Lone Star Winter (12 page)

Her hand went to her waistline. “I'd much rather
have the baby than a degree, if you want the truth,” she said.

His face hardened. He couldn't tell her. Not yet. For all he knew, she might truly have loved her late husband. What would it do to her if she wasn't pregnant? He turned back toward the desk. “I don't want you to move out. Lopez may be laying low, but I guarantee he hasn't gone away. I won't risk your life.”

She stood glaring at him. “Fair enough. When he's finally caught, I'm out of here,” she said flatly. “I am not living with a man who can't bring himself to touch me because I'm pregnant with another man's child!” she added, making a stab in the dark. It seemed to have paid off when he went rigid all over.

She turned and started out the door, sick at finally knowing the truth he hadn't wanted to tell her. It wasn't her age that bothered him, not really—it was Walt's baby!

“Damn it, that's not why!”

She whirled. “Then what is?”

He glared at her. She had a temper that easily matched his, despite her youth, and with her dark eyes flashing and her face flushed, she gave him a very in convenient ache.

“It's strange that you don't have any pregnancy symptoms,” he said flatly.

She didn't answer him for several tense seconds. “All right,” she said finally. “I'll make an appointment first thing tomorrow.”

“See that you do,” he returned curtly.

She searched his drawn face, seeking answers to questions she didn't want to ask. “We were so close, the day we married,” she said hesitantly. “You were…different. I thought you cared about me.”

He managed a smile that mixed equal parts of self-contempt and mockery. “Didn't anyone ever tell you that men get sentimental after sex?”

She seemed to close up like a flower. She turned away from him without another word and left the room, quietly pulling the door closed behind her.

He ran an angry hand through his dark hair and cursed himself silently for that cruel remark. He'd never been so confused. He didn't know if she was carrying Walt's child or not. He didn't know how he really felt about her. He was sick at heart to realize how very young she was. On top of that, he was frustrated because Lopez wouldn't come out in the open and make a move. One thing he was sure about, though, was that Lisa had to be protected. He was going to take care of her the best he could. Then, when it was over, and she was safe, she could have a chance to decide whether
or not she wanted to spend her life with a maimed ex-mercenary.

He wasn't going to continue to take advantage of her, even if it was killing him to stay out of her bed. If she wasn't pregnant, he wasn't going to take the slightest chance of making her that way. She was going to be completely free to decide her future. Even if it was with damned Harley.

 

Lisa went to the doctor and had the pregnancy test, and came back to the ranch looking more disturbed and worried than ever.

Cy was waiting for her in the living room. He stood up, his face strangely watchful. “Well?” he asked abruptly.

She moved restlessly, dropping her purse into a chair. She was wearing the same beige dress she'd worn the day they married, with a lightweight brown coat, and her hair was in a bun. She looked pale and quiet and not very happy.

“The test was positive,” she said, avoiding his eyes. “He said pregnancy symptoms sometimes don't show up right away. He said there was nothing at all to worry about.”

Cy didn't say anything. Apparently he'd been wrong right down the line. She was pregnant, and her child
was Walt's. It was uncharitable of him to be disappointed about that, but he was.

She'd noted the expression that crossed his face and it wounded her. She knew that men were said to grow possessive once they'd been intimate with a woman, and it wasn't totally unexpected that he resented Walt's place in her life. It wouldn't be easy for a man to accept and raise a child that wasn't his.

“Are you sure you don't want me to leave?” she asked in a subdued tone.

“Of course not,” he said automatically.

She lifted her eyes to his. “I won't get in your way.”

“You aren't in my way.”

She moved jerkily away. “Okay. Thanks.”

She seemed to hesitate at the door, but only for a second. She went out, leaving Cy to watch her exit with a tangle of emotions.

He stopped by his office to check his messages before he retrieved his shepherd's jacket and slanted his hat across his green eyes. He went out by way of the kitchen so that he could tell Lisa where he was going.

Harley had just come in with the eggs, and he was leaning against the counter smiling at Lisa, who was smiling back. They were both so young…

“Sorry I didn't get them in first thing this morning,”
Harley was telling her, “but I had some work to do on the fence line.”

“That's okay. I had an appointment in town,” Lisa replied.

“I'll be late tonight,” Cy said from the doorway. They both jumped, surprised by his sudden appearance. Harley cleared his throat, nodded at Lisa and went rushing down the steps toward the barn.

Cy didn't understand why until Lisa actually backed up against the sink.

“Now, what, for God's sake?” he demanded shortly.

“You ought to see your face in a mirror,” she retorted.

His green eyes narrowed. “Harley spends too much time in here,” he said flatly. “I don't like it.”

Her eyebrows arched. “How would you know? You're never here!”

His lips made a thin line. He was bristling with un familiar emotions, the foremost of which was pure jealousy.

She glared up at him from her safe vantage point at the sink. “I didn't cheat on Walt and I won't cheat on you,” she said coldly. “Just in case you wondered.”

He glared back at her. His eyes, under the wide brim of the hat, glistened like green fire.

“I never should have agreed to come here,” she said after a minute, her breath sighing out as she leaned back against the counter. “I've never been so miserable in my whole life.”

That was worse than a slap in the face. His whole body tightened. “That makes two of us,” he lied. “Don't worry. It won't be much longer before we'll have everything resolved. Once the sale of the ranch goes through, you'll have enough money to do what you please.”

He turned and walked out. He didn't look back.

 

Lisa felt like breaking things. She was crazy about the stupid man, and he wouldn't give an inch. He didn't want her talking to Harley, he was resentful of her baby because it was Walt's, he alternately ignored and spoiled her. Now he'd offered to let her leave. She didn't want to. She'd grown used to living with him, even if it was like being alone most of the time. But he had said that she could go when things were resolved. Did that mean they were close to dealing with Lopez? She hoped so. The memory of the assault on her bedroom and then the attempted assault here still worried her. She felt safe with Cy, even with Harley. If she went home, she'd be watched, but she wouldn't feel safe.

Cy, driving toward town in his truck, was fuming. So she wanted to go home. Well, he'd see what he could
do to hurry things up for her. First he went to Kemp's office and told him to push the paperwork through as fast as possible. Then he started toward Eb's place. There had to be some way to force Lopez to stick his neck in a noose.

But on the way, he decided to swing by the old Johnson house. It would be deserted now, of course, and there was only one other house on the stretch of outlying road. He didn't really know why it occurred to him to go that way. Maybe, he considered, his old instincts still worked at some level.

He pulled off the paved road and turned down the small county road that led to the Johnson place. He remembered Eb talking about the members of Lopez's cartel who had rented a house nearby and had accosted Sally Johnson before she'd married Eb. It was a crazy notion, and he needed his head read. All the same, he told himself, it never hurt to play a hunch.

He noticed the lack of traffic on the road, which was nothing unusual. This far out, there weren't a lot of people who opted for the badly kept county road instead of the newer highway that led to Victoria. The late autumn landscape was bleak and uninviting. All the leaves were off the trees now, and the last bunches of hay were cut and stacked in barns for winter forage. The weather had a nip in it. Nights were cold. He
remembered winter nights when he and Eb were overseas, trudging through ice and snow. Life was much simpler here, if not overly comfortable.

He was watching the scenery, not paying a lot of attention to anything, when he noticed two huge tractor-trailer rigs parked near an old Victorian house. He didn't slow down or show any obvious interest in the once-deserted dwelling. But it was painfully clear why Lopez's “honey operation” was sitting still. He had a distribution center up and running already, only it wasn't be hind Cy's property. The beehives were only a blind. Here was the real drug operation, complete with huge renovated barn and dangerous-looking employees sit ting around the big rigs, which were backed up to the barn. Cy knew without looking that there would be locks on those barn doors and men with automatic weapons patrolling around it. He knew, too, that it wasn't hay that was being loaded into the trucks.

They'd been foxed. And now it was almost too late to close down the operation. He'd have bet money that this was Lopez's follow-up shipment to the one that had been confiscated down in the Gulf of Mexico. The odd-looking oil drums were scattered around, and had obviously been used to bridge rivers between Texas and the Gulf so that the men hauling the cocaine had
been able to cross at places where the border patrol wouldn't be waiting for them.

He drove straight past the place without looking again. As he passed the deserted Johnson homestead, with its For Sale sign standing awry and uninviting, he knew that what they'd all dreaded was already taking place. Lopez was back in business, right here in Jacobsville. And if Cy and his friends were going to stop them, there wasn't much time to plan an assault.

At the end of the road, he turned back into the highway and burned rubber getting to Eb's place.

E
b was surprised by the news.

“Right under our damned noses,” he exploded. “No wonder we couldn't find any evidence of drug smuggling at the honey warehouse. That was a blind, and we fell for it, just like raw recruits!”

“The question is, what do we do now?” Cy asked coldly. “And since Rodrigo didn't warn us about this, have they found him out and disposed of him?”

“I hope not,” Eb said sincerely. “But I can't help thinking that he would have warned us if he'd been able to.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Hell of a time to make this sort of discovery, when Lopez is ready to ship his new supply out to his distribution network.”

“It gets worse. From what I saw, I'd say he's ready to go tonight.”

“We'll have to go in now,” Eb said at once. “Or we'll miss the chance. And we'll have to have help,” he added. “I counted at least twelve men. Even with our experience, we won't be able to take that many men armed with machine guns.”

“I know. But we can't do it without authorization, either,” Cy returned. “We live here. I don't know about you, but I don't want to end up as an ex-patriated American.”

“Neither do I.” Eb's eyes narrowed. “There's another consideration, too. If Rodrigo's with them, still undercover, the feds won't know and they'll shoot him. We have to go in with them. I have a few contacts. I can call in favors.”

“So can I,” Cy agreed. “Let's compare notes. With a little luck, we may be able to bring down Lopez's local network and save Rodrigo all at once.”

 

It was rushed and hectic to get the necessary people notified and in place, but they managed it, just. The sheriff pulled two deputies off patrol and called in two more special deputies. The DEA only had three men who could get to Jacobsville in time to assist with the surprise attack, but they were dispatched immediately.
Two of the best officers from the local police department, Palmer and Barrett, volunteered to go along with the sheriff's force to help. They might still be outnumbered, but hopefully it would be possible to take the drug dealers by surprise and close down their operation. Nobody wanted a drug cartel operating out of Jacobsville.

Cy was putting on his night gear when Lisa came into his room and gasped.

“Where are you going?” she exclaimed.

He turned, black face mask in hand, to study her. She was wearing sweats, yellow ones that made her blond hair look more blond. It was loose, around her shoulders, and she had that peculiar radiance that pregnancy bestowed on a woman's face.

“Lopez's goons are ready to haul their shipment out tonight. We're going to stop them,” he said honestly.

Her worried eyes never left her taciturn husband, from his tall, powerful figure in black to his lean, scarred face and glittery green eyes. He was devastating to her, physically as well as mentally. He took her breath away. She hated knowing what he meant to do.

She went right up to him, her dark eyes looking even darker through the lenses of her glasses. “No,” she said shortly. “No, you don't! There are plenty of people in
law enforcement who do this for a living. I'm not letting you go after those drug dealers!”

He took her by both shoulders, pulled her against him, and bent and kissed the breath and the protest right out of her. His arms enfolded her, cradled her, while his hard mouth devoured her soft, parted lips. It was a long time before he lifted his dark head.

“If Lopez is allowed to set up an operation here, none of us will ever be safe again, especially you,” he said quietly. “If we don't stop it now, we never will.”

“You could be killed,” she said miserably.

The worry on her face made him feel funny. He couldn't remember anyone caring if he lived or died, especially not his erstwhile wife who'd only wanted creature comforts. His welfare was of supreme unimportance to her. But Lisa was cut from another sort of cloth. She was brave and honest and loyal. He searched her face and realized with a start that he could give up anything, even his own life, easier than he could give up Lisa. She was too young for him, of course…

He kissed her again, long and hard, ignoring all the reasons why he should do his best to send her out the door and out of his life. For her own good, of course, he rationalized. Sadly, none of those reasons made any difference when he was within five feet of her. Her arms curled around him and she gave him back the
kiss with every bit of strength in her body. It was like walking on hot coals. She couldn't get close enough.

She was breathless when he lifted his head, but the resolve was still there, in those narrow green eyes. “It amazes me,” she whispered huskily, “what lengths you're willing to go to…in order to stay out of my bed.”

He laughed despite the gravity of the situation. “Is that what you think?”

“Walt was my husband,” she said quietly. “I was fond of him. I'm not sorry that I'll have his child, so that a part of him will live on. But you and I could have children of our own, as well. It isn't biology that makes a man a father, it's love. And you aren't ever going to convince me that you wouldn't love a baby, even if it wasn't yours genetically.”

He sighed gently and smoothed back her disheveled hair. “I keep mixing you up with the past, when you're nothing like my late wife. I don't resent Walt's baby.” He shrugged. “It's not the age difference, either, really. But you're young and I'm older than my years make me. Maybe you need someone closer to your own age.”

“Someone like Harley?” she asked deliberately.

His face hardened and his eyes flashed dangerously.
“No!”

Hope, almost deserted, began to twinkle in her eyes.
“That's what I thought you said.” She pulled his head down and kissed him tenderly. “I know you can take care of yourself. I've seen you do it. But don't take chances. I want to be married a very long time.”

“You do?” he murmured.

“Yes. I'm not going back to Dad's ranch. If you won't let me live in the house, I'll live in the barn with Puppy Dog and Bob and tell everybody in Jacobsville that you won't let me live with you….”

He was kissing her again. It was sweet and heady, and he didn't have time for it at all. He just couldn't seem to stop. He was starting to ache and that would never do.

“And I'm moving into your bedroom while you're gone,” she added, her voice thready with passion. “So there.”

“Maybe I can think up an objection before I come back,” he murmured against her lips.

“You try to do that.” She grinned.

He loosened her arms and put her gently away from him, his strong hands tight on her shoulders. “While I'm gone, stay in the house with the doors locked. I've got Nels on the front porch and Henry watching the back door. They're both armed. Stay away from the windows and don't answer the phone. You know
where the spare pistol is,” he added, and she nodded. “It's loaded.”

She bit her lower lip, realizing from his demeanor how dangerous it would be for both of them. “Okay. I'll use it if I have to. But don't you let yourself get shot,” she told him firmly.

“I know, come back with my shield or on it.”

She smiled and nodded. “That's right. Because you're not a ‘summer soldier' like Thomas Paine wrote about. You're a winter soldier, fighting through blizzards. But you have to come back to me in one piece.”

“I'll do my best to oblige,” he mused, smiling back. Her eyes were soft and dark. He almost got lost in them. His gloved hand came up to touch her flushed cheek. “What did I ever do in my life to deserve someone like you?” he asked in a breathlessly tender voice. He moved away from her before that softness captured him. “I'll be home when I can.”

She put up a brave front. “Okay,” she said, and without further protests.

He paused at the doorway for one long, last look at her. She was a hell of a woman. And he wasn't giving her up, whether or not it would have been for her own good. He read the same resolve in her own face. She didn't cry or complain or try to stop him. She stood there very bravely and kept smiling, even though
her eyes were too bright to be normal. She was still standing there when he went out into the hall and disappeared.

 

Harley was sitting on the front porch with Nels, waiting for him with a lit cigarette and a scowl. He got to his feet when Cy came out the door dressed in black and wearing a face mask. Harley had on jeans and boots and a camo jacket left over from his army ranger days.

“You aren't leaving here without me,” Harley said belligerently.

“Who says I'm leaving?”

“Don't insult me.” Harley opened his jacket to disclose a .45 automatic. “I may not be a full-fledged merk, but I was a crack shot in the Rangers,” he added. “And no matter how many men are going, I might still be useful.”

That was much better than bragging that he had com bat training, Cy supposed. He hesitated, but only for a minute.

“All right. Let's go. Nels, guard her with your life,” he added to his man on the porch, who nodded solemnly.

Harley headed for the Expedition, but Cy shook his head. He indicated a black Bronco of questionable vin
tage, parked under a tree. There were two men already in it. Harley was shocked that he hadn't seen it at all until now.

He wasn't surprised to find Eb Scott in the front seat with an unfamiliar man much bigger than Eb or Cy, and both of the newcomers dressed similarly to Cy.

“Here,” Eb said, handing a small container of black face paint to Harley. “You'll shine like a new moon without a mask.”

Harley at least knew how to use camouflage paint. He wanted to ask half a dozen questions, the foremost of which was why his boss was going along on what was obviously a search and destroy mission. Then he remembered the way Cy had used that knife on the two intruders and the way he'd caught the pistol Harley had thrown at his retreating back. It had long since dawned on him that his boss hadn't always been a rancher.

“Stubbs and Kennedy are going to rendezvous with us at the old Johnson place,” Eb said tautly. “We've got the sheriff's department out in force, too. You and Micah and I will set up a perimeter with the deputies and let the feds go in first.”

“Who are Stubbs and Kennedy?” Harley asked.

“DEA,” came the cold reply. “Walt Monroe was one of theirs. They get first crack at these mules.”

Mules, Harley recalled, were the drug lords' trans
portation people. He handed the face paint back to Eb. “You said the old Johnson place,” Harley began. “But the warehouse is right behind Mr. Parks's place.”

“That was a damned blind,” Cy said shortly. “To draw attention away from the real distribution point. I could kick myself for not realizing it sooner.”

“No wonder we never saw any drugs changing hands,” Harley realized.

“Listen,” Eb said as he eased the Bronco off the main highway and down the back road that led first to the Johnson place and then to the rental house near it, “I want a promise from you, just on the off chance that Lopez is around. No storm trooper stuff.”

“Mr. Scott, I wouldn't dream…!” Harley began.

“Not you,” Eb said impatiently. “Him!”

He was staring in the rearview mirror straight at Cy, whose eyes were glittering.

“He set fire to my house,” Cy said in a menacing tone, “killed my wife and my five-year-old son. If he's there, he's mine, and no power on earth will save him. Not even you.”

“If you kill him, the DEA will string you up on the nearest courthouse lawn!”

“They're welcome,” Cy returned grimly.

“And what about Lisa, when you're gone?” Micah
Steele interjected. “This isn't Africa. You're not on your own. You have to think about Lisa and her baby.”

“Africa was a long time ago,” Cy said irritably, noting Harley's intent stare.

“None of us have forgotten it,” Micah persisted. “You walked right into a nest of snipers with machine guns firing. Your clothes were shot to pieces and you took ten hits in the body, and you kept right on going. You saved us from certain death. We won't forget how much we owe you. That's why we're not letting you near Lopez. If I have to knock you down and sit on you, I'll do it.”

“They were lousy shots,” Cy muttered.

“They were crack shots,” Eb countered. “But you psyched them out by walking right into the gunfire. It won't work with Lopez's men. We have to let the DEA take point. We aren't even supposed to be in on this. I had to call in markers from all over Texas to get even this far. And to boot, I had to confess to Kennedy why we're here—to protect Rodrigo from everybody in case he's among these guys. Don't forget that we haven't heard a word from Rodrigo. He may also be with them and unable to get a message to us.”

“They may have killed him already, too,” Cy added.

“We won't know until we get there. Harley—” Eb glanced over the seat “—you stick close to Cy.”

Harley was weighing the dangers of that position when Micah Steele began to chuckle. “That's all he'll be able to do, or don't you remember that it took Laremos and Brettman and Dutch all together to bring him down just after Juba was killed, and he went right after a company of crack government troops?”

Harley's gasp was audible. “Laremos and…!”

“Who do you think taught us all we know?” Eb mused. “Now put a sock in it, Harley. This is where things get dicey.”

He pulled up at the old Johnson place and cut off the engine. He handed out high-tech night scopes and listening devices to Micah and Cy. Cy gave Harley a level stare.

“This isn't a weekend at a merk training school,” he told the younger man in a firm tone. “If there's a firefight, you stay out of it. Eb and Micah and I are a team. We know to the last ditch how far we can trust each other and we work as a unit. You're the odd man out. That being the case, you could get somebody killed. You're backup, period. You don't shoot until and unless one of us tells you to.”