the morning and go then.”
“Never mind that. I’ll take you.” He was surprised that the words spilled so readily from his mouth.
She blinked. “Why would you do that?”
Yeah, why would you do that, Booker? He gritted his teeth. Because I’m completely insane, he wanted to tell her. Out of my mind to get involved with you again, when the smallest memory of you still makes me crazy. He understood the anger she kindled inside him, the hurt. What he couldn’t wrap his mind around was the strong need that rose in his gut, the need to protect her, in spite of everything.
He cleared his throat and pointed to a small cardboard box next to the television. “Because your brother also packed those.”
Anita read the printing on the box aloud.
“Techshot Pistol Cartridges. Low Recoil.”
THREE
The nicest hotel in Rockridge happened to be the only one in that small town. Anita tried to ignore the feelings of déjà vu that plagued her as she checked in. The room was clean, painted in soothing shades of green, and the bed was relatively comfortable. Nonetheless, Anita slept only in fits and starts, waking several times fighting off a feeling of terror. The question kept burning at her. What was Drew doing with a gun? Where had he gone, and why hadn’t he called her again? Who destroyed his apartment?
The possible answers terrified her even more than her questions. The only island of comfort was Booker, and that scared her, too. She finally dragged herself out of bed after sunup and into a hot shower before calling the rental car company. There was no way she would allow Booker to become her personal taxi service. She’d told him so in no uncertain terms. She couldn’t get close to him again. She wouldn’t allow herself to.
She sat staring at the phone. While she lingered in a cozy hotel room waiting for the rental car company to get her a replacement, what was happening to her brother? Fear drove her to the window. The sky was an iron gray, layered thick with angry clouds.
The helplessness of her situation swelled inside her until she thought she would burst. She settled for throwing her shoes at the door. They cracked into the metal with a satisfying thwack.
A soft knock followed the thwack. “Great. Now I’ve got the neighbors mad at me.”
She opened the door to find a startled Booker on the other side. He wore his customary worn jeans and T-shirt with a Windbreaker thrown over it. A Cardinals baseball cap caught the first few drops of rain.
He looked uneasy. “Something hit the door.”
She forced a calm tone. “It was nothing. The rental car company is bringing me a car sometime later today. Like I told you before, you don’t need to take me anywhere.”
He leaned his weight on one hip, crossed arms accentuating his wide chest. “Figured I’d give you my cell number in case anything came up.” Without meeting her eyes, he handed her a crumpled piece of paper. His calloused fingers touched her hand, and she felt the strength of hard work and long days.
When he looked away at the clouds that massed on the horizon, she sneaked a glance at his profile. His face was tanned as ever, chin square, hair unruly where it curled out from under his cap, just as she remembered. There was a subtle difference, she noticed; deep shadows under his eyes and an unfamiliar haggard look.
A tender feeling stole over her. Don’t get sappy, she reminded herself. You did that before, and it almost distracted you from your duty.
Booker had needed to realize that mining brought nothing but hardship, especially for the delicate creatures on his ranch. She felt a sliver of guilt that she’d hurt him in the process. With a jolt, she realized she’d been staring.
He cleared his throat. “Not my place, but don’t go looking for Drew on your own.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not a helpless female.”
His smile was bitter. “Oh, I know that all too well.”
She forced her chin up. “Thanks for your concern, but it isn’t necessary.”
He looked at her, eyes searching hers as though he was looking for something he had left.
She tried to think of something, anything, to say, but Booker turned away, mumbled a goodbye and took off in his truck.
She watched him go. A strange thought danced in her mind. If he wasn’t so stubborn, would things have turned out differently between them?
No, Anita. You two are incompatible species. You walked away at just the right time, for once, like you should have done with Jack. If only she’d had the strength to walk away from him, maybe her confidence wouldn’t be so trampled. She closed the door and headed back to the phone, redialing the number Sergeant Williams had given her for the local Department of Homeland Security, aka the Border Patrol.
Yes, they were still aware of her brother’s situation, including the break-in. Someone would call her.
Later.
Though the wall of clouds was intensifying, Anita felt if she didn’t move, her body would simply explode. She pulled on the only jacket she brought—a thin, purple nylon affair that could roll up small enough to fit in a pocket—and made sure to take her satellite phone.
The air held a tinge of humidity, the clouds seeming to press on her with a great weight. There was nothing close to the hotel, nothing but a tiny gas station with a mini-mart attached. Sucking in a determined breath, she headed through the buffeting wind.
The whisper-thin man behind the mini-mart counter shot her a curious look. His tufts of white hair gave him a clownish air. “Morning. Help you with something?”
“I’m just here for a few supplies.” Scurrying down the nearest aisle, she gathered a handful of sundries: bottled water, trail mix, a couple of apples and a box of Oreos. If she was going to be on the verge of panic for a while, the Oreos would definitely help. She lugged the supplies to the counter and pulled out her wallet.
On impulse, she showed the clerk the picture of Drew. “I’m looking for my brother. Have you seen him?”
He slid on a pair of bifocals and peered at the picture. “No, ma’am. I’m sorry to say I haven’t.”
Her heart fell. “It was a long shot. Thanks, anyway.”
He added a folding umbrella to her pile with a wink. “I think maybe you’re gonna need this. On the house.”
She thanked him and turned to go when her eyes fell on a stack of leaflets. Booker’s smiling face was printed on the top, under the words Living Desert Tours. She shoved one into her pocket and stepped into the swirling wind, her thoughts whirling around just as erratically. Opening the umbrella and avoiding the water that had puddled on the pavement, she jogged back to her hotel room.
Her upper torso was the only part that escaped being drenched. She peeled off the wet clothes, pulled on a robe and spread the paper out on a cracked table, worn and ringed by countless cups of coffee.
Looking to experience the desert in a whole new way? Call Booker Scott at Living Desert Tours. Half-day and full-day trips. Lunch included.
She read the paper twice more. Why was Booker hawking desert tours? He was a cattle rancher with his hand in the opal-mining business. How much time did the man have? And more important, why did thoughts of Booker seem to fill up her mind at every opportunity? She crumpled the paper and threw it in the garbage.
A half hour later, after a lunch of trail mix and cookies, Anita’s nerves threatened to burn right through her skin. The police had no updated information on her brother’s whereabouts.
“We’re pulling in volunteer deputies to help with the search, Ms. Teel. An officer is taking prints and pictures at your brother’s apartment. We’ll call you if we find anything at all.”
She hung