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  She lifted her eyes and stared at him. “I work for the police. It’s impossible not to learn a little something about law enforcement in the process. That man wasn’t after you at all, was he? The man who was poisoned so he couldn’t tell what he knew?”

  He let out a breath and put the coffee cup down. “Well, Carlie, you’re more perceptive than I gave you credit for.” He smiled faintly. “Must be my genes. Your mother, God rest her soul, didn’t have that gift. She saw everything in black and white.”

  “Yes, she did.” Talk of her mother made her sad. It had just been Carlie and Mary for a long time, until Mary got sick. Then Mary’s mother, and her hophead boyfriend, had shown up and ransacked the place. Carlie had tried to stop them... She shivered.

  It had been several days later, after the hospital visit and the arrests, when her father had come back to town, wearing khaki pants and shirt, and carrying a pistol.

  There had been no money for doctors, but her father had taken charge and got Mary into treatment. Mary’s mother and her boyfriend went to jail. Sadly, it had been hopeless from the start. Mary died within weeks. During those weeks, Carlie got to know her absent father. He became protective of her. She liked him very much. He was gone for a day after the funeral. When he came home, he seemed very different.

  Carlie’s father spoke to someone on the phone then, too, and when he hung up he’d made a decision. He took Carlie with him to Atlanta, where he enrolled in a seminary and became a Methodist minister. He said it was the hardest and the easiest thing he’d ever done, and that it was a good thing that God forgave people for horrible acts. She asked what they were. Her father said some things were best left buried in the past.

  “We’re still not sure he didn’t come after me,” her father said, interrupting her reverie.

  “I heard you talking on the phone last night,” she said.

  He grimaced. “Bad timing on my part,” he said, sighing.

  “Very bad. So now I know. Tell me what’s going on.”

  “That phone call you had came from a San Antonio number. We traced it, but it led to a throwaway phone,” he replied. “That’s bad news.”

  “Why?”

  “Because a few people who use those phones are connected to the underworld in some fashion or other, to escape detection by the authorities. They use the phone once to connect with people who might be wiretapped, then they dispose of the phone. Drug lords buy them by the cartload,” he added.

  “Well, I didn’t do anybody in over a drug deal, and the guy I gave the artist the description of died in Wyoming. So why is somebody still after me?” she concluded.

  He smiled. “Smart. Very smart. The guy died. That’s the bottom line. If he hired somebody to go after you, to keep you from recognizing him in a future lineup, and paid in advance, it’s too late to call him off. Get the picture?”

  “In living color,” she said. She felt very adult, having her father give her the truth instead of a sweet lie to calm her.

  “I have a couple of friends watching you,” he said. “I don’t think it’s a big threat, but we’d be insane not to take it seriously, especially after what’s already happened.”

  “That was weeks ago,” she began.

  “Yes, at the beginning of a long chain of growing evidence.” He sipped coffee. “I still can’t believe how many people’s lives have been impacted by this man and whoever he was working for.”

  “You have some idea who his boss is...was?”

  He nodded. “I can’t tell you, so don’t ask. I will say that several law enforcement agencies are involved.”

  “I still don’t understand why you’re having meetings with my boss and that...that man Carson.”

  He studied her flushed face. “I’ve heard about Carson’s attitude toward you. If he keeps it up, I’ll have a talk with him.”

  “Don’t,” she asked softly. “With any luck, he won’t be around long. He doesn’t strike me as a man who likes small towns or staying in one place for any length of time.”

  “You never know. He likes working for Cy Parks. And he has a few projects going with locals.”

  She groaned.

  “I can talk to him nicely.”

  “Sure, Dad, and then he’ll accuse me of running to Daddy for protection.” She lifted her chin. “I can take whatever he can hand out.”

  He smiled at her stubbornness. “Okay.”

  She made a face. “He just doesn’t like me, that’s all. Maybe I remind him of someone he doesn’t care for.”

  “That’s possible.” He stared into his coffee cup. “Or it could have something to do with asking him for a grenade to start a fire...”

  “Aww, now, I wasn’t trying to start anything,” she protested.

  He chuckled. “Sure.” He studied her face. “I just want to mention one thing,” he added gently. “He’s not housebroken. And he never will be. Just so you know.”

  “I have never wanted to housebreak a wolf, I assure you.”

  “There’s also his attitude about women. He makes no secret of it.” His face hardened. “He likens them to party favors. Disposable. You understand?”

  “I understand. But honestly, that’s not the sort of man I’d be seriously interested in. You don’t have to worry.”

  “I do worry. You’re not street-smart, pumpkin,” he added, with the pet name that he almost never used. “You’re unworldly. A man like that could be dangerous to you...”

  She held up a hand. “I have weapons.”

  He blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “If he starts showing any interest in me, I’ll give him my most simpering smile and start talking about how I’d love to move in with him that very day and start having children at once.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Works like a charm. They actually leave skid marks...”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “So that’s what happened to the visiting police chief...?”

  “He was very persistent. The chief offered to punt him through the door, but I had a better idea. It worked very nicely. Now, when he comes to see the chief, he doesn’t even look my way.”

  “Just as well. He has a wife, God help her.”

  “What a nasty man.”

  “Exactly.” He looked at his watch. “Well, I have a meeting with the church officials. We’re working on an outreach program for the poor. Something I really want to do.”

  She smiled. “You know, you really are the nicest minister I know.”

  He bent and kissed her forehead before he left. “Thanks, sweetheart. Be sure to check your truck, okay?”

  She laughed. “I always do. Don’t worry.”

  He hesitated. He wanted to tell her that he did worry, and the whole reason why. But it was the wrong time.

  She was already halfway in love with Carson. He knew things about the man that he’d been told in confidence. He couldn’t repeat them. But if Carlie got too close to that prowling wolf, he’d leave scars that would cripple her for life. He had to prevent that, if he could. The thing was, he didn’t know how. It was like seeing a wire break and being too far away to fix it.

  He could talk to Carson, of course. But that would only make matters worse. He had to wait and hope that Carlie could hang on to her beliefs and ignore the man’s practiced charm if he ever used it on her.

  Carson seemed to hate her. But it was an act. He knew it, because it was an act he’d put on himself, with Carlie’s late mother. Mary had been a saint. He’d tried to coax her into bed, but she’d refused him at every turn. Finally, in desperation, he’d proposed. She’d refused. She wasn’t marrying a man because he couldn’t have her any other way.

  So he’d gone away. And come back. And tried the soft approach. It had backfired. He’d fallen in love for the first time in his life. Mary had tied him to her with s
trings of icy steel, and leaving her even for a few weeks at a time had been agonizing. He’d only lived to finish the mission and get home, get back to Mary.

  But over the years, the missions had come closer together, taken longer, provoked lengthy absences. He’d tried to make sure Mary had enough money to cover her bills and incidentals, but one job had resulted in no pay and during that time, Mary had gotten sick. By the time he knew and came home, it was too late.

  He blamed himself for that, and for a lot more. He’d thought an old enemy had targeted him and got Carlie by mistake. But it wasn’t a mistake. Someone wanted Carlie dead, apparently because of a face she remembered. There might be another reason. Something they didn’t know, something she didn’t remember seeing. Even the death of the man hadn’t stopped the threat.

  But he was going to. Somehow.

  Copyright © 2014 by Diana Palmer

  ISBN-13: 9781460382226

  Untamed

  Copyright © 2015 by Diana Palmer

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