added with a grin. “She didn’t drive her own car and she has to get back to San Antonio to pick it up. Thanks for giving her a ride.”
“Should I follow you back down here, then?” he offered.
Gwen shook her head. “I have things to get together in my apartment. But thanks.”
“No problem. Shall we go?”
Gwen looked toward the porch, but the door was still closed. She saw Barbara wince. She managed a smile. “I’ll see you later, then,” she said. “Have a good night.”
“You, too, dear,” Barbara said. She forced a smile. “Good night.”
She watched them leave. Then she went back in the house and closed the door. “Rick?”
He was on the phone. She wondered who he could be calling at this hour of the night. Perhaps it was work.
He hung up and came into the living room, looking more unapproachable than she’d ever seen him. “I’m going for a drive. I won’t be long.”
“She was very upset,” she said gently. “She can’t help who her father is, any more than you can.”
He looked torn. “I know that. But she should have told me.”
“I think she was afraid to. She’s very much in love, you know.”
He flushed and looked away. “I won’t be long.”
She watched him go, feeling a new and bitter distance between them, something she’d never felt before. She hoped they could work things out. She liked Gwen a lot.
Rick pulled up to the country bar, locked the truck and walked inside. It was late and there were only a couple of cowboys sitting in booths. A man in the back motioned to Rick, who walked down the aisle to sit across from him.
The older man gave him an amused smile. “Should I be flattered that you called me when you needed sympathy? Why not talk to your mother?”
Rick sighed. “It’s not really something a woman would understand,” he muttered.
General Machado pursed his lips. “No? Perhaps not.” He motioned to the waiter, who came over at once, grinning. “Coffee for my young friend, please.”
“At once!”
Rick’s eyebrows arched at the man’s quick manner.
“He wants to go and help liberate my country,” Machado told Rick with a grin. “I have the ability to inspire revolutions.”
“I noticed,” Rick said dryly.
General Emilio Machado leaned back against the booth, studying the young man who looked so much like himself. “You know, we do favor each other.”
“A bit.”
The waiter came back with the coffee, placing a mug in front of Rick, along with small containers of cream and sugar, and a spoon. “Anything else for you, sir?” he asked the general with respect.
“No, that will do for now, thank you.”
“A pleasure! If you need anything, just call.”
“I will.”
The waiter scampered away. Machado watched Rick sip hot coffee. “Just married, and already you quarrel?”
“She lied to me. Well, she lied by omission,” he corrected coolly.
“About what?”
“It turns out that her father is the new head of the CIA.”
“Ah, yes, General Cassaway. He and Grange are friends.”
Rick recalled an odd conversation that Gwen and Grange had shared at the first meeting with Machado at the border. It had puzzled him at the time. Now he knew that she had been cautioning Grange not to give away her identity. It made him even sadder.
“He’s rich,” Rick said curtly.
“And you are not.” Machado understood the problem. “Does it matter so much, if you care for the woman? What if it was your mother who was wealthy, and her father who was poor?”
He shifted restlessly. “I don’t know.”
“But of course you do. You would not care.”
Rick sipped more coffee. He was losing the argument.
Machado toyed with his own cup. “I was a millionaire, in my country,” he confided. “I had everything a man could possibly want, right down to a Rolls-Royce and a private helicopter. Perhaps I had too much, and God resented the fact that I spent more money on me than I did on the poor villagers who were being displaced and murdered by my underling’s minions as he worked to bring in foreign oil corporations. The oil and natural gas are quite valuable, and the villagers considered them a nuisance that interfered with the fishing.” He smiled. “They have no interest in great wealth. They live from day to day, quietly, with no clocks, no supermarkets, no strip malls. Perhaps they have the right idea, and the rest of the world has gone insane from this disease called civilization.”
Rick smiled back. “It would be a less hectic life.”
“Yes, indeed.” His dark eyes were thoughtful. “I was careless. I will never be careless again. And the man who usurped my place and made my people suffer will pay a very high price for his arrogance and greed, I promise you.” The look on his face gave Rick cold chills.
“We’ve heard what he did to private citizens,” Rick agreed.
“That is my fault. I should have listened. A…friend of mine, an archaeologist, tried to warn me about what his people were doing to the native tribes. I thought she was overstating, trying to get me to clamp down on foreign interests in the name of preserving archaeological treasures.”
“A female archaeologist?”
He chuckled. “There are many these days. Yes, she taught at a small college in the United States. She was visiting my country when she stumbled onto a find so amazing that she hesitated to even announce it before she had time to substantiate her claim with evidence.” His face hardened. “There was gossip that they put her in prison. I shudder to think what might have been done to her. That will be on my soul forever, if she was harmed.”
“Maybe she escaped,” Rick said, trying to find something comforting to say. “Rumors and gossip are usually pretty far off the mark.”
“You think so?” Machado’s dark eyes were sad but hopeful.
“Anything is possible.”
Machado sighed. “I suppose.”
The waiter came scurrying up looking worried. “El General, there is a police car coming this way,” he said excitedly.
Machado looked at Rick.
“I’m not involved in any attempts to kidnap or arrest you,” he said dryly.
“Is the car local?” Machado asked.
“Yes. It is a Jacobsville police car.”
Machado weighed his options. While he was trying to decide whether to make a break out the back door, a tall, imposing man in a police uniform with large dark eyes and his long hair in a ponytail came in the door, looked around and spotted Rick with the general.
Rick relaxed. “It’s all right,” he said. “That’s Cash Grier.”
“You know him?”
“Yes. He’s our police chief. He’s a good man. Used to be a government assassin, or that’s the rumor,” Rick mused.
Machado laughed under his breath.
Cash walked over to their table. He wasn’t smiling. “I’m afraid I have some bad news.”
“You’re here to arrest me?” Machado asked dryly.
Cash glanced at him. “Have you broken the law?” he asked curiously. It was obvious that he didn’t recognize the bar’s famous patron.
“Not lately,” Machado lied.
Cash looked back at Rick, who was going tense.
“Gwen,” he burst out.
Cash grimaced. “I’m afraid so. There’s been a wreck…”
Rick was out of the booth in a flash. “How badly is she hurt?” he asked
at once, white-faced. “Is she all right?”
“They’ve transported her and Ames to Jacobsville General,” he said quietly. “Ames is pretty bad. Ms. Cassaway has at the very least a broken rib…!” Rick was already out of the bar, running for his truck.
“Wait! I’m coming with you!” Machado called after him, and stopped just long enough to pay the waiter, who bowed respectfully.
Cash, confused by the two men, got back in his patrol car and followed the pickup truck down the long road to the hospital. To his credit, he didn’t pull out his ticket book when he pulled in behind Rick at the emergency entrance.
“My wife, Gwen Cassaway,” Rick told the clerk at the desk. “They just brought her in.”
The clerk studied him. “Oh, that’s you, Detective Marquez,” she said, smiling. “Yes, and she’s your wife? Congratulations! Yes, she’s in X-ray right now. Dr. Coltrain is treating her…”
“Copper or Lou?” Rick asked, because the married Coltrains were both doctors.
“Lou,” came the reply.
“Thanks.”
“You can have a seat right over there,” the clerk said gently, “and I’ll have someone ask Dr. Coltrain to come see you, okay?”
Rick wanted to rush behind the counter, but he knew better. He ground his teeth together. “Okay.”
“Be just a sec.” The clerk picked up the phone.
“She will be all right,” Machado told his son with a warm smile. “She has great courage for one so young.”
Rick felt rocked to the soles of his feet. He never should have reacted as he had. He’d upset her. But…she hadn’t been driving, and Ames was one of Cash’s better drivers…
He turned to the police chief. “Ames wrecked the car? How?”
“That’s what I’d like to know,” Cash said curtly. “There was another set of tracks in the dirt nearby, as if a car had sideswiped them. I’ve got men tracking right now.”
“If you need help, I can provide a tracker who might even excel your own,” Machado offered quietly.
Cash had been sizing the other man up. He pursed his lips. “You look familiar.”
“There are very few photographs of me,” Machado replied.
“Yes, but we’ve met. I can’t remember where. Maybe it will come back to me.”
