Chapter 30

Shawnee sat up and jerked her top down so fast she nearly brained Cole with her elbow. He rolled off her and landed with a thud on the floor. She scrambled over him, buttoning her shorts and shoving her feet into flip-flops while Cole gathered himself up and staggered after her. His head spun as another scream rang out and he tried to shift gears from mindless desire to possible danger. Shawnee grabbed a frying pan off the stove as she passed and was out the door.

Damn crazy woman. She didn’t have any idea what she was jumping into.

He bailed out into the darkness and slammed into her where she’d paused near the front of her pickup, frying pan cocked as she peered into the shadows, toward the sound of raised voices. Cole recognized one of them immediately. He stepped in front of Shawnee and held out an arm to hold her back while he tried to make sense of what he saw and heard.

“Tyrell?” he called.

The man ignored him, bellowing in rage as Mariah clung to one arm, shrieking at him in what seemed to be a combination of fear and fury. Cruz had both hands planted on Tyrell’s chest, trying to hold him back. Above them, the door to the truck cab hung open, the dome light dimly illuminating the chaos. Three steps closer and Cole could see someone splayed out on the ground, with Analise crouched over him. Two more strides and Cole saw it was Hank.

In the second it took for the pieces to click into place, a pair of uniformed county deputies came jogging down the road. “What’s going on here?” one of them barked.

For an instant, they all froze, and the only sound was Katie yipping and scratching frantically at the door of Cole’s trailer. Then Mariah flung herself away from her father. “He is out of control.”

When they saw Tyrell, both cops shifted into high alert. Both dropped their hands to their weapons. The taller one drew his revolver. Oh shit. Cole leapt forward, raising both hands as he put his body in front of Tyrell’s. “Let’s not get excited—”

“I can date whoever I want!” Mariah raged. “I’m—”

Shawnee threw an arm around the girl and clamped a hand over her mouth. “Now, sugar, these fine officers don’t wanna listen your caterwaulin’,” she said, laying on the backwoods southern accent.

Mariah squealed in protest as Shawnee put her in a headlock, speaking low and fast into her ear as she dragged her away from her father. And away from the gun, its black, deadly eye focused on Cole’s chest. Fear congealed the air in his lungs. One twitch of a finger…

“But I’m not from—” Mariah began.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Shawnee cut in. “You just hush up now. You’re makin’ the officers nervous.”

And God knew, they did not want to alarm the man with the gun. Cole was acutely aware of Tyrell standing behind him, silent and motionless. Of Cruz moving to add his body to Cole’s human barricade as off in the periphery, Hank struggled to sit up.

“Step aside,” the taller cop ordered.

They stood their ground. Words. He needed words, and they had to be the right ones. “I’m Cole Jacobs. All of these people work for me. This is just a little family squabble. I’ve got it under control.”

“That’s for us to decide.” The shorter cop took a step closer, angling for a better look at Hank. “Is he seriously injured?”

Analise waved off the question with a sneer. “Nah. He’s a bullfighter. He gets smacked harder than that every day.”

The cop transferred his gaze to Mariah, obviously summing up the situation just as Cole had, and getting the same answer. “What about you, ma’am?”

“I…I’m fine,” she stuttered. “We were…I mean, I was…”

“She was sneakin’ around with that blockhead.” Shawnee jabbed a finger at Hank. “Even though she knew full well her daddy would not approve…and with good reason. Can’t blame a father for lookin’ out for his own.”

The cops relaxed slightly, and the pent-up air whooshed out of Cole’s chest when the tall one put his gun away, pulling a face that suggested he knew all about trying to keep a daughter in line.

The short cop fished out a small notebook. “We’re gonna have to write this up. I need names.”

Tyrell swore softly. Shawnee shot Cole a look even he could decipher. Fix this!

“No problem.” Cole edged closer to the cop and tried a reassuring smile that felt stiff and cracked as an old tire. “Like I said, I’m Cole Jacobs, the stock contractor for the rodeo. This is Shawnee Pickett…”

Cole went on around the circle. Hank was sitting up now, head hanging, but he lifted a hand when he heard his name. Cole deliberately left Tyrell for last. When he finally turned aside and gestured toward the other man, Tyrell had regained his dignity. He managed a shadow of his usual smile. The cops relaxed another few degrees, but their eyes were still suspicious.

Come on, come on. If Cole didn’t talk them out of an official report, this was going to turn into a nightmare in about three seconds flat.

“Look, we’ve been on the road all summer,” he said. “People rub each other wrong, things get tense, and sometimes we have a squabble. But if this shows up in the police report, it’s gonna give us a real black eye with the committee.”

The cops exchanged a dubious look. “We have to at least see some ID. We can’t just take your word…”

“Here.” Cole yanked out his wallet, fumbled for his driver’s license, and shoved it at them. If they would just be satisfied with his—

“I’ll need the others,” the tall cop insisted.

Cole made an exaggerated, pained face. “Like I said, we’d really like to keep this out of the sheriff’s report. Especially names—”

“What if we gave you a reference, instead?” Shawnee cut in. “Someone who will vouch for Cole?”

The cop shined his flashlight on Cole’s license and shook his head. “We can’t rely on the word of anyone clear up in the Panhandle. We wouldn’t know them from Adam.”

“Give me two minutes.” Shawnee released Mariah to jog to her trailer.

The shorter cop maneuvered around Cole and crouched beside Hank. “Do you need medical attention?”

“No.” The reply was grunted between clenched teeth. “Jus’ a bruise.”

“Can you stand up?”

Hank nodded, but before the cop could attempt to assist him, Cruz materialized beside them in that uncanny way of his. He grabbed one side and Analise the other and they hoisted Hank to his feet, subtly bracing him so he couldn’t sway.

“Let me see your eyes,” the cop said.

Hank lifted his chin and stared straight ahead, wincing when the cop flashed a light in his eyes. “Don’t need no doc,” he muttered.

“Macho idiot,” Analise said, with just the right amount of disgust. “You wouldn’t get him to admit he’s hurt if he was missing an arm.”

The cop shook his head and smiled slightly—those crazy cowboys—as Shawnee hustled back and shoved her phone into the shorter cop’s hand. “Senator Patterson would like to speak to you.”

Every head jerked around as the goggle-eyed cop held up the phone to stare at the face on the screen, immediately recognizable to anyone who’d lived in Texas in the last thirty years. “Uh…yes sir. Deputy Herndon here, sir.”

“Good evening.” Even over the phone’s tinny speaker, Richard Patterson’s voice resonated with power. “I understand we’ve had a little scuffle down there. Cole Jacobs is a close friend of mine. You can trust him to be sure the matter is handled properly, but I’m happy to assist in any way, including speaking to your superiors…if necessary.”

There was the slightest emphasis on the necessary that made it sound less helpful than cautionary. You really don’t want that, do you?

“Um…yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“I will personally review this matter with Cole, and if I feel it is appropriate for charges of any kind to be filed, we will do so immediately. But we don’t want to waste your time or the court’s. Is that acceptable?”

The short cop looked to the other. He shrugged, loath to disagree with one of the most respected men in the state. “Of course. Thank you, sir.”

“No, thank you.” The retired senator flashed a broad smile. “I appreciate your service, deputies. Men like you are the backbone of our state. Best of luck.”

The screen went blank and Shawnee tugged the phone out of the flummoxed cop’s hand. “Satisfied?”

“Um…yeah.” He shook off the cloud of awe and snapped to attention, sending a warning glare around the group. “But if we have to come back here…”

Cole’s whole body went rubbery with relief, but he put iron in his voice. “You won’t.”

The cops looked him up and down, then nodded. Everyone stood silent while the deputies walked away. Mariah was the first to move, whirling to face Shawnee. “I didn’t know. I swear to God—”

“Obviously.” Shawnee gave Hank a deadly glare. “But he did.”

Tyrell looked from one to the other, confused. “I don’t understand.”

“The age of consent in Texas is seventeen,” Analise said. “Mariah is still jailbait here.”

“That is so stupid!” Mariah exploded. “He didn’t force me to do anything. And we didn’t even…”

Cole glared at Hank, who hung his head and refused to make eye contact. “Doesn’t matter. If he’s more than three years older and touched you in a sexual way, even over your clothes, it’s considered indecency with a child. Mandatory minimum two-year sentence. No exceptions.”

And Hank should know, dammit. Just last winter a star basketball player from Amarillo had lost everything in a similar case—including a scholarship to A&M and a shot at the pros.

“Are you talking about statutory rape?” Tyrell asked, stunned.

“Basically, yeah.” Cole transferred his gaze to the other man. “You have the right to press charges, if you choose.”

“You wouldn’t!” Mariah grabbed his arm, pleading. “Daddy, you can’t.”

Tyrell shook his head again, flexing his hand, which was swelling as fast as Hank’s jaw. “This is too…I need to think.”

“We all do,” Shawnee said.

And they had to get Hank checked out. He had a concussion, minimum, and the way his jaw was swelling, that was more than a bruise. Tyrell’s hand might be broken, too, but that would keep until morning. Hank, though…if they took him to the local ER the cops might find out, and they’d be screwed. Or at least Hank would be. Cole turned to Cruz. “It’s an hour into El Paso and you know the city. Can you take him there for x-rays?”

Cruz nodded. “We can take my car.”

“I’ll go with them,” Analise said.

Everyone burst into motion. The instant Cole opened his trailer door, Katie bailed out, running frantic circles, yipping and whining and generally adding to the chaos. Analise and Cruz started to drag Hank toward the car but he jerked free, staggering toward Mariah.

“Don’ go,” he slurred, reaching for her. “I didn’t mean for this—”

“Oh, Hank.” Mariah took a step toward him. Shawnee jerked her back as Cole grabbed Tyrell’s arm.

Shawnee pushed Mariah behind her and slapped a palm on Hank’s chest. “I realize your brain is more scrambled than usual, but we’re not screwing around here, Hank. You can’t touch her—unless you want to be labeled a child molester for the rest of your life?”

He shook his head, swaying. “It’s not like that. I wouldn’t hurt her!”

“Then leave her be.”

“But we need to—”

“You need to back off, Hank, before this turns into something that wrecks your entire life. And hers.”

Shawnee gave him another shove, then dragged Mariah off toward her trailer.

“Mariah!” he begged. “Please…”

The girl paused, glanced over her shoulder, then gave a helpless shrug and let herself be pulled away.

Hank stared after her for a long moment, then his chin dropped and his whole body sagged. “I would never hurt her,” he insisted, his voice cracking.

“Not on purpose. But Hank…you just can’t. No matter how you feel about her.” Analise wrapped an arm around him and squeezed as they steered him toward Cruz’s car. “We have to take care of you right now.”

Shawnee slammed her trailer door behind Mariah and slumped back against it.

“Okay.” She drew in a huge breath, then huffed it out. “I’ve got this one for the night. Tyrell, take my pickup to the motel and get some ice on that hand. Give everybody ’til morning to simmer down.”

“If Hank comes back…”

“He’ll have to get through me,” Shawnee promised.

Tyrell held for a beat, then nodded. “Yeah. That’s probably best. Anything I say tonight…” He shook his head. “I’d better call her mother first.”

Cole didn’t envy him that conversation. Tyrell’s footsteps dragged, his shoulders slumped as he crossed the road, accepted Shawnee’s keys, and drove away. Suddenly, fatherhood wasn’t looking quite as appealing as it had half an hour earlier. Cole closed his eyes. Jesus Christ. What a mess. Katie pressed against his leg and whined, as if in agreement.

“You okay?” Shawnee asked.

His eyes popped open. She was still leaning on her door, watching him. Was he okay? Other than the tremors every time he pictured that gun aimed at him, and the knowledge that he, who had never so much as swiped a candy bar, had just covered up a felony?

“I will be. Eventually.” Although he was no doubt gonna have some dandy dreams for who knew how long. “Thank you for calling the senator. I don’t know why he would put his reputation on the line for Hank—”

“He did it for you. For Jacobs Livestock.” She pushed away from the trailer and strode up to him, hands balled into fists. “You dumb-ass.”

“I know. I should have kept a better eye on Hank—”

She lunged, and for an instant he thought she was going for his throat. Instead, her hand latched onto either side of his neck, fingers digging in like claws, and tried to shake him. “You could have been shot! What the hell were you thinking?”

He tried to shrug, but her grip had him paralyzed. “I wasn’t. I just…well, I’m white. And Tyrell’s black. My odds were better.”

“Your odds.” She stared up at him in disbelief. “Like that was gonna stop a bullet.”

Truthfully, he hadn’t had time to think about it. But he was now. Another tremor ran through his blessedly intact innards. “I had to do something.”

“God! You are so—”

She yanked his head down and kissed him, her mouth taking his as if she was trying to dive straight to the center of him. There was nothing sexual about this kiss. It was a punishment. And somehow, a prayer of thanksgiving.

She broke it off and hugged his neck so hard his vertebrae creaked. Her words were low, unsteady. “For the record, they shoot white men too. Especially large, potentially threatening white men.” She loosened her death grip, leaned back to gaze up at him, and huffed out a sigh. “We might as well give you a cape, you’re so damn determined to be a hero.”

Cole couldn’t find a trace of sarcasm in her voice. Or the soft press of her lips on his cheek.

Then she turned him loose, scowling. “But I get to spend the night with Miss Washington instead. See you tomorrow, Captain America.”

Cole was tempted to point out that Captain America had a shield, not a cape, but this probably wasn’t the time to nitpick. He watched her disappear into her trailer, then looked down to find Katie staring up at him, head cocked.

What now, Einstein?

Damned if he knew. He had a disaster of potentially epic proportions on his hands, and all he could do was stand there and stare at the light in Shawnee’s window and curse the fact that he was on the wrong side of the door.