“That’s for us to decide.” The shorter cop took a step closer, angling for a better look at Hank. “Is he seriously injured?”
Analise waved off the question with a sneer. “Nah. He’s a bullfighter. He gets smacked harder than that every day.”
The cop transferred his gaze to Mariah, obviously summing up the situation just as Cole had, and getting the same answer. “What about you, ma’am?”
“I…I’m fine,” she stuttered. “We were…I mean, I was…”
“She was sneakin’ around with that blockhead.” Shawnee jabbed a finger at Hank. “Even though she knew full well her daddy would not approve…and with good reason. Can’t blame a father for lookin’ out for his own.”
The cops relaxed slightly, and the pent-up air whooshed out of Cole’s chest when the tall one put his gun away, pulling a face that suggested he knew all about trying to keep a daughter in line.
The short cop fished out a small notebook. “We’re gonna have to write this up. I need names.”
Tyrell swore softly. Shawnee shot Cole a look even he could decipher. Fix this!
“No problem.” Cole edged closer to the cop and tried a reassuring smile that felt stiff and cracked as an old tire. “Like I said, I’m Cole Jacobs, the stock contractor for the rodeo. This is Shawnee Pickett…”
Cole went on around the circle. Hank was sitting up now, head hanging, but he lifted a hand when he heard his name. Cole deliberately left Tyrell for last. When he finally turned aside and gestured toward the other man, Tyrell had regained his dignity. He managed a shadow of his usual smile. The cops relaxed another few degrees, but their eyes were still suspicious.
Come on, come on. If Cole didn’t talk them out of an official report, this was going to turn into a nightmare in about three seconds flat.
“Look, we’ve been on the road all summer,” he said. “People rub each other wrong, things get tense, and sometimes we have a squabble. But if this shows up in the police report, it’s gonna give us a real black eye with the committee.”
The cops exchanged a dubious look. “We have to at least see some ID. We can’t just take your word…”
“Here.” Cole yanked out his wallet, fumbled for his driver’s license, and shoved it at them. If they would just be satisfied with his—
“I’ll need the others,” the tall cop insisted.
Cole made an exaggerated, pained face. “Like I said, we’d really like to keep this out of the sheriff’s report. Especially names—”
“What if we gave you a reference, instead?” Shawnee cut in. “Someone who will vouch for Cole?”
The cop shined his flashlight on Cole’s license and shook his head. “We can’t rely on the word of anyone clear up in the Panhandle. We wouldn’t know them from Adam.”
“Give me two minutes.” Shawnee released Mariah to jog to her trailer.
The shorter cop maneuvered around Cole and crouched beside Hank. “Do you need medical attention?”
“No.” The reply was grunted between clenched teeth. “Jus’ a bruise.”
“Can you stand up?”
Hank nodded, but before the cop could attempt to assist him, Cruz materialized beside them in that uncanny way of his. He grabbed one side and Analise the other and they hoisted Hank to his feet, subtly bracing him so he couldn’t sway.
“Let me see your eyes,” the cop said.
Hank lifted his chin and stared straight ahead, wincing when the cop flashed a light in his eyes. “Don’t need no doc,” he muttered.
“Macho idiot,” Analise said, with just the right amount of disgust. “You wouldn’t get him to admit he’s hurt if he was missing an arm.”
The cop shook his head and smiled slightly—those crazy cowboys—as Shawnee hustled back and shoved her phone into the shorter cop’s hand. “Senator Patterson would like to speak to you.”
Every head jerked around as the goggle-eyed cop held up the phone to stare at the face on the screen, immediately recognizable to anyone who’d lived in Texas in the last thirty years. “Uh…yes sir. Deputy Herndon here, sir.”
“Good evening.” Even over the phone’s tinny speaker, Richard Patterson’s voice resonated with power. “I understand we’ve had a little scuffle down there. Cole Jacobs is a close friend of mine. You can trust him to be sure the matter is handled properly, but I’m happy to assist in any way, including speaking to your superiors…if necessary.”
There was the slightest emphasis on the necessary that made it sound less helpful than cautionary. You really don’t want that, do you?
“Um…yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
“I will personally review this matter with Cole, and if I feel it is appropriate for charges of any kind to be filed, we will do so immediately. But we don’t want to waste your time or the court’s. Is that acceptable?”
The short cop looked to the other. He shrugged, loath to disagree with one of the most respected men in the state. “Of course. Thank you, sir.”
“No, thank you.” The retired senator flashed a broad smile. “I appreciate your service, deputies. Men like you are the backbone of our state. Best of luck.”
The screen went blank and Shawnee tugged the phone out of the flummoxed cop’s hand. “Satisfied?”
“Um…yeah.” He shook off the cloud of awe and snapped to attention, sending a warning glare around the group. “But if we have to come back here…”
Cole’s whole body went rubbery with relief, but he put iron in his voice. “You won’t.”
The cops looked him up and down, then nodded. Everyone stood silent while the deputies walked away. Mariah was the first to move, whirling to face Shawnee. “I didn’t know. I swear to God—”
“Obviously.” Shawnee gave Hank a deadly glare. “But he did.”
Tyrell looked from one to the other, confused. “I don’t understand.”
“The age of consent in Texas is seventeen,” Analise said. “Mariah is still jailbait here.”
“That is so stupid!” Mariah exploded. “He didn’t force me to do anything. And we didn’t even…”
Cole glared at Hank, who hung his head and refused to make eye contact. “Doesn’t matter. If he’s more than three years older and touched you in a sexual way, even over your clothes, it’s considered indecency with a child. Mandatory minimum two-year sentence. No exceptions.”
And Hank should know, dammit. Just last winter a star basketball player from Amarillo had lost everything in a similar case—including a scholarship to A&M and a shot at the pros.
“Are you talking about statutory rape?” Tyrell asked, stunned.
“Basically, yeah.” Cole transferred his gaze to the other man. “You have the right to press charges, if you choose.”
“You wouldn’t!” Mariah grabbed his arm, pleading. “Daddy, you can’t.”
Tyrell shook his head again, flexing his hand, which was swelling as fast as Hank’s jaw. “This is too…I need to think.”
“We all do,” Shawnee said.
And they had to get Hank checked out. He had a concussion, minimum, and the way his jaw was swelling, that was more than a bruise. Tyrell’s hand might be broken, too, but that would keep until morning. Hank, though…if they took him to the local ER the cops might find out, and they’d be screwed. Or at least Hank would be. Cole turned to Cruz. “It’s an hour into El Paso and you know the city. Can you take him there for x-rays?”
Cruz nodded. “We can take my car.”
“I’ll go with them,” Analise said.
Everyone burst into motion. The instant Cole opened his trailer door, Katie bailed out, running frantic circles, yipping and whining and generally adding to the chaos. Analise and Cruz started to drag Hank toward the car but he jerked free, staggering toward Mariah.
“Don’ go,” he slurred, reaching for her. “I didn’t mean for this—”
“Oh, Hank.” Mariah took a step toward him. Shawnee jerked her back as Cole grabbed Tyrell’s arm.
Shawnee pushed Mariah behind her and slapped a palm on Hank’s chest. “I realize your brain is more scrambled than usual, but we’re not screwing around here, Hank. You can’t touch her—unless you want to be labeled a child molester for the rest of your life?”
He shook his head, swaying. “It’s not like that. I wouldn’t hurt her!”
“Then leave her be.”
“But we need to—”
“You need to back off, Hank, before this turns into something that wrecks your entire life. And hers.”
Shawnee gave him another shove, then dragged Mariah off toward her trailer.
“Mariah!” he begged. “Please…”
The girl paused, glanced over her shoulder, then gave a helpless shrug and let herself be pulled away.
Hank stared after her for a long moment, then his chin dropped and his whole body sagged. “I would never hurt her,” he insisted, his voice cracking.
“Not on purpose. But Hank…you just can’t. No matter how you feel about her.” Analise wrapped an arm around him and squeezed as they steered him toward Cruz’s car. “We have to take care of you right now.”
Shawnee slammed her trailer door behind Mariah and slumped back against it.
“Okay.” She drew in a huge breath, then huffed it out. “I’ve got this one for the night. Tyrell, take my pickup to the motel and get some ice on that hand. Give everybody ’til morning to simmer down.”
“If Hank comes back…”
“He’ll have to get through me,” Shawnee promised.
Tyrell held for a beat, then nodded. “Yeah. That’s probably best. Anything I say tonight…” He shook his head. “I’d better call her mother first.”
Cole didn’t envy him that conversation. Tyrell’s footsteps dragged, his shoulders slumped as he crossed the road, accepted Shawnee’s keys, and drove away. Suddenly, fatherhood wasn’t looking quite as appealing as it had half an hour earlier. Cole closed his eyes. Jesus Christ. What a mess. Katie pressed against his leg and whined, as if in agreement.
“You okay?” Shawnee asked.
His eyes popped open. She was still leaning on her door, watching him. Was he okay? Other than the tremors every time he pictured that gun aimed at him, and the knowledge that he, who had never so much as swiped a candy bar, had just covered up a felony?
“I will be. Eventually.” Although he was no doubt gonna have some dandy dreams for who knew how long. “Thank you for calling the senator. I don’t know why he would put his reputation on the line for Hank—”
“He did it for you. For Jacobs Livestock.” She pushed away from the trailer and strode up to him, hands balled into fists. “You dumb-ass.”
“I know. I should have kept a better eye on Hank—”
She lunged, and for an instant he thought she was going for his throat. Instead, her hand latched onto either side of his neck, fingers digging in like claws, and tried to shake him. “You could have been shot! What the hell were you thinking?”
He tried to shrug, but her grip had him paralyzed. “I wasn’t. I just…well, I’m white. And Tyrell’s black. My odds were better.”
“Your odds.” She stared up at him in disbelief. “Like that was gonna stop a bullet.”
Truthfully, he hadn’t had time to think about it. But he was now. Another tremor ran through his blessedly intact innards. “I had to do something.”
“God! You are so—”
She yanked his head down and kissed him, her mouth taking his as if she was trying to dive straight to the center of him. There was nothing sexual about this kiss. It was a punishment. And somehow, a prayer of thanksgiving.
She broke it off and hugged his neck so hard his vertebrae creaked. Her words were low, unsteady. “For the record, they shoot white men too. Especially large, potentially threatening white men.” She loosened her death grip, leaned back to gaze up at him, and huffed out a sigh. “We might as well give you a cape, you’re so damn determined to be a hero.”
Cole couldn’t find a trace of sarcasm in her voice. Or the soft press of her lips on his cheek.
Then she turned him loose, scowling. “But I get to spend the night with Miss Washington instead. See you tomorrow, Captain America.”
Cole was tempted to point out that Captain America had a shield, not a cape, but this probably wasn’t the time to nitpick. He watched her disappear into her trailer, then looked down to find Katie staring up at him, head cocked.
What now, Einstein?
Damned if he knew. He had a disaster of potentially epic proportions on his hands, and all he could do was stand there and stare at the light in Shawnee’s window and curse the fact that he was on the wrong side of the door.
Chapter 31
When Shawnee stepped into the trailer, she found Mariah slumped on the couch, staring at her knees. From the dazed look on her face, the full implications of what could have happened had finally smacked her upside the head.
“Is my dad okay?” she asked in a small voice, sounding younger than her years for the first time.
“His hand is probably broken,” Shawnee said bluntly. “Along with Hank’s jaw. Was it worth it?”
“I didn’t know!” Mariah burst out.
“That your dad would go ballistic? Bullshit.”
The momentary flash of fire died and Mariah ducked her head. “He’s so overprotective,” she muttered.
“For good reason, obviously.” Shawnee plopped down on one of the banquette seats, her legs folding up camp for the night. “Seriously, Mariah? Hank?”
“He’s sweet,” she said defensively. “Sort of goofy, but…he listened to me and my crazy dreams. And he’s been places—really big rodeos, and hanging out with Joe at the National Finals. He made me feel like I could be there, too. At first, we just hung out. Friends, you know? I don’t really know anyone else down here except you and Analise, and you’re both—”
Boring? Weird? Grown-ups?
“He never told me…” The beginnings of anger were sketched in the pleat between Mariah’s eyebrows. “Why didn’t he tell me it was illegal?”
“Because he’s Hank, and using his brain has never been one of his talents.”
“But he could have gone to jail!”
Shawnee didn’t bother to point out that it wasn’t necessarily past tense. If the cops decided to take a closer look, or if Tyrell or his wife insisted on pressing charges…
But the odds were low, in Shawnee’s estimation. The sad fact was, the Swifts couldn’t afford to raise a fuss. In a situation like this, the victim stood to suffer as much or more as the accused. Especially a girl who looked like Mariah. The world would be quick to blame her—attack her—regardless of the circumstances.
Hank had a lot of friends who were as bone-headed as he was, and enough of a name in rodeo for his arrest to reverberate across the country, laying waste to the career Mariah hadn’t even started. Not to mention Tyrell. Breaking into the upper ranks as a rodeo announcer was a bitch for anyone. There wasn’t much room at the top—and all of those golden microphones were held by white men. Tyrell had the voice, the talent, the brains, but he had no room for error. Something like this could bury him.
It wasn’t just unfair—it sucked balls. Goddamn Hank. That bastard had a lot to answer for.
Mariah took a deep, shuddering breath. “I can’t believe they would send him to prison. If I told them—”
“It wouldn’t matter. Until you turn seventeen, your opinion is irrelevant.”
Mariah’s face twisted with disgust. “Like I’m going to be so much smarter in six weeks.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Look how much you’ve learned in just one night.”
Mariah dropped her face into her hands. “If he gets in trouble,
everyone will hate me.”
Yep. And Hank’s life as he knew it would be finished. He was immature, thoughtless, and occasionally downright obnoxious, but the thought of him in prison for two years, branded as a pervert for life, made Shawnee ill. The mandatory sentence made no distinction between him and creepy uncles who liked to slip their hands up little girls’ dresses.
But if he’d truly taken advantage of Mariah…
“Have you been drinking?” Shawnee asked abruptly.
Mariah’s head snapped up. “What?”
“Did Hank give you a beer, a shot, anything?”
“No! He didn’t even come to the concert. I met him outside and we snuck back here. We didn’t even grab a Coke.”
Shawnee breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t really think Hank would slip anything into a girl’s drink and Mariah didn’t smell like alcohol or act drugged, but it was good to have the possibility off the table. “Whose bright idea was the truck?”
“Mine.” Mariah made a face. “Cole was over here with you, and everybody else was gone. We planned to slip out before Daddy came back from dinner, but he was early.”
“How did he catch you?”
Mariah’s pout deepened. “The window was open a crack. On the side toward Cole’s rig, where everybody hangs out under the awning.”
Oh dear Lord. Shawnee cringed, imagining what Tyrell might have overheard.
Mariah rolled her eyes and huffed. “It wasn’t like that. Hank said we couldn’t have sex because I’m too young. I told him I’m not a virgin. I had a boyfriend for, like, three years. But he still said no. We were just fooling around.”
Shawnee heaved a sigh that drained the last of her energy. “Look, you want to show everyone how grown up you are? Tell your dad what you just told me—maybe minus the part about not being a virgin—and beg his forgiveness. Then buck up and take whatever punishment he dishes out.”
Mariah’s face went mulish. She pushed out her bottom lip—then sucked it back in and squared her shoulders. “Okay.”
Tougher in Texas Page 22