The Cowboy Soldier's Sons. Tina Leonard
there was an outdoor burger joint in town she favored. In Tempest, he figured just about any place was probably delicious—as long as he was with her.
* * *
TEN MINUTES LATER, Shaman had followed Tempest’s directions to a falling-in, run-down shack off the main road. “Here?”
“This is it.”
“I don’t think we’re going to find anything to eat here.” He got out of his truck, walking up the overgrown path to the ramshackle house, careful to keep an eye on Cupertino. There was no telling what might be hiding in the dense foliage and cactus surrounding the property. It was a mess.
“There never was much to eat here,” Tempest said, pushing open the front door.
Shaman wasn’t surprised to see that it was practically falling off its hinges. “This is a firetrap. Wonder why it hasn’t been condemned?”
Tempest didn’t answer, and he moved a few fallen clumps of plaster out of her way as she moved through the dark foyer. It was as if she was mesmerized. Shaman’s heart beat hard, and for some reason he wished he had one of his guns on him. He could feel the hair on the back of his neck prickling, as it always did before danger hit in the war zone.
“Hey, gorgeous,” he said, reaching out to grab Tempest’s hand. “Trust me, I can afford to take you to a decent hamburger joint.”
She walked into the kitchen, compelling him to go with her. He was sure he saw something skitter under one of the counters, and wondered why she wasn’t frightened out of her wits.
“Someone’s been here,” she murmured. “Someone’s living here.”
Now he was truly creeped out. “I’m all for excitement, but trespassing’s usually frowned on.”
She turned to look at him. “This is my house.”
He hesitated, glancing around him, trying to square the beautiful woman with the rattrap she claimed was hers. “I don’t get it.”
“This is where I grew up.” Tempest shrugged. “So now you know.”
He pulled her to him. “It was probably a great home in its day.”
“It wasn’t.” She leaned against his chest. “They don’t condemn this house because it’s mine.”
“I don’t think you’ll be living here,” Shaman said. “Although you might consider renting it to the Munsters or the Addams Family. A Morticia type would probably really dig it.”
“You don’t like it? This isn’t your dream home?” Tempest looked up at him. He could see her bright eyes in the darkness, and he wondered why she had brought him here.
“I like you,” he said, “and I think you’re hot wearing spiderwebs.” He brushed one off her cap and kissed her on the nose. “You know, I bet you could convince me to—”
“What are you doing in my house?”
A man’s voice erupted behind them, and Tempest shrieked, clinging to Shaman for just an instant.
Then she moved away, though he tried to shield her. “This is my house. What are you doing here?”
A flashlight shone on her, cutting the darkness. “Zola?”
She stepped closer, though Shaman tried to hold her back. “Bobby Taylor?”
“Yeah.” He shone the beam at Shaman. “Who’s he?”
“Never mind.” Tempest snatched the flashlight from the man, nearly giving Shaman a heart attack. She shone it in the guy’s face. “What are you doing in my house?”
“I’m staying here. And it’s not like you need this joint, sister.”
Chapter Four
Tempest put the flashlight on the counter so the beam pointed to the ceiling, illuminating the room with a small circle of light. “I’m not your sister, Bobby.”
She felt Shaman move closer to her, and was warmed by the protection she knew he offered. But she could handle this.
“Don’t want him to know?” Bobby jerked his head toward Shaman. “Zola’s mom had a special relationship with my father, Bud. She’s the love child. So yes, Zola, you are my half sister.” Bobby smiled, which annoyed Tempest. “Even if you don’t want anyone to know, everybody does. There’s no need to deny it.”
She shrugged. “I don’t care what anybody thinks.”
“Now that you’re a big star, you could help me get the family place back. It’s mine and my siblings’,” Bobby said. “Jonas Callahan stiffed our father out of Dark Diablo. Dad was not in his right mind when he sold it. That land was worth a lot more than what Callahan paid for it.”
“Yet he left you none of his money,” Tempest said. “I would think that speaks pretty loudly. Anyway, it doesn’t explain what you’re doing in my house.” She glared at Bobby.
Shaman stood stiffly next to her, coiled, ready to strike. She doubted Bobby knew how much danger he was in.
“I didn’t figure my sister would mind.” The man shrugged. “You know, if you’d care to speak on our behalf in the lawsuit, testify to the fact that Dad wasn’t in his right mind when he sold the land or when he wrote his will, we’d cut you in on the deal.”
She crossed her arms. “Just so you know, this is Shaman Phillips. He’s working at Dark Diablo.”
Bobby turned his full attention to Shaman. “You work for Callahan?”
Shaman didn’t reply. Tempest had a feeling silence was deadly, and put her hand in his, trying to let him know he didn’t have to worry about protecting her. “Yes, he works for Jonas.”
Bobby looked at her with loathing. “So you’re in bed with the Callahans.”
“Not so much.” She heard what sounded like a growl come from Shaman, and squeezed his fingers.
It didn’t seem to help. He was like a crouching panther, his tight muscles bunching.
“It never occurred to me before,” Bobby said, “but Dad left his money to someone. The will was sealed, so we never knew, but now that I think about it...” He stared at Tempest. “It was you, wasn’t it?”
“Why would Bud Taylor leave me a dime?”
“Because he loved your mother, though he would never have married her. She was trash, of course, from the wrong side of town—”
“Then he wouldn’t have left her daughter anything.” Tempest tried to squeeze Shaman closer, so he’d know he didn’t have her permission to go ape-wild on Bobby. He wanted to, badly—she could feel it. “Bobby, I want you out of my house.”
“I’ve got no place to go,” he said.
“Go back to wherever you came from.” She glanced around the dark house. “How are you surviving here, anyway?”
“I don’t need much. There’s some broken furniture, so it’s like camping. Besides I’ll have plenty of money once the judge forces Callahan to give us what’s ours.”
“Go,” Shaman said. “Go and don’t come back. Or you’ll deal with me.”
“And you’re a tough guy, right?” Bobby retorted.
“Something like that,” Shaman said, his tone deceptively easy.
Bobby considered him for a long moment. Then he shrugged. “I’ll go. But one day, you won’t have a job at Dark Diablo. You’ll be the first person I fire,” he told Shaman. “Hope you don’t need your job too bad. And I’ll own this house,” he told Tempest. “You could have been nice, could have shared with your