by Diana Palmer
“Bad girl,” he chided.
She laughed.
“I’ll probably see you in the video store,” he added.
She beamed. “You probably will.”
He grinned and went back to the suits.
Fifteen minutes later, she parked in front of the video store and went inside. It was full of teenage boys mostly, but there were two men standing in front of a rack with the newest sword and sorcery and combat games. One of them was Dr. Rydel. The other, surprisingly, was Officer Kilraven.
Dr. Rydel looked up and smiled when he saw her coming. Kilraven’s silver eyes cut around to follow his companion’s gaze. His black eyebrows arched.
“She’s Christmas shopping,” Dr. Rydel announced.
“Buying video games for a relative?” Kilraven wondered aloud.
Dr. Rydel chuckled. “She’s a gamer,” he confided. “She can take down Hunters with a .45 auto.”
Kilraven whistled through his teeth. “Impressive,” he said. “I usually do that with a sniper rifle.”
“I can use those, too,” she said. “But the .45 works just as well, thanks to that magnified sight.”
“Have you played all the Halo series?” Kilraven asked.
She nodded. “Now I’m shopping for ODST,” she said. “Kell, my brother, likes it, too. He taught me how to play.”
Kilraven frowned. “Kell Drake?”
“Yes…”
“I know him,” Kilraven replied quietly. “Good man.”
“Were you in the army?” she asked innocently.
Kilraven chuckled. “Once, a long time ago.”
“Kell only got out a year ago,” she said. “He was free-lancing for a magazine in Africa and got hit by flying shrapnel. He’s paralyzed from the waist down—at least until the shrapnel shifts enough so that they can operate.”
Kilraven blinked. “He got hit by flying…he was working for a magazine?” He seemed incredulous. “Doing what?”
“Writing stories.”
“Writing stories? Kell can write?”
“He has very good English skills,” she began defensively.
“I never,” Kilraven said in an odd tone. “Why did he get out of the army?” he wanted to know.
She blinked. “Well, I’m not really sure…” she began.
“Look at this one,” Dr. Rydel interrupted helpfully, holding up a game. “Have you ever played this?”
Kilraven was diverted. He took the green case and stared at the description. He grinned. “Have I ever! ‘Elder Scrolls IV, Oblivion,’” he murmured. “This is great! You don’t have to do the main quest, if you don’t want to. There are dozens of other quests. You can even design your own character’s appearance, name him, choose from several races…ever played it?” he asked Cappie.
She chuckled. “Actually it’s sort of my favorite. I love ‘Halo,’ but I like using a two-handed sword as well.”
“Vicious girl,” Kilraven mused, smiling at her.
Dr. Rydel unobtrusively moved closer to Cappie and cleared his throat. “You shopping or working today?” he asked Kilraven.
The other man looked from Cappie to Dr. Rydel and his silver eyes twinkled. “If you notice, I’m wearing a real uniform,” he pointed out. “I even carry a real gun. Now would I be doing that if it was my day off?”
Dr. Rydel smiled back at him. “Would you be shopping for video games on city time?”
Kilraven glared at him. “For your information, I am here detecting crime.”
“You are?”
“Absolutely. I have it on good authority that there might be an attempted shoplifting case going on here right now.” He raised his voice as he said it and a young boy cleared his throat and eased a game out from under his jacket and back on the shelf. With flaming cheeks he gave Kilraven a hopeful smile and moved quickly to the door.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Kilraven murmured, “I’m going to have a few helpful words of advice for that young man.”
“How did he know?” Cappie asked, stunned, as she watched the tall officer walk out the door and call to the departing teen.
“Beats me, but I’ve heard he does things like that.” He smiled. “He’s on his lunch hour, in case you wondered. I was just ribbing him. I like Kilraven.”
She gave him a wry glance. “Sharks like other sharks, do they?” she asked wickedly.
CHAPTER FOUR
AT FIRST, Bentley wasn’t sure he’d heard her right. Then he saw the demure grin and burst out laughing. She’d compared him to a shark. He was impressed.
“I wondered if you were ever going to learn how to talk to me without getting behind a door first,” he mused.
“You’re hard going,” she confessed. “But so is Kell, to other people. He just walks right over people who don’t talk back.”
“Exactly,” he returned. He shrugged his broad shoulders. “I don’t know how to get along with people,” he confessed. “My social skills are sparse.”
“You’re wonderful with animals,” she replied.
His eyebrows arched and he smiled. “Thanks.”
“Did you always like them?” she wondered.
His eyes had a faraway look. He averted them. “Yes. But my father didn’t. It wasn’t until after he died that I indulged my affection for them. It was just my mother and me until I was in high school. That’s when she met my stepfather.” His expression hardened.
“It must have been very difficult for you,” she said quietly, “getting used to another man in your house.”
He frowned as he looked down at her. “Yes.”
“Oh, I’m remarkably perceptive,” she said with amusement in her eyes. “I also suffer from extreme modesty about my other equally remarkable attributes.” She grinned.
He laughed again.
Kilraven came back, looking smug.
“You look like a man with a mission,” Bentley mused.
“Just finished one. That young man will never want to lift a video game again.”
“Good for you. Didn’t arrest him?”
Kilraven arched an eyebrow. “Actually he knows some cheat codes for ‘Call of Duty’ that even I haven’t worked out. So I called our police chief.”
“Cheat codes are against the law?” Cappie asked, puzzled.
Kilraven chuckled. “No. Cash has a young brother-in-law, Rory, who’s nuts about ‘Call of Duty,’ so our potential shoplifter is going to go over to Cash’s house later and teach them to him. Cash may have a few words to add to the ones I gave him.”
“Neat strategy,” Bentley said.
Kilraven shrugged. “The boy loves gaming but he lives with a widowed mother who works two jobs just to keep food on the table. He wanted ‘Call of Duty,’ but he didn’t have any money. If he and Rory hit it off, and I think they might, he’ll get to play the game and learn model citizen habits on the side.”
“Good psychology,” Bentley told him.
Kilraven sighed. “It’s tough on kids, having an economy like this. Gaming is a way of life for the younger generation, but those game consoles and games for them are expensive.”
“That’s why we have a whole table of used games that are more affordable,” the owner of the store, overhearing them, commented with a grin. “Thanks, Kilraven.”
The officer shrugged. “I spend so much time in here that I feel obliged to protect the merchandise,” he commented.
The store owner patted him on the back. “Good man. I might give you a discount on your next sale.”
Kilraven glared at him. “Attempting to bribe a police officer…”
The owner held up both hands. “I never!” he exclaimed. “I said ‘might’!”
Kilraven grinned. “Thanks, though. It was a nice thought. You wouldn’t have any games based on Scottish history?” he added.
The store owner, a tall, handsome young man, gave him a pitying look. “Listen, you’re the only customer I’ve ever had who likes sixteenth-century Scottish history. And I’ll tell you agai
n that most historians think James Hepburn got what he deserved.”
“He did not,” Kilraven muttered. “Lord Bothwell was led astray by that French-thinking Queen. Her wiles did him in.”
“Wiles?” Cappie asked, wide-eyed. “What are wiles?”
“If you have to ask, you don’t have any,” Bentley said helpfully.
She laughed. “Okay. Fair enough.”
Kilraven shook his head. “Bothwell had admirable qualities,” he insisted, staring at the shop owner. “He was utterly fearless, could read and write and speak French, and even his worst enemies said that he was incapable of being bribed.”
“Which may be, but still doesn’t provide grounds for a video game,” the manager replied.
Kilraven pointed a finger at him. “Just because you’re a partisan of Mary, Queen of Scots, is no reason to take issue with her Lord High Admiral. And I should point out that there’s no video game about her, either!”
“Hooray,” the manager murmured dryly. “Oh, look, a customer!” He took the opportunity to vanish toward the counter.
Kilraven’s two companions were giving him odd looks.
“Entertainment should be educational,” he defended himself.
“It is,” Bentley pointed out. “In this game—” he held up a Star Trek one “—you can learn how to shoot down enemy ships. And in this one—” he held up a comical one about aliens “—you can learn to use a death ray and blow up buildings.”
“You have no appreciation of true history,” Kilraven sighed. “I should have taught it in grammar school.”
“I can see you now, standing in front of the school board, explaining why the kids were having nightmares about sixteenth-century interrogation techniques,” Bentley mused.
Kilraven pursed his lips. “I myself have been accused of using those,” he said. “Can you believe it? I mean, I’m such a law-abiding citizen and all.”
“I can think of at least one potential kidnapper who might disagree,” Bentley commented.
“Lies. Vicious lies,” he said defensively. “He got those bruises from trying to squeeze through a car window.”
“While it was going sixty miles an hour, I believe?” the other man queried.
“Hey, it’s not my fault he didn’t want to wait for the arraignment.”
“Good thing you noticed the window was cracked in time.”
“Yes,” Kilraven sighed. “Sad, though, that I didn’t realize he had a blackjack. He gave it to me very politely, though.”
Bentley glanced at Cappie. “Was it a sprained wrist or a fractured one?” he wondered.
Kilraven gave him a cold glare. “It was a figment.”
“A what?”
“Of his imagination,” Kilraven assured him. He chuckled. “Anyway, he’s going to be in jail for a long time. The resisting arrest charge, added to assault on a police officer, makes two felony charges in addition to the kidnapping ones.”
“I hope you never get mad at me,” Bentley said.
“I’d worry more about the chief,” Kilraven replied. “He fed a guy a soapy sponge in front of the whole neighborhood.”
“He was provoked, I hear,” Bentley said.
“A felon verbally assaulted him in his own yard while he was washing his car. Of course, Cash has mellowed since his marriage.”
“Not much,” Bentley said. “And he’s still pretty good with a sniper kit. Saved Colby Lane’s little girl when she was kidnapped.”
“He practices on Eb Scott’s firing range,” Kilraven said. “We all do. He lets us use it free. State-of-the-art stuff, computers and everything.”
“Eb Scott?” Cappie asked.
“Eb was a merc,” Kilraven told her. “He and Cy Parks and Micah Steele fought in some of the bloodiest wars in Africa a few years back. They’re all married and somewhat settled. But like Cash Grier, they’re not really tame.”
Cappie only nodded. She was recalling what her brother had said about Cy Parks.
Kilraven cleared his throat. “Oops, lunchtime is over. I’ve got to go. See you.”
“You didn’t have lunch,” Bentley observed.
“I had a big breakfast,” Kilraven replied. “Can’t waste my lunch hour eating,” he added with a grin. “See you.”
“Imagine him, a gamer,” Cappie commented. “I’d never have thought it.”
“A lot of military men keep their hand-eye coordination skills sharp playing them,” he said.
“Were you in the military?” Cappie wanted to know.
He smiled and nodded. “I have it on good authority that it’s all that saved me from a life of crime. I got picked up for hanging around with a couple of bad kids who knocked over a drugstore. I was just in the car with them, but I got charged with a felony.” He sighed. “My mother went to the judge and promised him her next child if he’d let me join the army instead of standing trial. He agreed.” He glanced down at her with a smile. “He’s in his seventies now, but I still send him a Christmas present every year. I owe him.”
“That was nice.”
“I thought so, too.”
“Kell got into some trouble in his senior year of high school. I don’t remember it, I was so young, but he told me about it. He was hanging out with one of the inner-city gangs and there was a firefight. He didn’t get shot, but one of the boys in the gang was killed. Kell got arrested right along with them. He drew a female judge who had grown up in gang territory and lost a brother to the violence. She gave him a choice of facing trial or going into the service and making something of his life. He took her at her word, and made her proud.” She sighed. “It was tragic, about her. She was shot and killed in her own living room during a drug deal shootout next door.”
“Life is dangerous,” Bentley remarked.
She nodded. “Unpredictable and dangerous.” She looked up at him. “I guess maybe that’s why I like playing video games. They give me something that I can control. Life is never that way.”
He smiled. “No. It isn’t.” He watched as she took a copy of “Halo: ODST” off the shelf. “Going to make him wait until Christmas to play it?”
“Yes.”
His eyes twinkled. “I could bring my copy over. Let you get a taste of it before the fact.”
She looked fascinated. “You could?”
“Ask Kell.” He hesitated. “I could bring a pizza with me. And some beer.”
She pursed her lips. “I’m already drooling.” She grimaced. “I could cook something…”
“Not fair. You shouldn’t have to provide for guests. Besides, I haven’t had a decent pizza in weeks. I’ll be on call tonight, but we might get lucky.”
Her eyes brightened. “That would be nice. I’m sure Kell would enjoy it. We don’t get much company.”
“About six?”
Her heart jumped. “Yes. About six would be fine.”
“It’s a date.”
“I’ll see you then.”
He nodded.
She walked, a little wobbly, to the counter and paid for her game. Her life had just changed in a heartbeat. She didn’t know where it would lead, and she was a little nervous about getting involved with her boss. But he was very nice-looking and he had qualities that she admired. Besides, she thought, it was just a night of gaming. Nothing suspect about that.
She told Kell the minute she got home.
He laughed. “Don’t look so guilty,” he chided. “I like your boss. Besides, it’s neat to see the game I might get for Christmas.” He smiled angelically.
“You might get it,” she said, “and you might not.”
“You might get a new raincoat,” he mused.
She grinned. “Wow.”
He looked at her fondly. “It’s hard, living like this, I know. We were better off in San Antonio. But I didn’t want us to be around when Frank got out of jail.” His face hardened.
Her heart jumped. She hadn’t thought about Frank for several days in a row. But now the trial and his fury came back, fu
ll force. “It was almost six months ago that he was arrested, and three months until the trial. He got credit for time served. We’ve been here just about three months.” She bit her lower lip. “Oh, dear. They’ll let him out pretty soon.”
His pale eyes were cold. “It should have been a tougher sentence. But despite his past, it was the first time he was ever charged with battery, and they couldn’t get more jail time for him on a first offense. The public defender in his case was pretty talented, as well.”
She drew in a long breath. “I’m glad we’re out of the city.”
“So am I. He lived barely a block from us. We’re not as easy to get to, here.”
She stared at him closely. “You believe the threats he made,” she murmured. “Don’t you?”
“He’s the sort of man who gets even,” he told her. “I’m not the man I was, or we’d never have left town on the chance he might come after you. But here, I have friends. If he comes down here looking for trouble, he’ll find some.”
She felt a little better. “I didn’t want to have him arrested again.”
“It wouldn’t have mattered,” he told her. “The fact that you stood up to him was enough. He was used to women being afraid of him. His own sister sat in the back of the courtroom during the trial. She was afraid to get near him, because she hadn’t lied for him when the police came.”
“What makes a man like that?” she asked sadly. “What makes him so hard that he has to beat up a woman to make him feel strong?”
“I don’t know, sis,” Kell told her gently. “Honestly I don’t think the man has feelings for anybody or anything. His sister told you that he threw her dog off a bridge when they were kids. He laughed about it.”
Her face grew sad. “I thought he was such a gentleman. He was so sweet to me, bringing me flowers and candy at work, writing me love letters. Then he came over to our house and the first thing he did was kick my cat when it spit at him.”
“The cat was a good judge of character,” Kell remarked.
