Mystic Cowboy: Men of the White Sandy, Book 1 (26 page)

“How about the samples?” He was a little calmer now, but the terror that had held sway earlier was now becoming a laser-like focus on finding something—anything—that was actually wrong. “You said four to six weeks, right? It’s been six. Have you heard anything about them?”

“No. I had Tara call a few weeks ago and nothing.” Open Diagnostics Laboratories was no different from the rest of the world.
The White Sandy is a non-entity to them
, she thought with disgust. Some days, she felt like she needed to sacrifice a chicken or something in order to get the ball rolling.

His lips disappeared into a thin line. “We need to know. What if that’s it?”

Part of her wanted to tell him to snap the hell out of it, because everything was fine. He’d just had a bad dream or eaten something he shouldn’t have, or maybe he was having a nervous breakdown. Nothing was wrong, and he was starting to freak her out.

But another part of her knew he wouldn’t just make something like this up. That part of her knew that it didn’t matter how much or how little she believed in his visions or the spirit world or any of the Lakota stuff she didn’t understand. What mattered was the fact that he did believe.

“I’ll call the lab myself when we get to the clinic, okay?”

He nodded even as he shot her a disapproving look. She must have sounded unconvinced. “You think I’m nuts.”

The giggle was out before she could stop it. Lord, what she wouldn’t have given for a little more coffee. “No, I know you’re nuts. But,” she added quickly, “it’s clearly important to you. And you’re important to me. So I’ll call.” Calling was one thing, though. Convincing was another thing. How the hell was she going to do that? What she needed was some backup. Her wheels began to turn.

“Okay, good,” he said, seemingly not the least bit insulted. “Just to be safe. Just to be ready. Just in case.”

By the time she pulled up next to the clinic, Rebel was considerably calmer, and that made her feel good in a new, different way. She had the sneaky feeling that Albert, wherever he was, would be proud that she’d talked Rebel down all by herself.

First, she called Mellie. If she was going to exert a little pressure on the lab people, she needed to know as much as she could. Mellie was an expert at getting people to do what she wanted them to do
and
making them think it had been their idea in the first place. Mellie had never needed the Mitchell sneer.

“Open Diagnostics?” Mellie said with a yawn, even though it was almost eight in Columbus. “What for?”

Would Mellie ever grow up? Sheesh. Madeline had been up for over an hour already. “Just look them up online. Where they’re located, who the manager of the lab is—see what you can find and call me back in fifteen minutes, okay?”

“Whatever, Maddie.”

“Mellie, this is important.”

There was a long pause. “Does this have anything to do with a cowboy? Or an Indian?” At least she sounded more awake now. “Well?”

Madeline rolled her eyes, which was wasted on the telephone, but old habits die hard. “Both,” she finally admitted.

“Two men? Maddie!” She gasped in melodramatic shock. “I had no idea.”

This whole conversation was rapidly spinning out of control. “
One
man,” she said through gritted teeth over the sound of giggling. “Now, can you help me out or not?”

“Ooh, I gotta meet this guy. I’ll call you back in ten.”

Hanging up, she turned to find Rebel looking almost normal—for Rebel, anyway. Something close to his normal wolfish grin was on his face, and he was lightly shifting from one foot to the other. But the strain was still written large across his face.

“You look like you could skin a cat right now,” he said.

She rolled her eyes again, which made him laugh. “You haven’t met my sister.”

“But I will.”

Her heart jumped like it was playing hopscotch. In the month they’d been doing this not-perfect thing, neither one had said anything else about any part of the future that didn’t involve a trip to Rapid City on the weekend. But that—meeting her family—that sounded a whole lot like long-term planning. February could not get here fast enough.

But they still had to get through this week.

She couldn’t just stand here and stare at him and the phone, so she got to work. She got the coffee going, checked to see if Nobody had gotten everything out of the autoclave, and then, because she didn’t know what else to do with herself, she began flipping through the files Tammy had put in immaculate order.

Which was a mistake, because her back was to the phone when it rang, and Rebel picked it up before the first ring was done.

“Clinic, this is Rebel speaking.” His grin was more wolfish all the time. He looked just like he had on her first day here. Heck, Madeline half expected him to go mix up some plaster at the rate he was going. “How may I help you?”

“Damn it, Rebel.” She lurched at him and tried to grab the phone, but he neatly sidestepped her. “Give that to me.”

“Why, yes, I am a cowboy
and
an Indian, thanks for asking. And you are? Melinda Mitchell.” He sounded like he was selling used cars. “You must be Madeline’s sister. It’s so nice to talk to you. I’ve heard
so much
about you.”

“Rebel!” She managed to catch him by an elbow, but he twisted so she couldn’t get to the phone.

“Did you like the green bag? You did?” That man had the damn nerve to wink at her. “Yes, I made that. Your sister must love you a lot, because she dropped a couple of grand on that. How much did you spend on her present?”

That did it. She elbowed him in the gut and managed to get a hold of the phone cord. “Do you want me to call the lab for you or not?”

“I love it when you fight dirty,” he whispered before returning to his conversation. “You’ll have to come out and visit sometime, Ms. Mitchell. Oh, okay. Melinda. I’d
love
to meet you in person. That’d be great. Yes, she’s here.” Finally, he held the phone out to Madeline. “It’s your sister.”

“I know that,” she snapped, grabbing the phone from him. “You’ll regret that later, mister.”

“Promises, promises.”

“Maddie. Who was that?” Mellie’s breathless wonder pulled her attention away from
that man
.

“The pain in my ass,” she grumbled. Rebel blew her a kiss from across the waiting room. She could not figure him out right now. Manic depressive, maybe? “What did you find out?”

“Does he look as good as he sounds?” Excellent. Now her sister was gushing.

Part of her wanted to say, no, he looked way better than that, but she’d rather eat nails than say that in front of him, and that wasn’t the point, anyway. “Focus, Mel. The lab. What did you find out about the lab?”

A hushed silence cascaded down the line.
Oh, shit
, Madeline thought. Here it comes. “You’re
sleeping
with him? Oh, my God, Maddie. You really are. Is he good?”

As soon as she got off this phone, she was going to lose it. Possibly before then. “Mellie.”

“Better than Darrin?”

“
Mellie
.” Count to ten.
One, two, three...

“Wow, that good?” She whistled in appreciation, a sound that hammered itself right between Madeline’s eyes. “I am
so
coming out there to see this for myself. Does he have a brother?”

Seven, eight, nine...
“
Mellie!
” Across the room, Rebel snickered.

“Sheesh, and I thought getting laid would make you
less
uptight. All right, all right. Fine. The lab. Open Diagnostics is headquartered in Baltimore. They’re a publicly traded company on the NASDAQ whose stock price is up $0.33 this year alone.”

“And?” Baltimore. She dug a pencil out of the desk and wrote it down.

“The director of the actual lab is a little troll named Leon Flagg.”

“Mel, be serious.” She wrote it down, and then added
troll
after it.

“I am serious, Maddie.” She sighed in frustration. “This would be so much easier if you had the Internet out there.”

“I don’t need the Internet. I have you. Why is Leon Flagg a troll?”

“Aside from the name?” Mellie snickered, and for a brief second, Madeline was homesick. She actually missed her little sister, irritation and all. “Well, he is. From his Facebook page, he seems about five feet tall and two hundred pounds, with red hair that looks like he stuck his finger in a socket. I friended him,” she added with another giggle. “Not only has he already accepted my request, but he’s already sent me a slimy message.”

The feeling of homesickness grew, just a little. Madeline had never gotten on Facebook—never had the time—but back in Columbus, finding out that the director of the lab at Open Diagnostics was a troll named Leon took less than fifteen minutes. Out here on the rez, it would have taken her weeks to dig up that kind of information. Madeline looked at Rebel, which was no help. She doubted the man even knew what Facebook was. “Really? What’d he say?”

“Oh, the usual. If I’m ever in the Baltimore area, he’d love to show me a good time, etc. etc. etc. Total slime ball. Which is good.”

On the other hand, out here on the rez, one didn’t just randomly friend slime balls for fun. A little insulation was a good thing, Madeline decided. “How’s that?”

“Maddie, I have no idea what’s going on. But you need this Open Diagnostics to process something for you? Something they’re in no hurry to do?”

Hell, even if Mellie knew what was going on, she still probably wouldn’t have any idea. Madeline barely knew what was going on, and she lived here. “Right.”

“So,” she said, like Maddie was that stick in the mud again, “horny trolls are easy.”

“Mellie...”

“Call him up. Pretend to be me. Promise that if he processes your stuff, you’ll make it worth his while when you come to Baltimore next time. Easy.”

“What?” Promise some troll a good time? She’d rather tell Mellie there wasn’t a man alive who was better than Rebel—in front of him, no less.

“Trust me, it’ll work. You can’t scare him over the phone with that sneer of yours, and bribery works best in person.” Mellie really did sound like she knew what she was talking about.

Especially the part about the bribery. Madeline shuddered. “I don’t think I can do that.”

“Okay. Fine. I don’t care what you tell him. Promise him something medical, I don’t know. And I’ll unfriend him as soon as you’re done.”

“No, wait.” So Madeline wasn’t exactly in touch with the modern world these days. But even she knew that was a bad idea. “Wait until I get the results, okay? Then
unfriend
him or whatever.”

“Good plan.” Hey, score one for Madeline. “I couldn’t get his direct extension, but I got the lab number.”

Madeline wrote the number down and then repeated it back, just to make sure she got it right.

“You’ve got it. And Maddie?” Suddenly, Mellie sounded quite serious. “I hope whatever it is turns out okay.”

“Thanks, Mel. I’ll let you know.” She hung up and stared at the phone.

“So that’s what
artistic
and
unfocused
sounds like,” Rebel said, keeping a safe distance on the other side of the waiting room.

“What is your problem?” Madeline glanced at the clock. 7:32. She had time to chew him out and call the lab before Clarence got here—but not much. “Are you trying to piss me off? I’m trying to help you over here.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, not looking the least bit apologetic. “But you’re cute when you’re mad.”

Maybe Mellie was right. She couldn’t scare anyone over the phone with the Mitchell sneer. But in person was a whole different matter. She fixed him with her hardest glare. “Who are you calling cute?”

He had the nerve to smile at her. She was going to have to work on that sneer some more. She was getting soft out here.

“I really am sorry, Madeline. But you were worried. It’s...” He trailed off, his eyes caressing her face until she felt the kind of warmth they normally reserved for after-dark conversations. “It’s easier when you’re mad at me.”

“Men,” she grumbled. He didn’t mind scaring the hell out of her, but he didn’t want her to worry? She picked up the phone and began dialing. “Horny trolls and mystic cowboys and silent Nobodys. The whole lot of you.”

He laughed again.

In short order, a bored-sounding receptionist had her on hold, listening to the worst sort of Musak—easy-listening instrumentals of formerly groovy sixties hits. The effect was mind numbing.

She fought the artificial mellowness and focused on her notes. Leon Flagg. Horny troll. Be like Mellie. What would Mellie do? Mellie would flirt shamelessly. Madeline hated flirting shamelessly. But a girl had to do what a girl had to do.

“Flagg,” a surprisingly squeaky voice croaked into the phone.

“This is Madeline Mitchell.” That statement was met with a stony silence. She couldn’t do it Mellie’s way, but she had to do something. “I’m a deputy director of infectious diseases with the Center for Disease Control.”

“Yeah?” He sounded cautious. Good. He was already off-guard.

Rebel’s head jerked back in surprise. That old feeling of satisfaction grew in her chest. She was single-handedly outflanking two men at the same time. And that was exactly what Mellie would do.