Devil In Cowboy Boots

by Sylvie Kaye

  Suddenly, a man wearing a ski mask dashed out of the murky night, jostled Mercy, and grabbed her handbag, small as it was. The key to her uncle's house and her ID to get on the plane for Pennsylvania were inside. Mercy gripped the leather straps with both hands and held on tight.

  The masked man yanked and ran. With a jolt strong enough to jar her shoulders, he dragged Mercy along with him toward the river but in the opposite direction of Spence, his friend, and Cindy. The muscles in her arms strained and pain shot from her elbows to her wrists. The straps cut into the palms of her hands, and two of her fingers went numb.

  "Help,” she screeched as she tried pulling backward to stagger the purse snatcher's momentum.

  He slowed, momentarily, but picked up speed again. A lamppost glowed up ahead of them, and she whipped her body to the opposite side of the pole than the thief took. The straps tangled and halted them. In the gleam of the lamplight, a knife glinted.

  Mercy tasted fear in her mouth, and it tasted rusty like blood. When she felt warm liquid on her lip, she realized she'd bitten her tongue in the struggle.

  "Help,” she managed to shout, while squirming around the post, ducking and weaving until her feet tripped beneath her and one knee grazed the stony walkway. Dirt and stones scraped her skin, and she grappled back up onto her feet.

  The man began sawing at the strip of leather with the knife, too close to Mercy's hand. He grunted with each hack, and his labored breath smelled sour. Panicked, she glanced behind her. Wasn't anyone coming to her rescue?

  Cindy trotted up the pathway on her tottering platforms, giving new meaning to the old adage ‘to hit bottom’ when she crumpled and bounced onto her rear end.

  Mercy grimaced and felt the leather strap loosen. She wrapped her end around her wrist as she looked back again.

  Spence was sprinting up the path, attempting to pass Cindy, who had gotten to her feet and had a tight grip on his shirttail. Twisting his body a few times, he shook her loose, and gestured to his friend to help her as he yelled, “Mercy, let go of the damn purse."

  The mugger sawed faster, the knife blade coming nearer with each slash. Mercy rotated her wrist to shield her radial artery. Her skin burned. Beads of perspiration broke out across her forehead.

  Another glance back. Spence's powerful legs seemed to be eating up the ground fast, so she concentrated on holding onto her handbag. The brute must've suspected his time was running out fast. He tossed the knife and wrestled her for the purse. With all the strength she could muster, she clung on, bracing her legs against the lamppost.

  Spence caught up to them and dove into the man with such force that he knocked him to the ground. By some kind of balancing act, Mercy was able to hang on and stay upright.

  Until the purse strap slipped through the fingers of her attacker, and with a whomp, Mercy landed flat on her back.

  The fall knocked the breath out of her. For a moment, she lay dazed, trying to kick-start her lungs by gulping in air.

  She heard a fist sink into muscle and the scuffle of feet. Her eyelids fluttered open, briefly. Spence held the man by the collar of his shirt with his knuckles aimed at his chin. He stopped mid-punch and looked down at her. Still gasping, she was too exhausted to keep her eyes open.

  "Get the hell out of here before I call the cops,” Spence threatened.

  She flickered her eyes open and began inhaling a shallow breath in an unsteady rhythm just as Spence bent over her. She coughed.

  "I was getting ready to give you mouth-to-mouth and work on your chest,” he said, cocking his dark, handsome eyebrow.

  "Can I have an IOU?"

  He chuckled. She coughed again and struggled to sit up. He supported her spine with his broad hand until she was steady enough to stand. In that moment, she felt safe and secure, and lonely, knowing he'd be gone soon.

  "Are you all right?” He checked her limbs for broken bones. She stood still and let his capable fingers examine her. As he gently prodded up and down her arms, her skin tingled beneath his expert touch. When he knelt down in front of her, testing her ankles, shins, and working his way upward, her wanton thighs opened with anticipation. But his fingers stopped short at a tender spot above her knee.

  "No bruising or swelling. Only a road rash.” He got to his feet.

  She bit back her disappointment and regrouped her defenses. He was the enemy until her uncle turned up and could fend for himself.

  Cindy arrived, limping and leaning heavily on the arm of Spence's friend. “I think I sprained my ankle.” She pouted her bottom lip.

  Mercy put a pitying arm around Cindy's shoulder. “Are you in a lot of pain?"

  "It hurt at first,” Cindy said, “but now it seems to have stopped."

  Bending on her uninjured knee, she unbuckled Cindy's red platform shoes. “Your ankle's sure to feel better once these are off."

  Cindy propped her elbow on the man's shoulder, lifting one foot and then the other while Mercy rid her of her shoes. “Oh,” Cindy called down to Mercy, “I forgot to introduce you. This is Google."

  Mercy nodded up at him. “Hi.” Her fingers twitched with the impulse to toss the heavy-soled shoes into the river, so she quickly handed them off to Cindy.

  "If everyone's all right, Google has some inside information on who hacked into the computer network at your office,” Spence said. “He'll explain in detail, but I have to shove off."

  "How do we know what he says is true,” Cindy protested.

  "Why do I bother?” Spence shook his head. “Just hear him out. I've got to go. What time is it?"

  Mercy strained to read her watch, holding her wrist under the lamplight. Google flipped his cell open. “We've got a half hour until my friend, the network administrator, does the scheduled inspection on the office system.” Google shook his head and looked at Spence. “It's eleven-thirty."

  "Damn,” Spence groaned, briefly closing his eyes and his fist. “Mercy, why didn't you let go of the purse?"

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  "I'll never make it now,” Spence muttered, the realization striking him like a fist.

  His hopes of reaching Corpus Christi and getting his hands on Parker before his boat sailed from the marina ended when he'd stuck around to help Mercy.

  Nice guys did finish last. He shook his head at the idea of the proverb applying to him. He'd come out of jail dead set against doing things the nice or right way again. He'd sworn to do whatever it took to reach his goal, avenge Mark's death, clear his own name. He'd let it slip through his fingers because of Mercy.

  Why didn't she just let go of the damn purse?

  What took so long for them to leave the club in the first place?

  His eyes burned with a grittiness. The smell along the river, stale from unsold flower and food from the stands closed for the night, choked at his throat.

  "Sorry,” Google said, the first one to speak. “I know how important getting to Corpus Christi on time was to you."

  Spence stared at Mercy, haloed beneath the lamplight. Was her assault orchestrated to delay him? There had been women involved the night of his and Mark's attack, too. Were they also so-called relatives of Parker?

  "I—I need my drivers license for an ID to board the plane for home,” she said weakly. “The key to my uncle's house is in my bag, too. I'd feel responsible if his house was broken into."

  Fact or excuse? He wasn't sure which, but he wanted to believe she was telling the truth.

  "What took so long for you two to meet us?” he barked, flexing his shoulders to toss off his anger and disappointment. He needed to keep a cool head.

  "I had to pee,” Cindy said, her voice small and meek for the first time since he'd met her.

  Spence didn't say anything. He'd analyze their reasons later, when he'd slept and his mind was sharper.

  "We've got to hurry. My friend in administration starts the inspection at midnight.” Google pulled his cell phone from his roomy pocket, punching
in numbers while he informed the women, “My car died recently. I'll get us a cab."

  Spence saw no sense in pissing away the rest of the damned night. “I'll drive you,” he said.

  In no time, Google was hunched into the tight back seat of the extended cab while Mercy and Cindy huddled up front with Spence.

  In spite of everything, Spence liked the feel of Mercy's lithe body next to his again.

  Her sweet scent and silky shoulder had him shifting on his seat, wishing she'd slip her hand between his legs, like after the movie, and arouse his cock to within an inch of its life.

  Her closeness played with his mind and heart. But she'd probably leave him for dead for her sleazy relative, who didn't deserve caring about, just like the other women had that fatal night.

  Once at the condo, Cindy and Google went straight to her computer to contact Google's computer-geek friend in administration. Spence sat on the edge of the sofa, waiting for him. Seemed all he ever did was wait.

  When Mercy sat down on the sofa cushion next to him, he had to fight off an instant boner to boot.

  "You can relax.” Mercy propped her long, silky leg up on the glass coffee table to elevate her injured knee. “You don't have to look like you're going to bolt for the door. I won't jump your bones, unless you ask me to."

  "I won't be asking.” The words squeezed at his throat.

  He sat back against the leather cushion and crossed his foot over his knee, trying to show his disinterest in her enticing offer, when in reality it enveloped him, searing his mind and balls.

  She smiled, smug with herself. “Want coffee?” She swung her leg down from the table, brushing his knee as she did and arousing him further. He was hopeless to the mere touch of her body. “Coffee?” she called into the computer office.

  "Yes,” a chorus of two answered.

  She stood in front of Spence, hands on her seductive hips, tilting her pretty face toward him for a reply. Her blouse with its fuck-me neckline flaunted her creamy breasts, which begged to be manhandled. Desire blazed through his body like lightning.

  "Yes.” He nodded when coffee was the last thing he wanted. After his sleepless night, he didn't need caffeine keeping him up again. What he needed was Mercy's soft, warm body grinding beneath his—with no deception between them.

  Mercy left to clatter around the kitchen and return with a tray of steaming mugs. He took one and watched her remarkable ass swivel as she walked away toward the office. The woman made walking a primetime event.

  He plopped the untouched cup on the table in front of him and leaned back. Propping his elbow on the leathery arm of the sofa and his head on his hand, he closed his eyes.

  Next thing he knew, he heard her wispy voice tickle his ear and penetrate his dreams. “Wake up, Spence.” His first reaction was contentment. How much he'd like to hear her each morning of his life. But he gave up the dream, opened his eyes, and closed off his heart.

  Google and Cindy were standing in front of him, grinning. “I guess you were successful,” he said.

  "Yes.” Google puffed out his grunge T-shirted chest.

  Cindy's grin widened. “It was a toss up whether to leave a computer trail to both Jay and Rita's passwords or just his. But as Google pointed out, Jay was the one who profited."

  Spence nodded. “He mentioned to me how she wanted a piece of his action. He wouldn't cut her in though.” Spence didn't say he'd thought Jay was referring to Cindy at the time, or how he believed they were all in on the shady deal. Parker and Mercy included.

  "Ha,” Cindy said. “Not only was he using me, but Rita knew it and didn't warn me."

  "So much for sisterhood,” Mercy said, always loyal to family and friends.

  Spence envied them.

  With a yawn, he hiked himself up from the sofa. “Ready?"

  Google nodded.

  Spence clapped him on the back. “I know how much revenue this cost you with the loss of a paying customer."

  "I've been thinking about going legit anyway. I like helping people. Maybe lost and found, missing persons. Like that.” Google grinned. “I'll make the cash back when Jay has to sell his sports car at a loss to pay his legal fees. I've been dying to own a Jag."

  * * * *

  "What a night.” Cindy sighed, her foot propped up on the coffee table next to Mercy's.

  Her ice bag dribbled water onto the glass top, puddling and chilling Mercy's heel. But Mercy was too exhausted from her struggle with the assailant to lift her foot. “Yeah, Jay turned out to be quite a parasite,” she said.

  "He wasn't the safe ticket I thought. Even Rita knew better.” Cindy slumped onto her cushion and scowled. “Can you believe he was only dating me to get to my password?"

  "No, I can't,” Mercy said to soften the blow to her friend's ego. “Can you believe Spence thought I only dated him for information to pass along to my uncle?"

  "Aw,” Cindy purred. “Don't let what he thinks get to you. We know different."

  "I wish he knew better.” With the edge of her foot, Mercy nudged the sliding ice bag back onto Cindy's ankle. “I miss his dry sense of humor and his close-mouthed comments. Even his silences.” She looked to Cindy for understanding. “I sense his loneliness and his despair, and he touches those hidden parts in me."

  Cindy sniffed. “Mercy, you're going to make me cry. I don't like thinking of you as lonely or abandoned. I'm the orphan.” She grabbed a tissue from the box on the end table and blew her nose.

  "A person can be alone in a crowd, Cin. Being an orphan doesn't corner the market on loneliness. Aside from my family, people—men—aren't exactly clamoring to spend time with me."

  "Don't say that,” Cindy clucked.

  "Don't go pitying me. My life's about to change soon, if I secure a loan from my uncle. Or later if I'm forced to save up on my own.” Mercy reached down and removed the ice bag from Cindy's frozen ankle and away from her own cold heel. “I never told you,” she said, smiling at her friend, “but I'm very proud of you, living on your own. Independent. No mother to rely on, like me."

  "Independence isn't all that,” Cindy quipped. “I wouldn't mind finding a man to lean on.” She wriggled her brows. “And make love with, and exchange vows with."

  "Wouldn't we both.” Except Mercy wanted only one man. The one she couldn't have.

  * * * *

  Spence had fucked it all up. Parker, the woman, the rest of his life. He'd taken his eye off the prize and lost. Now he had to start all over, waiting for Parker and more leads.

  He couldn't even look at Mark's picture the next morning when he strode down the hallway, grabbing his Stetson from a peg near the door.

  With a squeak, squeak, the screen door snapped open and shut. He needed some physical exhaustion so he could sleep. The past two nights of tossing were hell. Laboring in the hot sun would take his mind off the infernal waiting.

  Taking the three porch steps in one leap, he landed with a crunch on the gravel. As he was about to step up into his truck to drive out to the far pasture and dig postholes, he caught sight of a vehicle coming up the dusty lane.

  As the car came closer, he saw the bar atop with the red and blue lights. The police. This ought to be good. He thumbed his hat back and shoved his hands into his pockets.

  When the squad car pulled up next to him, the driver rolled his window down and shut off the engine.

  "Morning, officer,” Spence drawled. Whatever the cop was here to defend or protect, from his past experience with the law, Spence knew it wasn't him.

  Spence ducked his head toward the open window. He peered down at the short, thin man with a bad haircut. The cop hadn't bothered to put his hat on so Spence figured this wasn't an official visit.

  "Howdy,” the policeman said, sounding polite and friendly. Spence wasn't falling for his phony good-humor. “Name's Officer Harmon.” The man rested his blue-sleeved arm on the car door.

  "Nice day for a ride, Officer Harmon,” Spence said, equally polite.

  "Yep, but
I'm here for more than a social call."

  As the sun beat down on the windshield, heat built inside the car and beads of sweat popped up on Officer Harmon's forehead, rolling down the side of his face. He cranked up the engine again and the air conditioner started up with a whoosh.

  "What can I do for you?” Spence asked, eager to end the suspense.

  "Unofficially, I'm here to ask you to stay away from the Starry Night Club.” The officer looked up at him, met his eyes to show the seriousness of his intent.

  Spence broke eye contact and backed up a step. Fuck this shit. “Isn't the club a public place?"

  "Do yourself a favor before harassment or stalking charges are filed against you. I'm asking nice.” But he wasn't asking, he was warning Spence. There was an unspoken ‘or else’ in his authoritative tone.

  Damn that weasel, Parker. Why didn't he climb out of his hole and do his own dirty work?

  "Who complained?” Spence asked.

  "The employees of the establishment."

  Employer was more likely. Parker had used the legal system before.

  Or had Mercy complained to protect Parker, using the strong-arm of the law against Spence?

  Spence pulled his Stetson low on his brow so the cop couldn't see the fire in his eyes. He nodded from beneath the shadow of the brim. “Consider me duly advised."

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Thirty

  "Looks like the early bird catches the worm,” Cindy said the next morning, eyes shining, wearing a gray, pinstriped business suit.

  The office had phoned earlier with an offer of a promotion. With the unexpected arrest of Jay, and Rita's demotion for not reporting her suspicions, a couple of higher-paying, junior-executive positions had opened in the department.

  "Good luck,” Mercy said.

  "Thanks,” Cindy said, rushing by. “Where are you off to today?"

  "I'm going out to Spence's ranch."