Diana Palmer - Texas Born

“Do you know why?”

She shook her head. She drew in a breath. “She doesn’t drink,” she said. “I know that’s what you’re thinking. She and Daddy used to have drinks every night, and she had a problem for a little while, but she got over it.”

Cash just nodded. “You let me know if things get worse. Okay?”

“Okay, Chief. Thanks,” she added.

The phone rang. Carlie answered it. “It’s your wife,” she said with a big grin.

Cash’s face lit up. “Really? Wow. A big-time movie star calling me up on the phone. I’m just awed, I am.” He grinned. Everybody knew his wife, Tippy, had been known as the Georgia Firefly when she’d been a supermodel and, later, an actress. “I’ll take it in my office. With the door closed.” He made a mock scowl. “And no eavesdropping.”

Carlie put her hand over her heart. “I swear.”

“Not in my office, you don’t,” he informed her. “Swearing is a misdemeanor.”

She stuck out her tongue at his departing back.

“I saw that,” he said without looking behind him. He went into his office and closed the door on two giggling women.

“He’s a trip to work for,” Carlie enthused, her green eyes sparkling in a face framed by short, dark, wavy hair. “I was scared to death of him when I interviewed for the job. At least, until he accused me of hiding his bullets and telling his men that he read fashion magazines in the bathroom.”

Michelle laughed.

“He’s really funny. He says he keeps files on aliens in the filing cabinet and locks it so I won’t peek.” The smile moderated. “But if there’s an emergency, he’s the toughest guy I’ve ever known. I would never cross him, if I was a criminal.”

“They say he chased a speeder all the way to San Antonio once.”

She laughed. “That wasn’t the chief. That was Kilraven, who worked here undercover.” She leaned forward. “He really belongs to a federal agency. We’re not supposed to mention it.”

“I won’t tell,” Michelle promised.

“However, the chief—” she nodded toward his closed door “—got on a plane to an unnamed foreign country, tossed a runaway criminal into a bag and boated him to Miami. The criminal was part of a drug cartel. He killed a small-town deputy because he thought the man was a spy. He wasn’t, but he was just as dead. Then the feds got involved and the little weasel escaped into a country that didn’t have an extradition treaty with us. However, once he was on American soil, he was immediately arrested by Dade County deputies.” She grinned. “The chief denied ever having seen the man, and nobody could prove that it was him on the beach. And,” she added darkly, “you never heard that from me. Right?”

“Right!”

Carlie laughed. “So what can I do for you?”

“I need a ride home from work.”

“I’ve got another hour to go, but...”

“Not today,” Michelle said. “Starting Monday. Minette Carson just offered me a part-time job, but I don’t have a way to get home. And she said I could work part-time Saturday, but I can’t drive and I don’t have a car.”

“You can ride with me, and I’d welcome the company,” Carlie said easily.

“I’ll chip in for the gas.”

“That would really help! Have you seen what I drive?” She groaned. “My dad has this thing about cars. He thinks you need an old truck to keep you from speeding, so he bought me a twelve-year-old tank. At least, it looks like a tank.” She frowned. “Maybe it was a tank and he had it remodeled. Anyway, it barely gets twelve miles to a gallon and it won’t go over fifty.” She shook her head. “He drives a vintage Ford Cobra,” she added with a scowl. “One of the neatest rides on the planet and I’m not allowed to touch it, can you believe that?”

Michelle just grinned. She didn’t know anything about cars. She did recall the way the minister had peeled out of the driveway, scattering gravel. That car he drove had one big engine.

“Your dad scared my stepmother.” Michelle laughed. “She wasn’t letting me go to church. Your dad said I could ride with you.” She stopped and flushed. “I really feel like I’m imposing. I wish I could drive. I wish I had a car....”

“It’s really not imposing,” Carlie said softly, smiling. “As I said, I’d like the company. I go down lots of back roads getting here from Comanche Wells. I’m not spooky or anything, but this guy did try to kill my Dad with a knife.” She lowered her eyes. “I got in the way.”

Michelle felt guilty that she hadn’t remembered. “I’ll learn karate,” she promised. “We can go to a class together or something, and if anybody attacks us we can fight back!”

“Bad idea,” Cash said, rejoining them. “A few weeks of martial arts won’t make you an expert. Even an expert,” he added solemnly, “knows better than to fight if he can get away from an armed man.”

“That isn’t what the ads say,” Carlie mused, grinning.

“Yes, I know,” Cash replied. “Take it from me, disarming someone with a gun is difficult even for a black belt.” He leaned forward. “Which I am.”

Carlie stood up, bowed deeply from the waist, and said, “Sensei!” Cash lost it. He roared with laughter.

“You could teach us,” Michelle suggested. “Couldn’t you?”

Cash just smiled. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. Just a few basics for an emergency. But if you have an armed opponent, you run,” he said firmly. “Or if you’re cornered, scream, make a fuss. Never,” he emphasized, “get into a car with anyone who threatens to kill you if you don’t. Once he’s got you in a car, away from help, you’re dead, anyway.”

Michelle felt chills run down her spine. “Okay.”

Carlie looked uncomfortable. She knew firsthand about an armed attacker. Unconsciously, she rubbed the shoulder where the knife had gone in. She’d tried to protect her father. Her assailant had been arrested, but had died soon afterward. She never knew why her father had been the target of an attack by a madman.

“Deep thoughts?” Michelle asked her.

She snapped back. “Sorry. I was remembering the guy who attacked my father.” She frowned. “What sort of person attacks a minister, for goodness’ sake!”

“Come on down to federal lockup with me, and I’ll show you a baker’s dozen who have,” Cash told her. “Religious arguments quite often lead to murder, even in families. That’s why,” he added, “we don’t discuss politics or religion in the office.” He frowned. “Well, if someone died in here, we’d probably say a prayer. And if the president came to see me, and why wouldn’t he, we’d probably discuss his foreign policy.”

“Why would the president come to see you?” Michelle asked innocently.

Cash pursed his lips. “For advice, of course. I have some great ideas about foreign policy.”

“For instance?” Carlie mused.

“I think we should declare war on Tahiti.”

They both stared at him.

“Well, if we do, we can send troops, right?” he continued. “And what soldier in his right mind wouldn’t want to go and fight in Tahiti? Lush tropical flowers, fire-dancing, beautiful women, the ocean...”

“Tahiti doesn’t have a standing army, I don’t think,” Michelle ventured.

“All the better. We can just occupy it for like three weeks, let them surrender, and then give them foreign aid.” He glowered. “Now you’ve done it. You’ll repeat that everywhere and the president will hear about it and he’ll never have to come and hear me explain it. You’ve blown my chances for an invitation to the White House,” he groaned. “And I did so want to spend a night in the Lincoln bedroom!”

“Listen, break out those files on aliens that you keep in your filing cabinet and tell the president you’ve got them!” Carlie suggested, while Michelle giggled. “He’ll come right down here to have a look at them!”