Cowboy, Undercover

by Vicki Tharp

  Spinks raised his brows. “And?”

  “You’re telling me to falsify an official document?”

  Spinks stared at him. “No one is telling you anything.”

  Maybe not, but there was no question that if he didn’t sign it, there was no way he’d be let back on the task force. Not now. Maybe not ever. Spinks was covering his ass. Gil’s ass, too, in a way.

  If the Brass found out that Gil hadn’t been authorized to be on that helo, that he’d killed a man while not officially back on duty, there would be a lot of hard questions asked that would put Spinks’ career in a sling.

  Lying while undercover was one thing. Signing his name to a backdated document was another, but this was for Lang. Gil didn’t have to like it to sign it.

  “I’m going to the hospital this afternoon to see Lang. I can talk to Ross and—”

  “You’re on leave until the shooting is investigated and you pass the psych evaluation.

  “Psych eval. Are you kidding me?”

  “Does it look like I’m smiling?”

  No, no it didn’t.

  “Look, Brant, you’ve been through a lot these past few months. It stands to reason—”

  “I’m fine.” Gil dropped back into the chair, the long hours with little sleep were catching up to him with a vengeance. This wasn’t the quick conversation he’d expected. Wasn’t there somewhere Spinks had to be or someone he’d needed to talk to?

  “Then you should have no problem passing the evaluation.”

  “It’s not like he’s the first man I’ve killed. I’m not some rookie who’s never discharged his weapon.”

  “I’m not violating protocol.” Spinks raised his hands as if to say the requirement was out of his control.

  Funny that Spinks had no qualms asking Gil to falsify documents, but Gil wasn’t going to push his luck by trying to bypass the psych eval. The shooting had been justified, and being an accomplished liar, he knew what he needed to say to pass the evaluation. He’d be back on the team in no time.

  If the internal investigation went as smoothly as it should.

  The Lazy S was quiet when Tessa pulled past the big house and the barn, but then again, it was Sunday, and from what Gil had told her, it was the one day that everyone had off. Which was okay with Tessa. She didn’t want anything or anyone getting between her and a bed.

  She climbed out of her Jeep, trudged up the steps, and walked through the unlocked door. For a bachelor, Gil kept his place relatively neat. There was a dirty coffee mug in the sink, a rumpled T-shirt on a footlocker. The bed was made, but no military corners and no quarters would bounce off the multicolor quilt covering the bed. But it wasn’t like there were empty beer cans strewn about or dirty underwear littering the floor.

  On the opposite side of the cabin was an identical set of bunk beds. On the left, Gil’s bed was the one with sheets. Since there were no other linens or even a linen closet, she gave up thinking she’d sleep in a different bed.

  She opened the windows in the stuffy cabin to catch a breeze. Then she stripped off her boots and jeans and slid between the sheets with a grateful groan. She reached over to her jeans and pulled her cell phone out of her back pocket and set the alarm for two hours.

  Two hours wasn’t much of a nap, but she had a house to clean and Jack to pick up. Afraid she’d hit snooze and sleep through her alarm, she climbed out of bed and put her phone on the dining table.

  Nestling into Gil’s pillow, she lay awake long enough to catch Gil’s scent, to remember their tryst in the helo, to wish he was there, and not just for the sex. She didn’t have time to analyze what that meant before sleep pulled her under.

  She woke to the sound of someone pounding on the door, and her alarm bleating on the table demanding attention. Her head swam as she tried to shake the cobwebs. Again, the knocking. “Brant? You in there? It’s Mac,” came the voice on the other side of the door. “Everything okay in there?”

  Tessa flopped back on the bed wishing her phone would shut the hell up, but not willing to get up and make that happen. “Come in.”

  The door swung open, and Mac walked in. For Mac, she was dressed up. Starched jeans, clean boots, her little baby bump pressed against a button-up shirt, her hair down and her usual USMC baseball cap nowhere to be found. Mac swiped the phone off the table and silenced the alarm.

  “Thank you.” Tessa scooted up on her elbows and brushed the tangle of hair out of her face. “This isn’t what it looks like. Gil isn’t here.”

  “Pity,” Mac said, a mischievous smile on her face.

  Tessa shook her head. Did Mac imply what Tessa thought Mac had? “What?”

  “If I wasn’t married,” Mac put her hand on her bump, “or pregnant…” Mac ended the sentence with a one-shouldered shrug and let Tessa fill in the rest.

  “It’s not like that. With Gil and me I mean.” Well, it was, but a fast fuck in a helo at dawn didn’t a lasting relationship make. Tessa tried to sit up, but the room spun, and she grabbed her head.

  “You okay?” Mac sat on the edge of the bed and put a hand on her forehead. “You don’t feel like you have a fever, but I’m not a mom yet. Maybe my thermo-mom-meter isn’t fully functional yet.”

  “I’m not sick, just sleep deprived.”

  Mac sneaked a glance on the other side of the bed as if wondering if Gil were the reason for Tessa’s lack of sleep. Which got Tessa wondering. “You think Gil’s hot?”

  “I’m married and pregnant, not in a nunnery. Let’s say there was a time when hot monkey sex might have been on the menu if I’d met a guy like Gil.”

  Tessa laughed. “Better not let your husband hear you say that.”

  “Hank knows he’s got nothing to worry about. Besides, you’re more Gil’s type anyway.”

  Gil had a type? She was about to ask when Mac got up and said, “Anyway, I was in town for a prenatal appointment. Heard about the gun bust. I wanted to check on Gil, see how he was handling the shooting.”

  Tessa shrugged. “He says he’s okay, but he doesn’t really want to talk about it.”

  “That’s what worries me. Gil’s quiet when it comes to his past. He tends to hold it all in. Maybe he’s okay. Maybe he’s not. Either way, I’m glad he has you to talk to.”

  “I’m not really sure our relationship is at the skeleton revealing stage.”

  “Just the sex stage?”

  Tessa didn’t bother denying it, especially when the heat rushed up her neck and settled in her cheeks. There didn’t seem to be a point. “It’s not serious.”

  Why couldn’t she keep her mouth shut? She and Mac were friendly, but she didn’t think they’d advanced to friend status yet. Definitely not to a confidant. Did she really need a friend who could read her with no effort?

  “Is that him talking, or you?” Mac tone seemed casual as she reached down and tossed Tessa her jeans, but Mac’s face had shifted. It reminded her of Quinn’s expression earlier that day when he’d tried to protect her from Spinks. Instead of protective brother it read protective sister.

  Tessa got dressed as she thought about what she wanted to say. Mac patiently waited her out. When Tessa finished stepping into her boots, she said, “Is this the ‘if you hurt him I’ll hurt you’ speech?” Tessa was fit enough and could probably hold her own in a fair fight, the trouble was, she had the feeling that if it came down to someone Mac cared about, Mac wouldn’t fight fair.

  “Gil is a good man with a bunch of walls he’s had to build for his own protection. But I’ve seen the way he looks at you, like you’re knocking on that wall with a sledgehammer, and he’s too taken with you to stop the destruction. All I’m saying is don’t break the walls down for sport.”

  Tessa should have been mad. What business was it of Mac’s who she slept with or why? Then again, with Gil being in the Healing Horses program, maybe on some level Gil’s welfare was Mac’s business.

  “Point taken,” Tessa said. “Does he know he’s got friends protecting him, watchin
g his six?”

  “I’m not sure he’s at a place where he would appreciate the sentiment. All that time he’s spent undercover, he’s gotten used to relying on himself.”

  “Like a lone wolf?”

  “Make that the Lone Ranger.”

  “Hell,” Tessa said, “Even the Lone Ranger had a sidekick.”

  “Yeah, but Tanto didn’t have the power to rip out his heart.”

  They’d had sex, not professed their undying love, or hell, even had a real date. Tessa wasn’t sure what Mac wanted to hear. That she’d leave Gil alone? That she wouldn’t leave him alone? That she wouldn’t break his heart? With a clear conscience, she couldn’t make any promises.

  Tessa quickly made Gil’s bed, the silence growing awkward. She had about decided to find another place to stay for the night, but Evie’s house wasn’t really an option. As it was, Jack had to sleep on the love seat in Massey’s office when he spent the night. No way could the two of them fit on it together. With all the money she would have to spend replacing damaged items, a hotel wasn’t in the budget either.

  Tessa’s phone rang, and she snapped it up without checking the caller ID, surprised she had enough reception for a call to go through. It was always hit or miss out there at the ranch. “Hello?”

  There was a lot of static, and the voice on the other end was broken up and garbled, but Tessa knew who it was. Bradley.

  The revulsion must have shown on her face, because when she went outside to get a better connection, Mac followed her out and leaned against the Jeep with a scowl on her face and her arms crossed over her chest. Tessa would have told her it was a private call, but one look at Mac told her Mac didn’t give a freaking flying fuck.

  “Why are you calling?” she asked Bradley.

  “I want to speak to my son.” Bradley sounded reasonable. He always did until he didn’t get his way.

  “If you hadn’t backed out on your visitation this weekend, you could have talked to him all you wanted.” She knew she shouldn’t provoke him, but really?

  He hollered something, and Tessa held the phone away from her ear until he’d calmed down. Mac frowned.

  “Are you finished?”

  “Put him on the phone.”

  “He’s not here. He’s with a sitter.” Tessa didn’t elaborate. With Bradley’s limited custody, he wasn’t authorized to pick Jack up from summer camp, but she didn’t trust him not try to shove his way into Evie’s house if he got determined enough. Evie didn’t need that.

  “A sitter? A fucking sitter? It’s Sunday. The boy should be with his mother—”

  “Or his father,” Tessa said. “Something came up with work. The same way it did with you this weekend. It happens.”

  Bradley let out a big sigh. Tessa knew that sigh. It was his I’m-trying-to-be-reasonable-when-you-aren’t-reasonable sigh. It used to make her feel guilty or less than, but she’d heard it many times over the years and it had lost its effectiveness. “Meet me tonight. We need to talk.”

  “I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

  “It’s about Jack. Mariano’s. Six o’clock.”

  She didn’t have time to respond before he hung up the phone. One of the many reasons why she’d divorced Bradley. “Sorry about that,” Tessa said to Mac.

  “Trouble?”

  “Nothing I can’t handle.” Now not only did she have to get the house cleaned, but she had to meet Bradley before she picked up her son. She could have refused to go. But she knew her ex. He’d find a way to make her life even more problematic if she didn’t show up. It was easier to meet and be done with him.

  Which brought her back to the reason she was sleeping in Gil’s cabin to begin with.

  “Hey,” Tessa said, “I had a break in overnight. The rear door frame was shattered. Gil invited Jack and me to stay in one of the cabins until I could get my back door fixed. He said he’d call and smooth things over with you, but if you prefer we stay—”

  “No. Gil’s right. You two stay here. One of our new veterans is supposed to come in sometime today, and we were going to put her in the other cabin, but don’t worry, you can share, or we’ll figure something out.”

  Tessa was confused. First Mac was warning her away and the next, inviting her to stay.

  Mac walked backward up the road toward the big house. “Just to be clear, I don’t have anything against you. In fact, I like you, Tessa. I think you could be good for Gil. He’s a special person, who nearly got himself killed protecting our family. I’m trying to return the favor.”

  Too many times Gil had driven the mountain pass over the Idaho-Wyoming border on his way to the hospital in Idaho Falls, the hospital closest to Murdock with a top-rated trauma center.

  After parking, he threw his empty coffee cup in the trash can near the lobby entrance and made a beeline for the nearest coffee pot before hunting down Isaac’s room.

  Word from Isaac’s parents was that he had been moved out of ICU, though they’d kept him sedated. The door to Isaac’s room stood open. Inside, Isaac’s father lay sleeping in a recliner, his mother sat in a chair by the bed, one hand on Isaac’s, the other held a book.

  Gil tapped on the door with his knuckles.

  Rita Lang glanced up from her book, and Howard startled awake.

  “Gil,” Rita said, “Come in, come in.”

  Rita stood and gave him a hug. The woman barely came up to his chest. Her clothes were rumpled, and her gray hair disheveled as if she hadn’t had a chance to clean up since she’d gotten the call that her son had been shot.

  Howard rubbed his hands over his face and came over and shook Gil’s hand. “Good to see you, son.”

  “How has he been?” Gil asked.

  Rita pasted on one of those smiles, the devastated kind that said her heart was broken and that she was holding on to hope with both fists. “They started weaning him off the sedatives. They’re expecting him to start waking up within the next hour.”

  “Does he know yet? About his legs?”

  Isaac’s father shook his head. The man was an ex-cop. If Gil hadn’t already known, he could have told by the way the man carried himself, and how he seemed to be able to take blow after blow and keep standing. “Not yet. We’re not looking forward to that.”

  “Do the doctors know if the damage is permanent yet?”

  “It’s too early to tell,” Rita said. “But Izzy is a fighter.”

  Gil figured she’d said that more for herself, than for him. She was the type who grabbed on to hope and positivity and refused to let go. But even the strongest people needed a break, and Rita and Howard looked like they needed one. “Have you two gotten any sleep? How about food? Or a shower?”

  “It can wait,” Howard said.

  “Tell you what.” Gil took Rita’s book off the chair and sat. “I’ll stay with him for a while. Go get a hotel room and get some sleep. Or a shower, or food, if nothing else. I’ll let you know when he wakes.”

  “We can’t—”

  Howard took Rita’s hands in his. “Gil’s right. We won’t be any good to Izzy if we don’t take care of ourselves, too.” Howard stepped toward the door and gave her hand a little tug. “Go on, grab your purse.”

  Rita gathered her things and left the room. Howard was at the door when Gil asked, “If he wakes up, and asks about his legs, do you want me to tell him?”

  Howard grabbed onto the door jamb, and Gil could see the man’s internal struggle. How does a father tell his only son that he might never walk again? “I… We… I don’t know what to tell him.” Howard’s voice shook, and Gil wasn’t sure any more words would get past the stricture in Howard’s throat. As it was, Gil’s own throat was tight.

  Gil swallowed hard. “If he wakes up, I’ll tell him. You good with that?” In some ways, Gil hoped like hell Isaac didn’t wake up on his watch, because how was he going to give his friend that kind of news? But at the same time, he hoped it was him that would deliver that blow and save his parents from any more heartbreak. />
  Howard’s throat worked, but no words came after several tries. Then Howard nodded to him and disappeared around the corner.

  Though Gil doubted Isaac could hear him, he said, “I’ve got news for you, Iz. But it can wait.”

  Gil slumped into the chair, took a sip of his now lukewarm coffee, and stared at his buddy as a machine beeped a steady beat. Isaac’s chest rose and fell, his breathing slow and steady. There was no bruising on his face, and since his abdomen was covered with the hospital gown, it looked as if Isaac was sleeping. Not laying there, broken.

  Gil polished off the rest of his coffee and killed the overhead lights, leaving the one on over the bed. There was nothing he could do besides wait Isaac out. He kicked off his boots, propped his feet on the edge of the bed, and settled his head against the back of the chair. He would take a quick combat nap, and then he’d be as good as new.

  Gil didn’t know how long he’d been asleep when he heard a muffled moan coming from the bed beside him. He sat up and patted Isaac’s shoulder. “Hey, Iz? You going to wake up, buddy?”

  Isaac tried to open his eyes, then squeeze them shut again against the light. “Fuck me, man.” Isaac’s voice was thick and raspy. “How much did I have to drink last night?”

  Isaac held his hand in front of the light and tried to open his eyes again. Gil jumped up and clicked off the lights above the hospital bed. The light from the hall streamed through the open door. “That better?”

  Isaac tried to sit up, groaned, and wrapped a hand around his belly. “What the… Who…” He held a hand over his stomach. “Did I get in a fight? Feels like someone beat the crap out of me.”

  Gil pushed him back into the mattress. “Lay back. You weren’t out drinking. You’re in the hospital.”

  Gil let that sink in. Waited for the memories to return. For Isaac to figure things out on his own.

  Even with the sedation, it didn’t take Isaac long to snap to. “The gun bust.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Rivera?” Leave it to Isaac to be thinking about his teammates first.

  “In ICU, from what I’ve been told. I was going to check on him next. But the consensus is that he should pull through, barring any complications.”