Invincible
“When was that? I didn’t see him.”
“You were at lunch.”
“Oh.”
He didn’t volunteer any more information.
“I need to go buy a new dress,” she said. “I think I’ll drive up to San Antonio after work, since it’s Saturday and I get off at 1 p.m.”
“Okay. I’ll let you borrow the Cobra.” He laughed at her astonished look. “I’m not sure your truck would make it even halfway to the city, pumpkin.”
She just shook her head.
* * *
IT WAS A CONCESSION of some magnitude. Her father loved that car. He washed and waxed it by hand, bought things for it. She was only allowed to drive it on very special occasions, and usually only when she went to the big city.
San Antonio wasn’t a huge city, but there was a lot to see. Carlie liked to stop by the Alamo and look at it, but El Mercado was her port of call. It had everything, including unique shops and music and restaurants. She usually spent half a day just walking around it. But today she was in a hurry.
She went from store to store, but she couldn’t find exactly what she was looking for. She was ready to give up when she pulled, on impulse, into a small strip mall where a sale sign was out in front of a small boutique.
She found a bargain dress, just her size, in green velvet. It was ankle length, with a discreet rounded neckline and long sleeves. It fit like a glove, but it wasn’t overly sensual. And it suited her. It was so beautiful that she carried it like a child as she walked to the counter to pay for it.
“That was the only size we got in this particular design,” the saleslady told her as she packaged it on its hangar. “I wish it was my size,” she added with a sigh. “You really are lucky.”
Carlie laughed. “It’s for a dance. I don’t go out much.”
“Me, either,” the saleslady said. “My husband sits and watches the Western Channel on satellite when he gets off work and then he goes to bed.” She shook her head. “Not what I thought marriage would be like. But he’s good to me and he doesn’t cheat. I guess I’m lucky.”
“I’d say you are.”
* * *
CARLIE WAS IN the Jacobs County limits on a long, deserted stretch of road. The Cobra growled as if it had been on the leash too long and wanted off. Badly.
With a big grin on her face, Carlie floored the accelerator. “Okay, Big Red,” she said, using her father’s affectionate nickname for the car, “let’s run!”
The engine cycled, seemed to hesitate, and then the car took off with a growl that would have done a hungry mountain lion proud.
“Woo-hoo!” she exclaimed.
She was going eighty, eighty-five, ninety, ninety-six and then one hundred. She felt an exhilaration she couldn’t remember ever feeling before. The road was completely open up ahead, no traffic anywhere. Well, except for that car behind her...
Her heart skipped. At first she thought it was a police car, because she was exceeding the speed limit by double the posted signs. But then she realized that it wasn’t a law enforcement car. It was a black sedan, and it was keeping pace with her.
She almost panicked. But she was close to Jacobsville, where she could get help if she needed it. Her father’s admonition about checking the truck before she drove it made her heart skip. She knew he’d checked the car, but she hadn’t counted on being followed. Someone was after her. She knew that her father’s friends were watching her, but that was in Jacobsville.
Nobody was watching her now, and she was being chased. Her cell phone was in her purse on the floor by the passenger seat. She’d have to slow down or stop to get to it. She groaned. Lack of foresight. Why didn’t she have it in the console?
Her heart was pumping faster as the car behind gained on her. What if it was the shadowy assassin come for a second try? What was she going to do? She couldn’t outrun him, that was obvious, and when she slowed down, he’d catch her.
She saw the city-limit sign up ahead. She couldn’t continue at this rate of speed. She’d kill someone at the next crossroads.
Groaning, she slowed down. The black sedan was right on top of her. She turned without a signal into the first side street and headed for the police station. If she was lucky, she just might make it.
Yes! The traffic light stayed green. She shot through it, pulled up in front of the station and jumped out just as the sedan pulled in front of her, braked and cut her off.
“You damned little lunatic, what the hell were you thinking!” Carson raged at her as he slammed out of the black sedan and confronted her. “I clocked you at a hundred miles an hour!”
“Oh, yeah? Well, you were going a hundred, too, because you were right on my bumper. And how was I supposed to know it was you?” she told him, red-faced with embarrassment.
“I called your cell phone half a dozen times, didn’t you hear it ring?”
“I had it turned off. And it was on the floor in my purse,” she explained.
He put his hands on his slim hips and glared at her. “You shouldn’t be allowed out by yourself, and especially not in a car with that sort of horsepower!” he persisted. “I should have the chief arrest you!”
“Go ahead, I’ll have him arrest you, too!” she yelled back.
Two patrol officers were standing on the sidelines, spellbound. The chief came out and stopped, just watching the two antagonists, who hadn’t noticed their audience.
“What if you’d hit something lying in the middle of the road? You’d have gone straight off it and into a tree or a power pole, and you’d be dead!”
“Well, I didn’t hit anything! I was scared because I saw a car following me. Who wouldn’t be paranoid, with people watching you all the time and my father having secret phone calls...!”
“If you’d answered your damned cell phone, you’d have known who was following you!”
“It was in my purse and I was afraid to slow down and try to grab it out of my pocketbook!”
“Of all the stupid assignments I’ve ever had, this takes the prize,” he muttered. “And why you had to go to San Antonio...?”
“I went to buy a dress for the Valentine’s Day party!”
He gave her a cold smile. “Going alone, are we?”
“No, I’m not.” She shot back. “I have a date!”
He looked oddly surprised. “Do you have to pay him when he takes you home?” he asked in a long, sarcastic drawl.
“I don’t have to hire men to take me places!” she raged back. “And this man doesn’t notch his bedpost and take in strays to have somebody to sleep with.”
He took a quick step forward, and he looked dangerous. “That’s enough,” he snapped.
Carlie sucked in her breath and her face paled.
“It really is enough,” Cash Grier said, interrupting them. He stepped between them and stared at Carson. “The time to tell somebody you’re following them is not when you’re actually in the car. Especially a nervous young woman whose life has been threatened.”
Carson’s jaw was set so firmly she wondered if his teeth would break. He was still glaring at Carlie.
“And you need to keep your phone within reach when you’re driving,” he told Carlie in a gentler tone and with a smile.
“Yes, sir,” she said heavily. She let out a long sigh.
“She was doing a hundred miles an hour,” Carson said angrily.
“If you could clock her, you had to be doing the same,” Cash retorted. “You’re both lucky that you weren’t in the city limits at the time. Or that Hayes Carson or one of his deputies didn’t catch you. Speeding fines are really painful.”
“You’d know,” Carson mused, relaxing a little as he glanced at the older man.
Cash glowered at him. “Well, I drive a Jaguar,” he said defensively. “They don’t like slow speeds.”
“How many unpaid speeding tickets is it to date? Ten?” Carson persisted. “I hear you can’t cross the county border up around Dallas. And you, a chief of police. Shame, shame.”
Cash shrugged. “I sent the checks out yesterday,” he informed the other man. “All ten.”
“Threatening to put you under arrest, were they?”
“Only one of them,” Cash chuckled. “And he was in Iraq with me, so he stretched the rules a bit.”
“I have to get home,” Carlie said. She was still shaking inside over the threat that turned out to be just Carson. And from Carson’s sudden move toward her. Very few people knew what nightmares she endured from one very physical confrontation in the past.
“You keep under the speed limit, or I’m telling your father what you did to his car,” Carson instructed.
“He wouldn’t mind,” she lied, glaring at him.
“Let’s find out.” He jerked out his cell phone and started punching in numbers.
“All right!” she surrendered, holding up both hands. “All right, I’ll go under the speed limit.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’m taking that sword to a rune forge tonight. So the next time you meet me on a battleground, Hordie, I’m going to wipe the ground with you.”
He pursed his lips. “That would be a new experience for me, Alliance elf.”
Cash groaned. “Not you, too,” he said. “It’s bad enough listening to Wofford Patterson brag about his weapons. He even has a dog named Hellscream. And every time Kilraven comes down here, he’s got a new game he wants to tell me all about.”
“You should play, too, Chief,” Carlie said. She glanced at Carson. “It’s a great way to work off frustration.”
Carson raised an eyebrow. “I know a better one,” he said with a mocking smile.
He might not mean what she thought he did. She flushed helplessly and looked away. “I’m leaving.”
“Drive carefully. And buckle up,” Cash told her.
“Yes, sir, Boss,” she said, grinning.
She started the car, pulled it around and eased out of the parking lot.
She really hoped that her father wouldn’t find out how she’d been driving his pet car. It would be like Carson to tell him, just for spite.
Odd, though, she thought, how angry he’d been that she’d taken such chances. It was almost as if he was concerned about her. She laughed to herself. Sure. He was nursing a secret yen for her that he couldn’t control.
Not that he ever would ask her out or anything, but she had grave misgivings about him. He was known for his success with women, and she was soft where he was concerned. He could push her into something that he’d just brush off as insignificant, but her life would be shattered. She couldn’t let her helpless interest in him grow. Not even a little. She had to remember that he had no real respect for women and he didn’t seem capable of settling down with just one.
She pulled into her driveway and cut off the engine. It was a relief to be home. Just as she got out of the car she saw the black sedan drive by. He didn’t stop or wave. He just kept going. Her heart jumped up into her throat.
In spite of all the yelling, he’d shepherded her home and she hadn’t even noticed. She hated the warm feeling it gave her, knowing that.
3
CARLIE HAD HOPED that her father wouldn’t hear about her adventure. But when she got inside the house, he was waiting for her, his arms crossed over his chest.
“He lied,” she blurted out, blushing, the dress in its plastic bag hanging over one arm.
He blinked. “Excuse me?”
She hesitated. He might not know after all. She cocked her head. “Are you...angry about something?”
“Should I be?”
He made her feel guilty. She drew in a breath and moved toward him. “I was speeding. I’m sorry. Big Red can really run...”
“A hundred miles an hour,” he said, nodding. “You need special training to drive at those speeds safely, and you don’t have it,” he added patiently.
“I didn’t know it was Carson behind me,” she said heavily. “I thought it might be whoever still has me targeted.”
“I understand that. I gave him...well, a talking-to,” he amended. “It won’t happen again. But you keep your cell phone where you can get to it in a hurry, whatever you’re driving. Okay?”
“Okay, Dad,” she promised.
“Got the dress, did you?” he asked, and smiled.
“Yes! It’s beautiful! Green velvet. I’ll wear Mama’s pearls with it, the ones you brought her from Japan when you first started dating.”
He nodded. “They’re very special. I bought them in Tokyo,” he recalled, smiling. “She had the same skin tone that you inherited from her. Off-white pearls are just right for you.”
She frowned. “You buy them for a skin color?”
“I always did. Pearls come in many colors, and many prices. Those are Mikimoto pearls. An armed guard stands in the room with them.”
She lost a little color. “Maybe I should wear something else...”
“Nonsense. They need to be worn. That would be like getting a special dress and letting it hang in your closet for fear of spilling something on it. Life is what matters, child. Things are expendable.”
“Most things,” she agreed.
“I made supper, since I knew you were going to be late,” he said.
Her eyebrows arched. “That was sweet of you, Dad,” she said.
“It’s just a macaroni and cheese casserole. Your mother taught me how to do it when we were first married. I never forgot.”
“It’s one of my favorite dishes. Let me hang up my dress and I’ll be right down.”
“Sure.”
* * *
THE MEAL WAS DELICIOUS, even more so because she hadn’t had to cook it. She noticed her father’s somber expression.
“I’m really sorry about pushing Big Red,” she began.
He leaned back in his chair. “It’s not the car I was worried about.” His pale eyes were narrow and thoughtful. “It might not be a bad idea to send you over to Eb Scott and let one of his guys teach you the finer points of defensive driving. Just in case.”
Her heart jumped. “Dad, maybe there isn’t a real threat,” she said. “I mean, the guy who was afraid of what I remembered about him is dead.”
He nodded. “Yes, but there are things going on that you don’t know about.”
“You were talking to somebody on the phone who wanted you to come back. Come back where?” she asked bluntly.
He grimaced. “I used to work for the feds. Sort of. It was a long time ago.”
“Feds?” she repeated, trying to draw him out.
His chest rose and fell. “When you’re young, you think you can do anything, be anything. You don’t worry about consequences. You take the training and do the job. Nobody tells you that years down the line, you may have regrets.” He studied her oval face. “I was away when your mother got sick. What happened to you, because nobody was at home, was my fault. I should have been there.”
She glanced down. “They paid for it.”
“Not enough,” he said coldly, and his face was suddenly hard and merciless. “I don’t wish harm to anyone as a rule, but when your grandmother left the world, I didn’t shed a tear.”
Carlie managed a smile. “Me, neither. I guess he’s still around somewhere.”
“No. He died in a prison riot last year.”
“You didn’t say,” she faltered.
“I didn’t know. My former boss and I were making connections. We looked for anyone dangerous who knew you in the past. I had someone do some checking. I only found out yesterday.”
“It’s a relief, sort of,” she said heavily. She shook her head. “They were both crazy. She was the worst. My poor mother...”
He put his hand over hers and squeezed. “Mary was such a ray of light that nobody blamed her for what her mother did,” he reminded her.
“I know, but people have long memories in small towns.”
“You have your own spotless reputation,” he said gently. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I guess you’re right.” She laughed. “Robin hired a limo for us, can you believe it?”
“I like Robin,” he said. “I just wish he had more guts.”
“Now, now, we can’t all be real-life death knights with great swords.”
“You and that game. You do need to get out more.” He pursed his lips. “Maybe we need to organize some things for the young, single members of our church.”
“All four of us?” she mused.
He rolled his eyes.
“I like my life,” she declared. “Maybe it lacks excitement, but I’m happy. That should count for something, Dad.”
He laughed softly. “Okay. I see your point.”
* * *
THE CHIEF WAS UNHAPPY. He didn’t come out and say so, but he was on a short fuse and it was difficult to get anything out of him past one-syllable words.
“Sir, what about the new patrolman’s gear?” she asked gently. “You were supposed to give me a purchase order for it, weren’t you?”
“New patrolman?” He frowned. “Oh, yes. Bartley. Okay. I’ll do that today.”
She bit her tongue so that she didn’t remind him that he’d said the same thing the day before.
He caught her expression and laughed hollowly. “I know. I’m preoccupied. Want to know why?” He shoved a newspaper across his desk. “Read the headline.”
It said, Matthew Helm to Fill Unexpired Term of U.S. Senator. She stared at Cash without understanding what he was upset about.
“There were three men in the running for the appointment,” he said. “One was found by police in San Antonio, on the street, doped up by an apparent drug habit that nobody knew he had. A tip,” he added. “The second withdrew from the nomination because his son was arrested for cocaine possession—a kid who’d never even used drugs, but apparently the glove compartment in his car was stuffed with the stuff. Another tip. The third contender, Helm, got the appointment.”
“You think the others were set up,” she began.
“Big-time,” he replied. He glared at the headline. “If he wins the special election in May, we’re in for some hard times in law enforcement. I can’t prove it, but the prevailing theory is that Mr. Helm is in bed with Charro Mendez. Remember him?”
She nodded. “The enforcer who worked for the late El Ladrón,” she said. “He was a cousin to the Fuentes brothers.”
“The very same ones who used to run the distribution hub. He’s now head of the drug cartel over the border in Cotillo. In fact, he’s the mayor of that lovely little drug center.”
“Oh, dear.”
“I really wish somebody had furnished Carson with more than three hand grenades,” he muttered.
“Shame!” she said.
He chuckled. “Okay. I’ll get the purchase order filled out.” He leaned forward. “Hell of a thing, to have a politician like this in Washington.”
“He’ll be a junior senator,” she pointed out. “He won’t have an important role in anything. He won’t chair any important committees and he won’t have powerful alliances.”
“Yet.”
“Surely, he won’t win the special election,” she ventured.
He looked at her. “Carlie, remember what I just told you about his rivals for the appointment?”
She whistled. “Oh, dear,” she said again.
“Exactly.”
The phone rang. She excused herself and went out to answer it.
* * *
CARSON WAS CONSPICUOUS by his absence for the next few days. Nobody said anything about him, but it was rumored that he was away on some job for Eb Scott. In the meantime, Carlie got her first look at the mysterious Rourke.
He stopped by her office during her lunch hour one day. He was wearing khakis with a sheepskin coat. He grinned at her where she sat at her desk eating hot soup out of a foam cup.
“Bad habit,” he said, with a trace of a South African accent. “Eating on the job. You should be having that out of fine china in some exotic restaurant.”
She was staring at the attractive man wearing an eye patch, with her spoon suspended halfway between the cup and her mouth. “Excuse me?” she faltered.
“An exotic restaurant,” he repeated.
“Listen, the only exotic restaurant I know of is the Chinese place over on Madison, and I think their cook is from New York.”
He chuckled. “It’s the sentiment, you know, that counts.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” She put down the cup. “How can I help you?”
“Is the boss in?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Sorry. He’s at the exotic local café having a thick hamburger and fries with a beautiful ex-motion picture star.”
“Ah, the lovely Tippy,” he chuckled. “Lucky man, to have a wife who’s both kind and beautiful. The combination is rare.”
“I’ll say.”
“So, okay if I leave a message?”
She pushed a pad and pen across the desk and smiled. “Be my guest.”
He scribbled a few words and signed with a flourish.
She glanced at it. “You’re Rourke?”
He nodded. His one pale brown eye twinkled. “I guess my reputation has preceded me?”
“Something like that,” she said with a grin.
“I hope you were told it by your boss and not Carson,” he said.
She shook her head. “Nobody told me. I overheard my dad talking about you on the telephone.”
“Your dad?”
She nodded. “Reverend Jake Blair.”
His face softened. “You’re his daughter, then.” He nodded. “It came as a shock to know he had a child, let me tell you. Not the sort of guy I ever associated with family.”
“Why?” she asked, all innocence.
He saw that innocence and his face closed up. “I spoke out of turn, there.”
“I know he did other things before he came home,” she said. “I don’t know what they were.”
“I see.”
In that instant, his own past seemed to scroll across his hard face, leaving scars that were visible for a few seconds.
“You need to go to one of those exotic restaurants and have something to cheer you up,” she pointed out.
He stared at her for a moment and then chuckled. “How about going with me?” he teased.
She shook her head. “Sorry. I’ve been warned about you.”
“How so?” he asked, and seemed really interested in her answer.
She grinned. “I’m not in your league, Mr. Rourke,” she said. “Small-town girl, never been anywhere, never dated much...” He looked puzzled. She gave him her best starstruck expression. “I want to get married and have lots of kids,” she said enthusiastically. “In fact, I’m free today after five...!”
He glowered at her. “Damn! And I’ve got a meeting at five.” He snapped his fingers. “What a shame!”
“Just my luck. There, there, I’m sure you’ll find someone else who can’t wait to marry you,” she added.
“No plans to marry, I’m afraid,” he replied. Then he seemed to get it, all at once. His eyebrows arched. “Are you having me on?”
She blinked. “Am I having you on what?”
He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I can’t marry you,” he said. “It’s against my religion.”
“Which religion would that be?”
“I’m not sure,” he said. “I’ll have to find one that prohibits marriage...” He burst out laughing.
She grinned.
“I get it. I’m a bit slow today. Must stem from missing breakfast.” He shook his head. “Damned weird food you Yanks serve for breakfast, let me tell you. Grits? What the hell is a grit?”
“If you have to ask, you shouldn’t eat one,” she returned, laughing.
“I reckon.” He smiled. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Ms. Blair.”
“Miss,” she said. “I don’t run a company and I’m not planning to start my own business.”
He blinked. “Come again?”
She frowned. “How can I come again if I haven’t left?”
He moved closer to the desk. “Confound it, woman, I need a dictionary to figure out what you’re saying.”
“You can pin a rose on that,” she agreed. “Are you from England?”
He glared at her. “I’m South African.”
“Oh! The Boer Wars. You had a very famous general named Christiaan de Wet. He was a genius at guerilla warfare and was never captured by the British, although his brother, Piet, was.”
He gaped at her.
She smiled shyly. “I collect famous generals. Sort of. I have books on famous campaigns. My favorites were American, of course, like General Francis Marion of South Carolina, the soldier they called the ‘Swamp Fox’ because he was so good at escaping from the British in the swamps during the Revolutionary War,” she laughed. “Then there was Colonel John Singleton Mosby, the Gray Ghost of the Confederacy. I also like to read about Crazy Horse,” she added shyly. “He was Oglala Lakota, one of the most able of the indigenous leaders. He fought General Crook’s troops to a standstill at the Battle of the Rosebud.”