Cowboy, Undercover

by Vicki Tharp

  “Did you get them? Did you get those bastards?”

  Isaac wasn’t up for a full debrief. Gil kept it to the basics. “Some. Not all. One’s dead. One’s wounded. The team is on the case. Hopefully, we’ll know more soon.”

  Isaac reached a hand out, but Gil didn’t know what he needed. “Can I get you something?”

  “Water.”

  On a rolling table, there was a pitcher of water and a plastic cup with a lid and a straw. Gil filled it, buzzed the head of Isaac’s bed up, and held the straw to his lips. “Drink up.”

  After several long swallows, Gil pulled the cup away. He didn’t want Isaac throwing up. “Let that settle, then we’ll try some more.”

  Isaac leaned back against the pillow, and his eyes drifted closed. Gil thought he’d fallen back asleep when his eyes opened a fraction and Isaac said, “Okay, hit me with it. All of it.”

  Seconds ticked by as Gil tried to form the words, the sentences, that would deliver the devastating news. Gil was now seriously questioning his offer to tell Isaac about his paralysis. To buy himself more time, Gil sent off a quick text to Isaac’s parents to let them know Isaac was awake.

  “That craptastic?” Isaac asked.

  “It’s not good.”

  “I can’t move my legs. I feel nothing from the waist down.” Isaac’s voice didn’t break, it was this dry monotone. “Answer my question.” Isaac closed his eyes again as if that would make what Gil had to say less heartbreaking to hear.

  “What question was that?”

  “The one I asked you out in the field. Am I ever going to get laid again?”

  “Look, buddy, you have more important things to worry about.”

  Isaac opened his eyes again “Maybe. But if I can’t have sex, what’s the point?”

  Gil popped out of the chair and paced to the far wall and back. “Are you fucking kidding me? There is more to life than sex.”

  “Spoken like a man who can have it.”

  “Fine,” Gil raised his hands in defeat. “Say you’re right, say the worst happens. Say you never walk again. Say you never have sex again. You’re still alive. You can still love, you can still work, you can still—”

  “Yeah, yeah. I hear you.” But by Isaac’s tone, Gil wasn’t convinced Isaac had heard him at all.

  “You were the one who always preached that satisfying your partner was what was most important to you. You have your hands, your mouth. You don’t need a dick to make a man happy. Not the right one anyway.”

  “Is this you offering to help me update my Tinder profile? We can say: Looking for the right man, who likes half a man, one who doesn’t need a di—”

  “You’re awake.” One of the male nurses walked into the room. He was young and fit, and the type of guy Isaac would normally go after. From the subtle way he checked Isaac out, the nurse might have been the kind of guy to take Isaac up on his offer. “How are you feeling? Can I get you anything?”

  The nurse put a blood pressure cuff on Isaac’s arm and stuck the stethoscope into his ears.

  “You can settle an argument for me.” Isaac’s tone came across as light and unaffected.

  “Isaac,” Gil warned.

  Isaac ignored him.

  The nurse held up one finger as he slowly let the air out of the blood pressure cuff. If Isaac had seen him at the bar, he would have been quick to buy him a drink, and knowing Isaac, try to take him to his bed.

  The nurse pulled the cuff off Isaac’s arm and jotted something on Isaac’s medical record. “What’s your question?”

  “Say you met a guy, a good-looking guy, and you liked him. Would you go out with him?”

  The nurse looked from Isaac to Gil and back again. He hesitated, then said, “Probably.” The nurse knew something was up. “What’s this about?”

  “I’m getting there,” Isaac said. “Let’s say this guy that you like, this cute guy, charming guy, asked you out, and you said yes. Say you guys got along, and let’s say you decide, you want to have sex with him—”

  “Where are you going with this?” The nurse leaned in. He had one of those interested smiles on his face.

  “Hang with me, I’m almost to the point.” When the nurse nodded for him to go on, Isaac said, “Then say you found out his dick was dead, would you want to have sex with him?”

  He took a step away, his hands on his hips. He glanced over his shoulder at Gil again, who gave the nurse the slightest nod. He knew what Isaac wanted and needed to hear. “For the right guy? Sure. Why not. You wouldn’t be the first impotent man in this world. There are other ways to please your partner.”

  Isaac barked out a laugh, then grabbed at his stomach and groaned. “You’re saying that because you feel sorry for me.”

  “Maybe,” the nurse said. “Maybe not. You’d have to ask me out if you want to find out for sure.” He checked a few other vitals, then said, “I’m going to go call your doctor, and let him know you’re awake.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  He had almost made it to the door when Isaac said, “Were you serious? About me asking you out?”

  He pulled out his pen and strode back to the bed and scribbled his number on the palm of Isaac’s right hand. “You tell me.”

  He turned and gave Gil a wink on his way out. Gil wasn’t sure if the nurse was being genuine, but he didn’t care. The man had given his friend a rare and precious commodity. Hope.

  “Told you.” Gil sat back down in the chair.

  The glower on Isaac’s face softened, not a smile, but no longer a frown. “Yeah, well, talk is cheap.”

  “Iz, shut up.”

  Isaac chuckled. It was rueful but real. He stared up at the ceiling for a bit, lost in his thoughts. His eyes got heavy and he fought the sleep. “Fuck, man,” he said as the realization of his injuries really started sinking in. “This bites.”

  “Sucks hairy donkey balls, buddy. But this ain’t nothing but a bump in the road.”

  “Yeah,” Isaac said. Though it didn’t sound like he believed the words. “Tell me you guys have a plan to catch these assholes.”

  Gil settled deep into the chair, putting his feet on the edge of the bed again, and filled Isaac in on what little they knew. Isaac’s eyes closed, and when his breathing became slow and steady, Gil stopped mid-sentence thinking Isaac had fallen asleep.

  “Don’t stop,” Isaac muttered. “I’m not dead yet.”

  “Not even funny.” Gil continued, “After Finn talked to the guy you shot, this Drew Roth guy, they think there might be a way to get a guy on the inside.

  Isaac’s eyes opened part way, but Gil knew Isaac was glaring at him. “Tell me that you didn’t volunteer.”

  Gil pinched the bridge of his nose, thought about lying, but didn’t. “Bet your ass I did.”

  Isaac’s gaze remained steady, but tension coiled in his body. “Don’t do this for me.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Fine. This one is for you. But you would do the same for me.”

  “Not if I just got off an eighteen-month stint undercover. Not if I’d almost lost my life.” With his hand, Isaac shoved Gil’s legs off the bed and said, “Look me in the eye and tell me that you’re mentally where you need to be to pull this off.”

  “This isn’t like that other op. This should be short term. A few weeks, a few months tops.” It wasn’t lost on Isaac that Gil hadn’t given Isaac the confirmation he’d needed.

  “You’re going to make a mistake. You’re going to get yourself killed. Then it will be me passing out the I told you so’s.”

  The doctor rounded the corner with Isaac’s parents right behind. Thank Christ. Isaac wasn’t going to talk him out of going undercover. At least now they wouldn’t have to argue about it.

  Gil said his goodbyes and left with a promise to be back as soon as he could.

  On the way out of the hospital, he stopped by Rivera’s room in ICU, but he was asleep, and there had been little change in his status.
Gil paid his respects to Rivera’s parents and headed out the door.

  Isaac might have a point about the whole undercover gig. It wasn’t like Gil was dying to go back under. But what choice did he have?

  7

  A sheriff’s deputy came and left with Tessa’s statement. She spent the next hour and a half cleaning up the wreck that used to be her house. With every shard of glass she swept up, and every piece of fluff from the couch cushion she bagged, her anger built.

  This may only be a house to some, but in the time that she and Jack had moved in, she’d worked her ass off turning it into a home. She could have bought something more expensive. In the past year, Bradley had started shoving money every month into a bank account he’d set up for her under the guise of child support. But it wasn’t child support.

  It was manipulation.

  She didn’t want one penny, one dime, one nickel, from her ex. All she wanted from Bradley, was for him to leave her and Jack alone. Do kids need their father? No question. Unless that father is Bradley Martin.

  Then that kid would be much better off with a dog, or a cat, or even a fucking hamster. Not a weasel of a man who used his money and his power to coerce, to frighten, to get his way.

  Bradley reminded her of a toddler stuck in his terrible two’s, only with more power and menace. There had been a time shortly after Bradley had disappeared that she had felt sorry for herself and her son. Until she realized they were both much better off without him.

  How could she raise a good son, a moral son, when his father’s moral compass couldn’t find true North. Now that Bradley wanted to worm his way back into their lives, there was no telling what the future held.

  As she showered for her meeting with Bradley, she steeled herself for what was to come. Nothing good. That was for sure.

  Bone weary, she poured a travel cup full of coffee and headed to the quiet little Italian restaurant off the square in Murdock. The restaurant had limited seating, catering to the tourist crowd, but as far as upscale restaurants went, this was the best Murdock had.

  Call her cynical, but Tessa didn’t think Bradley had asked her to Mariano’s to wine her, dine her, and impress her. He wanted to meet her there because it was crowded. Less of a chance for her to make a scene.

  But she wasn’t the same woman she’d been when he’d left years ago. She no longer cared what others thought. If he pissed her off, Bradley would know it, and so would the rest of the town.

  She came through the restaurant’s door five minutes early. Bradley was already there. A glass of wine in his hand, and a snake-in-the-grass smile on his face. He stood when the maître d’ walked her to the table, and like the gentleman he pretended to be, he pulled out the chair for her.

  The two-top table sat in a quiet corner. The dim lighting might make some people feel romantic. All it made Tessa feel was tired. At least Bradley had already ordered the wine.

  “You came,” he said.

  “Of course, I came.” She kept her voice pleasant, for now. “It was an edict, not an invitation.”

  “Is that attitude necessary?” He eyed her over the top of his wine glass. His voice remained deceptively calm, and his expression stayed unreadable. Typical Bradley. She hadn’t known what he’d been thinking way back when, and she had no freaking clue what he thought now. Nothing she would like. The wine turned to vinegar on her tongue.

  The waitress came by and offered them both a menu. Tessa waved her off, and said, “The wine is all, thank you.”

  “You have to eat.” Bradley’s concern fell short of sincere.

  No, I don’t. Tessa caught herself before the words jumped out. She wasn’t a kid who hadn’t had her nap. She settled on, “I’m not hungry.”

  “As you wish.” Bradley gave his attention to the waitress. “I’ll have the Chicken Primavera.”

  Tessa took a generous swallow of the wine. From experience, she knew anything Bradley had to say would be easier to digest with a little alcohol in her system. “Why am I here.”

  “Can’t I sit down and have a nice dinner with my wife?”

  “Ex-wife.”

  “About that.” Bradley took her hand. She took it back. He frowned and said, “Now that we’re practically in the same town, I thought…”

  He flashed her that well-practiced, self-deprecating smile that she’d stupidly fallen for years ago. While Bradley had many shortcomings, low self-esteem wasn’t one of them. That smile was all part of the act.

  “I’m not getting back together with you.” She didn’t know how to say it any clearer than that.

  “Don’t tell me you’re seeing someone.” His tone was teasing, in a spill-the-beans kind of way. Like he was her best friend, her confidant, not her ex.

  “That’s none of your business. You gave up the right to have a say in my personal life when you walked out that door and didn’t come back.”

  “I’m back now.”

  “It’s too late.” In case he had any doubts, she added, “It’s waaay too late.”

  Bradley swirled the wine in his glass and took a sip. “How was your day?”

  Horrendous and getting worse every second she stayed in that restaurant. “Why do you care now? You’ve never cared when we were married.”

  “Humor me.”

  “Just peachy.” If you could call running nonstop for forty-eight hours on a couple hours of sleep, having your tire slashed, your home trashed, and oh, yeah, members of your team shot, just peachy, then that’s what she was.

  The waitress came by with some bread. Despite what Tessa had said about not being hungry, her stomach rumbled. She picked up a slice and tore it in half, dipping it into the herb spiced olive oil.

  “You always were a lousy liar,” Bradley said.

  “Better to be a crappy liar than an accomplished one.” The pettiness leaked out with her words. Bradley was an expert on pushing her buttons, and it gnawed on her to know that and to not be able to stop herself.

  “I didn’t come here to fight.”

  “Then why did you ask me here? I told you earlier I didn’t have time. It’s been a shit day, and all I really want to do is pick up my son and call it a night.”

  Bradley brushed the crumbs off his fingers and sat back. “What happened?”

  Tessa polished off the rest of her wine in one giant gulp, enjoying the exasperation on Bradley’s face at the way she tossed back three-hundred-dollar-a-bottle wine like it came in a box. Because she wanted to see his reaction when she answered, she met his eyes. “My house was vandalized.”

  He almost looked surprised. Tessa figured his honed acting skills went along with his innate ability to lie through his teeth.

  “Look me in the eye and tell me you had nothing to do with it.”

  He feigned indignation better than surprise. “Why would you say that?”

  “Because it was a chicken shit thing to do to somebody and I thought to myself, ‘Tessa, who would do such a chicken shit thing?’ and guess whose name popped into my head?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Things like that happen when you live on the downhill part of town. When the shit rolls through, it’s going to get messy.”

  “Nice,” Tessa said. “Funny how we never had any problems before, yet within a few months of you moving close, something like this happens. I don’t believe in coincidences.”

  He raised in hands. “Believe what you want. I had nothing to do with it. But this incident does bring up a point I wanted to make.”

  This should be good. Tessa tore off another piece of bread and swirled it around in the oil.

  “You need to move. I won’t have my son living in that kind of neighborhood. It’s not safe.”

  “Our son. That neighborhood is what I can afford.”

  “Why do you think I send the money if not for you to—”

  The waitress delivered Bradley’s dinner. He gave her one of his patented classy-guy smile, but there was a tension around his eyes that kept the smile from settling there.
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  “I send you that money so that our son doesn’t have to live in squalor.”

  Squalor. Her bank balance may not have lots of zeros, but they lived comfortably. Jack didn’t have the newest video gaming system or a phone or a computer—he was only seven—but Jack never wanted for the things that mattered most.

  “You send that money to try to control me. The way my father tried. A rotten carrot dangling in front of my nose.”

  “It’s called child support.”

  “No. Money like that is borderline coercion.”

  “The courts might see it differently.”

  Tessa choked on the toasted bread. Crumbs went down her windpipe, and she coughed and sputtered. People at nearby tables turned and watched. She drank some water, but her throat still spasmed. Courts. Heat rose to her cheeks and sweat broke out over her hairline.

  She drank more water while she gathered her composure. “The courts saw fit to give me sole custody after you’d abandoned us. They gave you visitation every other weekend, which you backed out on at the last minute on Friday.”

  “I want what’s fair. Don’t make me ask for more.”

  Wait. How had Bradley turned this around and made himself the victim? He was the narcissist who’d abandoned his family. Not her. “We’ve been through this already. The courts have spoken.”

  “Don’t force my hand.” He pushed his plate away, his food hardly touched.

  Bring it on, came to mind, but she would be stupid to underestimate him. In the time that he’d been gone, he’d matured, and done very well financially. Like her father. Tessa would be a fool to forget the kind of power and sway money like that could wield. It wouldn’t take much for him to bury her in court costs and bankrupt her.

  The waitress came by. “Something wrong with the food?”

  “No.” Bradley stood, peeling off enough hundred-dollar bills to cover the wine and his meal. To them both, he said, “We’re done here.”

  Night settled in as Tessa and Jack pulled up to Gil’s cabin at the Lazy S. She reached back and tugged on Jack’s foot. “Hey buddy, wake up. We’re here.”