Diana Palmer - Untameable - Merciless

“It’s so pretty!” Markie enthused. “Look at all the trees! We don’t got even one tree at our apartment!”

“Don’t have,” Joceline corrected automatically.

“There’s a doggie!” he exclaimed, and started running toward an enormous, black-faced German shepherd dog.

“Markie, no!” Joceline almost screamed. “Don’t …!”

“Dieter, freund!” the cowboy called in fluent German. “Ja, Ja, freund. Das ist ein braver hund!”

Joceline spared him a shocked glance before she rushed to Markie’s side.

But the dog wasn’t hostile. On the contrary, he went right up to Markie with a slow, loping gait, and sat down just in front of him, leaning forward so that the child could pet him.

“He loves kids,” the cowboy told her. “Dieter is an old man, like me,” he added on a chuckle. “He came over from Germany. Notice his hocks. They almost touch the ground. American-bred German shepherds’ hind legs are joined higher up.”

She did notice. The dog’s build kept him very close to the ground. He was beautiful, with a thick shiny black coat and pale brown markings. He seemed very happy to sit and let Markie hug and pet him.

“You speak German to him,” Joceline said, curious.

“Yes. All our dogs are trained to respond to it.” He didn’t add that there was a secret attack command in German known only to the handler and a few of the most trusted cowboys. The code was never to be used unless in the gravest of emergencies. Activated, the dogs were quite capable of attacking and bringing down a human intruder. Considering Jon’s line of work, not to mention his brother’s, they couldn’t take chances. At least once, a would-be killer had tried to force his way in. He’d been taken off to jail, with a stop by the local hospital to stitch his wounds.

“What if an intruder also spoke German?” she wondered.

“They’d ignore him. They respond to our voices.”

She shook her head. “I can’t believe he’s that tolerant.”

He smiled. “Considering their size and strength, it would be insane not to have them gentle around family and friends.”

“I totally agree.”

“Come on inside.”

He led them through the house. Markie protested until the dog, Dieter, was allowed to come inside, as well. He walked right beside Markie, as if an attachment had already been formed there.

“My goodness,” Joceline exclaimed, noticing the dog’s actions.

“He likes you,” the old cowboy told Markie with a grin.

“I like him, too. He’s cool!” Markie said excitedly, petting the dog’s head.

The inside of the house was open and dotted with comfortable chairs and plants and paintings. The color scheme was mostly shades of tan and brown, with some green and even a little gold in the upholstery and curtains. There was a huge stone fireplace, in which a fire was already roaring. It was cold.

“They got a fireplace!” Markie exclaimed. “Can I go sit by it?”

“Not without me,” Joceline said firmly. “Come on, sport, let’s get our bags unpacked before we worry people to death trying to explore, okay?”

Markie sighed. “Okay.”

The old cowboy’s blue eyes twinkled. He led them into a room the size of Joceline’s whole apartment.

“This is the main guest suite,” he told her. “There’s a smaller room through the bathroom, if you want the boy to have his own, but there are two king-size beds in here.”

Joceline was still gaping. “My whole apartment would fit in here,” she murmured.

He laughed out loud. “So would my cabin,” he told her. “But I like cozy places. You might say I’ve grown accustomed to them over the years,” he added enigmatically.

She smiled as he put the bags down. “Thanks for bringing us here.”

“Oh, I enjoyed it.” He looked at Markie wistfully. “Nice to have a kid around the place again.”

She frowned. “Again?”

“Kilraven’s little girl spent some time here.” His face went hard. “There’s gossip that one of the shooters weaseled out of being charged with her death—the one that shot the boss and threatened you. He won’t get in here, and he won’t get away if I find out the rumor is true. I know people all over who could put a stick in his spokes. She was a precious little child—” He broke off and turned away. Just for a few seconds, the expression in his eyes had been frightening.

“The boss’s room is two doors down, that way,” he added when he was in the hall, pointing in the direction. “He’s expecting you.” He smiled. “Nice to have you here, ma’am. And you, young feller,” he added to Markie. “Later, when you’re settled in, I’ll show you the horses if your mom don’t mind.”

“I don’t,” she assured him.

He gave her a quizzical glance. “You might, later. Don’t worry about offending me, you won’t,” he added with a gentle smile. “You don’t know me.”

He tipped his hat and walked off, his spurs jingling as he went out the door. Dieter got up and followed him.

“Dieter,” Markie called.

“Let him go,” Joceline said. “He may be a working dog,” she added.

“Oh. Okay then.” He looked up at her. “We going to see Mr. Blackhawk now?”

“Yes.”

She led the way down the hall and paused at the door. It was standing open.

“Joceline?”

That was Jon’s deep voice. Odd, the way the word rippled along her nerves, bringing the oddest sweet sensations. She smiled self-consciously. “Yes, it’s me.”

She walked in, holding Markie’s hand more for her own comfort than his. Jon was propped up on pillows, wearing a burgundy silk pajama top that was unbuttoned over his broad chest. His long hair was loose around his shoulders, a little tousled, as if he’d been sleeping.

He looked at Markie and smiled. “Hello.”

“Hello,” Markie said. He moved to the bed and leaned on it. “I’m sorry you got shot.”

“Yes. Me, too.”

“You got nice dogs,” Markie said. “And I like your fish, too.”

“Thanks.”

“Dieter likes me.”

“I’m not surprised,” Jon said. “He’s very fond of children. We got him from a family in Germany. He was our first breeding dog. He’s sired several generations of wonderful pets.”

“He’s gorgeous,” Joceline agreed. “I was surprised at how gentle he is.”

Jon smiled at her and winced when he shifted position. “He’s gentle until he needs to be aggressive.”

“I guess you have to have good security here,” she said.

“I’ve had a few threats over the years. At least I don’t have to check the underside of my vehicles for bombs, though,” he added flatly.

She shook her head. “Your brother attracts trouble.”

“Yes, and it’s contagious, apparently.” He reached beside him and touched a button. “Megs, would you come in here, please?”

There was a soft, female voice that answered. A couple of minutes later, a small, dark woman with long black hair and brown eyes came into the room, wiping her hands on her spotless white apron. She stopped when she saw the visitors and broke into a wide smile.

“Welcome,” she said in her softly accented English. “I knew you were coming, so I have prepared something very special for dinner. You like sushi, I am told.”

Joceline gasped. “How did you know?” It was her secret passion and she couldn’t afford to have it very often.

“I told her,” Jon said with a smile. “You came out to eat with Mac and me once, a few months ago. I’ve never seen anyone enjoy a dish so much.”

“I love it,” she confessed, but didn’t add that her budget wouldn’t stand much of it. Sushi was frightfully expensive.

“We have a guy on the payroll who was a sushi chef before he decided he wanted to be a cowboy,” Jon explained. “I sent Megs to fetch him. We have fresh seafood flown here from California, so he can slice and dice to his heart’s content.”