Cowboy Rescue [Men for Hire 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (2 page)

She had answered him, had tried several times to make him understand that she wasn’t interested, that she wasn’t this Torrie person who’d been e-mailing him, but that hadn’t done any good. The more she’d tried to get him to understand, the more insistent he’d gotten. He’d said he loved her if only because of her “mesmerizing” face.

But isn’t that creepy enough on its own? Damn it. Don’t cry. Don’t spill your tears over the freak who’s doing this to you.

She swallowed and fought back the clog in her throat. “Fine. Bring it up at the meeting. Like that’s going to do any good.”

He brightened as she stood up and let out a sigh of relief. “I sure will. You can count on it. If anyone has an idea, I’ll be sure to get hold of you. You know. By phone. Not by e-mail.”

She wanted to wipe the smirk off his face. Where was the “serve and protect” attitude now?

He stood, giving her the final cue for her to get out of his hair. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work.”

“Yeah, I know. You need to get back to taking care of crimes that really happen.” The scoffing sounds she made brought the attention of several of those seated at nearby desks so she lowered her next words to a mutter. “And back to eating doughnuts.”

“What’d you say?”

He’d heard her. She could see it in the flame on his face. He just wanted her to repeat it.

“What do you care?” Holding her head high, she stalked through the maze of desks toward the front door of the station house. She was halfway down the steps when she heard a woman’s call.

“Miss? Miss?”

She pivoted, her gaze traveling over the steps then back to the front door. A middle-aged, matronly woman rushed after her, her hand in the air to hail her. She finally reached her, then tried to catch her breath and kept one finger up, signaling Maria to wait for her to speak.

“I-I hope you don’t mind, but I heard what you told Officer Murray.”

Unless the woman was a detective who could wear regular street clothes, she wasn’t a cop. “Okay. So?”

The woman dug a card from her pocket and thrust it toward Maria. “Call the number on the back of the card. Ask for Gabriel.”

Maria studied the plain script on the front of the card then flipped it to the back to see the number scrawled on it. “Cowboys for Hire? Is this a joke? What is this?”

She jumped when the woman touched her arm. “Trust me. They’ll help you when the law can’t.”

“Don’t you mean ‘won’t’?”

She shook her head. “I know it seems that way, but they do the best they can. Gabriel”—she paused then glanced around before lowering her voice—“isn’t bound by the law.”

“So you’re giving me the number of a hit man?”

The woman appeared taken aback. “Lord, no. Gabriel and his company are in the business of solving problems like yours. If you want the help, you’ll give him a call. They’ll protect you until they get rid of the problem.”

She studied the card again. “Is this on the up-and-up? Or am I calling the local mafia? And cowboys? Since when do cowboys do this kind of thing?” When she lifted her head again, the woman was already dashing up the steps toward the door.

“Hey! Wait!”

But the woman kept on going until she disappeared into the police station. Shoving the card into her purse, she turned and headed for her car.

* * * *

An hour later found Maria staring at another e-mail from her mystery lover. As usual, he didn’t give his name, instead using the nickname of King of the Night and a login ID that gave no clue to his real identity. She gritted her teeth, determined not to let whatever he wrote get to her.

“How are you today, my sweet one?”

Her fingers were poised over the keyboard ready to blast a retort back at him. But hadn’t the officer told her not to respond? If he was right, then perhaps her not answering would send him in search of another girl to torment. She tried not to respond, her fingers hovering over the keyboard, but, as was often the case for her, she let her anger take over.

“Leave me alone!” She spoke as she typed the words, needing to add more vehemence to the black marks on the screen.

His response came back fast.
“Never. You are the one I’ve hunted for all my life.”

She didn’t want to answer and told herself not to. But again she couldn’t resist. It was almost as though he had control of her without ever meeting her. Maybe if she played along just this once, she could garner information that would help to identify him. That is, if the police ever got involved. She shook the image of her neighbors finding her dead body out of her head.

Don’t go all drama queen. Keep calm.

She started typing again. “You’ve hunted for me? You make it sound like I’m a wild animal you want to hang on the wall.”

She pictured her head mounted on a wall then quickly discarded that ugly vision, too.

“Not at all. I want to treasure you, for us to experience all this world has to offer until time runs out.”

Time runs out? What the hell does that mean?
She hesitated with her hands over the keyboard.

Stop. This isn’t working.

But like a driver drawn to a horrific multicar pileup, she couldn’t resist. She started typing again. “Send me a photo. After all, it’s only fair. You know what I look like.”

Is that encouraging him? Back off.

She bit her lip and positioned her cursor over the X at the top of the screen, ready to shut down the program.

“No. But I can promise you that you won’t be disappointed.”

“Come on. Or maybe you want to video chat?”

Are you out of your mind? Stop baiting him. What if he takes you up on it?

He had an old-fashioned way of speaking, writing, like a character from a historical romance.

“No. No video chat. I want to see your eyes when you first meet me. A screen cannot do that justice, my love.”

Yeah, right. Said man needs a bag over his head.

She answered in a flurry of fingers. “Then tell me about yourself. Are you young? Old?” She stopped and waited.

“I am both.”

What?
She was hunched over the laptop now, determined to get an inkling of information from him. “You can’t be both. Do you mean you’re middle aged? What color is your hair? What color are your eyes?”

“You’ll find out when we meet.”

“We aren’t going to meet. Not now. Not ever. Especially since you won’t tell me anything about yourself.” She leaned back, sure that he’d give her some details to keep her talking.

Strange. He never uses the abbreviated way of messaging. And I’m doing the same. Does he know how?

She switched to tech typing. “Who r u?”

“Please don’t use abbreviations. I hate them. As for the color of my hair? It’s dark like yours. My eyes are black.”

Wow. Fat lot of good that did. But at least it was something.

“How tall are you?” she typed, switching back to writing her words out.

“You can see for yourself. Come outside and meet me.”

Should she? If she thought the police would show up and arrest him, she would. But they weren’t going to do that unless he pulled out a gun and shot her first.

Wait. Does that mean he’s outside right now?

Her hands trembled as they hovered over the keyboard. Her gaze drifted to the blinds hanging in front of the sliding-glass doors that led to her balcony, then to her cell phone next to her. Would it do any good to call Sheriff Tribek? She doubted it.

“No. We need to talk more.”
Oh, shit. I just invited him to keep e-mailing me.

Taking a deep breath, she asked the question she wasn’t sure she wanted him to answer.

Are you outside my apartment right now?

A smiley face was his response.

Maria raced to the doors. Peering through the blinds—
thank God I shut them when I got home
—she searched the street below her second-story apartment of the three-story building. A car rolled down the street in front of the building and a couple crossed from her side to the diner on the other side. Several people sat in Corner Time Diner, but that wasn’t unusual. And none of them were staring up at her apartment. The houses that sat on either side of the diner seemed empty, aside from Mrs. Persky’s home. The elderly lady was always peeping out from behind her curtains. Although at times it seemed rude, right now she was happy that the woman was a snoop. But even having Mrs. Persky on watch didn’t ease the tension stiffening her neck.

Where is he?
She dragged in a rough breath, refusing to let herself believe he wasn’t there, and searched again. But still nothing.

He’s playing with me.

She hurried back to the computer and slid into the chair she’d scrounged from off the side of the road and refinished. She’d covered the seat with a material using the same colors of her sofa.

Her apartment was small with two tiny bedrooms and an open area that served as a living room and dining room combination. Only two or three people could fill the galley-style kitchen, but she loved the place anyway. It was hers, and after sharing a bedroom with her sister until she’d moved off to college where she’d shared first dorm rooms then apartments with various friends, she was happy to have a place of her own.

But living alone hadn’t come about until recently. She’d tried sharing the place with a roommate to help with expenses, but once Sharron Watkins had accused her of stealing her boyfriend, that was the end of that. Sharron had moved out less than a month earlier, still owing last month’s rent. But Maria didn’t care. She’d paid Sharron’s part of the rent, then turned the second bedroom into an office. She loved living all alone. At least until the e-mails had started.

Now she would’ve welcomed even Sharron’s blunt and sometimes hurtful way of talking and even the fact that she’d rarely bought food or cleaned the place. Having someone else with her would make her feel more secure.

She drew in a breath then let it out as she typed. “You’re not outside. Where are you?”

“Does that mean you’ll come to me? Will you meet me now?”

Now she answered fast. “No.”

“Ah. So you want me to come to you. In due time, my sweet. In due time.”

She jerked her hands away from the keyboard.
Will he take my refusal to come to meet him as another invitation to come to my home?

“Maria. Ah, how I love the name, Maria. It is so much lovelier than Torrie.”

“But the person you fell in love with is Torrie. I’m not Torrie. Nothing about me is like Torrie. She just used my photograph on a fake Friends Face page.
She’s
the woman you fell for.”

“I know that now. But it doesn’t matter. Words are only words. Your beauty transcends everything else.”

She’d been wrong to answer him, to try and find out about him. “But I don’t want to have anything to do with you. Please. Stop e-mailing me.”

Her body grew stiff, her fingers aching with the need for him to leave her alone.

“But why? We are having a wonderful discussion. I don’t ever want to stop.”

“You don’t know me and I don’t want to know you.”

When he didn’t answer for several minutes, she dared to hope that she’d finally gotten through to him.

“I’m sorry, my sweet. But I love you. And, in time, you will learn to love me. I’ll make you love me.”

Her hands shook as she typed. “You can’t make someone love you. Now leave me alone, or I’ll call the police.”

“You already did.”

She gasped. He knew she’d gone to the police? She sat back, her hands fisted in her lap.
What do I do now?

“Maria, I like the way you wore your hair today.”

Her breath caught in her throat. She usually wore her hair tied back so she could lean over her students’ shoulders and check their work without it falling in her face. Today was one of the few days she’d worn it loose.

“You’re watching me?” She’d paused before adding the question mark. After all, didn’t she already know the answer?

“Of course I do. I watch you all the time. How could I not watch someone as captivating as you? I must say, you’re so good with children. Perhaps we can have one of our own someday. Or perhaps one of each? You’re going to be stunning carrying my child.”

Her stomach did a sickening flip-flop. “Are you watching me now?”

“Yes.”

She let out a cry and pressed the back of her hand to her mouth.

“How?”

“I have my ways.”

“You have to stop. You have to leave me alone. Don’t e-mail me again. Stay away from me.”

“I can’t and I won’t, Maria. I’m coming for you soon. Once I do, we’ll be together forever.”

She clicked the e-mail program closed, then moved as fast as she could to the purse on the kitchen counter. Digging through the contents, she searched for the card the woman had given her.

“Please. I know I put it in here.” A whimper escaped her. “Find it, damn it.”

She almost wept when her fingers found the small rectangular card and held it up. Grabbing her cell phone, she punched in the numbers and then held her breath as the phone on the other end started to ring.

“Please pick up. Please pick up.”

At last, she heard a deep male voice.

“Gabriel here. Talk to me.”

Gabriel Cortez leaned back in his leather chair and gazed out at the flat land before him that he’d christened Second Chance Ranch. Just like a thousand times before, he was glad that he’d purchased the ten-thousand-acre ranch outside of Tulsa, Oklahoma, near the small town of Destiny. Even now the town’s name made him smile, but he wiped the smile off his face. He wouldn’t want his happiness to come through to the desperate woman on the other end of the line.