Bulletproof Heart

by Sheryl Lynn

  “You’re taking over,” she interrupted in a mild, matter-of-fact voice. She picked up her sandwich. Joey’s shocked expression almost made her laugh. “While I was in Grand Junction, I picked up some class information,” she continued. “You can take courses in bookkeeping and accounting. It’s not that hard, and I can help teach you.”

  “Me?” He looked to Reb as if the cowboy had something to do with Emily’s decision.

  Reb stared at his plate and ate steadily. Emily thought she detected a twitch of a grin on his supple lips.

  “Yes, you. Face reality, Joey, you’re not Grandpa’s cowhand anymore, you’re a rancher. Claude isn’t going to be around forever. Neither am I. If you’re going to stay afloat with this outfit, you’d better learn the business end.”

  “I reckon,” he mumbled, and concentrated on his food.

  Joey hurried through his lunch, grabbed his hat and scooted out the door. His truck engine roared to life, and he raised a cloud of dust as he sped out of the driveway.

  His silent acceptance of her decree made her uneasy. She never won arguments without a major battle preceded by a lengthy campaign.

  “Oh, boy,” Emily said, and rested her chin on her fist. “I think I just stepped in it big-time.”

  “What do you mean?” Reb asked. He folded his napkin and laid it beside his plate.

  “He took that too well. He’s up to something.”

  Reb laughed. The sound of it startled Emily. His laughter was rarer than his speech. Charmed, she peered at him questioningly.

  “The kid has some mind changing to do. Maybe a few words to eat. You’re reaching him.”

  “Do you really think so?” she asked hopefully.

  “You might make a man out of him yet.” Reb rose and nodded graciously. “Good food as usual, ma’am.”

  “Are you making fun of me?” Still with her chin on her fist, she gazed up at him, admiring the way a shaft of sunlight made blue sparks in his hair. “You’re calling me ‘ma’am’ again. You make me sound like a grand old dame.”

  “Being polite.”

  “I see.”

  “My mama always told me, I can’t be completely worthless as long as I use good manners.” “Did your mama teach you to kiss a girl then run off like she bites?” As soon as she spoke, she was sorry and wished she could take back the words.

  “I’m sorry you think…”

  “I don’t know what to think,” she said. Warmth crept over her face. “I never actually dated or had a boyfriend. I married Daniel quickly, without a long courtship. Am I doing something wrong?”

  Reb lowered his face and caught the back of his neck in his hand. His knuckles flexed. “I don’t know how long I’ll be around…Emily. No sense starting something I can’t finish.”

  “I see.”

  “You aren’t doing anything wrong.”

  She swallowed hard, mustering courage. “Neither are you. Truth is, I’m not looking for anything or demanding anything from you. A big part of me still feels married.” When she said the words aloud, she heard the untruth. She’d loved her husband with all her heart, and she still loved him, but he was gone. She glanced at her left hand, now bare of her wedding ring. She’d removed it to wash dishes several days ago and forgotten to put it back on. She hadn’t missed it.

  “I respect that.” He dropped his hand to his hip and hooked his thumb in a belt loop.

  “I like being with you. Talking to you.” She prayed Reb didn’t misunderstand. She didn’t want a quickie affair or loveless sex no matter how passionate.

  But she very much wanted Reb Tremaine.

  He took a step closer to the door. “I’ve got to set out salt licks this afternoon. Don’t go into the forest alone.”

  She knew he worried about the anonymous caller who didn’t want her searching for whatever Tuff had hidden. “I’m not that brave. I’ll wait until you get back. Maybe we can go out after supper before it gets dark.”

  He settled his hat squarely on his head and left the house.

  His escape—and escape fit his departure perfectly—hurt her feelings. Maybe she wasn’t pretty enough for him. Maybe he only kissed her because he thought she was loose.

  Trying to push him out of her mind, Emily spent the afternoon harvesting beans, squash and cucumbers from her garden. Then she went to the barn in search of canning supplies. While she rummaged in a storage room looking for jars without cracks or chips, she heard Joey’s pickup truck rumbling up the driveway. A box of old jars caught her attention. The glass had turned blue and green over the years. She imagined they’d fetch a decent price in an antique store.

  “Did you get it?”

  Reb’s voice startled Emily. She hadn’t realized he’d returned. She picked her way through the clutter to the open storage-room door and peered out. Reb and Joey stood in the wide middle aisle near the barn door. Joey cast furtive glances toward the house.

  “I got it,” Joey said. He looked angry and sounded sullen. “I don’t like this. I don’t like it at all.” He put something into Reb’s waiting hand.

  Emily squinted, trying to see what her brother gave Reb, but the man slipped whatever it was into his pocket.

  “You’re doing good, kid. Trust me.”

  Joey shook his head and turned away. “It doesn’t feel good. I don’t know how I let you talk me into it.”

  “You came to me.”

  Meeting in the gloomy barn to pass goods couldn’t be a good thing. Emily stepped out of the storage room and called, “Just a minute, you two!”

  Chapter Seven

  Joey stood frozen, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open. Reb merely watched Emily stomping down the barn aisle. Emily focused on her brother. He looked guilty as sin. She was so afraid he’d turn out like Tuff that her heart threatened to explode.

  “What did you just give him?” she demanded.

  “I, uh, none of your damn business.”

  She stopped before them. She glared at Reb, and the unwavering way he returned her gaze increased her fury. The man didn’t possess an ounce of shame. He didn’t care about her or her brother.

  “The only thing I gave Reb is his bonus money,” Joey said. “Just like you told me to.”

  She looked for lies, but he stared at his boots and his hat brim covered his face. “Money, right. Sneaking around the barn. I saw you looking at the house like you didn’t want me seeing you.”

  Reb pulled a wad of bills from his jeans pocket. “Bonus money, ma’am.”

  Uncertain but having no choice except to believe them, she said, “I can’t take chances. Joey, you realize that, don’t you?” “I earn my money honestly,” he returned. He peeked at her, revealing traces of the earnest child he’d once been.

  She eased a step backward. “I apologize, then.” Intuition screamed she was acting the fool. She was sure there was more to this than met the eye. She returned to the storage room to collect the jars.

  Search Joey’s room, common sense urged her. Make sure he really is keeping his nose clean. She fretted over the problem while she loaded a box with jars.

  “Emily?”

  She brushed hair off her face, and looked over her shoulder. Reb stood in the doorway. “I don’t like lies, Reb Tremaine. So if you’re involving Joey in anything illegal, then pack your gear and get off my property. I warn you, if I find out you are doing anything illegal I will call the law.”

  “I’m not,” he said as mildly as if they were discussing the weather. “Neither is Joey.”

  She jumped to her feet. Hands clenched, she approached him. “You don’t need to sneak around to make sure I don’t see him give you bonus money.”

  “True.”

  “I’m not stupid. You two are up to no good. I saw him give you something, and it wasn’t money.” She sighed in frustration and jammed her hands in her pockets. The unfairness of it all heightened her anger. She’d grown to care deeply about Reb, even depend upon him. She hoped for some kind of romantic entanglement, too�
�but he was lying to her. Worse, he’d involved her brother in the lie.

  “You’re right.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small cardboard box. He held it on his open hand.

  The flat box was printed with the silhouette of a couple embracing against a lush sunset scene. It took a few seconds before she realized what the box contained. “Condoms? He gave you condoms?”

  “I asked Joey to pick them up for me in town.” He slipped the box back into his pocket. “He doesn’t exactly approve of what I intend to do with them.”

  As his meaning sank in, warmth on her face turned into a blaze. “Oh.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You told my brother you want to sleep with me?”

  He quirked an eyebrow. “No, ma’am. He jumped to that conclusion all by himself. I apologize. I don’t mean to embarrass either one of you.”

  A giggle tickled her throat, and she quickly turned away. Knowing he carried sexual protection in his pocket was akin to having a stupid song locked inside her head—it played around and around and around in her thoughts, refusing to go away. “I think you are being a bit presumptuous,” she said tartly.

  “Only if I do intend to make love to you.”

  She gasped and whipped her head about. “You aren’t?”

  Grinning, he backed out of the doorway. “Have chores to do, ma’am. See you at supper.”

  She ran to the doorway. “Maybe I don’t care a bit who you intend to sleep with!” she called. “It’s none of my business, and don’t think for a moment I want to make it my business.”

  He kept walking, but his shoulders hitched. One quick hitch, enough to let her know he laughed.

  FROM HIS VANTAGE POINT inside the bunkhouse, Reb watched Emily lug a box of glass jars onto the porch and into the house. The sway of her hips, snugly encased in ragged cutoffs, fixated him. When the screened door closed behind her, Reb returned the box of condoms to Joey. He could kick himself for being so sloppy. Not a good sign him being careless around Emily.

  “She fell for it, huh?” Joey said.

  “Trust me,” Reb said, “she won’t ever mention it again. From now on, when you have something to give me, do it here.”

  Joey stared at the box for a moment. He slowly raised his head. His dark eyes glittered. “Sure you won’t be needing these? I’ve got plenty more in my truck.”

  The kid’s hostility washed over Reb like a wave of hot air. A guilty twinge squeezed his gut. When he’d shown the condoms to Emily the look on her face, wide-eyed and appreciative and dewy mouthed, had tempted him to slam the door and pin her against the wall. He wanted to kiss her senseless and hold her beautiful body and have those long, elegant legs wrapped around his hips. Lying to her was ripping him up inside.

  “I see the way you look at her,” Joey said after a moment. “The way she looks at you.”

  Anger crept over the back of Reb’s head, tightening his scalp and forehead. He was too good at his job to let a woman affect him this way. Especially a woman who was a target.

  Reb said, “I thought you don’t care what I do to Emily as long as I get her out of the way. I quote, ‘Get her lying, thieving butt off this ranch.’“

  Joey slumped with his back to the wall. He hooked his thumbs in his belt. “Maybe I was wrong.”

  “About what? The lying part or the thieving part?” Reb pulled the wad of cash out of his pocket. “Tell me again how dishonest she is. Or how about we take a ride in your truck on those brand-new tires, and you can tell me how greedy she is?”

  “Shut up, Reb.”

  “I’ll shut up when you grow up.”

  Joey kept his head down. His jaw tightened stubbornly. Stubbornness, Reb decided, was a family trait. Joey and Emily were both as persistent as mosquitoes on a summer night, and taking out his irritation on the kid accomplished nothing. Reb turned back to the window and watched the house.

  Guilty or not, Emily was still a target, and Reb never cared about or got involved with targets. The cleanup man survived by avoiding messy relationships and emotional entanglements.

  A man like him never made the mistake of falling in love.

  AT SPOTTING Mickey Thigpen’s patrol car, Emily groaned. She’d just spent hours in the forest with Reb, fantasizing about his hot hands and hotter mouth having free rein over her body, and now she wanted to be alone. But Reb was still beside her. She didn’t dare so much as glance his way for fear of jumping on him and ravishing him in the dirt. None of which put her in the mood for bantering with Mickey.

  Mickey had parked beside the house. Lights blazed inside the kitchen. Since Joey had gone into town after supper, she imagined Mickey had let himself inside and helped himself to a drink.

  She and Reb crossed the creek. Sloppy splashing announced Copper bringing up the rear. The dog raced past her, spraying her with icy water, then he loped along the path and disappeared into the barn.

  “What do you think the sheriff wants?” Reb asked.

  A hot date and bragging rights, she thought sourly. “Who knows?”

  She trudged down the path. After a few steps she realized Reb didn’t follow. Instead, he sat upon a boulder. Shade from a cottonwood dappled him in hues of purple and gray. Looking as if he hadn’t a care in the world, he plucked a long stem of grass and chewed the end of it.

  “Nice evening,” he said. “Think I’ll sit here and watch the stars come out.” A slow grin teased her and set her heart to racing. “When you finish with the sheriff, come on out and join me.”

  A hunch said he didn’t want within a hundred feet of the law. It could be he didn’t want to interfere between her and Mickey or he wasn’t sociable. Or he truly did enjoy the evening, which had cooled to balmy sweetness while stars popped into the cerulean sky like Christmas lights. Still, she suspected he avoided the sheriff because he didn’t want the sheriff asking questions. Was Reb hiding something from her?

  “Sure.” Troubled, she headed to the house, hurrying so she could get the visit over and done with.

  Mickey waited inside the kitchen. He had one leg propped on his knee, and his big, black, shiny boot gleamed under the light. He’d helped himself to a glass of lemonade and the remainder of an apple pie. Crumbs littered the tabletop around the scraped-clean pie plate. His hat hung on a peg near the door, and his salt-and-pepper hair curled luxuriously around his ears and neck.

  “Make yourself at home,” she said dryly, moving to the sink to wash her hands. She was glad she wore a baggy T-shirt and blue jeans; they protected her from his probing gaze. “What brings you here, Mickey?”

  He glanced at the pie plate. “Best apple pie in the state.” His smile acquired a solemn tinge. “I need your help.”

  “There’s a switch. Do you have a problem with Tuff?”

  A manila folder lay on the table. Mickey opened it, revealing a stack of Wanted posters. “The real problem with being in law is it makes me itchy.” He fanned the posters with a sweep of his hand. “So I’m sitting there, nothing going on, shooting the breeze with Tuff. Say what you want about him, he’s pure entertainment. Except him having more visitors than the pope, he makes a good prisoner. He’s a character.”

  Emily sat so she could see the posters. They looked of the same type displayed in the post office.

  “So I’m cleaning out my desk, getting rid of outdated material. I shove a stack of these at Tuff and ask him if he knows the whereabouts of any of these outlaws. Joking, right? We’re talking about rewards and bounty hunters. Nothing to it.”

  Interested and curious, she turned a poster around to read it. It showed a Hispanic man with a Fu Manchu mustache who was wanted for armed robbery.

  “Tuff reacted, Emily. Not much, didn’t say anything, but it made me itchy. I got to thinking about you and the phone calls you made to us the night before we arrested Tuff. Call it a hunch, but maybe that so-called murder victim of yours is in this stack of photos. Take a look. See if you recognize anybody.”

  “What did Tuff say?” she asked as she gat
hered the stack of posters.

  “Nothing. Not a word. That makes me extra itchy. Tuff can talk the ears off a deaf man, so when he shuts up, I listen. Take a look for me.”

  She went through the stack of posters carefully. The photographs were terrible, worse than ill-lighted Polaroids on drivers’ licenses. Some of the people pictured were wanted by the state police, some by federal officers. Crimes ranged from traffic offenses to homicide. On her first pass no one looked familiar. On the second pass she picked up a sheet and peered closely at the man pictured in frontal and profile mug shots.

  “This kind of looks like the man I saw.” She turned it for Mickey to see.

  “Hmm, James Richard Mullow, also known as ‘Jimmy Wheel.’“ He frowned. “Are you sure? This one’s wanted by the FBI. Armed-robbery and weapons charges. Doesn’t sound like Tuff’s choice of pastimes. Didn’t you say your boy had a tattoo?”

  “On his arm, some kind of big cat.”

  “No mention of it. This sheet is over a year old. Maybe I can get an update. Anyone else in there look familiar?”

  “No, I’m sorry. Truth is, I didn’t get that good a look at his face.” She clamped down the urge to tell him what he should be doing right now, such as scouring the forest with her. Doing so would only lead to arguments. She settled back on her chair instead and waited.

  “Idea,” he said, scowling at James Mullow’s mug shots. “If you’re willing, write me out a statement. Write down everything you saw and heard that night.”

  “What good will it do?”

  “Give me something to nudge Tuff with. Who knows what I can drag out of him.”

  “You believe me, then.” She smiled. “You finally believe I saw something that night.”

  Mickey wagged a finger in admonishment. “I don’t believe anything. Not yet. You can’t even give me a positive ID on this fellow. And you still don’t have any proof Tuff was here that night. Only thing I have right now is an itch. Give me a few days to scratch it, and see what happens.”

  “Fair enough.” She intended to keep searching with Reb, though, with or without the sheriff’s blessing.