The Cattleman

by Angi Morgan

  She cupped his whiskered jaw. Her fingertips drew little circles where they landed. She’d been wanting to touch him since they’d been picked up that morning. Especially now when he seemed so vulnerable for once. “That’s a sweet thought, Nick, but you have extremely intelligent parents. Don’t you think they’ll become angrier if they’re kept in the dark? Besides, they need to be more careful with the information they put out there. Even to friends.”

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  Did he know he’d turned his cheek into her hand? Or that his brown eyes had softened and grown sad for his parents? The bandage strips and bruises around his nose didn’t detract from how handsome he was. The wretched man who had ordered Nick’s beatings had to be caught before he ordered Nick’s death again.

  “We better get out of the car. My dad’s on the steps now. Another minute and he’ll be jerking me out of here by my collar. And I’m not even wearing one.”

  Nick looked sexy in the hospital scrub top he’d been given. He’d insisted on keeping his jeans. She’d heard him in the emergency room arguing that he could stand up and take them off himself.

  “I’ll tell the task force. They’ll be the only ones who know the truth. Between the four of us, we can find this guy.”

  “Wait. No. No one means just us, no one else.” He shook his head, pressing his lips together stubbornly. “If we do this, then it’s just you and me.”

  “But I never meant to exclude them. We have new evidence—”

  “Did your boss listen to that new theory? We don’t have evidence. Pete and Cord’s hands are tied by men who don’t live here, Beth. The people making the decisions aren’t the ones who have anything to risk or who will catch the bullet that’s fired into their back.”

  “Maybe if I get another agent to work with you? My supervisor doesn’t receive any suggestion I make.” Tell him.

  He should know that she’d been ordered to return to Chicago and subsequently would be placed on disciplinary leave for her mistakes of the past months. Her supervisor had been anxiously awaiting for her failure here. She’d succeeded in making a fool of herself more than once. Being abducted by Bishop and endangering a citizen was just the ammunition they needed.

  “It’s too late for that. I know what you’re risking. You could lose everything. I get that. Staying and helping will get you into a lot of trouble. But I have to do it this way. It’s just you and me or we don’t have a deal.”

  “We need the task force’s help, its resources. Working on our own will be impossible.”

  The opportunity to tell him was slipping away with every millimeter Nick moved backward. She had to be honest with him. She was on her way out of the DEA. If she informed McCrea of their plan, there was no guarantee he’d listen to her, either.

  Nick shrugged. It was her decision.

  “There’s something you should know—”

  The door opened behind her and she sat straight in her seat. “You kids going to get out? We won’t yell. Much.” Alan and Juliet were ready to see their son.

  “Oh, don’t be silly, Alan. Of course we’re not going to yell. Come on inside and tell us all about it. Or don’t say a word. Your choice.” She stepped in front of Alan, who still held the door. “Go help Nick, hon. I’ve got Beth.”

  Juliet hid her reaction to their bruises well. Alan inhaled sharply but also held his tongue.

  “I’m okay, really.” She heard the same words behind her as Nick spoke to his dad. But they went unheard. The broken nose had been set, but his black eyes emphasized his pain.

  The Burkes took their elbows and led them up the steps as if they were a hundred years old. Nick quirked an eyebrow and winked at her, playing along. Juliet sniffled and knuckled away a tear. Beth could only imagine how it felt to see your only child beat up and lucky to be alive.

  Again.

  There was more at stake than just finding an informant. She’d tried to make her commander in Chicago understand that Bishop wanted Nick dead.

  Nick’s words rang true. The people making the decisions aren’t the ones who have anything to risk or who will catch the bullet that’s fired into their back. She could take matters into her own hands, possibly go to jail as a result. Bishop needed to be caught. The informant needed to be caught.

  The Burke family gathered at the kitchen table to eat homemade biscuits and jam. They didn’t have anyone on their side. No one believed they were in danger. Except her.

  She sat down across the table from Nick. Juliet had several meals laid out on the hand-embroidered tablecloth that matched more than one of her aprons.

  “I can heat up whatever you’d like to eat whenever you’re hungry. I left two servings in separate plastic containers,” Juliet said nervously, joining them at the table. “If you want coffee I can make a pot.”

  “No, thanks,” they answered together.

  “Well, I figured you probably had enough coffee all day long and wouldn’t need any this late.”

  “She threw out the last fresh pot about thirty minutes ago,” Alan shared. “Wouldn’t let me have a drop.”

  “I am so sorry.” The words spilled from her faster than pop from a shaken bottle. “I couldn’t keep your son safe.”

  Everyone spoke at once.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Juliet said, patting Beth’s arm.

  “Don’t cry about it now. You’re both all right.” Alan squeezed her hand.

  “What the hell?” Nick pushed away from the table, his mouth full of a biscuit. He swallowed. Everyone stared at him. “I didn’t need protecting.”

  He glared at her. Eyes black instead of a soft warm brown. The bruising accentuated his glare.

  “Don’t get your knickers in a knot. Sit down and eat another biscuit,” his mother said, pointing to his chair. “Sit.”

  “I didn’t mean it that way, Nick. I would never have escaped if it hadn’t been for you.” She turned first to his mom and then his dad, then back to the man who’d grown to mean so much to her. As sincerely as she could, because she wanted him to know she meant it. Her explanation wasn’t part of their ploy. “Your son saved my life.”

  Juliet’s hand pressed over her heart. She sniffed again while Alan sat a little straighter in his chair. Beth reached across the table, laced her fingers in the reluctant grasp of Nick’s and raced forward to tell them before she could change her mind.

  No matter the consequences that would come later, she owed this man her life. She needed to be the person to keep that red sniper dot off his back. “Do you want to tell them, sweetheart?”

  “Sweetheart?” Alan questioned.

  Fortunately, his son wasn’t taken by surprise. Maybe her death grip on his hand had given him a warning. Realization dawned and his face softened from hurt pride to a look that was pure let’s jump into this thing with both feet.

  “I asked Beth to marry me for real,” he said. “She’s not going back to Chicago.”

  Stunned silence.

  Then chaos.

  Lots of hugs and more tears from Juliet. Alan uncorked a bottle of wine, insisting on toasting the happy couple. Nick held his ribs as he reached over his mother, getting four rarely used wineglasses from a top shelf.

  “Carroll and Elizabeth have a rack of glasses over a wine bar they had installed last year. They love wine tastings.” She held her glass, feeling the moment of awkwardness. The room had grown so silent she could hear the glug-glug-glug of wine being poured.

  “Do you think your parents could come visit, dear?” Juliet asked while a smidgen of merlot was poured for her.

  Her parents? She had no intention of telling them about this charade. “I’m sure they will, but there’s no rush.”

  “There is if we throw an engagement party,” Alan tossed out on cue.

  Nick was no help. He looked as if he was watching a red dot shine on his heart. Actually, he looked more frightened at the prospect of meeting her parents than he had facing down Bishop.

  “They
don’t travel much and I’m sure they’re far too busy with end of semester grades and things.” She’d explain to Nick later that she wouldn’t really ask them.

  “We’ll work out all the details tomorrow. For right now, here’s to Nick and Beth.” Four glasses clinked together. “If you experience as much love in your lifetime together as I have in one minute with Juliet, you will surely be blessed.”

  It was a beautiful toast. She hated lying to them. Yet it was a necessary evil. She sipped the merlot, wanting to gulp it down at the thought of how Nick’s parents were going to react when they learned the truth. Once their son was safe and their family secure, she hoped they could forgive her.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Checkmate.” Bishop had played his latest game against himself so it was difficult to take much glory in the victory.

  He rolled the black king between his palms, looking around the room at the things he’d come to think of as his. But they weren’t. He’d been at this hacienda longer than any other and had grown accustomed to its comforts in spite of its remote location. Not much would be packed and taken to his next house.

  Even the chess boards would stay here.

  Resetting the intricately carved pieces for another round, he was interrupted by a timid knock and forced to change the direction of his thinking. He clenched the white rook. If he hadn’t valued and respected the craftsmanship so much, he’d throw the piece into the bookcases.

  One game would go unfinished. Its pieces had grown dusty since his stupid-ass opponent had been caught so easily by the Americans while trying to get their guns into Mexico. Everything about that plan had seemed a bit off.

  The knock repeated. Time for someone to answer for the mistakes that had taken place recently.

  “Enter,” he said loud enough to be heard through the thick, dark mahogany. He would miss this study, the desk, the extensive library.

  “You wanted to see me, Mr. Bishop? Did you need something?”

  “Follow me.” He led the way through the French doors to the dimly lit patio. The unsuspecting dolt was in step behind him, repeating the movements Burke had taken the previous day.

  “I heard on the news that Burke was rescued and returned home safe and sound,” Bishop said, faking a smile and obtaining the look of fear he’d wanted.

  “We kept looking, just like you told us.”

  “Fool! I told you to find them, not let them escape! This phase should be completed by now. I should have taken care of Burke myself and not have delayed the final outcome.” He removed the .44 Magnum from his tight belt, pointing and firing before the slug of a man had a chance to flee.

  The body fell into the pool, the splash mixed with the slight spray of blood that had landed on his extended arm.

  “Bravo,” Patrice said behind him, clapping. “We’re shorthanded and you choose to get rid of another warm body.”

  “Incompetent. He let them escape not once, but twice.”

  “Aw, you’re angry because we’re moving the operation and you won’t have a hot tub. I know you’ve enjoyed it here. Maybe it’s for the best, before you grow overly possessive.” She laughed, picked up a towel and dropped it over his shoulder.

  She twirled around him, dragging one sharp fingernail across his chest and around to his shoulders, smiling up at him as she passed and then staring into the ripples of the pool. The water turned pink as the body settled on the bottom with a face completely unrecognizable from the force of the bullet. Bishop enjoyed his Clint Eastwood gun and the damage it could do.

  He slowly wiped the splatter of blood from his arms.

  “Wanna jump in the hot tub one last time?” Patrice asked coyly.

  Couldn’t she see the diluted blood in the pool? It wasn’t something he wanted covering his body. He pulled Patrice into his arms, capturing her tightly around her waist, allowing her to feel the desire his rash actions had elicited. After a hard kiss, her red lips slashed across his, he released her and turned them back toward the house.

  “Why are you here, Patrice? Did they send you to oversee us abandoning this place? Are you, of all people, supposed to make certain we leave no evidence behind? I think we can handle the move.”

  Her eyes narrowed to small slits. The smile vanished for the briefest of moments before she flashed her nauseatingly white teeth at him again. “I’m supposed to make sure you leave the silver.”

  “There’s little left to do. Report that.”

  “Excuse me, senor, but there is a phone call.” The houseboy hung back, half in the doorway and half behind the glass door, cell in hand.

  Bishop gestured for the boy to approach, then snatched the phone. The number was blocked, but he suspected who it was. “Yes?”

  “I’m out. We’re done.”

  “But we are not. I need your help again.”

  “You never said you’d be kidnapping anybody. I can’t do things like that.”

  “Quit panicking and playing the martyr. You need money. I have money. It’s a simple business transaction.”

  “Nick Burke could have been killed. I can’t be responsible for somethin’ like that.”

  He should have been killed! The man should have died several times over!

  “Burke is the bane of my existence. If he isn’t hurt, someone else will be. Think of your family.”

  “Yes, think of your family,” Patrice repeated in a whisper.

  While the informant babbled on the other end of the line, his blonde friend lounged in a nearby chair, smiling in a way he’d never seen before. It was the closest thing to evil he’d experienced. Her words rang in his ears, having nothing to do with threatening the informant.

  She threatened him? His family? He’d proven his loyalty several times over, yet after all this time she’d been sent to remind him that the lives of his parents were in the hands of someone else?

  “How am I supposed to go to the engagement party and look them in the eye? You know if I don’t they’ll be suspicious. So I think I better quit.”

  Engagement party?

  “What party is this?” He turned his back to Patrice, wondering if a knife would be thrust into it soon.

  “Haven’t you been listening?” the voice whined. “Nick and that agent gal are getting married. His parents are throwing a surprise party next Saturday. The whole county’s coming.”

  “Details.” He growled the word, losing his patience with the fool.

  “Um...we’re supposed to show up around dusk. No gifts necessary.”

  Bishop disconnected the call and spun around to face Patrice. A very topless Patrice. Her red silky blouse and bra were open, her nipples rock hard because of the cold.

  “Baby, I think you got the wrong impression why I’m here.” The fingertips that had almost clawed him moments before drew concentric circles on the two silicon globes. He didn’t care. Just looking at her had him unbuckling his belt.

  He straddled the lounge chair, ready to drop his face into her cool flesh, when a red nail poked him in the chest.

  “Did you think of a way to get rid of Burke?”

  “We can get rid of the entire task force, actually. They’ll all be together at an engagement party. With the right supplies it won’t be a problem.” He leaned closer, her tanned flesh inches from his mouth.

  Patrice’s nail caught his bottom lip, stopping his descent. “It might be a good idea if you took care of the Burke problem yourself. I don’t know how many more mistakes will be forgiven without consequences.”

  “You mean go to the ranch myself? But they know what I look like. How will I get close to them?”

  She lifted her hips to his. “I’m sure you’ll find a way.”

  “That’s suicide.”

  “Well, sweetie.” She sank her nails into his flesh. “There’s always the alternative.”

  Death. Decapitation. His body rotting in the Mexican desert.

  He wasn’t a man who enjoyed public displays, yet his relationship with Patrice was laced with
them. He was about to give her exactly what she wanted when the side gate opened and two of his men entered.

  One of them nodded toward the pool. “They said for us to clean up out here, boss.”

  “No. Leave the incompetent fool for the Federales.” It would give them something to do while he crashed an engagement party.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Nick greeted as many guests as he could. He wanted to look each of them in the eyes. If one of them couldn’t meet his stare straight on, they’d move to the top of his suspect list.

  But the crowd got thick real fast. Soon, he was grabbing trays and doing the bidding of his mother, unable to greet visitors at the door. He’d grown up with his mom and dad hosting a ton of get-togethers, but not since his father had first been diagnosed. Everyone in the county seemed to have shown up. Mainly to see the gal Nick Burke had “finally landed,” as most of them put it.

  People were shoulder to shoulder in every main room of the house. There was a poker game in full swing in the bunkhouse—something he’d be part of if he and Beth weren’t on a mission.

  In spite of the cool evening, the porch was full and people stood around his mom’s dormant garden, now full of Christmas lights and decorations he’d been tricked into displaying a week earlier than usual. His mom had lied, saying she was ready to get the season started.

  The hands had gathered some brush and were about to light a bonfire. That would get a lot of the folks outside under a blanket of stars. He glanced up, tipped his hat to the back of his head. Every time he thought of all those pinpricks of twinkling lights, he remembered the night on his blanket with Beth.

  “Did you know they were doing this?” she asked, coming up behind him.

  “Not a clue. If I had, I would have made them postpone until after the holidays when we’d have information back on their online friends.”

  “That would have been convenient.” She handed him a plate of barbecue. “You should take a breather.”