Tough to Tame (9 page)

“Well, I did it on Legendary,” Kell murmured, “so shut up and take care of my sister, or I’ll wipe the floor with you when I get back on my feet.”

Dead-Eye gave him a neat salute. Chet shrugged.

“See you later,” Cappie said, kissing her brother’s cheek again.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“On a job interview,” she said gently. “Brenda’s boss might have something part-time.”

“Are you sure you want to move back here?” Kell asked.

“Yes,” she lied.

“Good luck, then.”

“Thanks. See you, Kilraven. Thank you, too.”

He grinned. “Keep your gunpowder dry.”

“Tell them.” She pointed to her two companions. “I hate guns.”

“Bite your tongue!” Kilraven said in mock horror.

She made a face and went out the door, her two companions right behind her.

Bentley met them at the elevator. “Where are you going now?” he asked her.

She hesitated.

“Job interview,” Rourke said for her.

“You can’t leave the clinic,” Bentley said curtly. “I don’t have anybody to replace you yet!”

“That’s your problem,” she shot back. “I don’t want to work for you anymore!”

He looked hunted.

“Besides, Kell and I are moving back to San Antonio as soon as he heals,” she said stubbornly. “It’s too far to commute.”

Bentley looked even more worried. He didn’t say anything.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” she added.

“Dr. King’s filling in for me,” he said.

“Until when?”

His pale eyes glittered. “Until I can convince you to come home where you belong.”

“Please. Hold your breath.” She walked around him and into the next open elevator. She didn’t even look to see which direction it was going.

It was going up. She was stuck between two oversize men and two perfume-soaked women. She started to cough before the women got off. The men left two floors later and the elevator slowly started down.

“Wasn’t that heaven?” Rourke said with a dreamy smile, inhaling the air. “I love perfume.”

“It makes me sick,” Chet muttered, sniffing.

“It makes me cough,” Cappie agreed.

“Well, obviously, you two don’t like women as much as I do,” Rourke scoffed.

They both glared at him.

He raised both hands, palms-out, in defense and grinned.

The elevator stopped at the cafeteria again and Bentley was still there, smoldering.

Cappie glared at him. It didn’t help. He got on the elevator and pressed the down button.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Cappie asked him.

“On a job interview,” he said gruffly. “Maybe they need an extra veterinarian where you’re applying.”

“Does this mean that you’re not marrying me?” Rourke wailed in mock misery.

Bentley gaped. “You’re marrying him?” he exclaimed.

“I am not marrying anybody!” Cappie muttered.

Bentley shifted restlessly. “You could marry me,” he said without looking at her. “I’m established in a profession and I don’t carry a gun,” he added, looking pointedly at the butt of Rourke’s big .45 auto nestled under his armpit.

“So am I, established in a profession,” Rourke argued. “And knowing how to use a gun isn’t a bad thing.”

“Diplomats don’t think so,” Chet muttered.

“That’s only until other people start shooting at them, and you save their butts,” Rourke told him.

Chet brightened. “I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

“Come on,” Cappie groaned when the elevator stopped. “I swear, I feel like I’m leading a parade!”

“Anybody got a trombone?” Rourke asked the people waiting around the elevator.

Cappie caught his arm and dragged him along with her.

They took a cab to the veterinarian’s office. The car was full. The men were having a conversation about video games, but they left Cappie behind when they mentioned innovations they’d found on the Internet, about how to do impossible things with the equipment in the Halo series.

“Using grenades to blow a Scorpion up onto a mountain?” she exclaimed.

“Hey, whatever works,” Rourke argued.

“Yeah, but you have to shoot your buddies to get enough grenades,” Chet said. “That’s not ethical.”

“This, from a guy who lifted a policeman’s riot gun right out of the trunk of his car!” Rourke said.

“I never lifted it, I borrowed it! Anyway, everybody was shooting rifles or shotguns and I only had a .45,” he scoffed.

“Everybody else’s was bigger than his,” Rourke translated with an angelic pose.

Chet hit his arm. “Stop that!”

“See why he can’t get a job with diplomats?” Rourke quipped, holding his arm in mock pain.

“I’m amazed that either of you can get a job,” Cappie commented. “You really need to work on your social skills.”

“I’m trying to, but you won’t marry me,” Rourke grumbled.

“Of course she won’t, she’s marrying me,” Bentley said smugly.

“I am not!” Cappie exclaimed.

“No woman is going to marry a veterinarian when she can have a dashing spy,” Rourke commented.

“Do you know one?” Bentley asked calmly.

Rourke glared at him. “I can be dashing when I want to, and I used to work for the CIA.”

“Yes, but does sweeping floors count as a real job?” Chet wanted to know.

“You ought to know,” Rourke told the other man. “Isn’t that what you did in Manila?”

“I was the president’s bodyguard!”

“And didn’t he end up in the hospital?”

“We’re here!” Cappie said loudly, indicating where the cab was stopping. “And the ride is Dutch treat,” she added. “I’m not paying cab fare for bodyguards and stubborn hangers-on.”

“Who’s a hanger-on?” Rourke asked.

But Cappie was already out of the cab. The three men followed her when they settled their part of the fare.

She walked into the veterinarian’s front office, where Kate Snow was still holding down the job of receptionist. She was twenty-four, tall, brunette and had soft green eyes and a pleasant rather than pretty face. She smiled.

“Hi, Cappie,” she greeted. “Come to visit your old stomping grounds?”

“Actually I’m here to apply for something part-time,” she replied.

“Brenda said that, but I didn’t believe her,” Kate replied, stunned. “You just moved to Jacobsville.”

“Well, I’m moving back.”

“I’ll buzz Dr. Lammers,” she said, and pressed a button on the phone. She spoke into the receiver, nodded,
spoke again and hung up. “He’s with a patient, but he’ll be out in a minute.” She looked past Cappie. “Can I help you?” she asked the three men.

“I’m with her,” Rourke said.

“Me, too,” Chet seconded.

“I’m applying for a job, too,” Bentley said. “I thought you might need an extra vet.” He smiled.

“Who are you?” Kate asked, surprised.

“He’s my ex-boss,” Cappie muttered.

“You’re Dr. Rydel?” Kate exclaimed. “But you have your own practice in Jacobsville!”

“I do, but if Cappie moves here, I move here,” he said stubbornly.

“We might move here, too,” Rourke interrupted. “I can interview for a job here, too. I can type.”

“Liar,” Chet said. “He can’t type.”

“I can learn!”

“All you know how to do is shoot people,” Chet scoffed.

“Sir, it’s illegal to carry a concealed weapon,” Kate began nervously.

Rourke gave her his most charming smile. “I’m a professional bodyguard, and I have a permit. If you’d like to see it, I’ll take you to this lovely little French bistro downtown and you can look at it while we eat.”

Kate stared at him as if he’d grown horns.

“There’s a guy stalking her,” Chet told her. “We’re going to catch him if he tries anything and turn him over to local law enforcement.”

“Stalking you?” Kate stammered.

Cappie glared at the two men. “Thank you so much for making me an employment liability!”

Rourke made her a bow. Chet just glowered. Bentley beamed.

“I don’t mind employing you. Not one bit,” Bentley said. “These two can work for the groomer and we’ll protect you.”

“I’m not grooming anything,” Chet told him bluntly.

“Okay. Then you can deal with surly clients,” Bentley compromised.

Chet gave him an appreciative look.

“Actually I know how to groom things,” Rourke said. “I once shaved a monkey.”

Cappie hit him.

“There you are!” Brenda exclaimed, coming out of the back in a green-and-blue polka-dotted lab coat. “I talked to Dr. Lammers, but he said we’ve already got more part-timers than we can spare. I’m so sorry,” she added miserably.

“What’s your address?” Bentley asked. “I’ll send you flowers.”

“I thought you wanted to marry her,” Chet pointed at Cappie.

Brenda’s eyes widened. “Who are you?” she asked the dark-eyed man.

“I’m a hired…”

“…assassin,” Rourke finished for him.

“I don’t kill people, I just shoot them!” Chet growled.

“I only wound them,” Rourke added. “Are we going back to Jacobsville, then?”

“Who are these men?” Brenda asked again.

“Well, these two are my bodyguards—” she indicated them “—and that’s my ex-boss.”

“Why is your ex-boss here?” she asked, all at sea.

“He was going to get a job here, too, but there are no openings for part-timers or vets, so I guess we’re all going back to Jacobsville,” Cappie said miserably. “That is, if Frank doesn’t shoot me first.”

“Nobody’s shooting you,” Rourke assured her.

“You can bet on that,” Chet said.

Brenda smiled at them. “Thanks. She’s my best friend.”

Cappie hugged her. “Thanks anyway, for trying. I’ll call you. See you, Kate!”

Kate waved as she picked up the ringing telephone. Her eyes were still on Rourke, who grinned at her.

“Come on, let’s go,” Cappie told the men.

“How’s Kell?” Brenda asked, walking them out.

“He’s going to make it. We won’t know if he can walk for several days, though.”

“If you have to go home, I’ll visit him for you.”

“I can’t leave just yet,” Cappie said. “Not until we find Frank.”

Brenda stared at Bentley, who was all smiles. “Aren’t you going back to your practice?”

“When we find Frank,” he commented pleasantly.

“You’re not part of this bodyguard unit,” Chet reminded him.

“I am now,” Bentley assured him. His eyes smoothed over Cappie. “I’m in it until the end.”

Cappie hated the rush of pleasure that comment gave her. So she disguised it by hugging Brenda and promising to keep in touch.

B
ENTLEY WENT
with them back to the hotel where Cappie was staying. He left them at the desk to get a room for himself. He managed one on the same floor, two doors down, and then went back to the other hotel where he’d been staying to pack his bags and check out.

“Great,” Cappie muttered when they were back in her suite. “Now we’re really going to be a parade.”

“He likes you,” Rourke pointed out. “And at this point, the more eyes, the better. He might see something we’d miss. After all, he knows what Frank looks like. We only have a mug shot. And you said it didn’t really look much like him,” he added, because he’d shown it to her earlier.

“All right,” she sighed. She moved to the window and looked down at the busy street. “At least Kell’s in good hands. I wouldn’t want to walk in on Kilraven, even if he was in a good mood, with evil intent.”

“There’s an odd bird,” Rourke commented. “We can’t even find out which branch of the government he really works for, and we’ve tried. His brother works for
the FBI, but Kilraven’s true affiliations are less obvious.”

She turned to him. “Is he CIA?”

“If he was, he wouldn’t say so. And just for the record,” he added with a grin, “no CIA office address is ever listed, in any city where we have offices. We don’t even mention which cities those are.”

“What a shadowy bunch you are,” she commented.

He just grinned. “That’s why we’re so good at what we do.”

“What we
do
?” she asked, hitting on the obvious assumption.

“I didn’t say I was still with them,” he pointed out.

“You didn’t say you weren’t, either,” she replied.

He made a face at her.

“At least my job is up-front and everybody knows what it is,” Chet said.

They both looked at him with wide eyes.

He glared at them. “I’m a bodyguard!”

“Well, so am I, right now,” Rourke said. “But it’s not what I do full-time.” He gave the other man a narrow-eyed appraisal. “And it isn’t what you do full-time, either.”

Chet looked uncomfortable.

“What does he do full-time?” Cappie asked, curious.

“It involves long-range rifles and black ops.”

“It does not,” Chet muttered.

“It used to.”

“Well, after I broke my leg, I was less enthusiastic about jumping out of Blackhawks,” he muttered.

“You broke both legs, I heard.”

Chet sighed. “And an arm. Breaks never heal properly, even with good medical care.” He sighed again. “You try getting good medical care in…” He caught himself and closed his mouth.

“I wasn’t going to say a word,” Rourke told him.

“Well, don’t. I’m out of cigarettes. I’m going down the street and see if I can find anybody in the mob to sell me a pack under the table, if the police aren’t looking.”

“Smoking’s not illegal, is it?” Cappie asked.

“Any day now, it probably will be,” Chet said despondently. “Can’t spit without a federal permit these days,” he said, and kept muttering all the way out the door.

“Quick, tell me,” Cappie said to Rourke, “was he a sniper?”

“I’ve never been sure,” he told her with a grin. “But he and Cash Grier are pretty chummy.”

“Should that mean something?”

“Grier was a high-level government assassin in his younger days, but I didn’t tell you that,” he said firmly. “Some secrets have to be kept to save one’s skin.”

“Well!” she exclaimed. “I’d never have guessed.”

“Neither would most other people. I’m going down the hall to loiter and see if I see anybody I recognize. Keep the door locked and don’t answer it unless you recognize my voice, or Chet’s. Got that?”

She nodded. “Thanks.”

“When I do a job, I do a job,” he told her. He closed the door behind him when he left.

She was jumpy. With her protection, she shouldn’t have been, but she kept remembering her last sight of Frank
Bartlett, cursing her for all he was worth when the judge announced his sentence. He’d been yelling vengeance at the top of his lungs, and he’d almost managed to get away from the sheriff’s deputy who had him in handcuffs. It had been a scary moment. Almost as scary as the memory of the night he’d beaten her.

She wrapped her arms around her rib cage and closed her eyes. She did hope they’d catch him before he got to her. Surely the job he’d done on Kell would guarantee him some quality prison time. But what if he got out again, after that? Would she have to live her entire life being afraid of Frank? After all, he could get out on good behavior, no matter how long his sentence was. Or he could hang a jury at his next trial. Or he could break out of prison. There were plenty of horrible possibilities, all of which would leave Cappie hiding behind locked doors as long as she lived. It wasn’t a possibility she looked forward to.

The sudden knock on the door brought a cry of panic to her lips. She moved toward the door, but she didn’t touch the knob. “Who…is it?” she called.

“Room service. We’re checking to see if your veterinarian has been delivered yet.”

She burst out laughing. She knew that curt voice, as well as she knew her own. “Bentley!” She moved closer to the door. “I don’t recall ordering a veterinarian.”

“Well, we’re delivering one to you anyway, just in case you regret not ordering him later,” he drawled.

She unlocked the door and gave him a droll look. “Nice tactics.”

He shrugged. “I’m desperate. You wouldn’t let me in if I just asked.” He looked behind her and the smile faded. “Where are your bodyguards?”

“Chet went looking for cigarettes and Rourke is down the hall checking for intruders.”

“And you’re in here alone.”

“Well, the door was locked until you asked to come in,” she pointed out.

“Fair enough. Want to come downstairs and have coffee and pie with me? Then we can go to see Kell.”

“I guess that would be okay. But I have to tell Rourke where I’m going…”

“He already knows,” came an amused voice from the general direction of her purse.

“How did you get in here?” she asked, lifting the purse.

“I hid a microphone in there earlier, in case you escaped.”

“I’m going downstairs to have coffee and pie, then Bentley and I are going to see Kell.”

“Okay. I’ll be around. Have fun. And don’t hit him with the pie. You will be going to a hospital.”

“On your way to a hospital is the best time to hit people with things,” she retorted. “There are doctors there.”

“Yes, I know,” Bentley spoke into her purse. “I am one.”

“You’re a veterinarian,” Rourke shot back.

“I can treat injuries if I want to.”

“Try not to let her give you any.”

“You stop that,” Cappie told her purse. Nobody answered. “Hello?” she said, looking inside it.

“Don’t do that in public, okay?” Bentley asked as they walked to the door. “There are probably psychiatrists around the hospital, too.”

She rolled her eyes and went out into the hall just ahead of him.

The hospital cafeteria was crowded. They found a table, but they had to share it with an elderly couple who’d come all the way from the Mexican border to visit their daughter, who’d just had a baby. They had photographs, and showed every single one to Bentley and Cappie, who made the correct responses between sips of coffee and bites of apple pie.

Finally the elderly couple finished their soft drinks and went off toward the elevator.

“Alone at last,” Bentley teased.

“One more photograph would have done me in,” she confessed. “I swear, if I ever have a grandchild…”

“…you’ll have even more photos than they did, and show them to total strangers, too,” he chuckled.

She shrugged and smiled. “Yes. I guess I would.”

“Babies are nice. I used to think I’d like one or two, myself.”

“You don’t anymore?” she asked.

He moved his coffee mug around on the table. “I sort of gave up hope. Until you came along.” He didn’t look at her as he said it.

She felt her toes tingle. She hated the rush of pleasure she felt. “Really?”

He looked up. His pale blue eyes made sparks as they met hers. “Really.”

She hesitated.

“I never should have believed a man I just met, who sat in my office and told lies about you with perfect innocence. But, then, I was afraid you were too good to be true.”

“Nobody’s perfect.”

“I realize that. You don’t have to be perfect. I just don’t want to get in over my head and get kicked in the teeth again.”

“I’m not that sort of person,” she told him.

His eyes narrowed on her face. “He really hurt you, didn’t he?”

“I thought I loved him,” she said quietly. “He seemed to be kind and considerate…but the first date we had, he kicked my cat. I should have known then. Kind people aren’t cruel to animals, ever. I found out later that he’d been abusive to at least two other women he dated, but they were too afraid of him to press charges.” She smiled wanly. “Well, so was I. But Kell insisted. He said that Frank might end up killing someone if I didn’t have him prosecuted. Then I’d have it on my conscience. I just didn’t realize that it might be me that Frank killed.” She put her face in her hands. “It won’t ever end. Even if he goes back to trial, he could get off, or they could release him for good behavior, or he could break out…I’ll never be free of him as long as I live.”

“Don’t talk like that,” he said softly. “I won’t let him hurt you.”

She took her hands away. She looked older. “What if he hurt you? What if he killed you? Anybody around me will be a target. I almost put Brenda in danger without even realizing it.”

“I’m not afraid of the little weasel,” he told her. “And you’re not going to be afraid of him, either. That’s how he controls women. With fear. Don’t give him a foothold in your mind.”

She bit her lip. “I’m just scared, Bentley.”

“Yes, but you did the right thing. And you’ll do it again, anytime you have to. You aren’t the type of person who runs from trouble, any more than I am.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

She searched his eyes. “I was scared to death of you, at first. Then I was in a wreck and you drove me home.” She smiled. “You aren’t as horrible as you seem.”

“Thanks. I think.” He smiled back.

“Okay. I’ll stick it out. If Frank escapes another jail sentence, maybe I can get Rourke to hide him in a jungle overseas, so deep that he’d never find his way out.”

“Ahem,” her purse replied, “I do not kidnap American citizens and carry them out of the country for nefarious purposes. Not even for pretty women.”

“Spoilsport,” she told him.

“However, I know people who would,” he added, with a smile in his voice.

“Good man,” Bentley said.

“Why don’t you marry him?” Rourke asked. “At least he’d make sure you were never in harm’s way.”

“If you’ll give me your boss’s telephone number,” Bentley told the purse, “I’ll call him and give you a glowing recommendation.”

“What a pal!”

“I always…”

Bentley stopped talking because three people were standing at their table with open mouths, watching him speak into Cappie’s purse. He cleared his throat. “There, the radio’s turned off now,” he said in a deep, deliberate tone. He handed her back the purse.

The three people looked sheepish, smiled and left the cafeteria in a bit of a rush.

Cappie burst out laughing. Bentley’s cheeks were the color of bubble gum.

“Quick thinking, there, Dr. Rydel,” Rourke called over the radio. “Want to come work for us?”

“Go away,” Cappie told him. “I am not going to consider marrying anybody in your line of work.”

“Spoilsport,” Rourke said. “Shutting up now.”

Cappie met Bentley’s eyes, and they both laughed.

Kell was groggy and quiet. The pain must have been pretty bad, Cappie thought, once the anesthetic wore off. He was much less talkative than he’d been when he was just out of the recovery room. He was pale and he looked as if it was an effort to say anything at all. They only stayed a couple of minutes. Kell was asleep before they got out the door.

“Do you think it would be safe to step outside just for a minute and get a breath of air?” Cappie asked. “There are people everywhere.”

“I don’t know,” Bentley said, his eyes roving.

“Rourke, what do you think?” she asked her purse.

But there was no reply. She looked around. She
didn’t see Rourke or Chet. That was odd. They’d been visible every minute since she came to San Antonio.

“Maybe it would be all right,” she said. “I just want to stretch my legs for a minute.”

“All right,” Bentley said. “But you stay close to me.” He slid his big hand into her small one and closed it warmly. “I’ll take care of you.”

She smiled wearily and laid her head against his shoulder for a minute. “Okay.”

They walked out into the cold night air. The sidewalk was crowded. Traffic passed by. There was a policeman on the corner, leaning back against a storefront, talking into a cell phone. Nearby, two men in suits were talking, oblivious to passersby.

All around them, neon signs and holiday lights brightened the darkness. “It’s almost Christmas,” she exclaimed. “With all that’s happened, I forgot.” She grimaced. “We won’t get to open presents under the tree this year. Kell will never be able to go home by Christmas Eve.”

“Then we’ll put up a small tree in his room and transfer the presents up here from Jacobsville,” he promised her. “We’ll have Christmas here.”

She looked up at him with soft, quiet eyes. “We?”

His jaw tautened. “I’m not leaving you again. Not even for a day,” he said huskily.

The words made tears brim in her eyes. The way he said it was so poignant, so passionate. He didn’t even need to say what he was feeling. She read it in his face.

He pulled her into his arms and held her close,
hugged her tight, buried his face in her long, soft hair. “Marry me.”

She closed her eyes. “Yes. Yes!” she whispered.

His chest rose and fell heavily. “Of all the places to get engaged,” he groaned. “With a thousand eyes watching.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered.

No, he thought. It didn’t.