Hatfield and McCoy (5 page)

“Fine,” McCoy said. “Mr. Nicholson, Mrs. Nicholson, I'll be back at seven. That will give us an hour before I'm supposed to be at the phone booth with the money. Miss Hatfield, if you're with me …” He waited, arching a brow at her.

Julie smiled reassuringly at the Nicholsons, then hurried along behind McCoy.

He had very long legs. He strode ahead of her to the car and got in. She thought he was going to gun the motor and escape without her.

But that wasn't his intention. She had nearly reached the car when he pushed open the passenger door from inside. “Get in, will you?”

She crawled into the car quickly. She was barely seated before they were pulling out onto the road.

“McCoy,” she said, “I
am
coming with you tonight.”

He didn't answer her.

“McCoy?”

“Damn it! Don't you know that these things can be dangerous? I've got to confer with Petty. We've got to be very careful. There's going to be backup on this, but it's damned hard when you're sent from phone booth to phone booth—and when this guy seems to have eyes in the back of his head. If you're with me, you could be putting your own life in jeopardy.”

“How charming! I didn't realize that you were so concerned for my health and welfare.”

His dark glasses were on but she could feel the heat of the glance he cast her way.

“Miss Hatfield—”

“The name seems to be giving you problems. Perhaps if you called me Julie—”

“Perhaps I would like it very much if I didn't have to speak to you at all!” he exploded.

“But you do have to speak to me! Damn you, don't you understand? I might be able to find Tracy. And that is the most important thing.”

He was quiet for a long moment, then he sighed. “I do realize that Tracy is our priority. What do you think I am, Miss Hatfield, a block of ice?”

“Well—”

“Never mind, don't answer that. It's just that maybe I don't believe you can do Tracy any good.”

“But what if I can?”

“I don't believe in—”

“You don't believe! But what if I
can
help Tracy? What if it's even a one out of a hundred shot? What if I could even make a lucky guess?” She had grown very passionate in her argument. She was almost touching him, she realized.

And then she felt a set of hot, electric fingers dancing a pattern down the length of her spine.

Julie moistened her lips. The passion remained in her voice. She had to convince him. “Give me the chance. Give Tracy the chance!”

“All right, all right, you're with me!” he exploded.

She settled back in her seat, strangely worn, as if she had just completed some great feat of manual labor.

“Where are we going now?” she asked.

“Back to see Petty first. I have to set up whatever cover I dare with him. There are the usual warnings. If I'm seen being followed, he'll kill the girl. We have to be very careful.”

“Then where are we going?”

He cast her a quick look. “Dinner, Miss Hatfield. It's been a long day, and it's going to be a longer night. I haven't had a chance to eat. Any objections?”

Julie shook her head. “No,” she said pleasantly. “No, none at all.”

“If you really have any abilities, close your eyes and picture me the best steak in the area.”

She sniffed and sat back. “I thought you knew where you were going around here.”

“I do. But it's been awhile … well?”

“That's easy,” Julie said softly. And she named her favorite steak house. “But how on earth you can eat—”

“Hunger. It does it every time,” he told her. “Of course, I can leave you off—”

“And not come back for me,” Julie said sweetly. “No, no, I think I can manage one meal with a McCoy.”

But that same curious warmth that had traveled her spine seemed to have spread.

Was she going to share much more than one meal with this man?

For a moment, she saw darkness and shadows. And the silhouette of a man, a lover, walking slowly, surely toward her through those shadows …

The moon rose. She saw a scar etched across the man's shoulder.

And she felt the danger …

She shivered fiercely. All pictures faded away.

“Miss Hatfield?”

His voice was deep, sensual.

“I'm fine, Mr. McCoy. I was just wondering …”

“What?”

“Do you have a scar on your shoulder?”

He was very still. She wondered at first if he had heard her.

“Well, Miss Hatfield, if you ever see my shoulder bare, you'll get to find out, won't you?” he said, turning his attention to the road.

And she was left to wonder.

Chapter 3

M
cCoy was, Julie decided later, the ultimate professional. She watched him speak with the officers who would be assigned to wait patiently at various points in the region. There was a tremendous network of communication going on, for in a period of less than ten minutes, it was possible to go from West Virginia to Maryland to Virginia to West Virginia, and back through all three again.

And they were surrounded by countryside where a man could easily get lost among the foliage. Forests carpeted the mountainsides. In the darkness, movement could be tricky business. In certain areas, rock was sheer, with precipices that led nowhere—except straight down to more rock.

McCoy made it clear to the force working that night that they were in a difficult—perhaps in a no-win—situation. The girl's life was most important, and they must do nothing to jeopardize little Tracy.

Sitting in the back while McCoy spoke to Petty, who would be manning phones and radio, and the six officers who would be assigned the task of trying very hard to be in the right place at the right time, Julie was startled by McCoy's knowledge of the region.

“How does he know this place so well?” she whispered to Pettigrew.

He grinned. “He grew up here, just the same as you did. Except he comes from a Maryland mountain and you come from a West Virginia mountain.”

Julie frowned. Putting all the mountains together, they still hailed from a small region.

“Why haven't I ever seen him before?”

He took so long to answer, she wondered if Petty heard her. “Well, he's been gone for a long time, that's why.”

“Then—”

“Any more, Miss Hatfield, and you'll have to look into that crystal ball of yours.”

Julie sighed. He just didn't want to tell her any more about McCoy. Well, that was all right. All she had to do was get through the night with the man. Then she'd never have to see him again.

No. She would see him again. She knew it.

It was a quarter to six when they finished at the station and headed to the restaurant.

“Since you're from this area, why didn't you pick your own restaurant?” she asked him in the car.

“Because restaurants change constantly,” he told her. “And it's been a long time since I've been home. Is this it?” He pointed to the sign advertising the best steaks anywhere in the state.

“Yes.”

“Is the advertising true?”

“I doubt it, but the food is good.”

He smiled, pulled off the street and parked. To Julie's surprise, he walked to the passenger side and opened the door for her.

The beast came with manners on occasion, she thought.

Julie greeted the hostess who seated them, then smiled to the cute, young brunette, Holly, who waited on them.

The restaurant was brightly lit for a dinner place, with booths surrounding the walls, and tables covered with snow-white linen cloths. Julie was glad to be sitting across the table from McCoy at a well-lit booth rather than in a more romantic, candle-brimming room.

She needed distance with McCoy.

Holly, it seemed, didn't.

Even after McCoy ordered his steak and Julie ordered her salad, the young woman hovered until Julie formally introduced her to McCoy. Julie felt annoyed at the way Holly looked at McCoy, as if she had walked in with Mel Gibson or his equivalent.

“Are you staying in the area, Mr. McCoy?” Holly asked.

“Maybe, I'm not sure yet.”

“Well, we certainly hope that you do. Don't we, Julie?”

“Oh, sure, yes, of course,” Julie said blithely. McCoy cracked a crooked smile, which probably caused Holly's heart to flutter. Finally, another couple came into the restaurant, and Julie and McCoy were left to sip their coffee in peace.

“A salad, huh?” McCoy said, pressing his fingertips to his temple. “Let me see. A vegetarian?”

“No,” she said, trying to keep an edge out of her voice. “Just a very nervous person who is too worried about a little girl to dream of digesting a steak.”

McCoy's hands moved idly over the heavy white coffee mug before him. They were large hands, with very long fingers. Well-kept hands. The fingertips were calloused, but the nails were neat and clean and bluntly clipped. To Julie's distress, she found herself imagining those hands against her skin. Covering her fingers. Moving softly against her arm.

She looked quickly into his eyes as he said, “I'm worried, too.”

Julie would have responded, but Holly was back. She set a nice-size Caesar salad in front of Julie and a sizzling steak platter in front of McCoy.

Then the young woman proceeded to fuss. Did he want steak sauce? Sour cream for his potato?

“Butter for his beans?” Julie suggested pleasantly.

“Pardon?” Holly said, wide-eyed and innocent. “Oh.” She blushed. “Oh, I know! More coffee.”

She brought the pot. She filled McCoy's cup and forgot all about Julie's.

“Holly!”

“Oh, sorry,” she said as she filled Julie's cup.

McCoy studied Julie when Holly left. “So the little blond angel has claws,” he said softly.

“That's right,” Julie agreed pleasantly. “And best you remember it.”

“Should I?”

She arched a brow.

“Well, are we going to be together again for any reason in the future?”

“I don't know,” Julie said evenly. “Are we?”

“You're the psychic.”

“But you don't believe in me.”

“All right. Let me ask you this. Is Tracy going to be all right?”

Julie looked at him across the table. “I don't know.”

“Then …”

“I told you before. I'm not God. I can't see everything.”

“Then what good is any of it?” he demanded, his tone suddenly so harsh that her fingers curled tightly around her cup. Instinct warned her that she should jump up and run.

“Sometimes, Mr. McCoy,” she said quietly, meeting his hot silver gaze, “sometimes my ability can do an awful lot of good. Sometimes I can see people, I can see them exactly as they were … or are. Not every time, but sometimes. I don't know why I have this gift. When I am able to do something, I don't question it. I'm thankful for whatever the ability is. That's it. There's no more to it. I try. I try with all my heart. And on occasion, I have been able to save a life. And to me, Mr. McCoy, just one life is worth it all!”

She expected some burst of emotion from him in return. She didn't get it. He stared at her for what seemed the longest time, then he set his fork and knife into his steak again. His eyes were on his meal. “Just one life,” he murmured.

“Pardon?”

“Nothing. Aren't you going to eat your salad?”

“For your information, Mr. McCoy—” Julie began, leaning close to him across the table.

“For my information what?” he snapped. His eyes blazed into hers. Little silver arrows seemed to pierce her flesh, to sweep inside her, raking through her with heat and fury. She didn't think she'd ever felt a look so physically before—ever.

Nor had she expected the anger that filled her, or that other emotion.

Attraction. Stark, sharp, physical attraction. So strong that it sizzled and whiplashed, and seemed to create electricity in the air between them.

She sat back. His gaze, too, was quickly masked, but Julie knew, suddenly and fiercely, that he had felt it.

“I …” She began. What? Her mind was a blank. She didn't even like him, she reminded herself dismally. And it didn't matter. They were out to catch a kidnapper. Possibly a murderer.

Tracy. They were out to save Tracy.

“What?” he demanded, exasperated.

“It's getting late,” she said.

He glanced at his watch. It wasn't really so late, but he didn't dispute her.

“I'll get the check from your friend.”

“I think she's
your
friend,” Julie told him sweetly.

“Claws out, Miss Hatfield?”

“Hey, what do you want? I'm with a McCoy.”

Two hours later they sat on the steps of a long walkway that led to an abandoned antebellum home outside the city limits of Harpers Ferry and Bolivar, but still on West Virginian soil.

Something felt right about being with him. Maybe it was his size. He was tall, with such impressive shoulders.

No … it didn't have anything to do with his size. He simply had that air of confidence about him.

Aggression, she warned herself. Bald aggression.

And no matter how strongly attracted she was, he was the last man she wanted to find herself involved with. She did not like being laughed at. Or doubted.

It was a beautiful spring night. Even in the shadows and darkness, shades of spring seemed to cover the land. The forests rose like deep, rich green sentinels, the sky was cast in cobalt and black, and the silver-white glow of the moon touched down on it all. Even where they were right now, with the night hiding the chipping paint of the old home, and the moonlight giving a past glory to the tall white columns on its porch, even the house looked beautiful.

But despite the warm spring air, Julie shivered. He was out there. With Tracy.