“Unfortunately, not well, but my lawyers are working on it. But enough about that. I like to leave my business in the office as much as possible.” Leon hung his Stetson on a peg by the door and then leaned a hip against the counter by the sink. “Is Kyle working out?”
She filled her grandmother’s crystal vase with water from the tap and arranged the roses. “Yes. He’s great with the calves.”
“How’re the calves doing? The loss of one or more isn’t unusual until they get settled in.”
“They’re good. I haven’t lost a single steer. Not even one got sick. Dylan really made sure he took care of getting them settled into good pasture. I wish I could watch them more. They like to play and chase each other and are so darned cute.” She glanced at him and heat prickled her cheeks. “I suppose that’s an odd comment coming from someone who’s raising them so they can become someone else’s steaks and hamburgers.”
“Hamburgers can be beautiful and a good steak is downright gorgeous.” Leon grinned at her and shrugged. “To a hungry man.”
She laughed and brushed a hand over her messy ponytail. “I must look a sight.”
“I think you look like you’ve been working too hard. But even so, you’re as lovely as ever.”
Her cheeks burned, and she gestured a hand toward a chair at the table. “You and your flattery. You should know I’m immune to it.”
“I’ve never flattered a single person, ever.” Leon held up his right hand, three fingers extended. “Scout’s honor.”
“Were you ever a Boy Scout?”
“Oh, I think that would be telling on myself.”
Shaking her head, she turned toward the old electric stove. “I was having herbal tea. Would you like some, or would you prefer sweet tea? Or I can make coffee.”
“Sweet tea sounds good. Thank you.”
After handing him the glass of tea, she refreshed her herbal tea from the teapot on the stove and they sat at the table.
“You haven’t made much progress in your gardens.”
Hugging her mug as she set it on the table, she sighed and shook her head. “One more thing I haven’t been able to do. With school and working on the ranch and in the house with Dylan, I haven’t had time to do much else.”
Leon frowned and set his glass onto the oak top. “He isn’t still insisting you help, is he?”
“He doesn’t insist. I willingly help. We make a good team, too. Dylan and I did everything until Kyle, Tom and Jesse started.”
“But you shouldn’t have to.” The knuckles of the hand encircling his glass grew white as if he was clenching his hand. A beat later, he relaxed his hand and grinned. His usual charm in place. “You should be watching your calves playing in the pastures, riding your beautiful horses, and working in your gardens.” Leon brushed his fingertip across her cheek, and his voice lowered an octave. “You shouldn’t be painting unless it is of a landscape while sipping tea.”
She locked gazes with him and covered his fingers with her own. His touch was warm and gentle, but felt all wrong. She leaned back and out of his reach.
“I could help you out.”
“How?” she asked a bit shakily.
“I own one of the best construction companies in the county.” Leon looked around the kitchen. As a few times before, a disgusted frown pulled at his lips before he covered it almost as quickly as it appeared. Had she seen it at all? “A crew could have this place looking like a palace fit for a princess in a matter of a week or two. How long do you think it will take Dylan to do it?”
Should she take him up on his offer? But if she did, how could she help Dylan? He might not want her romantically, but he seemed to take pride in his work. Something she knew he hadn’t felt in a very long time. She met Leon’s gaze again and shook her head. “No, I want Dylan to work on the house. He’s teaching me what needs to be done as we go, which I’m enjoying even if it means not doing other things I enjoy too. With summer, I’ll have more free time. I really want this place to be mine. That was what drew me to it and why I didn’t approach a construction company to begin with. I wanted to be part of the restoration, and I am.”
“I’m pleased he’s working out.” Leon sipped his iced tea, but not before she caught the twist of his lips. But as before, he covered it so quickly she wondered if she’d seen anything at all. “Tracy and I talk regularly, and she told me Dylan has been acting more like himself since starting to work for you. We were all worried about how much he’s been drinking. I guess he’s lucky to be alive after what happened to him in Afghanistan. Has he told you anything about it?”
“He told me some of what happened.”
“It is a shame. I can’t imagine what it’s like feeling responsible for one person’s death, let alone four. All of it really should be blamed on his ex-wife.”
“Because she had an affair while he was overseas?”
He blinked. Was he surprised Dylan had been so forthright with her?
“Yes. I was extremely saddened when I heard what Brenda did to Dylan.” He sipped his tea and averted his gaze. “I don’t think he will ever get over her betrayal. She sent him a Dear John letter only a day or two before the mission. He just wasn’t thinking and led those men into a trap. He loved her. Still does, if Tracy can be believed.”
She picked up her cup to take a drink, but her hand shook too much. Was there ever any chance for her and Dylan? After she lowered her mug, she touched one of the roses. “Really, you don’t have to continue giving me flowers. I have the ones you gave me Saturday in my bathroom.”
* * * *
“Aw, but I enjoy giving you flowers.”
Dylan would recognize that pretentious Texas drawl anywhere and stopped short of stepping into the light spilling through the screen door onto the back porch. The kitchen door stood open, and he could see Charli and Leon sitting at the table, a bouquet of roses between them.
“Thank you. I do love them.”
“Then why should I stop?”
Because she asked you to. He considered barging in until he heard Charli laugh.
“Got a point there, I suppose.”
Leon took her hand from where it lay beside her cup. “I’m hoping you’ll agree to have dinner with me next Friday night. I have some important business all week and won’t be back in town until then.”
“Oh.” Would she tell the son-of-a-bitch where to go? “I think that would be nice.”
“Wonderful. I’ll send a car at seven sharp.”
Leave. Something terrible kept him rooted to the porch step. His heart beat loudly in his ears, but not loud enough to block out the conversation inside.
“Where are we going?” Charli sounded excited, giddy with the way her voice shook. “Not that it matters, but so I’ll know how to dress.”
“The Creek Inn. The finest restaurant in Dallas.”
Dylan turned and headed for his truck. He’d lost, and despite his best efforts at trying to protect it, his heart cracked. How would she want him over someone like Leon?
* * * *
Charli tossed in her sleep; her heart raced as the dream dragged her under.
“What are you doing here?” she asked as Dylan ambled toward her through the shadowy crowd. Dressed in a long, flowing gown, she stood before a massive fireplace.
“Taking you to dinner.” He gazed into her eyes, and she saw his desire–and his love.
She held her breath. His lips lowered onto hers for an intense kiss.
“Hey, Bambi, get your cute little ass back on stage.”
She cringed at the voice she’d hoped never to hear again.
A rough hand pulled her away from Dylan. The shadow crowd morphed into townspeople. They parted to reveal a stage with a metal pole in the center. The beautiful restaurant swirled into the smoky barroom of the Cat Call. Next to the platform, where she’d spent a wretched year of her life, leaned Ricardo Rodriquez.
“You’re up, Bambi. Get over here, or you don’t get this.” Ricardo held a bag
gie of white powder in the air. She stared at the bag with a longing that surprised and frightened her. “My little deer loves her coke, doesn’t she? I have a job for you.”
Ric disappeared and a tall African-American man ambled toward her. When she recognized Tyrone Hodges, she gasped.
In her mind, she screamed, No! I won’t do it. I won’t lead him into a trap for you to kill him. With horror zipping through her, she was powerless against purring, “Hello, handsome.”
Tyrone looked her over. “Aren’t you Rodriguez’s woman?”
She sidled closer and ran the too-long acrylic nail of her index finger over his shoulder. “I don’t work for Ric no more.”
Tyrone reached for her, and she soon found herself in his muscular arms. He smiled, his teeth showing brilliant against his dark face. “I could use a girl like you.”
“That’s why I’m here.”
Inside her mind, she sobbed and wished she could get away from him, but she had no control over her actions. She was an observer of the events rather than a participant, even though she was within her own body. She could not change the events from happening.
“Let’s get out of here.” She ran her hand over the gold chains and smooth chest showing though his open silk shirt. “I’m willin’ to show you what I can do.”
When she cupped his growing erection, he growled. “Oh, baby. I’ve heard you’re a wild one.”
In a blink, she stepped into the room of a rundown apartment building. Ricardo’s biggest rival in the illegal businesses of drug dealing and prostitution stopped and pulled her into his arms toward the bed. Although the room was Tyrone’s, somehow they were on a movie-like set. She looked up to the terrifying view of the townspeople, Dylan and Leon watching her with widened eyes and open mouths.
Tyrone pulled her toward the bed and unlaced the corset top she wore. She was incapable of stopping her hands from unbuttoning his shirt.
“I can definitely see why Ric keeps you around, Bambi.”
She met his gaze and shook her head. “He ain’t keepin’ me forever.”
He flashed his white teeth again, and bent to nip at her neck. She shivered with revulsion, knowing what she had to do with this man. When the door to the room crashed inward, Ricardo burst through the opening.
“What the fuck?”
Tyrone pulled her to him to use as a shield and fumbled for the gun on the table beside the bed.
She screamed. She’d been tricked as much as Tyrone. Ricardo aimed his piece at the other man and fired before Tyrone had a chance to. The bullet buzzed by her head and entered Tyrone’s skull between his eyes. As the man fell backward onto the bed, she collapsed onto the floor, sobbed hysterically, and crawled away from the dead body.
Dylan stood beside the bed and looked at her with a grimace of disgust and disbelief. “You murdered him.”
“No!” She struggled to free herself from the icy skeletal fingers of the dream. “No! I didn’t know Ricardo would kill him. I didn’t know!”
“I can’t believe you’d do this.” Dylan looked at the dead man sprawled across the bed. “You killed him in cold blood.”
“Dylan, please, I’m not a murderer. I’m not!” She sobbed.
“Shut up, bitch.” Ricardo grabbed her by the upper arms and shook her. “You are exactly that. I want Tyron’s territory. You know that. You led me to his secret hideout.”
He sounded loud in the quiet room of stunned people. She recognized the older Cartwright brothers, the mayor’s wife, Mrs. Pratt, Tracy, Zack and so many other people, who could never know what she’d done, all watching as if she acted out a play.
“I could never love you.” Dylan turned away from her.
She struggled against Ricardo’s hold on her. “Don’t go, Dylan! I’m not like this anymore.”
“C’mon, baby, I’ll always take care of you. You don’t need these people.”
“No!” Shaking her head, she tried to resist his grip.
Leon appeared on the stage and held out his hand to her. “Come to me, Charli. I’ll take care of you. With me, you’ll be nothing but the wealthy woman you were meant to be. I can protect you.”
She reached for his hand, but the distance was too great. “Leon!”
Ricardo laughed in her ear. “No matter how expensive your clothes are or how high and mighty you try to be, you’re nothing but a whore. My murdering whore.”
“No!”
Then he hit her.
She woke screaming and to the sound of the phone ringing. Gasping for breath, she reached for the receiver just as the machine picked up.
She glanced at the clock. A big red 3:25 stared back at her. As she continued to shake off the nightmare, she spoke into the receiver. “Hello?”
“Miss Monroe, this is Zack Cartwright.” The deep voice on the other end echoed in her ear.
Instantly on alert, she sat on the edge of the bed. “Sheriff, what can I do for you?”
“I brought Dylan Quinn in for public drunkenness. I tried to contact his sister, but she’s not answering either of her phones. I know he’s working for you, so I’m hoping you’d take him home.”
She ran her fingers through the snarled mess of her hair. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Thank you, Miss Monroe.” Zack hung up.
“Yeah,” she breathed into the dead receiver. The dream came back to her, and she shivered. She pulled her legs up, and wrapped her arms around them. Curled into a ball, she rocked in the middle of the bed and cried.
She nearly gave into the despair, but then remembered the call. Sighing, she pushed herself off the bed and got dressed. Dylan could never love her for what she’d done, but he needed her.
* * * *
“Thanks for coming down at such an ungodly hour, Miss Monroe.” Sheriff Zachery Cartwright led Charli into his office.
She sat down on the edge of the chair in front of the sheriff’s desk. “Dylan isn’t just my employee, he’s my friend.”
“I’m glad you feel that way.” Cartwright cleared his throat. “So, he’s working out?”
“Dylan is a very talented carpenter, and he has a good sense of business.”
“Seeing him like this doesn’t sit right with me. I understand why he tries to drown in a bottle of whiskey, but that’s not the way to go.” Zack moved to the coffee pot in the corner. He held up a Styrofoam cup and the pot of strong smelling brew. “Want some?”
She could use a cup of coffee. “Yes, black, thank you.” Zack handed the steaming cup to her. “You were in the war?”
Zack sat behind the utilitarian desk, set his coffee-stained World’s Greatest Daddy mug on the wood surface, and stirred three teaspoons of sugar into his coffee. Several frames holding pictures of a beautiful dark-haired, blue-eyed little girl sat on the corner of his untidy desk.
On the wall behind him were more photographs. The one to draw her attention was of him with two other men in uniform in front of a Humvee with a desolate desert in the background. They held military guns and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with smiles on their faces.
Beside it was a picture of a smiling cowboy accepting a large silver belt buckle in a rodeo arena. From the size of the crowd pictured, she assumed it was taken at the National Finals Rodeo. At first, she couldn’t believe the cowboy was the same man as in the other photo. Or the same man sitting behind the desk.
She looked at him as he said, “Afghanistan, Iraq, and then Afghanistan again. Marines. I was MP–military police. After coming back the last time, I lived in the bottle myself for a while. I was involved in a similar situation to Dylan’s at a checkpoint on the border of Afghanistan and Pakistan.”
“Oh.” She sipped the pungent coffee. “I’m sorry.” What else was she supposed to say? “Thanks for serving.”
Zack nodded and sipped his coffee. After he set his mug on the desk again, he leaned over his folded arms. “I watched my buddy get shot after he pulled me to safety. I should have died. Instead, my friend did, leaving behind
a pregnant wife. Then six months after coming home, my wife was killed by a drunk driver. I found myself a single father to my four-year-old daughter. That’s how I know what Dylan’s going through.”
She swallowed hard. No one ever spoke about what had happened to the mayor’s nephew. She remembered her dream and the horrendous cold-blooded murder she’d helped perpetrate. Whether or not she had known Ricardo’s intent was irrelevant. She should have known. Both Zack and Dylan had killed men, but their actions were honorable and sacrificial.
Hers were out of misguided love for a greedy man and addiction to cocaine.
“The best thing that has happened to Dylan in a long time was going to work for you, Miss Monroe. I just want you to know. He needs to realize he’s not to blame for the deaths of those men. The enemy is.”
“Sheriff, I want to help him. But I’m not sure he wants it.”
The sheriff chuckled and finished his coffee. “I didn’t want help either, but I had a daughter to raise. I couldn’t wallow in self-pity, or she would’ve been taken away from me. Sometimes we all need a good kick in the behind, Miss Monroe. Let’s go get Dylan out of here.”
Behind the bars of one of the two holding cells, Dylan lay on his back on a cot, the cell’s only furniture. A toilet and a small sink stood in the corner. A combination of disinfectant, urine, stale booze, and vomit clung to the air. She wrinkled her nose as they walked down the short hallway between the cells.
When he glanced at her, she nodded, and Zack called through the bars, “Hey, Quinn, wake up. Your ride’s here.”
Dylan groaned and mumbled something intelligible. Zack slid open the unlocked door and entered the cell. For a heartbeat, she hesitated before entering and wrapped her arms around herself. The last time she’d been inside a jail cell hit her between the eyes and sent a shiver through her. Her accommodations at the Florence McClure Women's Correctional Center in Nevada had been more comfortable than this. She swore the day she was released she’d never spend another second inside a prison cell. Here she was willingly stepping into one.
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