walked out the door.
Carlie shivered. She’d seen where his eyes were. She rubbed the scar self-consciously. She’d really have to go back to button-up shirts. Or make sure her T-shirts and sweaters were big enough not to draw attention to certain things.
She turned on the computer and focused on the task at hand.
TANK WAS ON his way back to Wyoming the next morning. He didn’t like being away from the ranch. More specifically, he didn’t like being away from Merissa. He’d missed her like crazy. He couldn’t wait to get home, to see her, to touch her, to kiss her...
Across the aisle, Carson had yet another admirer, a blonde flight attendant with a smile so big that it seemed to go from ear to ear. He really did know how to lure women. But it was a shame he’d been so cruel to Cash Grier’s little secretary. She might not be pretty, but she had a livewire personality and a good sense of humor, and she seemed to be a person of faith; that alone was rare in this jaded world. He wondered why Carson was so antagonistic toward her. So he liked pretty women. That was no excuse to make cruel comments about a woman who wasn’t.
Carson was an odd duck. He never seemed to fit in anywhere. He was a maverick who hated authority. But it had amused Tank to see how much he respected Cash Grier. One word from the police chief and Carson had shut up immediately.
The men had something in common, probably a covert background that gave them a point of reference as well as a mutual respect. It had occurred to Tank that Carson didn’t seem to mind leaving Texas for a while, either. He wondered if it had anything to do with Cash’s secretary.
ROURKE MET THEM at the airport. His blond eyebrows met above the black eye patch over one eye, and the brown eye twinkled.
“What the hell are you doing up here?” he asked Carson as he shook hands with Tank.
“Hunting.” Carson grinned.
Rourke chuckled. “Welcome, then. I could use the help.”
“He’s my latest hire,” Tank said meaningfully. “I have a lot to tell you.”
“Let’s go back to the ranch. I have a few things to tell you, too,” Rourke said, and that wasn’t a pleasant tone in his voice.
“WHAT’S UP?” TANK asked when they were in the double-cabbed ranch pickup on the way to the ranch.
“It’s Merissa Baker,” Rourke said.
“What the hell...!” Tank burst out. “Is she hurt? Is she all right?”
“No,” Rourke said.
“Then what...!”
Rourke pulled the truck over into a convenience store parking lot and turned to Tank. “Some things have happened since you’ve been away. Clara’s ex-husband showed up at their cabin. He claims that it’s his and he has the papers to prove it.”
“Does he?” Tank asked coldly.
“It’s up to her to prove he isn’t the owner,” Rourke said. “And somehow a whole file of her important papers went missing.”
“I thought he’d been gone for years,” Tank said. “Why would he come back now?”
“That’s a very good question” was the reply. “I don’t know. He moved into the house with them. Clara’s terrified of him. Merissa is trying to stay out of his way. I went over to check on her and he literally blocked the door and refused to let me speak to her.”
“Head that way,” Tank instructed. His expression and tone of voice was harder than Rourke had ever heard from Tank.
“Now that’s amazing,” Rourke said as he pulled back onto the highway. “You know, that was exactly what I was going to advise.”
“You packing?” Tank asked him.
“Always,” Rourke replied.
“So am I,” Carson said from the cramped backseat.
“Bowie knives don’t count,” Rourke jibed.
“They do if you know how to use one,” Carson said haughtily.
The two men in front laughed, but there was no real amusement. Tank was worried. He knew what the man had done to the women in his family, and it disturbed him that they were at his mercy. Well, that was something he was about to fix. Right now.
THE TRUCK PULLED up at the front of the house and the three men got out. As they approached the house, a tall, powerfully built man with thinning black hair and a mean expression came out to meet them.
“I came to see Merissa,” Tank said pleasantly.
“I’m afraid she’s not available,” the man said with an arrogant look.
Tank went right up to him. “You don’t know me,” he told the man with a cold smile. “My name is Dalton Kirk. My brothers and I own the Rancho Real. We have a whole damned team of corporate attorneys with a little time on their hands. If I don’t get in that house, right now, I’ll have my private investigator do some digging. You say you own the place, right? Prove it!”
The man was less aggressive now. In fact, he shifted his belligerent posture and lost his arrogance. “Hey, no problem, you can see her if you want to. No need to go calling attorneys, for God’s sake. Merissa, come out here!”
The tone of his voice made Tank furious. He held in his rage and waited, not too patiently, until a subdued, worried Merissa came out onto the porch. She looked ragged. Her eyes had dark circles under them and she was obviously distressed.
“Come here, honey,” Tank said softly and held out his arm.
She ran to him, sobbing, to be enclosed hungrily in his embrace.
“It’s all right,” he whispered. “It’s going to be all right.”
She clung closer.
“What the hell is that all about?” the man on the porch growled. “I haven’t hurt you!”
“Make him let Mama come out here,” she whispered urgently in Tank’s ear, so that the man couldn’t overhear her. “Please, Dalton!”
Tank smoothed her hair and kissed her forehead. “Don’t worry.” He let her go. “I want to talk to Clara,” he said out loud.
Now the man really looked unsettled. “She’s indisposed.”
“Rourke,” Tank said, nodding toward him.
Rourke pulled back his wool jacket and disclosed a holstered .45 automatic. At the same time, Carson moved to his right and pushed back his own jacket, showing the big Bowie knife.
“Are you...threatening me?” the man stammered.
“I want to see Clara,” Tank told him. “Whether or not it’s a threat depends on whether or not she comes out here.” He pulled out his cell phone. “Our sheriff, Cody Banks, is a good friend of mine. I have his number on speed dial.”
Now the man was really unsettled. He swallowed. “She had a fall,” he said quickly. “She has a few bruises. It ain’t my fault!”
“Clara!” Tank called shortly.
The door opened. Little Clara, nervous and shivering, came into view. There were bruises on her face.
“Come here to me,” Tank said softly. “It’s all right,” he added when she looked with evident fear at her ex- husband. “Come on. He isn’t going to touch you!” He glared at the man as he said it, and his expression was dangerous.
Clara ran down the steps, almost stumbling. Tank put his arm around her. “You okay?” he asked softly.
