Page 23 of Cowboy’s Last Stand (His to Protect #1)

Natalie cut to the chase. “Billy harassed me at work the other night. Jason stood up for me, so Billy and his friends attacked him on the street.”

“Jason is the guy you brought home? He fought Billy?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm.”

“Do you know why I’m telling you this?”

“No.”

Natalie rubbed her temples, unsure how to get through to her. “I’m saying that you’re not safe around Billy. He’s dangerous.”

She gave a careless shrug. “Is Gabe safe?”

Natalie didn’t want to unfairly malign Gabe. “He’s not safe behind the wheel, I can say that much.”

London laughed, tossing her hair over one shoulder.

Like most teenagers, she didn’t worry about personal risks.

Natalie was torn between frustration and concern for her.

The girl was being raised by a single mother who worked long shifts as a critical care nurse.

She had two younger siblings to look after. She was wild and reckless, but not bad.

“We need to talk about you having friends over,” Natalie said.

“It’s allowed?”

“No, it’s not. No boys, no girls, no drinking, and no drugs.”

She made a pouty face.

Natalie’s patience evaporated. “Marcus likes you, and that means a lot to me. But if you hurt him or neglect him or take drugs around him, I will fire you so fast your bleached-blond head will spin around. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” she said quickly. “For the record, I wouldn’t do that. I care about Marcus.”

“You smoked pot in my house.”

“After he went to sleep!”

“Never again. No friends, no drugs.”

“OK,” London said, rolling her eyes. “I promise.”

Natalie was glad they understood each other. “You can leave at ten tonight. Jason is working on the upstairs apartment, so he’ll be around.”

“Jason is still there? Like, staying over?”

She nodded.

“Wow,” London said in approval. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

Natalie knew what she meant. London thought she was too uptight and closed off to date, let alone bring a random man home and keep him.

“He’s majorly hot,” she said.

“I have to go.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not a poacher. I won’t scam on him or anything.”

“I appreciate that.”

“No problem. See you later.”

Shaking her head, Natalie left the girl on her porch.

She returned to her house, grabbed her purse, and drove to the Night Owl.

The parking lot was already half full. She braced herself for a busy Friday night, and she wasn’t disappointed.

Customers came in droves, ordering drinks and food and more drinks.

To her relief, Billy and his friends didn’t show.

The patrons were friendly, if a bit raucous, and the tips were plentiful.

The college girls from the previous weekend returned.

She was glad Billy’s crew hadn’t scared them off.

They were young and attractive, so their presence here was a boon.

Buster had explained this to Natalie when they’d redecorated with a woman’s touch.

When a bar had “quality” female customers, more men came and stayed longer.

Natalie brought the girls a second round of drinks on the double, being extra-friendly. They were all wearing low-cut tops and tight jeans. She overheard their conversation as she set down the tumblers. Three vodka crans with fresh lime garnish.

“The prospects are slim tonight,” the blonde said.

“At least those jerks aren’t here.”

“True.”

“I liked the youngest one.”

The brunette elbowed her friend. “He wasn’t even old enough to drink, you cradle robber.”

“Yeah, but he had weed.”

“Is that what you were doing in the alley with him? It looked more like sucking face than smoking weed.”

They all laughed merrily.

Natalie knew they were talking about Gabe. At twenty, he already had a reputation for indiscriminate hookups and at least one arrest for driving under the influence. He was going nowhere fast.

“Anything else for you ladies?” she asked. “A bite from the kitchen?”

They shook their heads, only interested in alcohol.

“Hey, remember that cowboy from last weekend?” the blonde asked Natalie. She gestured to the space where Jason had been sitting. “Tall, dark, and handsome?”

“I remember him,” Natalie said.

The blonde jerked her thumb at Natalie and said to her friends, “I couldn’t pick him up because he was trying to hit on her.”

“You’re too pretty,” the brunette said. “It’s a real problem for us regular girls.”

Natalie rolled her eyes at this claim. “Regular girls. Right.”

“So what happened with that guy?” the blonde asked. “Did he get lucky?”

Natalie made a zipper motion across her lips and twisted as if locking the info away. “What happens at the Night Owl stays at the Night Owl.”

More laughter followed her as she winked and left the table. Those girls didn’t want to hear that Natalie and Jason were involved. They’d prefer believing that Natalie had rejected him. It was better to stay mum and keep the mystery.

She enjoyed this job as much as the other.

The atmosphere was as lively and vibrant as the library was quiet and subdued.

Both suited her, and she found a lot of similarities between them.

She made recommendations for drinks or books.

She interacted with customers. She organized materials and restocked supplies.

At the end of the night, she said goodbye to Buster and gathered her bag.

She felt a twinge of unease before she headed out, remembering the note from this afternoon.

She probably should have told Jason or Wade about it.

She should have bought that stupid security camera too.

She checked her phone and found a text from her dad:

Missed hearing from you last weekend. Hope everything is OK. Love you.

Natalie cursed under her breath. She’d forgotten to call her dad last weekend, and she hadn’t visited her grandmother. She usually did both on Sunday. It was too late to call now. She made a mental note to remedy the situation tomorrow and kept her phone in hand as she entered the parking lot.

A squad car was stationed at the fast-food restaurant across the street.

Wade, or another deputy, sat behind the wheel.

She was surprised by the sight because it was bad for business.

Buster didn’t want law officers spooking his customers.

The deputies in Last Chance had other responsibilities, as well.

They couldn’t park outside every bar in town.

They did sobriety checkpoints on occasion. More often, they looked the other way.

Natalie didn’t wave to the deputy. She didn’t know who was in the squad car or why it was there, but she appreciated the police presence.

There was no note attached to her windshield.

Her engine started up easily. Two minutes later, she was home.

She parked in the driveway and got out, closing her door gently.

Jason was stretched out on the glider, fast asleep.

He’d tried to wait up for her, judging by his half-reclining position.

He usually slept in his sleeping bag on the porch, near the balustrade.

For extra padding, he had a narrow foam mat.

It appeared slightly more comfortable than a bed of nails.

She’d given him a pillow and a wool blanket a few days ago.

He had the blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

She remembered studying him last weekend when he’d drifted off in the same spot. He’d looked boyish then. He didn’t now. His face appeared troubled, with deep grooves on either side of his mouth. He mumbled something, his hands twitching with agitation.

She was afraid to wake him.

No matter how restless his slumber, she wanted to creep by without bothering him. She gripped her bag to prevent it from jangling as she ascended the steps. The old wood creaked under her weight.

“Don’t come back for me,” Jason said.

She froze midstep.

“Goddamn it, go for cover. That’s an order, Corporal.”

Corporal. That had been Mike’s title. Along with thousands of other Marines.

“I can make it on my own—” His head thrashed from side to side, as if he was tumbling through a nightmare of violent motion. His hands curled into tight fists, and his jaw clenched. He appeared to be in intense pain.

She couldn’t bear to watch his distress any longer. “Jason,” she said softly.

He continued to thrash around, fighting some unseen force.

“Jason,” she said louder. She didn’t get too close. “Jason!”

His eyes snapped open. He seemed confused or unable to recognize her. His expression indicated that he was still seeing the landscape of his nightmare. Somewhere in Afghanistan, she assumed.

“It’s OK,” she said. “It’s me.”

“Natalie?”

“Yes.”

He closed his eyes again, breathing heavily.

“You were having a nightmare.”

His mouth twisted with displeasure. “Right.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He tossed aside the wool blanket and touched the back of his head, like he was checking for an injury that was no longer there. Then he grasped for a water bottle beside the glider and took a long drink. She sat on the step, waiting for his response.

“What did they tell you about Mike’s death?” he asked. “Did they provide details?”

She frowned at the question, trying to remember specifics. “I was told that Mike was trying to secure a scene when an explosive device detonated unexpectedly. He was struck by debris at close range. Death was instantaneous.”

He held the water bottle in a tight grip. “I’m sorry.”

“He died bravely, the CO said. He ‘took heroic action.’”

“Not much comfort in those words.”

“No.” She hadn’t asked for more information; nothing could ease her grief over his grim and untimely passing. “They gave him a bronze star.”

“It’s a dangerous job.”

She nodded. Mike had been part of the explosive ordnance disposal unit. He’d secured areas for the teams of EOD techs. In Kabul, bomb attacks were a frequent occurrence. “He liked keeping people safe.”

His gaze softened. “Of course.”

“Why are you asking about him?”