Tina Leonard - The Cowboy Soldier's Sons

“I like you,” he said, “and I think you’re hot wearing spiderwebs.” He brushed one off her cap and kissed her on the nose. “You know, I bet you could convince me to—”

“What are you doing in my house?”

A man’s voice erupted behind them, and Tempest shrieked, clinging to Shaman for just an instant.

Then she moved away, though he tried to shield her. “This is my house. What are you doing here?”

A flashlight shone on her, cutting the darkness. “Zola?”

She stepped closer, though Shaman tried to hold her back. “Bobby Taylor?”

“Yeah.” He shone the beam at Shaman. “Who’s he?”

“Never mind.” Tempest snatched the flashlight from the man, nearly giving Shaman a heart attack. She shone it in the guy’s face. “What are you doing in my house?”

“I’m staying here. And it’s not like you need this joint, sister.”

Chapter Four

Tempest put the flashlight on the counter so the beam pointed to the ceiling, illuminating the room with a small circle of light. “I’m not your sister, Bobby.”

She felt Shaman move closer to her, and was warmed by the protection she knew he offered. But she could handle this.

“Don’t want him to know?” Bobby jerked his head toward Shaman. “Zola’s mom had a special relationship with my father, Bud. She’s the love child. So yes, Zola, you are my half sister.” Bobby smiled, which annoyed Tempest. “Even if you don’t want anyone to know, everybody does. There’s no need to deny it.”

She shrugged. “I don’t care what anybody thinks.”

“Now that you’re a big star, you could help me get the family place back. It’s mine and my siblings’,” Bobby said. “Jonas Callahan stiffed our father out of Dark Diablo. Dad was not in his right mind when he sold it. That land was worth a lot more than what Callahan paid for it.”

“Yet he left you none of his money,” Tempest said. “I would think that speaks pretty loudly. Anyway, it doesn’t explain what you’re doing in my house.” She glared at Bobby.

Shaman stood stiffly next to her, coiled, ready to strike. She doubted Bobby knew how much danger he was in.

“I didn’t figure my sister would mind.” The man shrugged. “You know, if you’d care to speak on our behalf in the lawsuit, testify to the fact that Dad wasn’t in his right mind when he sold the land or when he wrote his will, we’d cut you in on the deal.”

She crossed her arms. “Just so you know, this is Shaman Phillips. He’s working at Dark Diablo.”

Bobby turned his full attention to Shaman. “You work for Callahan?”

Shaman didn’t reply. Tempest had a feeling silence was deadly, and put her hand in his, trying to let him know he didn’t have to worry about protecting her. “Yes, he works for Jonas.”

Bobby looked at her with loathing. “So you’re in bed with the Callahans.”

“Not so much.” She heard what sounded like a growl come from Shaman, and squeezed his fingers.

It didn’t seem to help. He was like a crouching panther, his tight muscles bunching.

“It never occurred to me before,” Bobby said, “but Dad left his money to someone. The will was sealed, so we never knew, but now that I think about it...” He stared at Tempest. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

“Why would Bud Taylor leave me a dime?”

“Because he loved your mother, though he would never have married her. She was trash, of course, from the wrong side of town—”

“Then he wouldn’t have left her daughter anything.” Tempest tried to squeeze Shaman closer, so he’d know he didn’t have her permission to go ape-wild on Bobby. He wanted to, badly—she could feel it. “Bobby, I want you out of my house.”

“I’ve got no place to go,” he said.

“Go back to wherever you came from.” She glanced around the dark house. “How are you surviving here, anyway?”

“I don’t need much. There’s some broken furniture, so it’s like camping. Besides I’ll have plenty of money once the judge forces Callahan to give us what’s ours.”

“Go,” Shaman said. “Go and don’t come back. Or you’ll deal with me.”

“And you’re a tough guy, right?” Bobby retorted.

“Something like that,” Shaman said, his tone deceptively easy.

Bobby considered him for a long moment. Then he shrugged. “I’ll go. But one day, you won’t have a job at Dark Diablo. You’ll be the first person I fire,” he told Shaman. “Hope you don’t need your job too bad. And I’ll own this house,” he told Tempest. “You could have been nice, could have shared with your brother who’s down on his luck.”

“I could, but I’m not going to,” Tempest said. “Get out before I call Sheriff Nance.”

Bobby snatched his flashlight off the counter, then sauntered out the door. The kitchen went dark again.

“That was pretty crazy,” Shaman said.

Tempest finally shivered. It was nerves, but not good nerves, not like she had before she went on stage. This was more of a bone-deep trembling, from the past smacking her right in the face. “Yeah. It was.”

“You trying to scare me off, Cupertino?” Shaman asked, putting his arm around her and walking her to the front door. She could still feel the tension in his body; it radiated from him.

“Maybe,” she said. “Is it working?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s not,” he answered, helping her into his truck. “I don’t know that you can scare me off.”

He went around to get in the driver’s seat, and she suppressed another shiver until he’d climbed in. She quickly locked the doors, and he acted as if he hadn’t noticed. “I wanted you to know where I came from, Shaman. I knew you’d understand.”

He pulled away from the small, decrepit pile of wooden misery where Tempest had grown up. “I don’t know that there’s anything to understand. It doesn’t matter to me.”

“I haven’t been back here since I left,” she said softly. “And I’ve never told anybody I dated about my family.”

“So this is like a real first date,” Shaman said, trying to unload some of the tension.

Yet the tension wouldn’t leave her. “I just knew I could tell you, because you’re not some rich guy who’s never worked a day in your life. You haven’t had everything handed to you. I mean, I feel like you could understand.”

“Oh, I get it. Because I’m a working stiff.” He laughed. “Cupertino, you got a bad-girl fantasy going on? Rich girl meets bad boy?”

“No,” she said, annoyed. “I just feel like you and I are a lot alike somehow. That maybe we’re from the same place.”

“It’s okay,” Shaman said. “I get what you’re saying. And I don’t care about your skeletons, beautiful. Now tell me where you want me to take you for our date. A beer is sounding real good to me right now.”

“I do not have a bad-girl fantasy, or whatever you said,” Tempest said, still inwardly writhing over the skeletons that had popped out unexpectedly from her closet. “I don’t have any fantasy at all concerning you,” she fibbed.

“We’ll have to work on that. I’ve got plenty of fantasies that have your name on them.”

She sniffed. “Really?”

He reached for her hand, kissing her fingers. “Feed me, and maybe I’ll show you.”

“Turn right at the stoplight. You can get a beer at Shiloh Bill’s.”

“That’s my girl,” Shaman said, and Tempest decided maybe the night was looking up. As long as she didn’t think about the past, everything was fine.

* * *

SHILOH BILL’S WAS A cozy mom-and-pop shop with lots of plants sprucing up the place, and a piano player in the background. Shaman felt himself slowly starting to relax. The whole incident with the vagrant had really teed him off—he couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted to remove a guy’s head more.