by Diana Palmer
She didn’t reply. She just hoped it wasn’t a prophecy. But she was going to see Ted, the minute she got off work.
Eight
Before Jillian could finish her chores and get out of the restaurant, Sassy Peale Callister came into the restaurant and dragged her to one side.
“I can’t believe what I just heard,” she said shortly. “Did you actually say that you might have been wrong to have Davy Harris put in jail?”
Jillian flushed to the roots of her hair. “How did you hear about that?” she stammered.
“Hollister is a very small town. You tell one person and everybody else knows,” the other woman replied. “Come on, is it true?”
Jillian felt even more uncomfortable. “He was reminding me how much he helped me and Uncle John around the ranch. He was always kind to us. Once, when we were sick, he went to the store and pharmacy for us, and then nursed us until we were well again.”
Sassy wasn’t buying it. Her face was stony. “That means he’s capable of doing good deeds. It doesn’t mean he can’t do bad things.”
“I know,” Jillian said miserably. “It’s just…well, he’s been in here every day. He makes it sound like I overreacted…”
“You listen to me, he’s no heartsick would-be suitor,” Sassy said firmly. “He’s a card-carrying coyote with delusions of grandeur! I wasn’t sure that he wasn’t going to try to take the shotgun away from me, even if I’d pulled the trigger. He was furious! Don’t you remember what he said?”
Jillian glanced around her. The restaurant was empty, but the owner was nearby, at least within earshot.
“He said that he’d get both of us,” Sassy replied. “John thinks he meant it and that he’s here for revenge. He hired me a bodyguard, if you can believe that.” She indicated the tall man with a long blond ponytail and a patch over one eye.
“That’s Rourke,” Jilly exclaimed.
Sassy blinked. “Excuse me?”
“That’s Rourke. He was in here this morning, when I threw a cake at Davy.” She ignored Sassy’s gasp and kept going. “He said that I was nuts trying to make excuses for the man, and that I should make up with Ted. He thinks Davy is dangerous.”
“So do I,” Sassy said quietly. “You should come and stay with us until this is over, one way or the other.”
Jillian was tempted. But she thought of little Sammy and a means of revenge that might occur to a mind as twisted as Davy’s. He might even burn the house down. She didn’t dare leave it unattended.
“Thanks,” she said gently, “but I can’t do that. Anyway, I’ve got my uncle’s shotgun.”
“Which you’ve never touched,” Sassy muttered. “I doubt it’s been cleaned since he died.”
Jillian stared at the floor. “Ted would clean it for me if I asked him to.”
“Why don’t you ask him to?” came the short reply. “And then tell him why you need it cleaned. I dare you.”
“I don’t think Davy would hurt me, really,” she said slowly.
“He assaulted you.”
“Maybe he just got, well, overstimulated, and…”
“He assaulted you,” Sassy replied firmly.
Jillian sighed. “I hate unpleasantness.”
“Who doesn’t? But this isn’t just a man who let a kiss go too far. This is a man who deliberately came to Hollister, got a job and devils you every day at your place of work,” Sassy said quietly. “It’s harassment. It’s stalking. Maybe you can’t prove it, but you should certainly talk to Ted about it.”
“He’ll think I’m overreacting.”
“He’s a policeman,” Sassy reminded her. “He won’t.”
Jillian was weakening. She was beginning to feel even more afraid of Davy. If Sassy’s husband thought there was a threat, and went so far as to hire his wife a bodyguard, he must be taking it seriously.
“John tried to have him arrested, but Ted reminded him that you can’t put somebody behind bars for some thing he said years ago. He has to have concrete evidence.”
That made things somehow even worse. Jillian’s worried eyes met her friend’s. “Davy does scare me.”
Sassy moved closer. “I’m going to have Rourke keep an eye on you, too, when I’m safely home with John. We’ve got enough cowboys at the ranch who have federal backgrounds to keep me safe,” she added with a chuckle. “One of them used to work for the godfather of John’s sister-in-law. He was a mercenary with mob connections. He’s got millions and he still comes to see her.” She leaned forward, so that Rourke couldn’t hear. “There was gossip once that Rourke was his son. Nobody knows and Rourke never talks about him.”
“Wow,” Jillian exclaimed. “That would be K.C. Kantor, wouldn’t it?”
Sassy was impressed. “How did you know?”
“I wouldn’t have, but your husband was talking about him at the restaurant one morning when you were on that shopping trip to Los Angeles and he had to eat in town.”
“Eavesdropping, were you?” Sassy teased.
Jillian smiled. “Sorry. Sometimes a waitress can’t help it.”
“I don’t mind.” She drew in a breath. “I have to go. But if you need anything, you call. I’ll lend Rourke to you.”
“My ears work, even if I’m missing one eye,” the tall blond man drawled.
Both women turned, surprised.
“And K.C. Kantor is not my father.” He bit off every word. “That’s malicious gossip, aimed at my dad, who was a military man in South Africa and made enemies because of his job.”
“Sorry,” Sassy said at once, and looked uneasy. Rourke rarely did anything except smile pleasantly and crack jokes, but his pale brown eye was glittering and he looked dangerous.
He saw the consternation his words had produced, and fell back into his easygoing persona with no visible effort. He grinned. “I eavesdrop shamelessly, too,” he added. “I never know when some pretty young woman might be making nice remarks about me. Wouldn’t want to miss it.”
They both relaxed.
“Sorry,” Sassy said again. “I wasn’t saying it to be unkind.”
He shrugged. “I know that. Kantor took me in when I was orphaned, because he and my dad were friends. It’s a common misconception.” He frowned. “You’re right about Jillian. Living alone is dangerous when you’ve got an enemy with unknown intentions. Mrs. Callister is safe at night, unless she’s going out without her husband. I could come over and sleep on your sofa, if you like.”
“Yes, he could,” Sassy seconded at once.
That made Jillian visibly uncomfortable. She averted her eyes. “That’s very kind of you, thanks, but I’ll manage.”
Rourke lifted an eyebrow. “Is it my shaving lotion? I mean, it does sometimes put women off,” he said blandly.
Sassy laughed. “No. It’s convention.”
“Excuse me?”
“She won’t stay alone at night with a man in the house,” Sassy said. “And before you say anything—” she stopped him when he opened his mouth to reply “—I would have felt exactly the same way when I was single. Women in small towns, brought up with certain attitudes, don’t entertain single men at night.”
He looked perplexed.
“You’ve never lived in a small town,” Jillian ventured.
“I was born in Africa,” he said, surprisingly. “I’ve lived in small villages all my life. But I don’t know much about small American towns. I suppose there are similarities. Well, except for the bride price that still exists in some places.”
“Bride price?” Jillian stared at him, waiting.
“A man who wants to marry a woman has to give her father a certain number of cattle.”
She gaped at him.
“It’s a centuries-old tradition,” he explained. He pursed his lips and smiled at Jillian. “I’ll bet your father would have asked a thousand head for you.”
She glared at him. “My father would never have offered to sell me to you!” she exclaimed.
“Different places, di
fferent customs,” he said easily. “I’ve lived in places, in ways, that you might never imagine.”
“John said you were a gunrunner,” Sassy mused.
He glared at her. “I was not,” he said indignantly. Then he grinned. “I was an arms dealer.”
“Semantics!” she shot back.
He shrugged again. “A man has to make a living when he’s between jobs. At the time, there wasn’t much action going on in my part of Africa for mercenaries.”
“And now you work as a bodyguard?” Jillian asked.
He hesitated. “At times, when I’m on vacation. I actually work as an independent contractor these days. Legit,” he added when they looked at him with open suspicion. “I don’t do mercenary work anymore.”
“So that case in Oklahoma where you helped free a kidnapping victim was legit, too?” Sassy asked.
“I was helping out a friend,” he replied, chuckling. “He works for the same federal agency I work for these days.”
“But you’re an African citizen, aren’t you?” Jillian asked. “I mean, if you were born there…?”
“I have American citizenship now,” he said, and looked uncomfortable.
“When he went to work for Mr. Kantor, he had to have it,” Sassy murmured. “I imagine he pulled some strings at the state department?”
Rourke just looked at her, without speaking.
She held out her hands, palms up. “Okay, I’m sorry, I won’t pry. I’m just grateful you’re around to look out for me.” She glanced at Jillian. “But you still have a problem. What if Harris decides he wants to get even one dark night, and you can’t get to that shotgun in time? The one that hasn’t been cleaned since your uncle died?”
“I said I’d get Ted to clean it for me,” the other woman protested.
“You and Ted aren’t speaking.”
“I’ll come over and clean it for you,” Rourke said quietly. “And teach you to shoot it.”
Jillian looked hunted. “I hate guns,” she burst out. “I hated it when Ted would come over and shoot targets from the front porch. I’ll never get used to the sound of them. It’s like dynamite going off in my ears!”
Rourke looked at her with shocked disdain. “Didn’t anybody ever tell you about earplugs?”
“Earplugs?”
“Yes. You always wear them on the gun range,” he explained, “unless you want to go deaf at an early age. Ear protectors are fine on the range, but earplugs can be inserted quickly if you’re on a job and expecting trouble.”
“How do you hear?”
“They let in sound. They just deaden certain frequencies of sound,” he explained. He glanced at Sassy. “You won’t need me tonight. I heard your husband say he’s lined up a new werewolf movie to watch with you on pay-per-view.”
She laughed. “Yes. It’s the second in a vampire trilogy, actually. I love it!”
He didn’t react. He glanced toward Jillian. “So I’ll be free about six. I can come over and clean the shotgun and do a security sweep. If you need locks and silent sentries, I can install them.”
She bit her lip, hard. She couldn’t afford such things. She could barely pay the bills on what she made as a cook.
The owner of the restaurant, who had been blatantly eavesdropping, joined them. “You can have an advance on your salary anytime you need it,” he told Jillian gently. “I’d bar Harris from coming on the premises, if I could, but he’s the sort who’d file a lawsuit. I can’t afford that,” he added heavily.
“Thanks, Mr. Chaney,” Jillian said quietly. “I thought you might fire me, because of all that’s going on right now.”
“Fat chance,” he said amusedly. “You’re the best cook I’ve ever had.”
“He shouldn’t be allowed to harass her while she’s doing her job,” Sassy said curtly.
“I agree,” the restaurant owner said gently. “But this is a business and I can’t bar people I dislike without proof they’re causing problems. I’ve never heard him threaten Jillian or even be disrespectful to her.”
“That’s because he whispers things to me that he doesn’t want anybody to overhear,” she said miserably. “He made me believe that I had him locked up for no reason at all.”
“I live in Hollister,” he said quietly. “Even if it’s not in blaring headlines, most of us know what’s going on here. I remember the case. My sister, if you recall, was the assistant prosecutor in the case. She helped Jack Haynes with the precedents.”
“I do remember,” Jillian said. She folded her arms over her slight breasts. “It’s so scary. I never thought he’d get out.”
“People get out all the time on technicalities,” Rourke said. “A case in point is the bank robber your police chief put away. And a friend of mine in the FBI in Texas has a similar problem. A man he sent away for life just got out and is after him. My friend can’t do much more than you’re doing. The stalker doesn’t do anything he could even be charged with.”
“Life is hard,” Sassy said.
“Then you die,” Rourke quipped, and grinned. “Did you watch that British cop show, too? You’re pretty young.”
“Everything’s on disc now, even those old shows. It’s one of John’s favorites,” Sassy chuckled.
“Mine, too,” Chaney added, laughing. “They were an odd mix, the female British cop and the American one, in a team.”
“Pity it ended before we knew how things worked out between them,” Rourke sighed. “I would have loved a big, romantic finale.”
Both women and the restaurant owner stared at him.
“I’m a romantic,” he said defensively.
The women stared pointedly at the pistol in the shoulder holster under his loose jacket.
“I can shoot people and still be romantic,” he said belligerently. “Out there somewhere is a woman who can’t wait to marry me and have my children!”
They stared more.
He moved uncomfortably. “Well, my profession isn’t conducive to child-raising, I guess, but I could still get married to some nice lady who wanted to cook and darn my socks and take my clothes to the dry cleaner when I was home between jobs.”
“That’s not romantic, that’s delusional,” Sassy told him.
“And you’re living in the wrong century,” Jillian added.
He glared. “I’m not shacking up with some corporate raider in a pin-striped business suit.”
“It’s not called shacking up, it’s called cohabiting,” Sassy said drolly. “And I really can’t see you with a corporate raider. I should think a Dallas Cowboy line-backer would be… Don’t hit me, I’ll tell John!” she said in mock fear when he glowered and took a step forward.
“A woman in a pin-striped suit,” he qualified.
Sassy nodded. “A female mob hit-person.”
He threw up his hands. “I can’t talk to you.”
“You could if you’d stop mixing metaphors and looking for women who lived in the dark ages.” She frowned. “You don’t get out much, do you?”
He looked out the window of the restaurant. “In this burg, it wouldn’t matter if I did. I think there are two unmarried ladies who live in this town, and they’re both in their sixties!”
“We could ask if anybody has pretty cousins or nieces who live out of town,” Jillian offered.
He gave her a pursed-lip scrutiny. “You’re not bad. You have your own ranch and you can cook.”
“I don’t want to get married,” Jillian said curtly.
“That’s true,” Sassy said sadly. “I think Harris has put her off men for life. She won’t even marry Ted, and that means she’ll lose the ranch to a developer.”
“Good grief,” Rourke exclaimed. “Why?”
“It’s in my uncle’s will and his uncle’s will that we have to marry each other or the ranch gets sold at public auction,” Jillian said miserably. “There’s a California developer licking his lips in the background, just waiting to turn my ranch into a resort.”
Rourke was outra
ged. “Not that beautiful hunk of land!”
She nodded. “It will look like the West Coast when he gets through. He’ll cut down all the trees, pave the land, and build expensive condominiums. I hear he even has plans for a strip mall in the middle. Oh, and an amusement park.”
Rourke was unusually thoughtful. “Nice piece of land, that,” he remarked.
“Very nice.”
“But that doesn’t solve your problem,” Sassy replied.
“I can be over about six, if that’s okay?” he told Jillian, with a questioning glance at Sassy.
“That will be fine with us,” Sassy assured him. She glared at Jillian, who was hesitating. “If Ted won’t talk to you, somebody has to clean the shotgun.”
“I suppose so.”
“Enthusiasm like that has launched colonies,” Rourke drawled.
Jillian laughed self-consciously. “Sorry. I don’t mean to sound reluctant. I just don’t know what Ted will think. He’s already mad because I said I might have overreacted to Davy Harris when I had him arrested.”
“It wasn’t overreaction,” the restaurant owner, Mr. Chaney, inserted indignantly. “The man deserved what he got. I’m just sorry I can’t keep him out of here. If he ever insults you or makes a threat, you tell me. I’ll bar him even if I do get sued.”
“Thanks, boss. Really,” Jillian said.
“Least I could do.” He glanced at the front door. “Excuse me. Customers.” He left with a smile.
“He always greets people when they come in,” Jillian explained with a smile, “and then he comes around to the tables and checks to make sure the service and the food are okay with them. He’s a great boss.”
“It’s a good restaurant,” Rourke agreed. “Good food.” He grinned at Jillian.
“So. Six?” he added.
Jillian smiled. “Six. I’ll even feed you.”
“I’ll bring the raw materials, shall I?” he asked with a twinkle in his eyes. “Steaks and salad?”
“Lovely!” Jillian exclaimed. “I haven’t had a steak in a long time!”
“You’ve got all that beef over there and you don’t eat steak?” he exclaimed. “What about that prime young calf, the little steer…?”