Diana Palmer Wyoming Men 03 Wyoming Bold

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You re my brother. It isn t like you to take an interest in a woman. Well, it s not an everyday thing,
at least. Mallory was alluding to his own wife, Morie, in whom Tank had been briefly interested
before he realized that Mallory s antagonism to her was concealing a growing passion.
I love Morie like a sister, Tank said quickly. Just in case you wondered.
Mallory clapped him on the shoulder. I know you better than that.
We had a very nice supper, he recalled with a smile.
I like the food at that place, too, Mallory began.
We went to a Chinese place in Powell, Tank corrected.
Mallory s eyebrows lifted. Why?
He shrugged, and jerked his head toward the base phone on Mallory s desk in a corner of the living
room. Just wanted a change.
I see. And Mallory did see. He was aware of the bugs.
Just as he said that, Rourke strolled in, one brown eye twinkling beside the one with the eye patch.
His blond hair was thick and combed. He was wearing khakis, a habit from South Africa, where he
lived, and he looked very smug.
Fourteen bugs, he said. I tweaked them all. He ll be listening, alternately, to ball games from San
Francisco, police calls from Catelow and pings from the International Space Station. He grinned.
They laughed. Well, that s a relief. I was afraid to say anything out loud, Tank told him. In fact, I
took my girl to a restaurant in Powell because I was afraid they might have bugged the one in Catelow
since I mentioned it in front of the phone. He hesitated. I m probably paranoid.
You re not, Rourke commented. They probably did have someone standing by to slip a bug
under the table wherever you sat. Someone working as a temporary waiter.
You re good, Tank mused.
Rourke shrugged. Years of practice. I used to work for Interpol, a long time ago. But the pay was
somewhat less than I earn with small arms in dangerous places.
Hazardous work, Mallory commented.
Rourke nodded. But it s what I do best. He sighed. There s a revolution going on in a country
near mine. Near Kenya. I was on my way there when you called for help. He smiled at Tank s guilty
expression.
Tank knew about Rourke s friend, Tat. He almost mentioned what Merissa had told him but he
paused. She d warned him to say nothing or it might cost the photojournalist her life. He kept his
silence.
Sorry about that, Tank said gently.
Rourke shrugged again. No big deal. I can go later. It s not as if the war will be over in a day or
two. Sad case. The president of the country is Harvard-educated, he s brilliant and he has a feel for
politics. His opponent comes from some dusty backwater village and he can t even sign his own
name. His expression became grim. He s ordered women and children butchered for daring to help
the government forces, in ways I can t even tell you about. It s like tribal warfare back in the 1800s,
only worse. He looked at Tank. Even having been in a war in the Middle East, you have no idea how
warfare is conducted in such places. I ve been shot at by eight-year-olds with AK-47s.
Child soldiers. Tank s expression was eloquent. People who employ them should be tried and
shot.
They will be, when the president is back in his office. And he ll prevail. I m certain of it. He has
the backing of most of the Western nations. His smile was sarcastic. His country is almost floating
on oil, you see. Some of his advisors are spec ops people from a country I won t name.
Tank sighed. At least he has help.
A lot of it. But meanwhile, whole villages are being burned out, their populations decimated.
Crops are destroyed before harvest, so the refugee population grows daily. Borders are closing
around the country, so there are tent camps set up everywhere. It s the most heart-rending thing I ve
ever seen.
War is ugly, Tank agreed. Thanks for taking care of the bugs, he added, changing the subject.
I was starting to twitch every time I looked at the phone.
Rourke smiled. I know that feeling.
He turned. I ve got to talk to our electrician. I want him to go over to the Baker house and fix an
electrical problem that the squirrel caused.
Is the squirrel returning when it s mended? Rourke wondered. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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