by Sable Hunter
Snatches of Luke Bryan’s My Kind of Night came floating out of the door every time it opened and closed. Laughter and the sound of pool balls striking together made him smile. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. Walking in, he scanned the crowd for Tanner. He was early, so he would just get a drink and wait. Stepping up the bar, he asked Red for a Shiner beer. The old bartender had been passing out drinks at Arkey Blues for well over a decade. “Where you been, Malone?”
Accepting the longneck after Red had popped the top, he smiled sadly. “I spent the last ten days hunting an inmate who escaped from High Desert Prison and fled into the Mojave Desert.”
“Find him?”
“Yea, he had sought shelter in a cave where a den of green rattlesnakes were holed up. When we found him, he’d been bitten a hundred and forty-five times.”
“Yuck.”
Taking his mind off the unfortunate outcome, Bowie turned to watch a lucky cowboy on the dance floor with a redhead whose bottom end seemed to be attached by a swivel screw. Lord, the girl could shimmy. She could move her hips up to her fingertips as the old Elvis song went, she had all the hula dancer’s moves with no grass skirt or lei in sight.
Two college age girls who were holding court with about a dozen cowpokes surrounding them, left their charmed circle to come ask him to dance, but Bowie was content to sit and watch. But as he did, he let his eyes wander around the room and that was when he saw her.
She sat at the back, at one of those extra-long tables, all alone. There were empty glasses around her, so it was obvious she’d had company, but they had abandoned her. He took a couple of swigs and watched. After a bit, a girl joined her, drained her glass, laughed and said a word or two, then let herself be pulled back onto the dance floor by an overzealous cowboy.
The doll who’d caught his eye just smiled serenely and continued to watch everyone else.
Bowie hadn’t meant to stare, but he couldn’t help it. She was beautiful. Strawberry blonde hair, a light tan, freckles if he wasn’t badly mistaken, and the biggest pair of green eyes he’d ever seen. He couldn’t see much of her body beyond a graceful neck, smooth shoulders and full breasts which looked to just fit his big, hungry hands. But that was enough. A groan of need escaped his lips as he watched and waited. She didn’t look unhappy, singing along with the music, even moving her shoulders and wiggling a little in her seat. He never saw anyone who wanted to dance more than she did. Yet, she sat all alone.
Why wasn’t anyone asking her to dance?
Well, he was damn sure the man for the job. Bowie only hesitated a minute or two, making sure she wasn’t waiting on a boyfriend who’d stepped out for some reason. And if he had, the man ought to be hog-tied and whipped for leaving her alone for so long. As the last song ended, people made their way from the dance floor. Several girls joined her, leading men by the hand. They took sips of drinks, regrouped, spoke to Angel Face, and then all went back out as soon as the band began the next number.
Except her.
He watched her look at them longingly, sigh and smile as if she’d decided to be happy anyway. Bowie stood, adjusted his slightly swollen package and decided to make his move. When he walked into her line of vision, he caught her eye. She gave him a sweet smile, but didn’t try to hold his gaze, looking away almost immediately. Her shyness didn’t deter him; he was a man on a mission.
Cassie patted her knee in time to the music, all the while wishing she’d stayed home and finished that second batch of candles. Nothing would do Felicity but she join them in celebrating Cordelia’s birthday, but the truth was they didn’t even realize she was here, and just sitting and watching everyone else dance made Cassie uncomfortable. The place had been jam packed when they’d entered, so most everyone had seen her arrive. Their taking note of her entrance assured her she wouldn’t be inundated with male admirers. It was okay, she was used to it.
Setting her drink aside, she decided to slow down her consumption of liquid. Already she needed to go to the restroom and making that journey was about as pleasant as walking over a bed of hot coals. When she looked up, she saw him. Gracious, all he needed was a horse and a bow and arrow. She had seen men who looked like him on the fronts of those romance novels written about old west maidens who fall for the sons of chiefs. For about five seconds, she drank him in, then forced herself to look away. No use trying to lure him over, she had no bait to fish with.
But oh, how her eyes wanted to stray back and stare. His image was indelibly branded on her mind—long black hair, wide shoulders and eyes which were warm, dark and seemed to see right through her.
Was he walking toward her? Why? A shiver of awareness and nerves made her quiver; she wrapped her arms around herself, wishing she could throw an afghan over her head and hide.
Bowie had to sidestep several dancing couples who were moving to Eric Paslay’s Friday Night. Once more, she locked eyes with him, a hopeful, inquisitive expression on her face. God, she was adorable. “Could I join you?”
Her eyes widened in surprise, her gaze moving past him, then to the right, as if she expected someone else to join him. “Uh, yes, of course.” She motioned to a chair. “Please.”
Motioning for a waitress, he held her eye. “What are you drinking?”
With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she answered, “Just lemonade.”
Bowie chuckled. “Lemonade it is.” He gave a gum-chewing pixie their order and she scampered off. Leaning over toward her, he held out his hand. “Bowie Travis Malone.”
“Cassandra Cartwright, Cassie for short.” Her voice was soft, but not high-pitched. She had a smooth Southern accent, like a warm breeze blowing through the delta.
“Hello, Cassie for short.” The waitress showed back up about that time and as he paid their tab, he stole glances at her, wanting to say just the right thing. Pushing her drink near her hand, he made his move. “I’ve never seen you here before.” Dang, that sounded like he lived in the bar. “My job keeps me on the road, I’m a tracker. But when I’m home, I sometimes come here to unwind.”
She pushed aside her watered down drink and replaced it with the fresh one. “No, this is my first time. I don’t go out much.” Please, she prayed, don’t ask me to dance. Don’t ask me to dance.
“I don’t believe that. A girl like you should be treated to nights out on the town all the time.” A warm blush crept up her cheeks; he was so tempted to see how soft her skin was to the touch.
“I keep pretty busy,” she offered. “Three afternoons a week, I volunteer at the animal shelter.” After she’d said it, she realized how stupid that sounded. People didn’t avoid social situations just because they changed cat litter boxes and walked dogs. Led dogs, she corrected herself. And she did pretty well. When she and about six canines, of varying sizes, took off down the street, they looked just like a parade.
“I have a menagerie at my house,” he stated as he studied her face. She was nervous of him. He didn’t like that. “People who love animals can be trusted, you know.”
Cassie nodded her head. “I agree. What do you have?”
Bowie chuckled. “I live out near Camp Verde, which used to house the camels ole’ Jefferson Davis commissioned to serve in the U. S. Military. So to preserve the tradition, I built a big log cabin and some outbuildings and filled them with three dogs, five cats, a rabbit, a pot-bellied pig, a horse, a donkey and two camels.”
By the time he finished, she was laughing and the sound warmed his heart. “I love it.” She clapped her hands. “All I have is a cat and a dachshund at home, but I’d love to have more if I ever get a bigger place.”
Something to the right of her kept drawing her attention, but he didn’t see anything in particular to look at besides a chair or two. “Where do you live?”
“Not too far from you, actually.” She pushed her hair behind one ear. “I know where the Camp Verde site is. I live in the old Sever’s place.”
Bowie searched his memory. “Oh, yea. I know where you are.�
� And he did. She lived in a small farm house set off by itself on a dirt road. “You’re pretty isolated out there. Do you have a far commute to your job?”
“Luckily, I work from home. I make candles to sell.” Why was she telling him more than he was asking? She knew why. Cassie was prolonging the conversation and trying to steer it away from him asking her to dance.
“Do they smell as sweet as you?” He was serious, but when she blushed furiously, he wondered if she was unused to being teased.
“Oh, I think they smell much better,” she confided. “My favorites smell like the outdoors, especially the ocean one.” With a serious nod, she added, “I’m going to see the ocean one day, I’ve promised myself.”
This confused him. They weren’t that far from the Gulf. “You’ve never been to Galveston?” Her small, delicate hands were on the table, cupping her drink. Bowie wanted to reach out and touch her, but it was too soon.
“No.” She shook her head. “I stay pretty close. My grandmother lived with me up until a month ago, when she passed. I took care of her, she was bedridden.” Chewing on her bottom lip, as if gathering courage, she raised her eyes to his. “Tell me about tracking? That sounds fascinating.”
Another song was ending, now was his chance. “Okay, I’ll do that, if you’ll dance with me.” Bowie was happy to ask her, and he expected her to respond with a smile. Instead, he saw her face drop. He’d never seen anyone’s demeanor change faster.
Again, she focused on something to her right and answered. “No, thank you.”
He didn’t want to take ‘no’ for an answer. Holding her in his arms was too tempting to pass up. “Just one spin around the room. I promise not to wear you out.” He stood and offered her his hand. “I’ll take care of you.”
He didn’t understand her reaction. Hanging her head, she looked funny, almost embarrassed.
“I can’t.” Cassie felt her throat closing up. How stupid was she? For a few glorious minutes she’d been enjoying their talk, pretending she was a normal girl sharing a drink with a guy. But now she’d have to tell him the truth and she’d see that look of pity come over his face.
“You can’t dance?” Still holding out his hand like an offering, he sweetened the pot. “I’d love to teach you. I won’t step on your toes.”
“I can’t,” she repeated. “I’m so sorry.” Dismay colored her words.
“Well, if you don’t want to. I understand.” He’d been turned down before.
“No, you don’t.” This time she touched the chair over in the corner, easing it away from the wall. He saw what it was, and her actions made sense. It had been put over to one side because the arms wouldn’t go under the table. “I can’t walk, much less dance.” It was a wheelchair.
Bowie sat back down, feeling like he’d been kicked in the stomach. “I apologize, Cassie. I didn’t know.”
“Hey, it’s okay.” She covered her hand with his, squeezing his fingers. He’d been aching to touch her. And now she’d taken the first move. “It was wonderful to be asked.”
“Hey, Malone, we’re here.”
Bowie realized Tanner had come up behind him. Piss poor timing. “Tanner, there’s someone I’d like you to meet first.” He introduced them. Glancing over his friend’s shoulder, he saw the two men waiting near the bar. Damn.
“Go, talk with them. Please.” Cassie urged. “I’m fine.” Maybe this was a face-saving opportunity.
He didn’t want to, but Tanner seemed to think it was important. “Don’t move. I’ll be back,” he told Cassie.
She gave him a warm smile and he left her, reluctantly. After he’d been introduced to Micah and Tyson, Bowie had been glad to make their acquaintance. They did share interests. Micah had a spread over near Johnson City and after they’d compared notes, he realized they had friends in common—the McCoys. Aron and Jacob had played football with them at Texas.
After they’d agreed to get together again soon, Bowie had risen to return to Cassie. The whole time he’d been trying to talk business, all he’d wanted to do was stare into her eyes.
But she was gone.
Bowie ran outside, but there was no sign of her in the parking lot. Damn. Sighing, he headed toward his truck. That was okay. He knew where she lived, and all of a sudden, he had a hankering for candles.
As he climbed behind the wheel, his cell phone buzzed. “Malone.”
“Bowie, it’s Jacob. We need you. Aron is missing.”
Bowie’s heart lurched in his chest. “Where? When? How?” After he’d been told, he started his truck and put it into gear. “I’ll catch a flight and meet you there.”
***
Off the coast of the Caymans – Nauta Yacht Isabella
Waiting for Dr. Carlos to leave, she gave Aron time to settle into a deep sleep. When his breathing evened out, Martina rose and came to his side. Taking his left hand between her own, she worked on the simple gold band until it slipped from his finger. She put it in the pocket of her silk robe. Next, she walked around to the other side of the bed and tried to open his fist, curious to see what he was holding on to for dear life. But she couldn’t force open his hand, Aron was strong.
Standing by him for a few more seconds, she considered her actions.
He was married.
Someone, somewhere waited on him.
Did she care?
No.
Moving hurriedly from the room, Martina went up on the top deck of the Isabella, staring out toward the shore where increased activity was obvious. Undoubtedly, Aron’s absence had been discovered. Without remorse or a second thought, Martina drew back her arm and tossed his wedding band as far into the waves as she could throw it.
“Oh, there you are.”
Despite her resolve, Martina jumped at the sound of her sister’s voice. “When did you return?”
“Just now.” Alessandra leaned over the railing, staring down into the waves. “What’s going on?”
“We picked up a passenger.” Sometimes a simple explanation is best.
“Care to elaborate?” The younger girl leaned her chin on the top rail, wiggling her bottom in time to the music coming from the outside speakers.
Martina smiled. “Christmas has come early this year. A present I’ve always wanted has fallen in my lap. Finders keepers, losers weepers.”
***
Seven Mile Beach – Caymans
“You need to go inside, Ms. McCoy. It’s getting dark.” A female deputy sat by Libby.
She had been questioned over and over and despite their urgings, Libby had not left the beach. How could she? “I can’t,” she protested. “Aron will be back soon. He’ll look for me. I have to stay.”
“When will your family arrive?”
Libby had to pause. It was hard to think. “Tomorrow, soon as they can.” Calling Aron’s family had been so hard.
“Fine. It’s not good for you to be alone.”
“It’s my fault,” she whispered.
“How?” the deputy asked, realizing this wasn’t a confession.
“He didn’t want to go snorkeling. Aron doesn’t like the water.” She hugged herself tightly. “He did it for me.”
“Don’t think that way.” They deputy patted her arm. She didn’t offer any false hopes, having seen incidents like this before. Each year they lost between six and twelve people in these waters due to drowning or diving accidents. “Nothing is your fault.”
“I just can’t believe it.” Libby never took her eyes off the water. “He’s not dead.” A chill settled on her skin. “If he was dead, I’d know. I’d know.”
***
Onboard the Isabella
Within the hour, Dr. Carlos informed Martina that Aron was indeed badly injured. “He needs surgery.” With a somber expression, he looked at his employer. “Either we get the man help, or he will die. I am certain there’s internal bleeding in his brain and it may be swelling. You have to make some decisions. We either take him by boat back to the island to get him to a hospi
tal or call for a helicopter to transport him elsewhere. There is no time for delay. Not if you want him to live.”
Martina paced. She had a choice. Fate had played a hand in her life before, this was nothing new. Who was she to argue? Going to the bridge, she used the satellite phone to summon help. Conferring with the captain, she ordered the Isabella to pick up anchor and set sail. Their vessel was large enough that the helicopter could land on the top deck. “When the copter arrives, we will transport Aron to ABC Hospital in Mexico City.”
The captain and the doctor went along with her wishes. Both had been with her family for years. However the captain was more outspoken. “Señorita, may I ask you a question?”
Martina respected Ferdinand. “Yes you may.”
“I have heard the reports. The authorities radioed and asked us if we’d seen anything and I said ‘no’. This man...” He motioned toward the lower deck. “This man is a rich, important American. Are you planning on holding him for ransom?”
Martina was not offended by the question. Such dealings were not uncommon in her world. “No, I do not. I know this man. I wish him no harm.”
The captain nodded. “I only wanted to know what to expect.”
“Getting him help is my highest priority.” Now that she had him in her clutches, Martina wasn’t about to let him die. “My bodyguards can accompany us to Mexico City. You must escort Alessandra to the port in Cancun. She can join me at the hospital if she wishes, or return to Los Banos.”
After they were underway, Martina checked on Aron and found him still sleeping. “Join me, I’d like to discuss his condition.” Before she led the doctor out, Martina lovingly pushed Aron’s hair from his forehead. “His skin is clammy.”
Following her to a table by the swimming pool, he sat down and folded his hands on the table. “His pupils are dilated. I think he has a serious skull fracture.” Even though she was clad in a skimpy bikini, her employee’s eye never looked lower than her chin. “Find me the best specialist and have him meet us at the hospital in Mexico City.”