Woman On the Run (13 page)

Bernie sighed. “You’re quite right, Miss Anderson…”

“Sally,” Julia said, hating the name all over again. Though again, now that she thought of it, a Sally Anderson could conceivably find herself out on an isolated ranch bandaging a damaged foreman. Julia Devaux certainly couldn’t.

“Okay, Sally. The story is this. My wife and I have been…had been…” Bernie started breathing heavily. “We…we weren’t…” Bernie stopped, unable to continue.

“Getting along?” Julia supplied gently.

Bernie nodded miserably.

“I gathered as much. And Rafael was suffering, wasn’t he?”

Bernie nodded again and Julia’s heart went out to him.

She hadn’t had any experience personally with divorce, but she imagined that it would be horribly painful.

Then her eyes slid to Cooper. His wife had left him, too. Had he been in this much pain? He didn’t look it. He didn’t look like he felt much of anything. That sharp-angled face might as well have been carved out of a rock, the only sign of life those dark, glittering eyes. And yet, it took Julia an effort to wrench her eyes away from him.

“Bernie.” Julia firmly fixed her attention back on the father of her pupil, which was exactly where it should be, and not on some rancher with an amazing resemblance to a rock. “I think someone should oversee Rafael’s homework, maybe spend a couple of afternoons with him, making sure he gets back into the habit of doing his homework, bring him back up to speed. It wouldn’t take long; he’s such a bright little boy.”

Bernie looked up, puzzled. Then light dawned on his face. “You’re right,” he breathed. He reached over and grabbed Julia’s hand in gratitude. “You’re absolutely right.”

He pumped Julia’s hand enthusiastically, then saw Cooper’s scowl and hastily dropped it. “Why didn’t I think of that? What a wonderful idea. Thank you, Sally. Thank you so much.’

“Oh no,” Julia said in dismay. “I didn’t mean that I…”

“That’s just what Rafael needs.” Bernie ran his hands through his already disheveled hair and blew a sigh of relief. “A tudor.”

“Tutor,” Julia said automatically.

“Tutor. This is great, just great.”

“No, really…” Julia began.

“A woman’s touch,” Bernie mused. “Softness, gentleness but discipline, too. An iron hand in a velvet fist…”

“Glove,” Julia said.

“Glove.” Bernie nodded. “That’s just what Rafael needs.”

“Ahm, Bernie, I don’t really think…”

“Someone to pay attention to him. Actually…” Bernie grimaced, “Carmelita wasn’t really very good at that. No one would have given her the Mom of the Year award, that’s for sure. But you, Sally, you’re just what Rafael needs. He adores you. He’s always talking about ‘Miss Anderson this’ and ‘Miss Anderson that’.”

“Listen—”

Bernie looked at Julia gratefully. “I can’t begin to tell you how much this means to me, and to Rafael, too, of course…”

“Look, Bernie…”

“What a lifesaver,” he said simply. “Thank you.”

“Okay.” Julia lifted her hands and gave up with a shake of her head. “If that’s what you want.”

All things considered, she didn’t really mind all that much. What else did she have to do in the afternoons, anyway, besides freak out? Maybe it would help keep her mind off her troubles.

Bernie reached into his back pocket. “So, how much would you like for the lessons?”

“Put your wallet away.” Julia narrowed her eyes and tapped her lip, considering. She turned to Cooper. “How good is Rafael with animals?”

“Very,” Cooper replied. “He wants to be a vet when he grows up.”

“Well,” Julia turned back to Bernie, “that’s my price. I want Rafael to help me clean up my dog, Fred.”
My dog
, she thought, in surprise. It sounded so weird. “I want him washed and combed and…” dirty, matted fur crossed her mind, “…deloused. In exchange, Rafael can come over a couple of afternoons after school this week and I’ll get him back up to speed.” A thought suddenly occurred to her and she turned to Cooper with wide frightened eyes. “But someone will have to come pick Rafael up and drive him back here. I couldn’t possibly…there’s no way…”

“Well, I could—” Bernie began.

“I’ll do it,” Cooper’s deep voice interrupted.

* * * * *

Sally Anderson and Bernie stared at him as if he’d grown two heads.

Sally Anderson probably because she didn’t want a man who got a hard-on when he looked at her to show up in the afternoons.

Bernie because he knew damn well Cooper didn’t have the time to drive into Simpson a couple of afternoons next week. And he didn’t. It was his cock making plans for him and he was running along behind it, trying to catch up.

“I’ll pick him up in the afternoons,” Cooper said. Bernie opened his mouth, looked at Cooper and closed it again. “And you haven’t stated your full price yet.”

Sally’s mouth curved. He stared at her mouth, fascinated. Her lips were soft and naturally pink, slightly upturned at the corners in a perpetual smile. Warm, welcoming lips…

She tilted her head and observed Cooper. “I haven’t?”

“What?” Cooper tried to concentrate. “No.”

“What’s the rest of my price?”

“Your boiler needs first aid, the second step on your porch needs replacing and that’s just for starters.”

“You’re right.” Julia smiled dazzlingly at him and he forgot to breathe. “So tell me. How good a handyman is Rafael?”

“Rafael’s a better handyman than his father, that’s for sure.” Cooper smiled at her, then was taken aback. He was
flirting
with her. The sensation was so novel, he lost track of what they were saying.

Flirting with a beautiful woman. In the Cooper kitchen. Impossible.

For as long as he could remember, his kitchen had been a cold and impersonal space where men refueled quickly then left for work as soon as possible, and that certainly included the grim period of his marriage.

But with Sally sitting there, gently bantering with him and Bernie, the kitchen became almost…cozy.

“Coop?” Bernie was looking at him. “You want me to fix her plumbing?”

“No,” Cooper answered, the thought of a hammer in Bernie’s hands snapping him back to reality. “I will. You’re hopeless with tools or with anything that doesn’t move or eat hay. I…”

“Dad! Dad!” Rafael ran full tilt into the kitchen and was in his father’s arms before the kitchen door had swung shut. “Dad, Southern Star had a colt, and he’s a beaut! He’s got a star on his nose just like his dam, and you should just see the way he moves. You can tell he’s gonna be a champ. You just wait till Coop trains him—he’s gonna win every prize in sight!”

The little boy was hopping up and down with excitement.

“That so?” Bernie smiled down at his son, and hugged him. “Well, it looks like you’re going to be a very busy little boy from now on, what with looking after the new colt and going over your lessons a couple of afternoons with Miss Anderson.”

Rafael’s head turned sharply and his eyes widened. “I am?”

“Yes,” Sally smiled. “If that’s okay with you. Of course, you’re going to have to help me groom my dog in exchange.”

“A dog?” Rafael’s face lit up. “Neato! What breed is he?”

Sally looked over at Cooper. “Cooper? What breed is Fred?”

“Mixed.”

“Mixed. Yes. I guess that about sums it up. Well.” She rubbed her hands together. “I guess I should be…”

“Dad? What’s for lunch?” Rafael rubbed his tummy. “I’m starving.”

Bernie fingered his bristly chin and shot Cooper a wry look. “I haven’t been doing much shopping lately, Coop. Who’s on kitchen detail today?”

“Larry should have been,” Cooper answered, “but he had to run into Rupert for some baling wire.”

“Well then, who’s gonna do the cookin’?” Rafael asked plaintively.

As if pulled by an invisible string, three male faces and three pairs of dark eyes turned to Julia with pathetic expressions, looking so much like Fred had last night that she had to bite her cheeks to keep from smiling. “Would the three of you like me to cook something for lunch?”

The two adults hesitated politely, but Rafael was too small to worry about anything as trivial as manners. “Awesome! I’ll bet you cook real good, Miss Anderson.”

“Well…” Julia replied. “Actually, I’m not a bad cook, if I have something to work with.” Her eyes slid to Cooper. “Just not what was in that bowl, though. And I peeked in your vegetable bin. It’s disgusting.”

“You peeked in my
what
?” Cooper asked and Julia sighed.

“Never mind.” She stood up, feeling unaccountably cheerful at the thought of having lunch with Bernie and Rafael. And, well, Cooper too. The idea of going back to her cold and lonely house was totally unappealing. “I’m sure you have a well-stocked freezer. I can’t imagine anybody living out in the middle of nowhere without a freezer. Where is it?”

“Don’t have much in it,” Cooper replied.

“No?” That stopped her. She tried to imagine turning something, anything, she had seen in that refrigerator into food, and failed.

“No.” Cooper walked over to her and Julia looked up and met his dark brown eyes. There was a faint smile lurking in the depths. “But we do have a locker.”

* * * * *

Information is power and, ultimately, information is money. The more secret the information, the more powerful it is and the more money it’s worth. The main law of modern economics, courtesy of Stanford.

So, the professional thought.
I don’t have Julia Devaux’s whereabouts. Yet. But I do have the addresses and new identities of two people under the Witness Security Program. That information is useless to Dominic Santana, but surely, there would be someone, somewhere who would be willing to pay good money for the information.

All of a sudden, the professional was pulled up short by a thought. A brilliant one.

It was time to get out of the business. Of that, the professional had no doubt. With a good twenty highly successful hits under the belt, the professional had earned a brilliant reputation, but time was on the side of the police. Sooner or later, despite the most meticulous preparations, a slip-up would come. It was mathematically inevitable. It was definitely time to go.

With Julia Devaux’s head, that made three million dollars for early retirement in a warm climate in the luxurious beach house. But three million dollars didn’t go as far as it used to. Granted, a million and a half were already in a decent mutual fund—invested in low risk bonds. Life was risky enough as it was and money was serious business.

But relocating and purchasing the beachfront property would put a dent in the savings, which in turn would cut down on the income accruing.

More money was necessary.

The going price for an actual physical hit was $200,000 and up but there was a limit to the numbers of hits possible in a year and it was time to get out of the game anyway.

But the information leading to a hit—the location, say, of a former employee turned state’s witness—well, that would be worth money. Serious money. With a decent computer and a modem, the information could be obtained from anywhere in the world, including a Caribbean island, and sent anywhere in the world, without any danger. And the sky was the limit as far as the number of info-hits was concerned.

No matter how many firewalls the DOJ set up, the professional could slice right through them.

The perfect business, the professional thought. Virtual hits, at, say, $50,000 a pop. Forever. With no risk.

Stanford would be proud.

* * * * *

“That was delicious,” Rafael said, mopping up his plate with the last biscuit. “Thanks, Miss Anderson.”

“Well, you guys are sure easy to please,” she smiled. “Broil a few steaks, nuke some potatoes, then just sit back and rake in the compliments.”

It was a bit more elaborate than that, Cooper thought. Sally had walked around the locker in wonderment, cracking jokes about its size and making an inventory of the contents. Then she’d managed to marinate the steaks, whip up some garlic butter for the baked potatoes and make a side dish of sautéed ham and peas in no time. She’d even made some biscuits from scratch.

She was a fabulous cook. Everything she prepared was delicious, but above all, she made it easy on everyone. While she moved comfortably around the kitchen, she had kept up a lighthearted conversation in a soft, gentle voice.

Bernie lost that haunted look he’d had lately and Rafael laughed and scampered like the seven year old he was instead of moping around, looking as if he had all the cares of the world resting on his slender shoulders.

They were eating a delicious lunch in an easy and relaxed atmosphere.

In the Cooper kitchen.

With a woman.

Impossible.

The Cooper Curse had been lifted for a few hours. Lunches with Melissa had been anything but lighthearted. And Cooper thankfully had no idea what mealtimes with Carmelita were like, since he had avoided her as carefully, and for the same reason, as he would have avoided a tarantula.

While Sally was busy turning his kitchen into a human-friendly place, Cooper was doing his very best to keep his mind out of the gutter.