Ride a Painted Pony (Superromance)

by McSparren, Carolyn

  “I’ll give you some ideas, you bastard,” she shrieked. “You want to know what I’d like to do to you?”

  She expected him to hit her. Instead he laughed. “Bet you just can. Hey, you over there. Me and her gonna teach you a few things.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Don’t you give over too soon, though, you hear? I like this part a lot.”

  She braced herself.

  Suddenly, she heard a thud and felt the bed spring under her. Out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of Eugene. He seemed to be flying. Something was wrong with his mouth.

  He screamed and scrabbled backward. Something heavy dove across the bed.

  She twisted her head, but saw only a flurry of arms and legs, heard only Eugene’s scream.

  The steel door opened and shut, then opened again.

  She heard three short pops. Shots.

  Dear God, she prayed, let Nick live.

  The door slammed once more. Hands tore the tape loose from her ankles, then her wrists. Someone turned her over, gathered her up, held her.

  “Nick,” she sobbed.

  “I didn’t kill him, Taylor,” he snarled. “Damnation. I missed him in the trees.” He rocked her like a mother with a new baby. “I’ve got to kill him.”

  She began to shake. “I’m going to throw up,” she said. She pulled away from him, scrambled to her feet and got to the door, but Nick put his hand on it.

  “He might still be out there.”

  Taylor clapped a hand over her mouth and shook her head. If Eugene waited, he waited. She opened the door, stumbled towards the undergrowth and fell on her hands and knees on the edge of the gravel. Nick stood guard over her with Eugene’s pistol in his hand.

  She threw up until she thought her stomach would come up through her esophagus. Finally she struggled to her feet.

  Darkness had fallen. Night creatures rustled through the leaves.

  Nick held the door open for her. Taylor walked in calmly. She wanted to sit down, but the only place close was that damned bed. She wouldn’t sit on that if her life depended on it.

  Nick shut the door behind them and dropped the inside bolt into place.

  His wrists still wore bits of tape. Bloody tape.

  “Oh, God, Nick. How did you get free?” She reached out to him.

  “There was a burr on the side of that beam.” He held out his bloody wrists and his voice broke. “I’m so sorry it took me so long.”

  She went into his arms. They held each other silently and hard.

  “Please, Nick, please take me out of here,” she whispered. “Take me someplace clean.”

  “I’m taking you to the hospital,” he said.

  She shook her head. “No! I don’t want a hospital. I want a shower and some clean clothes and a place where people aren’t crazy.”

  “But—”

  “We’ve got to find a phone and call Mel. I also want may Glock,” she said grimly. “For all the good it did me.” She squared her shoulders and turned to him with a flash of her old grit. “You don’t get to shoot him. I do.”

  Outside she leaned against the metal wall of the building while Nick locked the padlock.

  Two miles down the road Nick spotted a pay phone in the parking area in front of a small grocery store. He pulled in. “I’ll call Borman. He can call Vollmer.”

  “Nick? Please don’t tell what happened to me. I couldn’t bear it.”

  She saw his jaw set.

  “Mel needs to know.”

  “That Eugene was there, yes. But not the rest of it, please, Nick.”

  “He has to know.”

  “Not the details. We both had a bad time, but there’s no real damage done. Thanks to you, we’re alive. Mel warned me Eugene might not wait for dark.”

  “He must have been following us all afternoon. I never spotted him. It’s my fault.”

  “No! It’s Eugene’s fault and whoever hired him in the first place!” Taylor banged her fist down on the console. “I won’t let the son of a bitch beat me.”

  BY THE TIME MEL DROVE UP to Taylor’s cabin, she was asleep, curled like a child on her bed in the loft. Her hair was still damp, her body shiny from the scrubbing she’d given it. Her arms were bruised, the rope had burned her cheek, and her wrists and ankles were raw, but that was the extent of her physical damage. The psychological damage had yet to surface.

  She had not asked Nick to join her in the shower. He hadn’t offered.

  Perhaps he never would. Last night might be the only time they’d have together. They’d crossed a terrible line. Nick wasn’t to blame—he’d rescued her. But not before he’d seen Eugene put his hands on her, seen her lashed to that bed. He might not admit it, but she’d be a constant reminder to him of his own impotence.

  She’d gotten them into it. She should have realized that Eugene was trailing them, should have told Mel where they’d be and what they hoped to find. She’d been so sure that she could locate the animals, solve the puzzle alone, and prove to Mel and Nick what a marvelous detective she was that she’d damn near gotten both of them killed.

  “Hell of a team player you are,” she’d told her reflection in the steamy mirror. “Mel was right. You belong at a computer terminal or handing out subpoenas.” Her lip began to quiver. “Oh, God, I want my mother.” Even as she said the words, she knew she could never tell Irene Maxwell about tonight, about Eugene, about any of it. Her life had turned into one long secret.

  She pulled on her oldest sweats, ran a comb through her hair, took a deep breath and opened the bathroom door.

  Nick stood by the front window. Eugene’s thirty-eight and her Glock lay on the computer desk beside him.

  “Nick, I’m not much good with first aid,” she said. “Don’t you think you ought to go to the hospital? You might have a concussion, and those gashes on your wrists could get infected.”

  He shook his head. “Veda’s coming out. She’ll fix me up.”

  “I can’t face anyone.” She felt tears spill over the rims of her eyes. “I’m so tired.”

  “Taylor, why didn’t you tell me Eugene attacked you?”

  “Not now, Nick, please.”

  His voice sounded grim. “Yes, now.” He loomed in front of her. “He could have killed you.”

  She turned away, hugging herself. “I knew you’d act like this.”

  “What way am I supposed to react? Say, ‘hey, go to it, babe,’ and walk away?”

  “Yes! You sound like my mother. Maybe I made the wrong decision, but it was my decision to make, not yours. And the last thing I need right now is for you to tell me what an incompetent idiot I am.” She heard the tears in her voice and hated herself because of them.

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “The hell you didn’t.”

  He started to reach out to her, then let his arms drop to his sides. “I need to take you in my arms and make it all go away, but I don’t know whether that’s what you want.”

  She wrapped her arms across her body. “I’m okay.” She tried to keep her tone light. “A good night’s sleep and I’ll be fine.” She sighed. “I’m going to bed. You all do whatever you want down here. I guarantee I won’t hear you.” She crossed to the ladder.

  “Taylor,” he said softly, “I can’t make it go away, but we’ll get through this. I don’t know how, but I promise you we will.”

  She smiled sadly, then turned to climb the ladder.

  Nick settled by the door with both guns. Elmo jumped onto his lap.

  Only eight-thirty.

  Last night he and Taylor had made wonderful love. This morning they’d shared their first breakfast together. In another lifetime.

  His stomach lurched, and he remembered that neither one of them had eaten anything since that breakfast. Taylor had thrown that up. She’d be starving before morning. He couldn’t manage to feed her, much less protect her.

  The cabin lay completely silent. He couldn’t even hear Taylor breathe.

  She was right. If she’
d told him Eugene had attacked her she’d have been off the case in five minutes. And he’d never have had the chance to know her, to make love with her.

  To fall in love with her.

  He loved her so much that he had tried to kill a man for her. She deserved a better kind of love than that. While he’d worked to slice through the tape that bound his wrists, Nick had refused to think about Eugene with Taylor. Anger might make him stupid. He had to stay cool, uninvolved, careful. If Eugene raped her before he could break free, they could deal with the consequences of that together. All that mattered at that moment had been to keep her alive.

  But all his careful plans had evaporated in atavistic rage the moment he felt the last strand of duct tape part. He simply dove at Eugene and bashed him in the face.

  Eugene must have realized that without his gun he didn’t stand a chance against Nick’s fury. Eugene had been smart to run.

  Nick had shot at him as he ran. In the gathering darkness he’d missed, but that didn’t change anything. Nick knew he wasn’t shooting to save his own life or even the life of his woman. He’d left Taylor lashed face down to that bed while he’d tried to kill another human being. The worst part was that he knew he’d do the same thing again.

  For the sake of his own immortal soul, he prayed Eugene was long gone.

  MEL BROUGHT VEDA WITH HIM. “Taylor’s truck was still at Veda’s, so she drove it out. I carry a set of Taylor’s keys and she has mine. Sometimes we have to walk away from our cars.”

  Veda eyed Nick’s wrists and asked, “When was your last tetanus shot?”

  “Two years ago,” he said. “It was a ten-year shot.”

  When she spotted the blood in his hair and on his collar she demanded that he go to the hospital for X rays.

  “I’m not leaving Taylor,” he said stubbornly. “I had my chimes rung but I never lost consciousness. I’ve got a head like one of those statues on Easter Island. Leave me be.”

  “Come into the bathroom,” Veda ordered.

  Mel followed them and stood outside the open bathroom door. “I called Vollmer. Gave him the address of that place. Told him Lewis tried to murder you both. He was going to send a squad car over here and drag you both downtown.”

  Veda smiled. “Mel told him if he came anywhere near either of you tonight we’d sic Rico on him. Officially you’re both too ill to talk to the police.”

  “Vollmer must have loved that.”

  “He didn’t. But he’s agreed to hold off for a bit.”

  Mel jerked a thumb overhead towards the loft. “Tell me what happened.”

  Nick left out the grimmer details, but he could see from Mel’s expression, and the way that Veda’s nimble fingers stopped while he described the scene, that they guessed.

  “I’m staying,” Nick said. “Eugene could come back to finish the job.”

  “She may wake up screaming. I’m staying too,” Veda told them both defiantly.

  “Makes three of us,” Mel said. “Anything to eat in this place?” He rummaged in the refrigerator. “Cat food, cat food, cat food and something that probably didn’t start out green. I’ll go get some burgers.” He pointed a thumb over his head again and raised his eyebrows. “Get something for her or not?”

  Nick said, “Who knows? Get an extra burger. She can always feed it to Elmo tomorrow.”

  Veda patted Nick’s bandaged wrist. “Very minor damage. I’ve seen you do worse with a chisel. You’ll be fine.” She glanced up at him. “That was a stupid thing to say. You’re not fine, you’re terrible.”

  “I’ll be fine when Eugene Lewis is dead.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  VEDA CLEARED AWAY THE BURGER MESS and fell asleep curled like a hedgehog at the far end of the sofa. Mel nodded beside her. His right hand rested lightly on her calf. Nick stretched in the wing chair, feet propped on the coffee table. The two pistols lay on the end table beside him.

  At midnight Nick whispered, “Take her home.” He pointed to Veda. “Nothing’s going to happen tonight.”

  Mel ran his hand down his face, shook Veda awake and aimed her towards the front door. “We’ll bring breakfast,” he whispered. “About eight. You going to bed?”

  Nick shook his head. “I’ll sleep in the chair.” He ran his hand down his cheek and felt the rasp of dark beard. “If this keeps up I might as well carry my razor with me every time I leave Rounders.”

  Veda yawned and patted his arm. “We’ll stop by and get you some clean clothes on our way, dear. I’ve got the keys.”

  As soon as their car drove out, Nick settled himself and once again Elmo found a comfortable spot on Nick’s lap.

  He’d fire Taylor after breakfast while Veda and Mel were there to back him up. Officially he’d be firing Mel, not Taylor, but that was only a polite fiction.

  Taylor kept telling anyone who’d listen how mundane being a detective was. In the few days he’d known her they’d found a corpse and been shot at twice. She’d been attacked outside Rounders, discovered a cache of stolen furniture, been tortured and nearly raped.

  He should have gone with his gut instinct and not hired her in the first place. What did it matter if he went bankrupt or spent the rest of his life suspecting his friends and partners if it meant Taylor stayed alive, healthy, and a part of his life?

  That was the problem. She wouldn’t be part of his life—not after he fired her. She probably wouldn’t even speak to him. Trouble was, he could no longer visualize life without her.

  Sooner or later he’d have to deal with that. He’d started out merely wanting to feel those long legs of hers wrapped around his waist. Along the line his feelings had grown and mutated. Oh, there was desire, all right. But it was more than that. He wanted to trace the line of her square jaw, see the flash in her eyes. All her moods, her fierce need for independence, her drive to be good at her job had become important to him because they mattered so deeply to her. How could he fire her if he loved her? And if he wanted to keep her healthy, how could he not?

  He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He could climb that ladder and slip back into bed with her. It was what he wanted. But was it what she needed after Eugene? She might not want another man’s hands on her for quite a while.

  Could he endure that?

  Hell, he’d have to if he loved her. Unfortunately, he admitted, he did love her, though God knew how it had happened. He hadn’t planned to fall in love with her. Maybe he was doomed the minute she stalked into his life like Wyatt Earp at the O.K. Corral.

  But he’d walk away from her before he’d let her get hurt again. He’d proved he couldn’t protect her. Intellectually, he knew he wasn’t to blame any more than she was, but that didn’t help his masculine pride any.

  Killing Eugene seemed a reasonable response at the time. But he didn’t want to shoot the bastard. He wanted to work him over from the top of his pointed thick skull to the soles of his undoubtedly flat feet.

  Elmo protested. Nick realized he’d tightened his grip on the cat’s soft fur. He relaxed and scratched Elmo under the chin. The cat began to purr. “Sorry, Elmo,” Nick whispered. He settled back so that he could see both the door and the ladder to the loft.

  It was going to be a long night.

  “I KEEP TELLING YOU I’m perfectly fine,” Taylor said as she bit into her third blueberry muffin.

  Veda raised her eyebrows, and Mel shook his head.

  Taylor laid her hand on Mel’s arm. “Listen, what happened with Eugene is a one-in-a-million chance. How many guys are willing to take off their cervical collars to beat me up when it means their disability payments will be cut off?” She buttered the second half of her muffin. “Besides, we found most of the stuff—that’s half of our assignment.”

  “That’s all of your assignment,” Nick said quietly.

  “What?” Taylor asked.

  “As of this moment the Borman Detective Agency and its operatives are no longer on the case.” He turned to Mel. “Get your expense report together an
d send me a bill.”

  “Now, just a minute,” Taylor said.

  Nick turned to her. “I mean it, Taylor. This time I’m firing you for real.”

  “Just like that?”

  “You’ve done a good job—a great job. But this is murder and you’re in the line of fire. I can’t take the responsibility.”

  “Who asked you to take the responsibility?” Taylor slid her chair back and stood up. She stuck her finger against her breastbone. “Me. My responsibility. My job! You can’t fire me now when it’s all over—bar the shouting.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She strode around the room like a caged tiger. “Mel, tell this nincompoop that the only danger I’m going to be in is from computer burnout or repetitive strain syndrome.”

  Mel rumbled. “Taylor, he’s got a point. You should have told me you got attacked outside Rounders.”

  Taylor threw up her hands. “So he could fire me before we found the animals?” She took a deep breath. “Nick,” she said reasonably, “Eugene is either already in custody or will be before the day is out. He’s got three police forces looking for him.”

  “That doesn’t get us any closer to the Rounders connection.”

  “Of course it does. Once Vollmer starts throwing charges at him, Eugene will roll over on his contact so fast he’ll start an earthquake. I saw six animals in that storeroom. There may have been more, but worst-case scenario is that you have all but four back. Marley bought one. One may well have burned up in the arson in Oxford, but even if it didn’t, that leaves only three animals left to trace and identify.” She threw up her hands. “Don’t you see? Once Eugene spills his guts, the police either decide he’s an accessory or that he did the killings himself, but it won’t matter. He and his contact will fall all over themselves blaming each other. All we have left to do is find out what Eberhardt did with the remaining animals. That’s legwork and computer work. It’s about as dangerous as feeding the ducks in Audubon Park. And I am very, very good at it.”