Diana Palmer - Untameable

She bit her lip again. Faint color touched her cheeks. “Sorry. Slip of the tongue. Won’t happen again.” She crossed her heart.

He laughed despite himself and then groaned, because it hurt.

“Another slip. Very sorry,” she said quickly. “I just wanted to see you, to make sure that you were all right.”

“I got shot,” he said icily. “I’m not all right!”

“You’re not dead, either,” she reminded him.

He sank back on the pillows and fiddled with the lightweight sheet and blanket that covered him. The hospital gown was barely visible above it. “I’m freezing to death,” he muttered. “I want a real blanket and a comforter. And I want to go home!”

The nurse stuck her head around the door and grimaced. “Sir, could you complain in a little quieter manner?” she asked gently. “There’s a gentleman next door recuperating from a knife wound. He’s trying to sleep.”

Jon glared at her.

She cleared her throat, and walked back out.

Jon muttered unspeakable things under his breath.

“Your mother will have kittens if you even suggest taking me to Oklahoma,” Joceline told him firmly. “I cannot work in a combat zone.”

He sighed. “Neither can I, really, but what sort of choice do we have?” he asked. His black eyes narrowed. “Rourke told me that you had a break-in at your apartment and that there was a harassing phone call.”

She looked as tired as she felt. “Yes. We had to call the police and have them investigate. Markie was scared to death until one of the investigators gave him a piece of chewing gum and enthused over his Diego toys,” she added, alluding to a children’s program on TV.

Jon was surprised. “Not your typical investigator.”

“It was Rick Marquez,” she said, laughing. “He’s sort of in a class all his own. He knows Rourke, too, apparently.”

“Most people in law enforcement know Rourke, or know about him,” he added. He shifted and grimaced again. “I don’t want you alone in your apartment until we get the case wrapped up. Peppy may have been involved in my niece’s murder. If that’s the case, and he’s helping Monroe get even with me, he’d have no problem shooting another child,” he added meaningfully. He didn’t say that he was convinced that Monroe would never have been able to carry out the shooting without flubbing it.

She knew what he was referring to. It made her pale. “That being said, I would feel safer at your ranch. I understand you have at least one retired federal agent on your payroll.”

“We have three,” he corrected, “plus a former hit man for the mob.”

She stared at him without blinking.

He laughed. “He was very young and desperate when he did his first job. He was tricked into it and he didn’t fire the fatal shot. He did go to prison and he was able to redeem himself before he became a hardened criminal. He did his time and paid the price. It was twenty-five years ago. He needed a job when he got out and he’d worked with livestock at the prison where he served his time. I talked to him there several times when I was interviewing convicts on current cases.”

She was still leery.

“You’ll understand when you meet him. I’ll have our private jet fly you and Markie up there tomorrow.”

“Your mother …”

“She’s on her way to Paris tonight, with the fashion consultant, to see the new spring lines,” he said in a droll tone. “I promised to call her daily about my progress. She’ll never know you were there.”

“You should tell her,” she said worriedly.

“If I do, you’ll never arrive. She’ll commandeer the plane and land you on a desert island somewhere.”

She laughed. “Okay.”

“It’s only for a few days. When you come home, we’ll have to make some sort of security arrangements to keep you and Markie safe. I’ve already talked to the SAC about giving you time off to help me work on cases at the ranch.”

She hated her financial inability to do anything about that, but she had no choice except to accept help. She couldn’t put Markie at risk.

“It will be all right,” he assured her.

“Nothing ever really is,” she mused. She smiled. “I’m glad you’re getting better.” She looked at her watch. “I have to go.”

“I’ll have the pilot phone you tonight,” he told her. “Is Rourke staying?”

She glowered at him. “Yes. He won’t leave and I’m not strong enough to pick him up and toss him out the door.”

He smiled. “He’s the best at what he does. Don’t argue.”

“Okay.”

His eyes searched hers and held them. It was like a mild electric shock. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Joceline.” His deep voice was almost purring.

She drew in a steadying breath. Her heart was turning cartwheels. “Okay.”

He smiled. “Thanks for coming to see about me.”

She shifted. “It’s in my job description. Take dictation, run down leads, keep a neat filing system online and come see the boss when some idiot shoots him.” She glanced at him. “But I don’t make coffee.”

He just shook his head. But there was a light in his dark eyes that was puzzling. She thought about it all the way home.

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