Holding Out For A Hero: SEALs, Soldiers, Spies, Cops, FBI Agents and Rangers (98 page)

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Authors: Caridad Pineiro,Sharon Hamilton,Gennita Low,Karen Fenech,Tawny Weber,Lisa Hughey,Opal Carew,Denise A. Agnew

Tags: #SEALs, #Soldiers, #Spies, #Cops, #FBI Agents and Rangers

BOOK: Holding Out For A Hero: SEALs, Soldiers, Spies, Cops, FBI Agents and Rangers
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Deloris took a quick sip of coffee and buried a sigh. One of those lunatics, as Gloria had deemed them, had been Deloris’s best friend. No matter, though. She’d set aside her foolish beliefs for Lucas, for the town’s best interest.

“Most people who didn’t agree with the changes just left. There are plenty of other places for those foolish beliefs, and it got rid of the graft and con artists. A few people had ties strong enough to Rossdale to not want to leave the area, so they moved on out to the Larson Farm at the foot of the mountains. After a few years, it was them on the East bank of Mage Lake, us on the West. Everyone kept their place and things were fine.”

She set her cup down with an audible snap, and straightened her spine with a silent one.

“And that’s as much as you need to know of the history of Rossdale.” Deloris felt like wiping her eyes, sure they were filled with the groggy dregs of sleep.

“Thank you for sharing that. It seems Rossdale has quite an interesting history.”

Deloris wondered at the odd smile on Miki’s face. Not that she’d ask or anything. She didn’t want the girl thinking she cared.

The younger woman glanced from Deloris to Reba, who was craning her pudgy neck like a lizard as she tried to look down the hall. Miki pressed her lips together like she was holding something back. Deloris wanted to think it was something nasty, but the humor dancing in the other woman’s eyes claimed the opposite.

“I don’t know what kind of thing you all need for your Historical Society. I’m sure you can discuss it with Gideon, since he’s the one doing the work. In the meantime, would you like a tour?”

Miki gathered the dishes into a neat stack on the tray, then stood.

“The rooms aren’t complete yet. I’ve been trying to do as much of the work as I can on my own. With Gideon’s instruction, of course. Once I understand what to do, I can handle a lot of the smaller jobs. He’s a great teacher,” she complimented. But Deloris only snorted, since she could just imagine what else her son was teaching.

Her good senses returning now that her stomach was comfortable, Deloris ground her teeth. This meeting wasn’t going as she’d planned. The younger woman wasn’t running, and that wasn’t acceptable. Deloris was determined to haul her son onto the path she and his father had determined for him. And all she had to do was a clean sweep of all the trash along the way.

Before she could resume her intimidation tactics, Reba bounced out of the chair with a clap of her hands.

“Oh yes. I want to see what you’ve done. C’mon, Deloris, we’ll get a tour.”

 

 

Miki watched Fish-Face purse her lips and wondered if she’d swallow her refusal or give in to her obvious curiosity.

Apparently curiosity was stronger than bitterness, because Gideon’s momma stood, brushed at her slacks like something nasty might have stuck to them and gave a stiff smile.

“An inspection would be fitting. After all, that’s why we’re here.”

Inspection, her ass.

But seeing as this was Gideon’s mother and he likely didn’t want to see her sporting a nasty rash, Miki just gave a tight smile and gestured for the women to follow her.

A quick tour, try to make peace with the mother of the man she was in serious
like
with, and she could scoot them out the door. Then she could concentrate on that little bit of history Deloris had shared and what it might mean.

After five minutes exploring the main floor, she was damned if she’d listen to Fish-Face any longer than she had to. Who knew someone could be so interesting and pleasant under a truth enchantment, only to cover it up with such nastiness the rest of the time?

“You aren’t color blind, are you, dear? The blue and green in that bathroom obviously clashed.” Deloris informed her in a snide tone. Miki clenched her teeth around a smile and inclined her head.

“Down this hall is the kitchen,” she invited. “I think we’ll skip the upstairs.”

“The upstairs are just as historic as the downstairs, you know.”

“Right. Sure they are. But it’s probably not safe for you up there with all the construction and tools and such. I’d hate for something large and heavy to land on your head.”

Deloris swallowed, obviously smart enough to get the threat. Miki had to give the older woman credit, though. She didn’t look intimidated. Just irritated.

The women entered the kitchen ahead of her and Miki was pulled from her contemplation by their exclamations.

She glanced around them and bit back her own exclamation. Although hers was mostly swear words.

“Ryan,” she said in a monotone. “When did you get here?”

Her brother lounged on the new, buffet style seat with a grin. His black tee shirt molded itself to the muscles of his chest, and she’d bet Perry’s vintage Mustang if Ryan stood, his jeans would be illegally tight as well.

“I got here during the tour and didn’t want to interrupt.” He shifted his attention to the older women. “Ladies, we haven’t met, have we?”

Miki tuned out as her brother poured charm and bullshit over the nosy women. When he sat them down and started handing out beauty advice, she went back to the living room to retrieve the dirty dishes. By the time they were all washed and put away, he’d done the ladies’ colors, advised them on new hairstyles, and given them his business card. The card, he informed them, had the address to his website where he sold makeup so good it was almost magical.

Miki rolled her eyes. But despite the earlier disdain for all things magic, Deloris ate it up like it was coated in those cookies Miki had zapped up earlier.

“I think you ladies are in for a treat,” Ryan claimed, making Miki frown and look at him in question. “Miki’s made a roast, and if I’m not mistaken, it’s done.”

Her gloating long forgotten, she gave Ryan her own annoyed glare. He ignored her.

“You haven’t tasted delicious until you’ve tasted Mikaela’s cooking. She’s won prizes for it, you know.”

Miki shot her brother a wide-eyed stare. When had Ryan lost his mind? And when had he noticed her cooking, other than a means to mooch a meal? Yes, she had won prizes, but she hadn’t thought any of her family even realized that. An odd, surprised sort of pleasure blossomed deep inside.

No matter. The last thing she wanted was these two old biddies tasting her food. The house tour she could handle. After all, the disrepair wasn’t her fault and since Gideon had done them, they couldn’t fault the repairs.

But her cooking? She was liable to turn Fish-Face into a trout at the first insult.

 

* * *

 

Tilda smoothed a hand over her hip, making sure her companion’s gaze took in her lush curves.

“We have a deal, then?” she asked in a husky voice. She liked the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as Rob Lane tried to focus on her words and not her nude body.

“You’re sure you’ll be ready for the trucks in two weeks?” he asked finally.

Making a show out of sliding her panties on, Tilda didn’t take offense at his question. After all, he didn’t know who he was dealing with. Not really.

Deciding he’d had enough of a look-see to keep him in line for a while, she reached for her dress. The peach silk slid over her bare skin like a liquid sigh. Tilda reached for her leather belt and snugged it around her waist, then looked back at the man lying on the bed.

The Vice President of Gem Mineral Resources lay on the two-hundred count sheets, his tan body a nice treat to the eyes. Tilda probably would have let him pleasure her, even without the promise of a million dollars. But only in style. She was so tired of the bare bones living out with the Lights of Atlantis, and her magic was so undependable lately, she rarely left Antonio’s holdings.

She lifted the glass of still-chilled champagne to her lips and let the bubbles ease the tightness in her throat. She was relying on her own powers exclusively now. And the loss of the land’s power was a blow she couldn’t accept. Oh, she could tap into it on occasion, but it was like a lover who’d already moved on. Very difficult to harness and not at all accommodating. And, Tilda clenched her fists, she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why.

“Tilda, you’ll have everything ready, right?” Rob repeated. “I’ve concocted quite a cover for you, but the timing is key. We need to get the thorium to our plant before the beginning of the month.”

Tilda turned to him and offered a chilly smile.

“There’s nothing standing in the way of you picking up that thorium,” she assured him. She’d make sure of it. With a nod of her head, she finished the champagne, then picked up her pocketbook. A quick glance in the mirror assured her of perfect, and Tilda nodded her goodbye.

As soon as the door was closed at her back, she sagged. Rossdale hadn’t caved like she’d planned and she was quickly running out of patience. And, obviously, time.

Perhaps she needed to pay the erstwhile mayor a visit.

With an empty smile and calculating look in her eye, Tilda snapped her fingers and vanished in an angry clap of thunder.

To hell with whoever heard it. She was tired of playing it careful.

A minute later, she stood inside the pitted and chipped door of room six-oh-eight. The sleazy motel smelled like week-old trash, forcing Tilda to breathe through her teeth. Damn Reggie Compton and his horrible taste.

She gave a grimace of disgust at the sight of Reggie’s hairy, naked ass pumping in the air.

Since it meant fewer idiotic mortal questions, Tilda made a show of shutting the door so it looked like she’d just come in through it.

“Nice ass,” she told the man on the bed.

He fumbled his shot home, leaving a mess all over the sheets and the pretty young thing beneath him. They both screamed, Reggie’s a pitch or so higher than the woman’s.

Tilda snickered and while they scrambled to cover themselves with the thin sheets, she leaned against the dresser and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Damn it, Tilda,” the man yelped after he’d caught his breath. “How’d you get in here? How’d you find me? What right do you have to just barge in on a man when he’s with his...” he trailed off and shot her a fierce glare.

Tilda squinted at the overblown redhead, trying to place her. The gold band glinting on her left ring finger nudged the memory in place.

“I hadn’t realized this was a family affair,” she excused herself prettily.

“It’s not... She’s not... We weren’t...”

Tilda raised one elegant brow. Reggie’s sputters fizzled out.

“I’m sorry. I must have mistaken this lovely lady for your brother’s wife. I do apologize... if I’m wrong.”

The redhead caught her breath with a little squeak and, tugging the blanket from Reggie’s scrawny body, she wrapped it around herself in a jerky motion. In a quick move, she’d scurried out of the bed, scooped up her clothes, and crossed the threadbare carpet to the bathroom.

Tilda waited silently, ignoring Reggie’s frustrated glare, as they listened to the woman mutter curses as she dressed.

Two minutes later, she stomped out on teetering heels and grabbed her purse. Without looking at either of them, she continued her muttering as she slammed the door.

“Stellar exit,” Tilda said with a nasty little laugh. “I’ll bet all that fire and drama are fabulous in bed. And at family gatherings, of course.”

“What in the hell do you want?” Reggie snarled as he snagged his tighty-whities off the lampshade.

“Does this mean you don’t want me?” she asked, fluttering her lashes to bring attention to her big blue eyes.

“You and your shenanigans caused me no end of trouble,” he accused, pulling his slacks on over his spindly legs. “Now you have the nerve to show up here and ruin my... date.”

“Why, Reggie, how could you say that?” She didn’t even bother to put any sincerity into her voice.

“If you’d left things alone, left the town alone, things would have been fine. Nobody wanted to tilt the applecart, change the status quo. It didn’t matter how those naysayers whined, the rest of the town would have sat around on their complacent asses.”

Reggie grabbed his shirt off the floor, shook it out then pulled it on. Between buttons, he shot her venomous glares. “But, no, you had to play games. Well, congratulations. You managed to do the one thing Gideon and Deloris Ross couldn’t. You got everyone to rally behind saving that damned town.”

Tilda blinked, her nerve endings standing on end. She shook her head. He was just babbling. He had to be.

“Oh, yeah. They are supporting this insane idea to start hosting fishing tournaments. Ross pulls this off, he’ll be shooting for the winter tourism next. Believe me, Rossdale is poised to be in better shape than it’s been in forty years.”

“A fishing tournament?”

“Oh, yeah. Fishing. As in on the water. Mage Lake, to be exact. You just paved the way to bring them right to your front door.”

“You’ll have to stop it,” she demanded. Panicky fingers tried to take hold of her nerves, but Tilda was made of stronger stuff than that. She shoved aside the panic. She wasn’t about to lose. Especially not to Gideon, damn him.

“I can’t stop it,” Reggie informed her through clenched teeth. He’d shoved his feet into his rubber soled old-man shoes and tied them with agitated fingers. “I’m not even involved in the planning of it.”

“You’re the freaking mayor, aren’t you? Do something.”

“Just what do you suggest?” he asked, his sneer echoing the sarcasm in his voice. “That I stomp into Gideon Ross’s house and demand he stop his plans to save the town?”

She ground her teeth as her mind spun. Reggie reached for his suit jacket, but Tilda was leaning on it. With a sharp tug, he snagged it from under her, almost landing her flat on her ass in the process.

“I’d think you’d have a better handle on exactly how your ex-husband operates, Tilda.” He pulled on his jacket, ran a hand over his mussed hair and opened the door.

Reggie shot her a glance over his shoulder. For the first time since she’d seduced him into thinking he could be mayor if he helped her cause Lucas Ross’s fatal accident, his eyes gleamed with contempt.

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