Books By Diana Palmer

by Palmer, Diana

  He stepped in front of Leo. "Put her down, Leo," he drawled.

  "You tell him, Tiny!" Janie sputtered.

  "I'm taking her home where she'll be safe," Leo replied. He knew Tiny. The man was sweet-natured, but about a beer short of a six-pack on intelligence. He was also as big as a house. It didn't hurt to be polite. "She shouldn't be working in a bar."

  "It isn't a bar," Tiny said reasonably. "It's a roadhouse. It's a nice roadhouse. Mr. Duncan don't allow no drunks. You put Miss Janie down, Leo, or I'll have to hit you."

  "He'll do it," Janie warned. "I've seen him do it. He's hit men even bigger than you. Haven't you, Tiny?" she encouraged.

  "I sure have, Miss Janie."

  Leo wasn't backing down. He glared at Tiny. "I said," he replied, his voice dangerously soft, "I'm taking her home."

  "I don't think she wants to go, Mr. Hart," came a new source of interference from the doorway behind him.

  He swung around with Janie in his big arms. It was Har-ley Fowler, leaning against the doorjamb, looking intimi­dating. It would have been a joke a year ago. The new Harley made it look good.

  "You tell him, Harley!" Janie said enthusiastically.

  "You keep still," Leo told her angrily. "You've got no business working in a rough joint like this!"

  "You have no right to tell me where I can work," Janie shot right back, red-faced and furious. "Won't Marilee mind that you're here pestering me?" she added viciously.

  His cheeks went red. "I haven't seen Marilee in two weeks. I don't give a damn if I never see her again, either."

  That was news. Janie looked as interested as Harley seemed to.

  Tiny was still hovering. "I said, put her down," he per­sisted.

  "Do you really think you can take on Tiny and me both?" Harley asked softly.

  Leo was getting mad. His face tautened. "I don't know about Tiny," he said honestly, putting Janie back on her feet without taking his eyes off Harley. "But you're a piece of cake, son."

  As he said it, he stepped forward and threw a quick punch that Harley wasn't expecting. With his mouth open, Harley tumbled backward over a table. Leo glared at Janie.

  "You want this job, keep it," he said, ice-cold except for the glitter in those dark eyes. "But if you get slugged during a brawl or hassled by amorous drunks, don't come crying to me!"

  "As... as if I ever... would!" she stammered, shocked by his behavior.

  He turned around and stalked out the door without giving Harley a single glance.

  Janie rushed to Harley and helped him back to his feet "Oh, Harley, are you hurt?" she asked miserably.

  He rubbed his jaw. "Only my pride, darlin'," he mur­mured with a rough chuckle. "Damn, that man can throw a punch! I wasn't really expecting him to do it" His eyes twinkled. "I guess you're a little more important to him than any of us realized."

  She flushed. "He's just trying to run my life."

  Tiny came over and inspected Barley's jaw. "Gonna have a bruise, Mr. Fowler," he said politely.

  Harley grinned. He was a good sport, and he knew a jealous man when he saw one. Leo had wanted to deck him at the ball over Janie, but he'd restrained himself. Now, maybe, he felt vindicated. But Harley wished there had been a gentler way of doing it His jaw was really sore.

  "The beast," Janie muttered. "Come on, Harley, I'll clean you up in the bathroom before it gets crowded. Okay, guys, fun's over. Drink your beer and eat your pizzas."

  "Yes, mother," one of the men drawled.

  She gave him a wicked grin and led Harley to the back. She was not going to admit the thrill it had given her that Leo was worried about her job, or that people thought he was jealous of Harley. But she felt it all the way to her bones.

  Leo was lucky not to get arrested for speeding on his way to Fred's house. He had the sports car flat-out on the four lane that turned onto the Victoria road, and he burned rubber when he left the tarmac and turned into Fred's grav­eled driveway.

  Fred heard him coming and knew without a doubt what was wrong.

  He stood on the porch with his hands in his jean pockets as he studied the darkening sky behind Leo, who was already out of the car and headed for the porch. His Stetson was pulled down right over his eyes, cocked as they said in cowboy vernacular, and Fred had never seen Leo look so much like a Hart. The brothers had a reputation for being tough customers. Leo looked it right now.

  "I want her out of that damned bar," Leo told Fred flatly, without even a conventional greeting. "You can con­sider it a term of the loan, if you like, but you get her home."

  Fred grimaced. "I did try to talk her out of it, when I found out where she was working," he said in his own defense. "Leo, she stood right up to me and said she was old enough to make her own decisions. What do I say to that? She's twenty-one and she told me she wasn't giving up her job."

  Leo cursed furiously.

  "What happened to your shirt?" Fred asked suddenly. He leaned closer and made a face. "Man, you reek of beer!"

  "Of course I do! Your daughter baptized me in front of a crowd of cowboys with a whole pitcher of the damned stuff!" Leo said indignantly.

  Fred's eyes opened wide. "Janie? My Janie?"

  Leo looked disgusted. "She flung the pitcher at me. And then she set the bouncer on me and appealed to Harley Fowler for aid."

  "Why did she need aid?" Fred asked hesitantly.

  "Oh, she was kicking and screaming, and they thought she was in trouble, I guess."

  "Kicking...?"

  Leo's lips compressed. "All right, if you have to know, I tried to carry her out of the bar and bring her home. She resisted."

  Fred whistled. "I'd say she resisted." He was trying very hard not to laugh. He looked at Leo's clenched fists. One, the right one, was bleeding. "Hit somebody, did you?"

  "Harley," he returned uncomfortably. "Well, he shouldn't have interfered! He doesn't own Janie, she's not his private stock. If he were any sort of a man, he'd have insisted that she go home right then. Instead, he stands there calmly ordering me to put her down. Ordering me. Hell! He's lucky it was only one punch!"

  "Oh, boy," Fred said, burying his face in his hand. Gos­sip was going to run for a month on this mixer.

  "It wasn't my fault," Leo argued, waving his hands. "I went in there to save her from being insulted and harassed by drunk men, and look at the thanks I get? Drenched in beer, threatened by ogres, giggled at..."

  "Who giggled?"

  Leo shifted. "This little brunette who was sitting with one of the Tremayne brothers' cowboys."

  Fred cleared his throat. He didn't dare laugh. "I guess it was a sight to see."

  Grimacing, Leo flexed his hand. "Damned near broke my fingers on Harley's jaw. He needs to learn to keep his mouth shut. Just because he's not afraid of drug lords, he shouldn't think he can take me on and win."

  "I'm sure he knows that now, Leo."

  Leo took a deep breath. "You tell her I said she's going to give up that job, one way or the other!"

  "I'll tell her." It won't matter though, he thought pri­vately. Janie was more than likely to dig her heels in big time after Leo's visit to Shea's.

  Leo gave him a long, hard stare. "I'm not mean with money, I don't begrudge you that loan. But I'm not kidding around with you, Fred. Janie's got no business in Shea's, even with a bouncer on duty. It's a rough place. I've been there on nights when the bouncer didn't have time for a cup of coffee, and there's been at least one shooting. It's dangerous. Even more dangerous right now."

  Something in the younger man's tone made Fred uneasy. "Why?"

  "Fred, you don't breathe a word of this, even to Janie, understand?"

  Fred nodded, curious.

  Leo told him what he'd learned from Handley about the Clark brothers, and the loss of the related Salers bulls.

  Fred's jaw flew open. "You think my bull was killed deliberately?"

  "Yes, I do," Leo admitted solemnly. "I'm sorry to tell you that, because I can't prove it and neither can you. Clar
k is shrewd. He's never been caught in the act. If you can't prove it, you can't prosecute."

  Fred let out an angry breath. "Of all the damned mean, low things to do!"

  "I agree, and it's why I'm putting two men over here to watch my bull," he added firmly. "No sorry cattle-killer is going to murder my bull and get away with it. I'm having video cameras installed, too. If he comes near that bull, I'll have his hide in jail!"

  Fred chuckled. "Don't I wish he'd try," he said thought­fully.

  "So do I, but I don't hold out a lot of hope," Leo re­turned. He moved his shoulders restlessly. The muscles were stretched, probably from Janie's violent squirming. He remembered without wanting to the feel of her soft breasts pressed hard against his chest, and he ached.

  "Uh, about Janie," Fred continued worriedly.

  Leo stared at him without speaking.

  "Okay," the older man said wearily. "I'll try to talk some sense into her." He pursed his lips and peered up at Leo. "Of course, she could be a lot of help where she is right now," he murmured thoughtfully. "With the Clark man roaming around loose, that is. She could keep an eye on him if he comes into Shea's. If he's a drinking man, that's the only joint around that sells liquor by the drink."

  "She doesn't know what he looks like," Leo said.

  "Can't you find out and tell her?"

  Leo sighed. "I don't like her being in the line of fire."

  "Neither do I." Fred gave the other man a curious scru­tiny. "You and Harley and I could arrange to drop in from time to time, just to keep an eye on her."

  "She'll have to ask Harley. I won't."

  "You're thinking about it, aren't you?" Fred persisted.

  Leo was. His eyes narrowed. "My brothers could drop in occasionally, and so could our ranch hands. The Tre-maynes would help us out. I know Harden. I'll talk to him. And most of our cowhands go into Shea's on the weekend. I'll talk to our cattle foreman."

  "I know Cy Parks and Eb Scott," Fred told him. "They'd help, too."

  Leo perked up. With so many willing spies, Janie would be looked after constantly, and she'd never know it. He smiled.

  "It's a good idea, isn't it?"

  Leo glared at him. "You just don't want to have to make Janie quit that job. You're scared of her, aren't you? What's the matter, think she'd try to drown you in cheap beer, too?"

  Fred burst out laughing. "You have to admit, it's a shock to think of Janie throwing beer at anybody."

  "I guess it is, at that," Leo seconded, remembering how shy Janie had been. It was only after Marilee had caused so much trouble with her lies that Leo had considered Janie's lack of aggression.

  In the past, that was, he amended, because he'd never seen such aggression as he'd encountered in little Janie Brewster just an hour ago.

  He shook his head. "It was all I could do not to get thrown on the floor. She's a handful when she's mad. I don't think I've ever seen her lose her temper before."

  "There's a lot about her you don't know," Fred said enigmatically.

  "Okay, she can stay," Leo said at once. "But I'll find out what Clark looks like. I'll get a picture if I can manage it. Maybe Grier at the police station would have an idea. He's sweet on Christabel Gaines, and she lost a bull to this dude, so he might be willing to assist."

  "Don't get Judd Dunn mad," Fred warned.

  Leo shrugged. "He's too stuck on his pretty model to care much about Christabel right now, or Grier, either. I don't want any more bulls killed, and I want that man out of the way before he really hurts somebody."

  "Have you talked to his boss?"

  "Duke Wright didn't have a clue that his new truck driver was such an unsavory character," Leo said, "and he was keen to fire him on the spot. I persuaded him not to. He needs to be where we can watch him. If he puts a foot wrong, we can put him away. I love animals," Leo said in an uncharacteristically tender mood. "Especially bulls. The kind we keep are gentle creatures. They follow us around like big dogs and eat out of our hands." His face hardened visibly. "A man who could cold-bloodedly kill an animal like that could kill a man just as easily. I want Clark out of here. Whatever it takes. But Janie's going to be watched, all the time she's working," Leo added firmly. "Nobody's going to hurt her."

  Fred looked at the other man, sensing emotions under the surface that Leo might not even realize were there.

  "Thanks, Leo," he said.

  The younger man squared his shoulders and shrugged "I've got to go home and change my shirt." He looked down at himself and smiled ruefully. "Damn. I may never drink another beer."

  "It tastes better than it wears," Fred said, deadpan.

  Leo gave him a haughty look and went home.

  Chapter Seven

  Leo stopped by Cash Grier's office at the police station in Jacobsville, catching the new assistant chief of police on his lunch hour.

  "Come on in," Grier invited. He indicated his big desk, which contained a scattering of white boxes with metal han­dles. "Like Chinese food? That's moo goo gai pan, that's sweet-and-sour pork, and that's fried rice. Help yourself to a plate."

  "Thanks, but I had barbecue at Barbara's Cafe," Leo replied, sitting down. He noted with little surprise that the man was adept with chopsticks. "I saw Toshiro Mifune catch flies with those things in one of the 'Samurai Trilogy' films," he commented.

  Grier chuckled. "Don't believe everything you see, and only half of what you hear," he replied. He gave Leo a dark-eyed appraisal over his paper plate. "You're here about Clark, I guess."

  Leo's eyebrows jumped.

  "Oh, I'm psychic," Grier told him straight-faced. "I learned that when I was in the CIA knocking off enemy government agents from black helicopters with a sniper kit."

  Leo didn't say a word.

  Grier just shook his head. "You wouldn't believe the stuff I’ve done, to hear people talk."

  "You're mysterious," Leo commented. "You keep to yourself."

  Grier shrugged. "I have to. I don't want people to notice the aliens spying on me." He leaned forward confidentially. "You see them, too, don't you?" he asked in a bushed tone.

  Leo began to get it. He started laughing and was secretly relieved when Grier joined him. The other man leaned back in his chair, with his booted feet propped on his desk. He was as fit as Leo, probably in even better condition, if the muscles outlined under that uniform shirt were any indi­cation. Grier was said to move like lightning, although Leo had never seen him fight The man was an enigma, with his black hair in a rawhide ponytail and his scarred face giving away nothing—unless he wanted it to.

  "That's more like it," Grier said as he finished his lunch. "I thought I'd move to a small town and fit in." He smiled wryly. "But people are all the same. Only the scenery changes."

  "It was the same for Cy Parks when he first moved here," Leo commented.

  Grier gave him a narrow look. "Are you asking a ques­tion?"

  "Making a comment," Leo told him. "One of our local guys was in the military during a conflict a few years back, in a special forces unit," he added deliberately, recounting something Cy Parks had told him about Harley Fowler. "He saw you on a plane, out of uniform and armed to the teeth."

  Grier began to nod. "It's a small world, isn't it?" he asked pleasantly. He put down his plate and the chopsticks with deliberate preciseness. "I did a stint with military in­telligence. And with a few...government agencies." He met Leo's curious eyes. "How far has that gossip trav­eled?"

  "It got to Cy Parks and stopped abruptly," Leo replied, recalling what Cy had said to Harley about loose lips. "Ja-cobsville is a small town. We consider people who live here family, whether or not we're related to them. Gossip isn't encouraged."

  Grier was surprised. He actually smiled. "If you asked Parks, or Steele, or Scott why they moved here," he said after a minute, "I imagine you'd learn that what they wanted most was an end to sitting with their backs to the wall and sleeping armed."

  "Isn't that why you're here?" Leo wanted to know.

 
Grier met his eyes levelly. "I don't really know why I'm here, or if I can stay here," he said honestly. "I think I might eventually fit in. I'm going to give it a good try for six months," he added, "no matter how many rubber­necked yahoos stand outside my office trying to hear every damned word I say!" he raised his voice.

  There were sudden, sharp footfalls and the sound of scur­rying.

  Leo chuckled. Grier hadn't even looked at the door when he raised his voice. He shrugged and smiled sheepishly. "I don't have eyes in the back of my head, but I love to keep people guessing about what I know."

  "I think that may be part of the problem," Leo advised.

  "Well, it doesn't hurt to keep your senses honed. Now. What do you want to know about Clark?"

  "I'd like some way to get a photo of him," Leo con­fessed. "A friend of mine is working at Shea's. I'm going to ask her if she'll keep an eye on who he talks to, what he does, if he comes in there. She'll need to know what he looks like."

  Grier sobered at once. "That's dangerous," he said.

  "Clark's brother almost killed a man he suspected of spy­ing on him, up in Victoria. He made some threats, too."

  Leo frowned. "Why are guys like that on the streets?"

  "You can't shoot people or even lock them up without due process here in die States," Grier said with a wistful smile. "Pity."

  "Listen, do they give you real bullets to go with that gun?" Leo asked, indicating the .45 caliber automatic in a shoulder holster that the man was wearing.

  "I haven't shot anybody in months," Grier assured him. "I was a cyber crime specialist in the D.A.'s office San Antonio. I didn't really beat up that guy I was accused of harassing, I just told him I’d keep flies off him if he didn't level with me about his boss's illegal money laundering. I had access to his computerized financial records," he added with a twinkle in his dark eyes.

  "I heard about that," Leo chuckled. "Apparently you used some access codes that weren't in the book."

  "They let me off with a warning. When they checked my ID, I still had my old 'company' card."

  Leo just shook his head. He couldn't imagine Grier being in trouble for very long. He knew too much. "All that specialized background, and you're handing out speeding tickets in Jacobsville, Texas."