One Night with a Red-Hot Rancher: Tough to Tame / Carrying the Rancher's Heir / One Dance with the Cowboy

CHAPTER FOUR

AT FIRST, Bentley wasn’t sure he’d heard her right. Then he saw the demure grin and burst out laughing. She’d compared him to a shark. He was impressed.

“I wondered if you were ever going to learn how to talk to me without getting behind a door first,” he mused.

“You’re hard going,” she confessed. “But so is Kell, to other people. He just walks right over people who don’t talk back.”

“Exactly,” he returned. He shrugged his broad shoulders. “I don’t know how to get along with people,” he confessed. “My social skills are sparse.”

“You’re wonderful with animals,” she replied.

His eyebrows arched and he smiled. “Thanks.”

“Did you always like them?” she wondered.

His eyes had a faraway look. He averted them. “Yes. But my father didn’t. It wasn’t until after he died that I indulged my affection for them. It was just my mother and me until I was in high school. That’s when she met my stepfather.” His expression hardened.

“It must have been very difficult for you,” she said quietly, “getting used to another man in your house.”

He frowned as he looked down at her. “Yes.”

“Oh, I’m remarkably perceptive,” she said with amusement in her eyes. “I also suffer from extreme modesty about my other equally remarkable attributes.” She grinned.

He laughed again.

Kilraven came back, looking smug.

“You look like a man with a mission,” Bentley mused.

“Just finished one. That young man will never want to lift a video game again.”

“Good for you. Didn’t arrest him?”

Kilraven arched an eyebrow. “Actually he knows some cheat codes for ‘Call of Duty’ that even I haven’t worked out. So I called our police chief.”

“Cheat codes are against the law?” Cappie asked, puzzled.

Kilraven chuckled. “No. Cash has a young brother-in-law, Rory, who’s nuts about ‘Call of Duty,’ so our potential shoplifter is going to go over to Cash’s house later and teach them to him. Cash may have a few words to add to the ones I gave him.”

“Neat strategy,” Bentley said.

Kilraven shrugged. “The boy loves gaming but he lives with a widowed mother who works two jobs just to keep food on the table. He wanted ‘Call of Duty,’ but he didn’t have any money. If he and Rory hit it off, and I think they might, he’ll get to play the game and learn model citizen habits on the side.”

“Good psychology,” Bentley told him.

Kilraven sighed. “It’s tough on kids, having an economy like this. Gaming is a way of life for the younger generation, but those game consoles and games for them are expensive.”

“That’s why we have a whole table of used games that are more affordable,” the owner of the store, overhearing them, commented with a grin. “Thanks, Kilraven.”

The officer shrugged. “I spend so much time in here that I feel obliged to protect the merchandise,” he commented.

The store owner patted him on the back. “Good man. I might give you a discount on your next sale.”

Kilraven glared at him. “Attempting to bribe a police officer…”

The owner held up both hands. “I never!” he exclaimed. “I said ‘might’!”

Kilraven grinned. “Thanks, though. It was a nice thought. You wouldn’t have any games based on Scottish history?” he added.

The store owner, a tall, handsome young man, gave him a pitying look. “Listen, you’re the only customer I’ve ever had who likes six-teenth-century Scottish history. And I’ll tell you again that most historians think James Hepburn got what he deserved.”

“He did not,” Kilraven muttered. “Lord Bothwell was led astray by that Frenchthinking Queen. Her wiles did him in.”

“Wiles?” Cappie asked, wide-eyed. “What are wiles?”

“If you have to ask, you don’t have any,” Bentley said helpfully.

She laughed. “Okay. Fair enough.”

Kilraven shook his head. “Bothwell had admirable qualities,” he insisted, staring at the shop owner. “He was utterly fearless, could read and write and speak French, and even his worst enemies said that he was incapable of being bribed.”

“Which may be, but still doesn’t provide grounds for a video game,” the manager replied.

Kilraven pointed a finger at him. “Just because you’re a partisan of Mary, Queen of Scots, is no reason to take issue with her Lord High Admiral. And I should point out that there’s no video game about her, either!”

“Hooray,” the manager murmured dryly. “Oh, look, a customer!” He took the opportunity to vanish toward the counter.

Kilraven’s two companions were giving him odd looks.

“Entertainment should be educational,” he defended himself.

“It is,” Bentley pointed out. “In this game—” he held up a Star Trek one “—you can learn how to shoot down enemy ships. And in this one—” he held up a comical one about aliens “—you can learn to use a death ray and blow up buildings.”

“You have no appreciation of true history,” Kilraven sighed. “I should have taught it in grammar school.”

“I can see you now, standing in front of the school board, explaining why the kids were having nightmares about sixteenth-century interrogation techniques,” Bentley mused.

Kilraven pursed his lips. “I myself have been accused of using those,” he said. “Can you believe it? I mean, I’m such a law-abiding citizen and all.”

“I can think of at least one potential kidnapper who might disagree,” Bentley commented.

“Lies. Vicious lies,” he said defensively. “He got those bruises from trying to squeeze through a car window.”

“While it was going sixty miles an hour, I believe?” the other man queried.

“Hey, it’s not my fault he didn’t want to wait for the arraignment.”

“Good thing you noticed the window was cracked in time.”

“Yes,” Kilraven sighed. “Sad, though, that I didn’t realize he had a blackjack. He gave it to me very politely, though.”

Bentley glanced at Cappie. “Was it a sprained wrist or a fractured one?” he wondered.

Kilraven gave him a cold glare. “It was a figment.”

“A what?”

“Of his imagination,” Kilraven assured him. He chuckled. “Anyway, he’s going to be in jail for a long time. The resisting arrest charge, added to assault on a police officer, makes two felony charges in addition to the kidnapping ones.”

“I hope you never get mad at me,” Bentley said.

“I’d worry more about the chief,” Kilraven replied. “He fed a guy a soapy sponge in front of the whole neighborhood.”

“He was provoked, I hear,” Bentley said.

“A felon verbally assaulted him in his own yard while he was washing his car. Of course, Cash has mellowed since his marriage.”

“Not much,” Bentley said. “And he’s still pretty good with a sniper kit. Saved Colby Lane’s little girl when she was kidnapped.”

“He practices on Eb Scott’s firing range,” Kilraven said. “We all do. He lets us use it free. State-of-the-art stuff, computers and everything.”

“Eb Scott?” Cappie asked.

“Eb was a merc,” Kilraven told her. “He and Cy Parks and Micah Steele fought in some of the bloodiest wars in Africa a few years back. They’re all married and somewhat settled. But like Cash Grier, they’re not really tame.”

Cappie only nodded. She was recalling what her brother had said about Cy Parks.

Kilraven cleared his throat. “Oops, lunchtime is over. I’ve got to go. See you.”

“You didn’t have lunch,” Bentley observed.

“I had a big breakfast,” Kilraven replied. “Can’t waste my lunch hour eating,” he added with a grin. “See you.”

“Imagine him, a gamer,” Cappie commented. “I’d never have thought it.”

“A lot of military men keep their hand-eye coordination skills sharp playing them,” he said.

“Were you in the military?” Cappie wanted to know.

He smiled and nodded. “I have it on good authority that it’s all that saved me from a life of crime. I got picked up for hanging around with a couple of bad kids who knocked over a drugstore. I was just in the car with them, but I got charged with a felony.” He sighed. “My mother went to the judge and promised him her next child if he’d let me join the army instead of standing trial. He agreed.” He glanced down at her with a smile. “He’s in his seventies now, but I still send him a Christmas present every year. I owe him.”

“That was nice.”

“I thought so, too.”

“Kell got into some trouble in his senior year of high school. I don’t remember it, I was so young, but he told me about it. He was hanging out with one of the inner-city gangs and there was a firefight. He didn’t get shot, but one of the boys in the gang was killed. Kell got arrested right along with them. He drew a female judge who had grown up in gang territory and lost a brother to the violence. She gave him a choice of facing trial or going into the service and making something of his life. He took her at her word, and made her proud.” She sighed. “It was tragic, about her. She was shot and killed in her own living room during a drug deal shootout next door.”

“Life is dangerous,” Bentley remarked.

She nodded. “Unpredictable and dangerous.” She looked up at him. “I guess maybe that’s why I like playing video games. They give me something that I can control. Life is never that way.”

He smiled. “No. It isn’t.” He watched as she took a copy of “Halo: ODST” off the shelf. “Going to make him wait until Christmas to play it?”

“Yes.”

His eyes twinkled. “I could bring my copy over. Let you get a taste of it before the fact.”

She looked fascinated. “You could?”

“Ask Kell.” He hesitated. “I could bring a pizza with me. And some beer.”

She pursed her lips. “I’m already drooling.” She grimaced. “I could cook something…”

“Not fair. You shouldn’t have to provide for guests. Besides, I haven’t had a decent pizza in weeks. I’ll be on call tonight, but we might get lucky.”

Her eyes brightened. “That would be nice. I’m sure Kell would enjoy it. We don’t get much company.”

“About six?”

Her heart jumped. “Yes. About six would be fine.”

“It’s a date.”

“I’ll see you then.”

He nodded.

She walked, a little wobbly, to the counter and paid for her game. Her life had just changed in a heartbeat. She didn’t know where it would lead, and she was a little nervous about getting involved with her boss. But he was very nice-looking and he had qualities that she admired. Besides, she thought, it was just a night of gaming. Nothing suspect about that.

She told Kell the minute she got home.

He laughed. “Don’t look so guilty,” he chided. “I like your boss. Besides, it’s neat to see the game I might get for Christmas.” He smiled angelically.

“You might get it,” she said, “and you might not.”

“You might get a new raincoat,” he mused.

She grinned. “Wow.”

He looked at her fondly. “It’s hard, living like this, I know. We were better off in San Antonio. But I didn’t want us to be around when Frank got out of jail.” His face hardened.

Her heart jumped. She hadn’t thought about Frank for several days in a row. But now the trial and his fury came back, full force. “It was almost six months ago that he was arrested, and three months until the trial. He got credit for time served. We’ve been here just about three months.” She bit her lower lip. “Oh, dear. They’ll let him out pretty soon.”

His pale eyes were cold. “It should have been a tougher sentence. But despite his past, it was the first time he was ever charged with battery, and they couldn’t get more jail time for him on a first offense. The public defender in his case was pretty talented, as well.”

She drew in a long breath. “I’m glad we’re out of the city.”

“So am I. He lived barely a block from us. We’re not as easy to get to, here.”

She stared at him closely. “You believe the threats he made,” she murmured. “Don’t you?”

“He’s the sort of man who gets even,” he told her. “I’m not the man I was, or we’d never have left town on the chance he might come after you. But here, I have friends. If he comes down here looking for trouble, he’ll find some.”

She felt a little better. “I didn’t want to have him arrested again.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered,” he told her. “The fact that you stood up to him was enough. He was used to women being afraid of him. His own sister sat in the back of the courtroom during the trial. She was afraid to get near him, because she hadn’t lied for him when the police came.”

“What makes a man like that?” she asked sadly. “What makes him so hard that he has to beat up a woman to make him feel strong?”

“I don’t know, sis,” Kell told her gently. “Honestly I don’t think the man has feelings for anybody or anything. His sister told you that he threw her dog off a bridge when they were kids. He laughed about it.”

Her face grew sad. “I thought he was such a gentleman. He was so sweet to me, bringing me flowers and candy at work, writing me love letters. Then he came over to our house and the first thing he did was kick my cat when it spit at him.”

“The cat was a good judge of character,” Kell remarked.

“When I protested, he said that animals didn’t feel pain and I shouldn’t get so worked up over a stupid cat. I should have realized then what sort of person he was.”

“People in love are neither sane nor responsible,” Kell replied flatly. “You were so crazy about him that I think you could have forgiven murder.”

She nodded sadly. “I learned the hard way that looks and acts are no measure of a man. I should have run for my life the first time he phoned me at work just to talk.”

“You didn’t know. How could you? He was a stranger.”

“You knew,” she said.

He nodded. “I’ve known men like him in the service,” he said. “They’re good in combat, because they aren’t bothered by the carnage. But that trait serves them poorly in civilian life.”

She cocked her head at him. “Kilraven said that Eb Scott lets law enforcement use his gun range for free. Don’t you know him, too?”

“Yes.”

“And Micah Steele.”

“Yes.”

She hesitated. “They’re all retired mercenaries, Kell.”

“So they are.”

“Were they involved with the military?” she persisted.

“The military uses contract personnel,” he said evasively. “People with necessary skills for certain jobs.”

“Like combat.”

“Exactly,” he replied. “We used certain firms to supplement our troops overseas in the Middle East. They’re used in Africa for certain covert operations.”

“So much secrecy,” she complained.

“Well, you don’t advertise something that might get you sued or cause a diplomatic upheaval,” he pointed out. “Covert ops have always been a part of the military. Even what they call transparency in government is never going to threaten that. As long as we have renegade states that threaten our sovereignty, we’ll have black ops.” He glanced at the clock. “Shouldn’t you warm up the game system?” he asked. “It’s five-thirty.”

“Already?” she exclaimed. “Goodness, I need to tidy up the living room! And the kitchen. He’s bringing pizza and beer!”

“You don’t drink,” he said.

“Well, no, but you like a beer now and then. I expect somebody told him.” She flushed.

“I do like a glass of beer.” He smiled. “It’s also nice to have friends who provide food.”

“Like your friend Cy and the Chinese stuff. I’ll get spoiled.”

“Maybe that’s the idea. Your boss likes you.”

She’d gotten that idea, herself. “Don’t mention horns, pitchforks or breathing fire while he’s here,” she said firmly.

He saluted her.

She made a face at him and went to do her chores.

“That’s not fair!” Cappie burst out when she’d “died” for the tenth time trying to take out one of the Hunters in the Halo game.

“Don’t throw the controller,” Kell said firmly.

She had it by one lobe, gripped tightly. She grimaced and slowly lowered it. “Okay,” she said. “But they do bounce, and they’re almost shockproof.”

“She ought to know,” Kell told an amused Bentley Rydel. “She’s bounced it off the walls several times in recent weeks.”

“Well, they keep killing me!” she burst out. “It’s not my fault! These Hunters aren’t like the ones in ‘Halo 3…’ they’re almost invincible, and there are so many of them…!”

“I’d worry more about the alien grunts that keep taking you out with sticky grenades,” Bentley pointed out. “While you’re trying to snipe the Hunters, the little guys are blowing you up right and left.”

“I want a flame thrower,” she wailed. “Or a rocket launcher! Why can’t I find a rocket launcher?”

“We wouldn’t want to make it too easy, now would we?” Bentley chided. He smiled at her fury. “Patience. You have to go slow and take them on one at a time, so they don’t flank you.”

She gave her boss a speaking look, turned back to the screen and tried again.

It was late when he left. The three of them had taken turns on the controller. Bentley and Kell had wanted to try the split screen, but that would have put Cappie right out of the competition, because she was only comfortable playing by herself.

She walked Bentley outside. “Thanks for bringing the pizza and beer,” she said. “Some other time, I’d like to have you over for supper, if you’d like. I can cook.”

He smiled. “I’ll take you up on that. I can cook, too, but I only know how to do a few things from scratch. It gets tiresome after a while.”

“Thanks for bringing the game over, too,” she added. “It’s really good. Kell is going to love it.”

“What did we all do for entertainment before video games?” he wondered aloud as they reached his car.

“I used to watch game shows,” she said. “Kell liked police dramas and old movies.”

“I like some of the forensic shows, but I almost never get to see a whole one,” he sighed. “There’s always an emergency. It’s always a large animal call. And since I’m the only vet on staff who does large animal calls, it’s always me.”

“Yes, but you never complain, not even if it’s sleeting out,” she said gently.

He smiled. “I like my clients.”

“They like you, too.” She shook her head. “Amazing, isn’t it?”

“Excuse me?”

She flushed. “Oh, no, not because of…I mean…” She grimaced. “I meant it’s amazing that you never get tired of large animal calls when the weather’s awful.”

He chuckled. “You really have got to take an assertiveness course,” he said, and not unkindly.

“It’s hard to be assertive when you’re shy,” she argued.

“It’s impossible not to be when you have a job like mine and people don’t want to do what you tell them to,” he returned. “Some animals would die if I couldn’t outargue their owners.”

“Point taken.”

“If it’s any consolation,” he said, “when I was your age, I had the same problem.”

“How did you overcome it?”

“My stepfather decided that my mother wasn’t going to the doctor for a urinary tract infection. I was already in veterinary school, and I knew what happened when animals weren’t treated for it. I told him. He told me he was the man of the house and he’d decide what my mother did.” He smiled, remembering. “So I had a choice—either back down, or let my mother risk permanent damage to her health, even death. I told him she was going to the doctor, I put her in the car and drove her there myself.”

“What did your stepfather do?” she asked, aghast.

“There wasn’t much that he could do, since I paid the doctor.” His face hardened. “And it wasn’t the first disagreement we’d had. He was poor and proud with it. He’d have let her suffer rather than admit he couldn’t afford a doctor visit or medicine.” He looked down at her. “It’s a hell of a world, when people have to choose between food and medicine and doctors. Or between heated houses and medicine.”