Iron Cowboy

by Diana Palmer

  “Relax, my friend!” the other man laughed. “We intend only to take Cameron hostage. Then you and the girl will be free. I give you my word.”

  Which was as good as his sense of fashion, Tony thought sarcastically, but he only nodded and pretended to believe the man. While he was nodding, he was considering his options. He was not only wearing a wire, he had a hidden gun in an ankle holster and a commando knife in a sheath inside his slacks. He had a watch with a pull-out garrote. All that, combined with advanced martial arts training, should stand him in good stead if he had the opportunity to act.

  “You taking Cameron out of the country after you nab him?” Tony asked.

  The three men were intent on the sparse lighting of the small house just ahead. “Yes, yes,” the leader said, distracted. “We have a base in Peru, where we can hold him until the ransom is paid.”

  Tony doubted that Jared Cameron would be alive after the ransom was in their hands.

  “Stop!” the leader told the driver. “You stay and wait for our signal,” he added. “We will take the bodyguard with us. Be vigilant.”

  “Of course,” the driver replied.

  The leader slid open the side panel of the van and motioned the shorter man and Tony out behind him.

  “You will go first,” he told Tony. “Knock on the door and pretend that you have come to check on the woman.”

  “Not a bad plan,” Tony said, grinning, because this plan would give him room to act. “You guys are smart.”

  “You must not harm Cameron,” the leader told him firmly. “We need the ransom very badly. Later, we will give him to you, once we have the funds.”

  Tony pretended to mull over the suggestion. “Okay. But you better give me a crack at him.”

  “We will. Of course we will,” the leader said. He was now holding an automatic weapon. So was his companion.

  It was going to be tricky, Tony mused, but he’d been in tighter spots. “You guys better get out of sight,” Tony told them, hoping Cash Grier was listening closely to what he said to the hidden microphone.

  “We will be just around this corner,” the leader said. His face went hard. “We will have you in our sights, also. For insurance.”

  “In other words, I get shot if I try anything funny,” Tony replied. “Hell, I want the guy as much as you do!”

  The leader seemed to relax, a little. “Very well.” He motioned to the second man and they went, light on their feet, around the corner of the porch.

  Tony knocked on the door. He heard footsteps coming. They weren’t Jared’s footsteps. He would have known them anywhere. He had to hide a grin.

  The door opened. Tony dived through it as Cash Grier slammed the door. Outside there was gunfire.

  “Quick reflexes,” Cash remarked to Tony.

  “I’ve, uh, had a little practice over the years. How about Jared and Sara?”

  “When we heard your plan over the wire,” Cash replied, “we got them out of the house. They’re at Jared’s. Nobody here but old Morris the cat, and we put him in a closet, just in case.”

  The shooting ended.

  “All clear!” a voice called.

  Cash and Tony went out onto the porch, where four Jacobsville police officers and a man in a suit were leading the two would-be kidnappers toward the front door. In the yard, the wheel man was standing in front of his van, handcuffed, with two other men in suits holding guns on him.

  “Nice operation,” Cash told his men. “I knew that extra training in hostage negotiation would come in handy.”

  “Hostage negotiation?” Tony exclaimed. “They’ve all got guns!”

  Cash looked sheepish. “Well, you negotiate your way and I’ll negotiate my way.”

  The officers chuckled. So did Tony.

  They had tape of the kidnappers confessing. Federal marshals were escorting them to Dallas, where they’d face federal charges. Their kidnapping days were over.

  Tony was back at the ranch the next day, but Jared was sending him on to Oklahoma to make sure the house was ready for occupants. And also to make sure no more would-be kidnappers were lurking around.

  “You take care, Sara,” Tony told her gently, and bent to kiss her on the cheek. “I expect we’ll see each other again.”

  “I hope so.” She hugged the big man and kissed his lean cheek. “Thanks for everything.”

  “No problem.”

  He shook hands with Jared. “I’ll put Fred and Mabel to work getting the house set to rights. I assume you’re not coming home alone,” he added with a grin.

  “You assume right,” Jared said with a tender, possessive look toward Sara, who was just going back inside the house to make sure old Morris was all right. Tony had brought him over after all the excitement was past.

  Tony stuck his hands in his pockets. “I’ve got to go back to my day job,” he said. “I’m tempted to give it up, but it’s comfortable.”

  “You’re too young to want to be comfortable,” Jared replied. “Besides, you have to keep those reflexes honed.” He smiled mischievously. “You might be the next target for kidnappers looking for ransom.” He looked past Tony at the sleek Jaguar sports car that had been lodging in the huge garage with Jared’s classic automobiles. “That car could get you some unwelcome attention.”

  “You’re just saying that because you don’t want me to take it away,” Tony shot back.

  “You could always get a newer one,” Jared suggested.

  “I don’t like the newer ones. I like that one.”

  “Damn!”

  “Listen, we signed papers,” Tony reminded him. “It isn’t as if I stole it.”

  Jared pursed his lips. “There’s a thought,” he began.

  Tony wagged a finger at him. “You report this car stolen, and you’ll never make it home to Oklahoma without being arrested for possession of at least one Schedule I substance. I swear!”

  “All right, all right,” Jared muttered. “You did see it first at the auto show.”

  “Damned straight, I did.” He hesitated. “You take care of yourself. And if there is a baby,” he added, “I get to be the godfather.”

  Jared opened his mouth to speak.

  “I know at least one shaman who can do nasty spells back home in North Carolina,” he interrupted.

  “You’re from Georgia,” he shot back.

  “My foster parents are from Georgia. I was born in Cherokee, North Carolina.”

  “Yes, but your real father wasn’t.”

  Tony gave him a glare. “We don’t talk about him.”

  “You need to,” Jared said solemnly. “You have to deal with it one day.”

  “I’m going to Oklahoma.” Tony put his sunglasses on. “Right now.”

  “Nice shades.”

  “That’s what my boss said.”

  “You didn’t! You wouldn’t swipe his sunglasses…?”

  “Of course I didn’t swipe them. I won them.”

  “How?”

  “He had a full house, I had four aces,” he said smugly. “He threw the deck at me and walked out.”

  “Serves him right for getting suckered into playing poker with you,” Jared said. He held out a hand. “Be safe.”

  Tony shook it. “You, too. I’ll be in touch.”

  Sara came back with Morris in her arms, just in time to watch him drive away in a classic red sports car which, Jared told her, belonged to Tony.

  “If Tony’s leaving, why am I still here?” she asked Jared worriedly. “The bad guys are in Dallas by now, and I’m very fit.”

  He drew her to him, quiet and somber. “You’re still here because we have things to talk about.”

  “Such as?”

  He was oddly hesitant. “Come here.”

  He picked her up, Morris and all, and carried her into the living room, dropping down onto the sofa with her. Morris, uncomfortable, jumped down and went in search of food.

  “We haven’t known each other for a long time,” Jared began quietly. “B
ut I think we’re basically the same sort of people. You’re no doormat, and you’re smart. You’d fit right in back in Oklahoma. Most of my friends are working people, just as I used to be. I don’t travel in high social circles. In the past I spent a lot of time on airplanes, but that’s going to stop. Whether or not you’re pregnant doesn’t matter right now. I’m going to delegate authority and start living my life for something other than making money.”

  “That sounds serious,” she said, and her heart was hammering away in her chest. His eyes held a warmth she hadn’t seen there before.

  “It’s very serious. I’m a good deal older than you,” he began, “and I’ve had, and lost, a family. You could stay here and marry someone younger. Harley Fowler, maybe.”

  “I don’t love Harley,” she said softly, searching his eyes. “He’s my friend. As for our ages,” she added, “I’m more mature than a lot of women, because of what I’ve gone through.”

  He traced her mouth with a long forefinger. “Yes, you are,” he agreed quietly. “Which leads to the next question.”

  “Which is?” she probed.

  “Will you marry me, Sara?”

  Twelve

  Sara just looked at him, with her heart plain in her eyes. “Do you love me?” she asked, hesitating.

  He smiled tenderly. “Yes,” he said. “Of course I love you.” He hesitated. His dark eyebrows lifted. “Well?”

  “I loved you the minute you walked into the bookstore,” she replied breathlessly. “I didn’t really think you were an ogre, you know.”

  “Maybe I was, sort of,” he returned, smiling. “But you’ve reformed me. So what do you think about getting married here and moving back to Oklahoma?”

  “I don’t mind where we live, as long as we’re together,” she told him. “But Morris the cat has to come with us.” She paused. “Do you have pets?”

  He laughed. “Do I! I’ve got saddle horses, cattle dogs, two huge Persian cats, an emu and an Amazon parrot.”

  “Oh, goodness,” she exclaimed. “Why do you have an emu?”

  He traced her mouth. “Ellen wanted one,” he said simply. “I’d never even seen an emu, but a rancher I know was experimenting with them. We got Ellen a baby emu. She was crazy about him. We named him Paterson, after the Australian poet, and raised him with two border collies. The collies chase cattle, and the emu runs right along with them.” He laughed. “It’s quite a sight.”

  “I imagine so.”

  “We’ll have cat furniture set up for Morris. After a few days of being spoiled, he’ll adjust.”

  “What about your cats?”

  He shrugged. “They’ll all spit and fuss for a week, then they’ll curl up and sleep together at night.”

  She smiled. It was usually the case when two sets of cats met. “We could be married here?” she asked, still having trouble believing it.

  “Of course.”

  “I could wear a wedding gown, and carry a bouquet?”

  “You can even have a photographer,” he replied. “So that we have nice pictures to prove that we’re married.”

  “That would be nice.”

  “We’ll fly up to Dallas. You can have a gown from Neiman Marcus.”

  “I could buy something off the rack,” she protested.

  He brought her small hand to his lips and kissed the palm. “I’m fairly notorious,” he said. “There will be news coverage. You wouldn’t want me to look like a cheapskate on national television, would you?” he asked reasonably.

  She laughed. “Nobody would think such a thing.”

  “Ha!”

  Her head was spinning. She couldn’t believe how quickly it had all happened. But there was that other thing, that worrisome thing…

  He was watching her expression closely. He knew what the problem was. They were alone in the house. Old Morris had wandered off into the kitchen. He was safely established, for the time being. He pursed his lips as he looked down into Sara’s worried face.

  “There’s no time like the present,” he murmured.

  “Excuse me?”

  He bent and drew his mouth tenderly against Sara’s. “Don’t think,” he whispered. “Don’t worry. Just let go.”

  While he was talking, his hands were moving over her in soft, light caresses that made her mind overload. She wanted to tell him something, but he’d unbuttoned her shirt and his mouth was already on her breasts.

  She gasped at the sensations. They weren’t like last time. He was insistent, and expert. As the heated minutes sped past, she was as frantic to get her clothes out of the way as she had been to escape him the last time he’d touched her this way. But the sensations she was feeling now were explosive, overwhelming. She arched up to his ardent mouth and sobbed as his hands found her under the concealing cloth and created exquisite waves of pleasure.

  She was under him. She felt the cold leather under her bare back, the heated weight of his body over and against hers. His mouth trailed down her body and back up again, in soft, arousing kisses that trespassed in all sorts of forbidden areas.

  He asked her something, but she was already too far gone to hear him. Shivering, aching for satisfaction, she drew her legs up to ease his path, she arched up to his devouring mouth. It was the closest to heaven she’d ever imagined.

  When she finally felt him, there, she dug her nails into his hips and held on for dear life as he buffeted her on the sofa. She was aware of the ceiling overhead, and the sound of his rough breathing, of her own frantic little gasps, as the pleasure began to build.

  It was like climbing, she thought breathlessly, from one level to the next and the next and the next, and the pleasure increased with every fierce downward motion of his hips. She was dying. She couldn’t survive. The pleasure was so deep and throbbing that it was almost pain. She strained for some goal she couldn’t quite reach, her hips darting up to meet his, her body arched in a strained posture that was painful. She was almost there, almost there, almost…there!

  He pushed down, hard, and she felt the world drop out from under her as a wave of white-hot pleasure racked her slender body and held her, motionless, in its vise-grip.

  He lifted his head seconds later, drenched in sweat and barely able to get a whole breath. She was shivering in the aftermath. Her soft eyes were drowned in tears of joy as she lay under him, satiated.

  “Now do you understand what was missing, the last time?” he whispered tenderly.

  “Oh, yes.” She locked her arms around his neck. She was trembling. “Is it always like this?”

  “No,” he murmured, smiling as his hips began to move again. “It gets better.”

  “You’re kidding…!”

  It was the last remark she was able to make for some time.

  The wedding was beautiful, Sara thought, amazed at the media that gathered to watch Jared Cameron merge his oil empire with an unknown little bookseller in Jacobsville, Texas. One of the newswomen just shook her head, having covered stories that Jared featured in years ago. This little retiring Texas rose didn’t seem at all the type of woman he’d marry. But then he looked down at his new bride, under her veil, and the look they exchanged made everything clear. Love, the reporter thought, was truly an equalizer.

  Harley Fowler congratulated them with a bittersweet smile. Sara hugged him and thanked him for all he’d done, especially scaring away the kidnappers in the bookstore. He wished them well. Sara was very fond of him, but she’d never felt romantic toward him. He knew it, and accepted it.

  All the mercs showed up at the wedding, along with just about everybody in town. Sara felt like Cinderella at the ball. And now she was going away with her very own version of Prince Charming. She’d never been so happy.

  Several days later, Sara had packed up everything, including Morris the cat, and Tony had arranged for Sara’s possessions, plus Morris, to travel to the house in Oklahoma City, where Jared lived most of the time. Morris rode in a chauffeured limousine, with one of Tony’s old comrades, and Jare
d’s new bodyguard, Clayton, at his side.

  “Morris will never get over that,” Sara told her new husband.

  “It was the safest way I could think of,” Jared replied, smiling. “Clayton will take great care of him. Tony trained him. He’s good.”

  “We won’t have to worry about kidnappers again, will we?” she worried.

  He drew her gently into his arms. “We won’t worry. We’ll let Clayton worry. That’s what he gets paid for.”

  “I thought Tony worked for you all the time,” she commented.

  “He was borrowed, for this assignment,” he told her, and didn’t offer any further information.

  “He’s rather mysterious, in his way,” she said.

  Jared raised an eyebrow. “You have no idea how mysterious,” he assured her.

  “Tell me.”

  He chuckled. “Not now. We’ve got work to do. You have to help me pack, now that we’ve got you covered.”

  “I’ll miss Jacobsville,” she said.

  “I know you will, honey,” he replied. “But you’ll get used to it. Life has to be lived. You can’t sit by the road and watch it pass.”

  “Maybe when we’re old,” she began.

  He nodded. “Yes. Maybe when we’re old.”

  “It was sweet of Dee to give us those rare World War II memoirs for a wedding present, wasn’t it?” she asked.

  “Yes, it was. And sweet of you to pack up all your grandfather’s collection to bring with us. I’ll only read one a week, I promise,” he said when he saw her expression.

  She frowned. “That reminds me, are you a sports fan?”

  “I love soccer,” he replied.

  She beamed. “It’s my favorite sport!”

  “In that case, we’ll make plans to go to the next World Cup.”

  “We could? Really?”

  “Yes.” He drew her against him and kissed her. “I love you.”

  She smiled. “I love you back.”

  “No regrets?”

  She shook her head. “I’m going to take very good care of you.”

  He kissed her eyes closed. “And I’m going to take very good care of you.” He rocked her in his arms. “Just for the record, any unusual nausea?”