Mystic Cowboy(87)

Unexpectedly, she jerked her arm out of his hand and spun back to the beds. “Clarence,” she said in that boss-of-the-world voice she’d been using all day. “If you go home, will you sleep?”

“Hell, yeah,” was the muffled reply as Clarence lumbered in from the stock room with an armful of clean sheets.

“Go home, get cleaned up and get some sleep. I want you back here at eight tomorrow morning.”

Rebel caught her arm again. “Madeline, what are you doing?”

“I told you,” she snapped, sounding victorious. “I’m not leaving until I get those results. Clarence?”

The big man’s head rolled in their direction. “Yeah?”

Madeline turned to Rebel. He thought she was smiling again. “Take Rebel with you. Make sure he gets a shower too. I don’t want to see either of you here for twelve hours. Do I make myself clear?”

Painfully. Rebel was tempted to growl at her, but he should have known. What Madeline needed was to get some rest, but Dr. Mitchell had overruled that basic need without missing a beat. Second nature. “I’m coming back for you.”

Her eyes flashed, and in spite of the insanely long day, he felt a spark of heat from her. “Not until eight, you aren’t. And if you show up before then, I’ll—” Rebel fought the grin. She was too tired to even make a proper threat.

“Don’t hurt yourself.” He stepped around her and, nodding his head for Nobody to follow, went to talk with Jesse. “She’s ordering me out.”

Jesse managed to raise his eyebrows, but gravity was too much for him. By the time he said, “This a reoccurring habit?” his eyebrows were already back where they’d started.

Rebel managed a good-enough glare. Actually, now that he thought about it, he was beat. A hot shower and a flat surface—he thought Clarence even had a couch—sounded mighty nice right about now. “I want you two to stay here with her. Sleep in shifts, let her get as much shut-eye as possible. I’ll be at Clarence’s. I don’t care what she says—something goes south, you call us quick. Got it?”

“No one gets past me,” Nobody said, and despite all those bone-crushing hours, he still managed to pull off a damned convincing menace.

“And that’s how I want it.” Rebel shook both men’s gloved hands. “Take care of them.”

“Rebel.” Jesse fixed him with a pretty convincing stare of his own. Not bad for a little twerp. “You can count on us.”

“Yo, Rebel! Get the lead out!” Clarence was already out the door.

Rebel stopped by the desk on his way out. He wanted to kiss her, even if that meant just pressing his masked lips to her masked cheek. But he didn’t even get that chance. Ice-blue eyes rimmed in red looked up at him.

“Jesse and Nobody will keep an eye on things. Try to get some sleep, Madeline.”

“Go.” It was an order.

“I’m going.”

But I’m coming back, he thought.

I’m coming back for you.



“Can’t this hunk of junk go any faster?”

“And good morning to you too, sunshine,” Clarence said, not even bothering to take it personally as he fiddled with the radio. “She’s not going anywhere. Keep your pants on.”

They both knew which she Clarence meant. Rebel forcibly snapped his mouth shut and waited for the big man to put the pedal to the metal.

Finally, the truck picked up speed. Shit, Rebel thought. Blue Eye would leave them in the dust. They weren’t going to make it by eight, and to Rebel, each minute after that was a shot through the heart.

Madeline. He had to get to Madeline. He’d never seen her less pretty than when she’d kicked him out of the clinic last night—shower cap, red eyes, exhaustion rolling off of her in waves—but even then, she’d been a beautiful angel of mercy. She hadn’t just tried to stop the sickness, she’d succeeded. She’d stopped the whatever-it-was dead in its tracks. Even if he hadn’t been in love with her, he would have been brimming with the kind of gratitude that can only be earned the hard way. He owed her everything—including that apology. And now she needed him, and he needed to be there for her.

“Can I ask you a question?” he heard himself ask as he mused on his angel of mercy.

“Hoo boy,” Clarence said under his breath. “What?”

“Do you like her? Madeline, that is?”

“Sure. I like paychecks.”

“Not like that.” Maybe he needed a little more sleep, because he wasn’t doing a bang-up job of saying what he wanted to say. “Do you like her?”

Clarence shot him a look out of the corner of his eye that said, watch it. “Yeah. I like her. Not like you do, though.”