The older man jerked his head back, his sights set firmly on the hot guy. “She’s right, Commie. You’re a jackass.”
Liberty ran for the older man, fretting over him as she bent. “Are you okay? Do you want me to call the authorities? Do you need medical attention?”
Uncle Sam rolled onto his back with an audible creak. “Nah. The fuzz will just come and try to take my stash. They always do. They got it out for me. I’m on lists. Some people say I’m paranoid. You know what they say about that.”
Did she know what people said about that? She wasn’t so sure she did, not that he gave her a chance to think on it much.
“Plus, Jackass over here is technically the authorities,” he said, pointing with one finger while still cupping his groin. “Least that’s what folks tell me. I’m pretty sure he’s a spy sent to bring down our great nation, but no one listens to me.”
“I’m sorry, but what?” she asked, having difficulty following his train of logic. It seemed as if the train had jumped the track a while back.
A mischievous smile slid over his face. “Hi, I’m Wild Bill, but most just call me Bill. Who are you?”
“Liberty,” she said, looking him over for signs of injury, doing her best to ignore the fact his pants were still down.
“And justice for all,” he finished, lifting a hand and extending it to her. With only one hand covering his groin, not much was left to the imagination.
Liberty averted her gaze, trying to think of a way to avoid touching his hand, especially since it had only just been on his groin. “Uh, um…”
“Libs?” asked Daisy, sprinting down the driveaway. Halfway to Liberty, Daisy changed directions, going to the spigot instead. She turned off the water before moving rapidly to Liberty. “Is he okay? Oh my. Um, sir, your bits and pieces are showing.”
“Sorry, ladies,” said Bill, his smile growing wider. “I’ve been caught with my pants down. Not the first time. The last time was with a hot little number in Reno. She didn’t tell me she was shacking up with the head of the local biker gang there. Man, those biker guys sure do like to swing their bits and pieces around to prove how macho they are. Word to the wise, don’t get caught sticking it to one of their old ladies. They’re kind of relentless.”
Liberty glanced back at Daisy, giving her friend a wide-eyed stare, wondering if Bill was certifiable. “Bill, meet my friend Daisy.”
Daisy pushed her glasses up on her nose and pressed a pleasant smile to her face. “Bill, I heard you mention thinking someone was a spy. Did you mean that?”
“Of course I did,” he said, squirming around on the ground and pulling up his pants—mostly. “Only crazy conspiracy theorists walk around claiming people are spies when they ain’t. There are no conspiracy theories here. Nope. They’re all proven facts.”
“Here, let me help you stand,” said Liberty, bending more to get him off the ground.
The hot guy tried to help.
Liberty shot him a hard look. “No.”
Daisy was quick to assist in the man’s place. “Are you hurt anywhere, Bill?”
“Just my pride,” said Bill. “Can’t believe I was captured by a Russian. Damn commies.”
“You think he’s a Russian spy?” asked Daisy, clearly stuck in her default setting of analyzing.
Liberty picked then to look at Jackass. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself. What were you thinking?”
“Yeah, what were you thinking?” echoed Bill with a smirk.
“Well?” demanded Liberty as the man continued to stare at her.
She and Daisy finally managed to get Bill to his feet just as Isobel approached.
Isobel had brought the entire pot of coffee with her and had put on shoes. She was certainly winning over Liberty and Daisy. She took a look around and shook her head. “No way am I awake. If I am, Uncle Sam looks like he shat his pants, there is a super-hot guy looking like he’s about to tackle one of my best friends in a carnal way, and Abraham Lincoln is carrying around a head in a football helmet. Seriously hoping that’s dirt on Uncle Sam’s pants and not a fart gone wild.”
“For a minute there…uh, it’s dirt,” said Bill. “Fucking commie bastard’s fault.”
Daisy gasped. “Oh he does look like he’s thinking of tackling her.”
“Tackling who?” asked Liberty, worried about Bill.
Bill nudged her lightly. “You. They’re saying Jackass wants you in a how-you-doing kind of way.”
As she registered what he’d said, her gaze snapped back to the hot guy. He was staring at her all right, but she didn’t think he had a look that said he wanted her in a carnal way—did he?
To her, he came off as perplexed with a hefty dose of stunned. It was an odd combination. What was even more bizarre was how she wasn’t so sure she’d protest being tackled by him. And for some reason, every bone in her body was telling her to trust the man. The same man she’d only just raced across the street to confront.
Evidently, she was in need of sleep.
Bill stayed close to her. “Insider tip here, Liberty Bell. I’ve seen what the government has done to him and his buddies’ whoo-hoos, if you catch my drift. While I don’t go for that kind of thing myself, I don’t think too many women would complain. He’s a jackass but he could be worth a roll in the hay. You should give him a go.”
Liberty didn’t respond. She also did her best to pretend she’d not heard Bill. Then she thought harder about what Isobel had said. Something about Lincoln and a head.
“Hold on…
