Untamed

by Diana Palmer

  “You still understand Afrikaans, don’t you?” he asked abruptly.

  “Yes, of course.”

  He switched to that tongue and gave her a very odd instruction.

  “I don’t understand,” she faltered.

  “You don’t need to. Things are going on around you that you can’t know about. You must trust me. Just this once. Do what I tell you to do. For your sake, and the baby’s.”

  She felt uncomfortable. “You think there are bugs in my house,” she said suddenly, still in Afrikaans.

  “Yes, I do,” he said, without adding that he had other suspicions, as well. “If your cowboy friend comes here unexpectedly, you remember what I said, right?”

  “But, why?” she asked.

  “Remember when I came and got you out of Ngawa, without telling you why?”

  “Yes,” she replied.

  “It’s like that. I know things I can’t tell you. But I want nothing more desperately than your safety. So, just do what I say. Okay?”

  “Okay.” It touched her that he was so concerned, although she wondered why.

  He bent and brushed his lips across hers. “You should lay into me with an iron skillet. Tippy would loan you hers.”

  She smiled softly. “I don’t think she would anymore. You saved Joshua’s life,” she added. “If you hadn’t donated blood, Dr. Steele might not have been able to operate in time.”

  He thought about that, and it made his stomach drop. His own child, and he hadn’t known when he’d gone to donate blood. “Coincidences happen, don’t they?” he asked to mislead her.

  “They do.” She was relieved that he hadn’t connected the similarity in blood types between himself and Joshua.

  He let her go, reluctantly, and looked down at his child. He felt a surge of pride that hit him right in the heart, but he didn’t dare let it show.

  “He’s a handsome boy,” he said gently. “Looks just like you, Tat.”

  “Yes, he does.”

  “I’d better go. I have to check in with my squad and make sure they’re on the ball.” He looked down at her. “You take care of yourself. If you ever need anything at all and you can’t reach me, you call K.C., right?”

  She nodded. “Right.”

  “Jake said they’re having a potluck supper at the community center Saturday evening. You going?”

  “I thought I might.”

  He smiled. “Thought I might, too. I like to sample other people’s cooking skills. I get tired of my own.”

  “You always did cook better than me,” she recalled.

  “You do fine, darling. Really you do.”

  The endearment made her feel warm inside, especially when she recalled the last time he’d used it, in Manaus. She searched his face, looking for any sign that he might remember. But there was nothing. She had to keep in mind that he could be dead. Even if he never remembered what had happened in Manaus, he was alive.

  “You look so sad,” he commented.

  “I was thinking how much my life has changed in the past two years,” she said simply. “I led such a shallow existence.”

  “Not you,” he argued quietly. “If there was a charity or a fund-raiser that needed an expert touch, you always volunteered. You were fierce about things you considered important, things like additions to children’s hospitals, orphan relief.”

  “I get that from my mother,” she said sadly. “She was always doing things for other people.”

  Rourke’s face went hard. His one pale brown eye glittered with an emotion he couldn’t quite conceal.

  She was watching him. That expression registered. Her full lips parted. “Stanton, someone told you we were related,” she said softly. “Someone whose word you trusted implicitly.” She swallowed. Hard. She drew a breath. “It was my mother, wasn’t it?”

  He didn’t answer her. “I have to go.”

  She moved closer to him, amazed that it stopped him in his tracks. Why, he was vulnerable! And she’d never realized it. She put her hands flat on his broad chest and watched him struggle to hide his reaction from her.

  “You loved your mother,” he began.

  “Yes, I did, but I wasn’t blind to her faults,” she said quietly. “She was overly protective of me.” She managed a faint laugh. “I hadn’t even been on a date, that night in Manaus when I was seventeen. I’d never been kissed at all.”

  His breath caught. He’d suspected it, but he hadn’t known. Not until now. His fingers touched her soft mouth. The feel of her was exquisite. The smell of roses that clung to her delicate skin went to his head. “I knew,” he said huskily, “that you were untouched.” His jaw tautened. “I should have let you alone, Tat. I should have gone out the door, gone back to Africa...”

  Her soft blue eyes looked up into his with an emotion she didn’t even try to hide. “I lived on that night for years,” she confessed brokenly. “Even when you hated me...!”

  His mouth cut off the words. He lifted her against him and kissed her as if he was being led to the guillotine. He groaned harshly as the feel of her aroused him almost to madness. It had been so long since he’d had her in his arms, wanting him. He’d never loved anyone so much, not in his whole life.

  She didn’t protest. If anything, she incited him. Her mouth opened under his and she clung to his strong neck with all her might as the kiss grew longer, harder, deeper.

  Finally, he had to step back. It wasn’t the right time. He put her away gently, although his hands were unsteady on her upper arms. He was flushed, as she was, and struggling to breathe normally.

  “Sorry,” he said roughly. “It’s been a long time.”

  Her mouth was sore, and she didn’t care. “You didn’t even kiss Charlene?” she wondered aloud, recalling what he’d told her.

  “I didn’t want Charlene,” he said flatly. “I don’t want...anyone. Only you.”

  She was lost for words. She just stared up at him with her heart in her eyes.

  He kissed them shut. “I have to go. I don’t want to,” he added huskily.

  She pressed close. “Okay.”

  His hands smoothed her back. “Eventually things will settle down. Then we might reassess our positions,” he said enigmatically.

  She drew back, not understanding.

  He laughed. “I’m working,” he said. “I have a job to get done.”

  “Oh. Yes.”

  He searched her eyes. “You should hate me, Tat,” he said very softly. He drew in a breath. “But I’m damned glad that you don’t.”

  She shrugged. “I wouldn’t really know how,” she said after a minute.

  He let her go. His pale brown eye went down to the sleeping baby. His son. He knew how K.C. must have felt when he was born, feeling such pride and love, and having to hide them.

  Clarisse saw the anguish on his face and didn’t understand it, unless perhaps he was territorial about her, and he hated thinking she’d had Ruy’s child. She ached to tell him the truth. She didn’t dare.

  “So. Saturday night? I’ll come by and get you. Does the baby come, too?” he added, smiling at the sleeping child in his crib.

  His face as he looked at the child was incredibly tender. “Well, it’s for adults. I thought I’d leave him with Mariel.”

  “Leave him with Rory and Tris instead.”

  She looked worried. “Stanton, what’s going on?”

  “On?” His eyebrows went up and he smiled. “Why, nothing. I thought Mariel might like to come with us. She hasn’t had an evening off since she started working for you, has she?” he added.

  She laughed. “Not really, and she’s such a treasure.”

  “Ask her, then. She can ride with us.”

  “I’ll do that. I’ll speak to Tippy. Rory is still young, but
she may have a regular sitter, just in case there’s an emergency.”

  “You can ask her.”

  “I will.”

  He bent and brushed his mouth over hers. “You make beautiful babies, my darling,” he whispered. He grinned at her, glanced at the baby and left.

  * * *

  “Would you like to come?” Clarisse asked Mariel later. “Rourke reminded me that you haven’t had a single night off since you started working for me. He said you can ride in with us.”

  Mariel was flustered. She laughed self-consciously. “I would love to,” she exclaimed. “How thoughtful of him!”

  “We’ll have a good time,” she replied, smiling. “Plenty of food, and there’s going to be a band. They’ll have dancing, as well.”

  “I have not danced in years,” the woman confided. She laughed. “It will be fun!”

  “Yes, it will!”

  * * *

  Rourke was talking to Cash Grier, in his office, and he told Cash, in Farsi, to wait until he put down a signal jammer first.

  “What the hell is your problem?” Cash asked, surprised. “You don’t think I check for bugs in my own office?”

  “You’d have no reason to think you needed to,” Rourke said solemnly. “Here’s the deal. Jack Lopez is Sapara’s hired assassin. I think he’s getting ready to move on Tat. I’ve got my team in place, and Eb Scott’s men are doubling shifts to make sure she and the baby are covered.”

  Cash let out a sharp breath. “Good God! Right under my damned nose...!”

  “Nobody but me ever knew what he looked like,” Rourke replied. “I trained with him, years ago, when I started with the company. He thinks my memory is gone, so he’s overconfident.”

  Cash frowned.

  Rourke smiled. “It came back, when I went home. I was comparing blood types and making associations.” His eye closed on a wave of pain. “AB Negative isn’t your garden variety blood type. K.C. has it, I have it...and my son has it.” He almost choked with emotion as the words came out. “And I can’t tell her that I know. K.C. says that she’d run and Sapara’s man might have her to himself and kill her.”

  Cash was, for once, speechless.

  “So I’m pretending,” he continued. “I’ve got men watching Lopez. In fact, there’s a legitimate reason for it. He’s heavily involved in human trafficking, like his boss Sapara. It’s how they funded Sapara’s sudden exit from the prison in Barrera.” His face went hard. “I can tell you one other thing, as well. When this is over, Sapara will never threaten anyone again. Neither will his man Lopez. It’s sanctioned.”

  “Who did you get for Lopez?” Cash asked, without a single protest.

  Rourke lifted his chin. “The only person I’d trust with Clarisse’s life. Me.”

  Cash’s eyebrows arched.

  “Good God, what do you think I do for a living?” Rourke asked shortly. “I do counterintelligence, but I’m a trained sniper. It’s why I spent three years in Argentina undercover. Amazing how many international criminals think it’s a good hiding spot.”

  Cash laughed. “All these years and I never realized...”

  “K.C. had his pilot fly me over so that I could carry my own kit with me,” he said. “When the time comes, I’ll do what I have to. I’ve spent my life protecting Tat. I’d give it, to keep her and the child safe.”

  Cash’s dark eyes narrowed. He saw the emotion that the other man couldn’t hide. He’d been wrong right down the line. Rourke didn’t hate Clarisse. Not at all.

  “If I can help...”

  “No,” Rourke said firmly. “You’ve got a wife and child. Besides that, this is linked to a covert operation that I’m heading. You don’t get involved. And not because I think your skills have gone rusty,” he added, chuckling.

  “You never forget how to use a sniper kit,” Cash said heavily. “But it’s hard to settle down with some of the memories you have to carry.”

  “I’ve had to shoot kids, too, mate,” Rourke returned solemnly. “I fought in many covert wars all over Africa when I was still in my teens. In fact, I learned how to be a sniper before I turned ten.”

  “Ten!”

  “My parents were brutally murdered,” he said, the pain still in his face. “My father was shot down in the street like a dog by one of the endless factions vying for power in rural areas. My mom was still alive, but she had health issues and she couldn’t control me. I went off to fight with one of the local warlords, who taught me the skills I needed to stay alive. My mother was firebombed a couple of years later, during another uprising. I ran wild. Got in with a group of commandos and went hunting for rebels with an AK-47. K.C. was still working in those days, and he didn’t find out what had happened for months after my mother was killed. When he did...” He paused and chuckled. “My God, the man’s got a temper! He dragged me up before a judge and formally became my guardian. I wasn’t very happy about it, and after Tat’s family moved in next door, once I sneaked off to do a little fighting. Tat told on me. Hence, her nickname, short for Tattletale” he added ruefully. “God, K.C. gave me hell about that last mission I went on!”

  “You didn’t know he was your real father at the time?”

  Rourke shook his head. “It was a sore spot with me for years, people speculating, gossiping.” His chest rose and fell heavily. “I didn’t want to think that my mother could have betrayed the man I thought was my father. I had to grow up to understand that even parents make mistakes out of weakness. My mother loved K.C.” He hesitated. “Of course, I do, too,” he added, chuckling. “We went through the process to have my name legally changed. It was on hold until I got my memory back, but we signed the papers when I was home last.”

  “K.C. made you toe the line, I gather,” Cash chuckled.

  “Ya. Made me get an education. I got it in the military, but I got it.” He smiled. “I finally realized that if I went off to fight with some insurgent group, Tat would have been two steps behind me. She followed me around like a pup when she was a kid. God, she was brave!”

  “I heard about the snakebite.”

  “Terrified me,” Rourke confessed. “I thought I was going to lose her. She was just ten years old, but she wasn’t afraid of anything. When she and her parents moved to Manaus, I was alone in a way I hadn’t been for years. I mourned her.”

  “I didn’t understand how it was with you two,” Cash began.

  Rourke held up a hand. “I deserved everything I got,” he replied. “Including the side of your lovely wife’s tongue.” He chuckled. “You brave man, to live with that wildcat!”

  Cash just grinned. “A lesser woman would never have managed to take me on,” he said. “I settled down, but reluctantly. I wasn’t sure I could do it at all.” His face went quiet. “I treated her very badly. She miscarried because an assistant director insisted that she do a physical stunt that was dangerous. I thought she put her career first. It was my child, and I’d already lost one...”

  Rourke didn’t push, but his gaze was intent.

  Cash smiled sadly. “I was married before. She wanted my money. She didn’t want my child. While I was away on a job, she had a termination.”

  “I’m sorry,” Rourke said. “I can only imagine how that would have felt.”

  “We all have dark places in our pasts,” Cash said. “But some of us get lucky.”

  “Indeed we do. You and Tippy are coming to the do on Saturday night at the community center, right?”

  “Of course.” Cash’s lips pursed. “We’re practicing the tango, so look out.”

  Rourke chuckled. “Tat’s going to ask Tippy if the baby can stay with Rory and Tris while we’re away. Do you let Rory babysit or...”

  “I’ve got a man who stays with them when we’re gone,” Cash interrupted. “He worked for Eb Scott at one time, although he�
��s an independent contractor now. You probably know him. Chet Billings...?”

  “My God!”

  “Hey, he’s good at what he does,” Cash chuckled.

  “I had to room with him for several days when we were protecting Cappie and her brother Kell Drake from Cappie’s old boyfriend. The local vet, Dr. Rydel, had a few issues...”

  Cash laughed. “He still does, but he learned very quickly the danger of jumping to conclusions. I understand that he and Cappie are now expecting.”

  “Lucky devil. I wouldn’t mind another child. I’m looking quite forward to getting to know the one I’ve already got, when things calm down.”

  “I’d like another child, too,” Cash said. “But it doesn’t seem likely.”

  Rourke pursed his lips. “I know a chap back home who’s good with charms.”

  Cash gave him a droll look.

  “Sometimes human nature needs a little nudge,” Rourke chuckled.

  “You can keep your charms,” Cash returned.

  “I know. You’re far too intelligent a man to believe in hexes and magical things. But I come from Africa. It’s hand in hand with the supernatural.”

  “Your mother was American, wasn’t she?” Cash asked.

  He nodded. “From Maryland. But her people were Boers. Her father took a job in the States and brought his family over. They went home for a visit and she met the man I thought was my father. He worked for K.C. Fate is fascinating.”

  “It is, indeed.”

  * * *

  Clarisse wore a simple white Mexican dress with exquisite embroidery to the potluck supper. It was a warm spring night, and the community center was blazing with light and music and activity.

  Mariel was asked to dance almost at once.

  Rourke and Clarisse watched the couples on the dance floor while they finished off plates of fried chicken and mashed potatoes.

  “At least they’re not grits,” Rourke mused as he tasted the potatoes.

  “What do you have against grits?” she asked with a surprised laugh.