The Secret Brokers (17 page)

She watched him pour the hydrogen peroxide on to a piece of gauze. “Your job?” She sighed. “Now I’m a job, eh?’

He avoided looking up from the gauze in his hands. “You know what I mean,” he muttered as he began to gently clean her wound.

Gwen took the gauze from his hand. “Go and make sure Hickman buries Harley in a deep grave. There are a lot of predators out here that will dig him up if he’s not deeply buried.” She reached for another piece of gauze. “I’ll be fine, Dallas. I have the Glock.”

He didn’t want to argue with her. He stood up from the bed, suddenly uncomfortable with the mood between them. “Where’s your cell phone?”

She pointed to her purse sitting on a chair by the door.

He went to her purse and retrieved her cell phone. He walked back to the bed, placed the cell phone beside her, then reached under the pillow beneath her back and pulled out the Glock 17. He placed the gun next to her cell phone.

“If you need me, call.” He pulled his cell phone from the pocket of his jeans. “If you see anyone or hear anyone in the house.” He pointed at the gun. “Use that. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He turned to go.

“Dallas,” Gwen called to him as he stepped into the hallway. “Thank you,” she softly added.

Dallas did not turn around to look at her. He didn’t want to see her on that bed, pale and bleeding. He couldn’t get emotionally involved, he reminded himself. And the sight of her, helpless and injured, would probably push him over the edge.

***

When Dallas returned, she was sitting on the bed and staring at the floor. A fresh white bandage was wrapped around her upper left arm.

“Did you take care of him?” she asked, sniffing slightly.

The clean T-shirt Dallas had put on before going to bury Harley was now covered in dirt, along with his jeans. He wiped some of the dirt from his clothes before he entered the bedroom.

“I helped Hickman dig a deep grave beyond the barn. Harley will be fine there.” He went to the bed and sat down next to her.

“So Robertson wants me dead,” she stated as she kept her eyes on the floor.

“We need to move you to a safer location.”

She gawked at him in disbelief. “I can’t leave the farm! I just got that new horse in that needs a hell of a lot of care. Who is going to feed everyone, and clean the stalls, and work the horses everyday?”

Dallas moved closer to her. “Is there someone you can call to take care of everything for a while?”

“No,” she declared. “This is my farm!”

“Gwen, you need to think clearly about this. You can’t be protected here anymore. You need—”

The front doorbell cut him off. Dallas stood from the bed and looked down at her. “It’s probably Taylor. He told me that he was making arrangements for a place for us to stay.”

“I’m not going to be cooped up in some FBI safe house, Dallas,” she argued from the bed.

Dallas gave an exasperated sigh. “Let’s just see what he comes up with.”

He left Gwen sulking on her bed and went downstairs to answer the door. The slender figure of Agent Taylor was standing beneath the porch light as Dallas peeked through the window beside the door.

Dallas opened the door and waved Taylor inside. “What have you got?”

“I called Dan Wilbur. He wants the two of you to go to our place in the city. It’s a small cottage in Mid-City that the Bureau uses as a safe house. You two should be comfortable there for a little while,” Taylor explained as Dallas shut the door behind him.

“She’s worried about leaving her horses,” Dallas admitted. “She just took in another rescue and the horse is in pretty bad shape. It can’t be left alone.”

“We’re not here to babysit horses, August!”

Dallas raised
h
is hands to Taylor, trying to calm him. “I know, but she won’t leave here unless she knows her animals are going to be well cared for.”

Taylor rubbed his hand over his chin for a moment, appearing lost in thought. “Well, I can see what I can do. There might be—”

“I’ve already made arrangements for my horses,” Gwen cut in as she descended the stairs behind the two men. “And we won’t need your safe house, Taylor. I’ve found us a better place to stay.” She was carrying her cell phone in her hand.

“What are you talking about?” Dallas angrily questioned.

“While you were out digging Harley’s grave, I called Ed and told him what happened. He has made arrangements for someone to take care of the horses. And he wants us at his place until all of this blows over.”

Taylor shook his head as he placed his hands on his hips. “Ms. Marsh, you can’t go over there. Your father is a bigger target than you are.”

“My father has already made up his mind.” She held her cell phone out to him. “Would
you
like to call him back and tell him that we won’t be staying at his house?”

Taylor held up his hands and shook his head. “No ma’am. I don’t feel like having my head chewed off.”

Gwen grinned. “I didn’t think so.” She turned to Dallas. “Ed will be expecting us in the morning.
”
She quickly headed back up the stairs.

Dallas looked over at Taylor. “Let me talk to her,” he suggested. “I’ll work something out.”

Taylor rolled his brown eyes. “Good luck with that, August.”

Dallas saw Taylor out, secured the front door, and went upstairs to check on Gwen. He walked inside of her bedroom, but saw no sign of her. When he stepped out to the second floor hallway, he noticed a light shining underneath his bedroom door.

He found Gwen curled up on the yellow bedspread, holding Lawrence in her arms. The cat’s loud purring could be heard across the bedroom. He walked over to the bed and sat down next to her.

“You should have told me you called your father,” he said, frowning at her.

She scratched behind Lawrence’s ears. “As soon as I told my father what happened, he said he wanted me back home.”

“Gwen, you do realize it will be more dangerous at your father’s house. He’s probably at the top of Robertson’s hit list.”

Gwen sat up slightly, still holding the fat cat to her chest. “Yeah, but they didn’t go after him tonight. They came after me.”

“What if I made some phone calls and found us another safe house? Maybe in the city, not far from your father’s home,” Dallas offered.

“Ed won’t like it, but perhaps…
.
” She shrugged and pulled Lawrence closer to her.

“Who is going to care for the horses?” he inquired.

“Brett Guidry, a horse breeder Ed knows here in Folsom. Brett will send over two of his grooms in the morning. They can bunk in the apartment above the barn. Brett has helped me out in a pinch before, so his people are familiar with my set up. I just hope they can deal with poor Rotolo.”

Dallas searched Gwen’s face, trying to think of something to say to allay her concerns, but nothing came to mind. He gently patted her leg and got up from the bed.

“What you said before, about me being a job…is it true?” she asked as she held Lawrence against her.

“No,” he replied as he sat back down on the bed. “You’re much more than a job.”

Gwen gazed up at him. “Am I?”

Dallas lowered his head to her. “Much, much more,” he whispered.

“How much more?” she breathlessly demanded.

Dallas took in the warmth of her blue-green eyes and her creamy skin. He lowered his mouth closer to hers and then stopped inches from her lips. Dallas grinned as his lips hovered over her
,
reveling in the hunger he saw burning in her eyes. When his mouth finally came down on hers, her lips initially trembled with uncertainty. And as his lips teased her, Dallas could feel her apprehension slowly turn to desire. Desperate to feel her soft body against him, Dallas wrapped his arms about her waist and pulled her close.

An angry meow made them quickly pull apart. Lawrence, still huddled in Gwen’s arms, was not at all happy about being a part of Dallas’s embrace.

Gwen laughed as she held the cat in her arms. “Sorry, Lawrence.”

Dallas grabbed the cat and unceremoniously placed him to the side. He took a laughing Gwen in his arms and kissed her hard on the lips. Gwen instantly surrendered to him. She ran her fingers through his short hair as Dallas pushed her down on the bed. His lips began to caress the tender skin on her neck as his hands eagerly explored the curves of her body. And just as Dallas was about to remove her blood soaked T-shirt, a loud beeping noise interrupted them.

“What in the hell is that?” Dallas complained against her cheek.

Gwen sat up. “Smoke alarm. From the kitchen.”

Dallas jumped from the bed. “My chicken is still in the oven.”

***

The chicken was burned beyond recognition. Dallas decided to make grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner while Gwen found a fan to help blow the smoke out an open kitchen window.

“I’ve never done that before in my life,” Dallas conceded as he flipped a sandwich over in a frying pan.

“You’ve never burned anything before?” Gwen asked, half-laughing.

“Not like that,” Dallas answered as he nodded to the garbage where he had dumped the chicken.

“Everyone screws up, Dallas. You can’t be perfect all of the time.”

“I never try to be perfect all of the time,” he refuted.

She tilted her head slightly to the side and observed him for a moment. “No, you’re a perfectionist. I can see it in everything that you do. Every movement you make, from the way you chop vegetables to the way you kiss, seems well-rehearsed.”

He furrowed his dark brows. “The way I kiss?”

“Not that it was bad, it’s just that it was not…spontaneous. It’s like you assess everything and work it out in your head before you do it. Have you ever just done anything for the hell of it?”

“Gwen
,
in my line of work, you can’t just jump into a situation without thinking. You need to plan ahead for every contingency.”

She shook her head. “That’s work. What about your life? Do you even separate the two?”

He looked down at the sandwich toasting in the frying pan. “No. Why should I?”

“That’s my point!” Gwen exclaimed. “Stop thinking so much about everything, just do it.”

“I’m not a tennis shoe, Gwen. I can’t just do it.” He lifted the plate on the counter beside him and slid the grilled cheese sandwich on to it. He handed the plate to her. “Here, eat this. It’s a very improvised cheese sandwich. You’ll probably love it.”

His cell phone in the pocket of his jeans began ringing. He pulled out the phone and checked the caller ID. He looked back at Gwen and then pointed to the sandwich. “I have to take this,” he told her. “Every crumb of that needs to be gone by the time I’m done with this call.”

He walked out of the kitchen and headed toward Gwen’s study. As he stepped inside of the study, he answered the call.

“What’s up, Lance?” he said into the speaker.

“Heard there was a little gunfight over there at the OK Corral. Everyone all right?”

“Gwen got shot in the arm…nothing major, thankfully. How did you find out about it?”

“Gwen called her father. Her father called our mutual friend, and then our mutual friend called me. I’ve been instructed to get you two out of there and into a safe house in the city.”

“Gwen’s father wants us to stay with him, but I’m against that idea.”

Lance lowered his voice slightly. “I’ve got a place for the two of you right outside of the Quarter. It’s big, well protected, and I can guarantee nobody will touch you there.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Lance just laughed. “Call me in the morning when you’re ready to head over to the city to get the alarm code and instructions for the security system. I’ll make sure the house is stocked up for you before you arrive.”

“Where is this place?”

“Esplanade Avenue and Burgundy Street. Can’t miss it—the house stands out like a boil on a beautiful woman’s creamy white ass.”

After he walked back into the kitchen, Dallas found Gwen sitting on a wooden stool by the kitchen island and staring down at her untouched grilled cheese sandwich.

“You don’t like my sandwich?”

Gwen shrugged. “Don’t have much of an appetite.” She rubbed the bandage on her arm. “I think I’ll just turn in.” She stood from the stool.

“Lance has a place for us to stay in the city near the French Quarter. He says he can guarantee our safety there.”

“Guarantee? This I got to see.” She nodded. “I’ll call Ed in the morning and let him know.” She turned toward the doorway.

“Why do you call your father Ed?” he questioned behind her. “And the way you say it, it’s obvious you really don’t care for the man.”

Gwen stopped and slowly turned to Dallas. “He’s my father…of course I care for him, and I only call him Ed behind his back.” She cast her eyes to the floor and fidgeted in front of him. “Look, about before…
.
” She paused and ran her hand along her forehead. “When we were in your bedroom…
.
”