Diana Palmer - Wyoming Bold

He glared at them. “She won’t turn me into a toad if she doesn’t like the food,” he said sarcastically.

“That isn’t what worries us,” Cane said quietly.

Mallory moved forward. He put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Look, it isn’t that we don’t like Merissa. But we know very little about her family. There have been some stories, some very unpleasant ones, about her father.”

Tank frowned. “What stories?”

Mallory glanced at Cane and back at Tank. “Well, that he beat one of his hands almost to death,” he said.

Tank was shocked. “He doesn’t live there anymore.”

“I know,” Mallory said. “But...”

“But you think maybe Merissa’s like that?” Tank said through his teeth.

Mallory removed his hand. “I’m doing this badly,” he groaned.

Cane moved forward. “Nobody knows where he is,” he said. “There’s a warrant, a standing warrant, for his arrest on assault and battery charges.”

“If you get involved with her,” Mallory seconded, “and he comes back...”

Tank understood, finally, what they were saying. He relaxed. “You’re worried about me.”

They both nodded. “We heard all sorts of things concerning him. He was possessive about his daughter. She was just ten at the time, and he was violent toward anybody who tried to talk to her.”

“I wonder why?” Tank asked.

“There were also rumors about what he did to her mother,” Mallory added solemnly.

“To Clara?” Tank was shocked. “But she’s a woman!”

“A man like that doesn’t care,” Cane said coldly. “Our doctor told me, in confidence once, that he’d treated Clara for some potentially fatal injuries.” He looked at Mallory with a question in his eyes.

“Tell him,” Mallory said.

Cane drew a breath. “Merissa was brought in with Clara, with a concussion and a broken leg,” he added. “The doctor said she tried to save her mother.”

Tank leaned back against a stone pillar with a rough curse. “Concussion!”

“It could explain some of her strange abilities,” Mallory said quietly. “There’s no scientific explanation that I’m aware of, but there are many things we still don’t know about brain function.”

“He hit a ten-year-old hard enough to break her leg?” Tank was talking to himself.

“Yes,” Mallory replied. “It’s worrying that nobody knows where he is.”

“It’s been years,” Tank pointed out.

“So it has. But it’s something to consider. Like that man who helped put you into intensive care...”

Tank held up his hand suddenly. “Let’s not go into that,” he said with a look that wasn’t lost on his brothers.

“Okay.”

He stood up. “I want to have a look at that tractor that’s been acting up,” he told his brothers, motioning them to follow him.

They nodded to Darby Hanes, who grinned. He was feeling better and back at work.

Tank started the engine and left it idling.

“I don’t think surveillance can pick this up,” he told the two of them, “over the noise, and my back’s to the camera so they can’t read lips. Listen, I don’t want to mention anything about our suspicions. Something’s not quite right about the company we hired to install the cameras. I can’t explain it,” he said irritably.

“You been talking to Merissa?” Cane teased.

“I have, but she didn’t mention it. No, I just have a feeling,” he added heavily.

Mallory didn’t laugh. “I had the same feeling,” he said curtly. “And I’m not psychic. The guy came in a car, not a service vehicle. He had an Australian accent, but it was put on. I had a friend in the service who was from Adelaide. I know the difference.”

Tank lost color in his face. “The rogue federal agent, the chameleon.”

“It’s possible,” Cane said, interrupting.

“Yes, but what do we do about all the cameras? And he might have bugged the phones, as well,” Tank said with growing unease. “He had access to the whole house, thanks to my stupidity! I should have mentioned that we hire a company from out of town.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Mallory said gently. “Neither of us thought about the possibility, either. It seemed a logical thing to do.”

“Yes, it did,” Cane agreed.

“We might have another company come in and tweak the cameras,” Mallory suggested with twinkling eyes.

“Not a bad idea,” Tank said. “I have a friend who can put bugs in ice cream and you’ll never see them. He was working as an independent contractor in the Middle East when I was serving over there. I’ll give him a call on my cell.”

“Your cell may be bugged,” Mallory pointed out.

“I’ll buy a throwaway,” Cane said. “And use it. We’d all better have some. I’ll send Darby into town for them.”

“This is ridiculous,” Tank muttered. “We hire people to protect us from the bad guys, and they may turn out to be the very people we’re watching for.”

“Our advantage,” Cane said, “is that they won’t know we’re onto them.”

“We could all just be paranoid,” Mallory suggested.

The other two looked at him for a minute, laughed and shook their heads. “No.”

He shrugged, and grinned.

“Tell the wives,” Tank added, “not to say anything about this in the house.”

“We will. They’re going on a two-day Christmas shopping trip to Los Angeles Friday,” Cane pointed out. “Morie’s taking Harrison with them. She can’t bear to leave him even with Mavie for a couple of days.”

“She’s a great little mother,” Tank said. He pursed his lips. “And I hear you and your new father-in-law have a hunting trip planned for next month up in Montana.”

“Heard that, did you?” Mallory chuckled. “We do. Now that he’s a grandfather, he’s a lot less judgmental and harsh.”

Tank didn’t want to mention how much Mallory had mellowed. So he just grinned.

“I’ll call Merissa back and set up our date for Saturday,” Tank decided. “I can be fairly certain that the restaurant won’t be bugged.”

“I wouldn’t make that bet,” Mallory replied. “Especially if you told her where you’re going.”

“I did,” Tank groaned. Then he brightened and laughed. “I’ll drive her over to Powell instead, and we’ll eat at the Chinese restaurant. But I won’t tell her until we’re on the way.”

“Creative thinking,” Cane said.

“I’ll have my friend sweep the truck before I leave.” He paused. “If he’s got the time, I might hire him on as a temporary. Nobody has to know what he really does for a living.”

“Do it,” Mallory said. “Better safe than sorry.”

TANK SENT DARBY Hanes into town that afternoon for throwaway phones. As soon as he had his, and it was activated, Tank placed a call.

“Hello?” It was a male voice, deep and quiet.

“It’s Tank,” he replied. “How are things?”

There was a pause. “Not good. How are you?”

“Fine, so far.” He hesitated. “Are you free for a couple of weeks? It’s a job, and it pays well.”

There was a rush of breath. “How the hell did you know I’m out of work?” came the reply. “Just finished one job and didn’t even have another lined up. Bills are piling up, house needs repairs...” He was lying through his teeth, but Tank wouldn’t know. He didn’t speak of his private life to outsiders. He maintained the fiction that he was a starving mercenary, living from job to job.

Tank chuckled. “Great! Well, not about the bills, I mean. But you’re hired.”

“You’re a lifesaver! What do you need done?”

“I’ve got a rogue fed after me,” Tank said. “I just hired a surveillance company to put up cameras and install bugs—but I have a nasty suspicion that the installer will turn out to be the rogue fed who’s after me.”