Wyoming True - Diana Palmer Page 0,21
divorced,” she said icily.
“A divorce you obtained through fraud, by blackmailing me,” he shot back. “I can prove that, in court. You owe me!”
She hung up on him, shocked and terrified. The phone rang again, but she darted to a side table where she kept pens and paper. She wrote down the number and phoned her attorney, Paul Browning.
“Calm down, now. It’s okay. Do you have Laredo’s number?”
“Laredo.”
“Your bodyguard,” he prompted.
“Oh. Him.” She drew in a breath. “Yes.”
“Call him right now and tell him what happened,” he replied. “I’ll get the wheels turning here. If Bailey Trent wants trouble, he can have it. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Try not to worry. The laws are in place to protect you. There’s a restraining order. If he steps over the line, he’ll go back to jail. He knows that.”
“It doesn’t stop him from phoning me and terrifying me,” she blurted out. “I should get a new number!”
“He’d just find it out. He has a friend who works as a skip tracer for a detective agency,” he added. “Changing the number will do no good.”
“I feel so helpless,” she blurted out.
“Take a pill and go to bed. Make sure your doors are locked and sleep with the cell phone. Wouldn’t hurt to talk to the local sheriff, as well, and the parole officer on your husband’s case. I’ll do the latter. His parole officer is in Denver, where I am.”
“Thanks, Paul,” she said.
“We’ll take care of you,” he said warmly. “Try not to worry too much. It’s just a tactic. He thinks he’ll frighten you into paying him off.”
She didn’t tell him that it was working. But it was. “Okay,” she said instead.
“I’ll be in touch.”
The line went dead. She looked around her with wide, frightened eyes. It was one thing to deny Bailey money, but she knew all too well what he was capable of. Would she never be free of him? She forgot to mention her injured mare to Paul. She’d have to call him in the morning and tell him.
Meanwhile, she phoned Laredo in the bunkhouse and told him what had happened.
“He can call you all he likes,” Laredo drawled, “but if he sets foot on the place, I’ll have him in jail so fast his head will spin. Don’t you worry, Mrs. Merridan. I’m on the job.”
“Okay. Thanks. Listen, do you think Bailey hurt my mare?”
There was a pause. “Well, anything’s possible. But I can guarantee you he hasn’t been on the ranch. I’ve got wildlife cameras placed in strategic locations and I monitor them. Uh, they went on your account at the local hardware store. Hope that’s okay.”
“I told you to get whatever you needed,” she replied.
“Fine, then. I’ll keep an eye out. Good night.”
“Good night. Thank you,” she added.
He hung up.
She put on her gown and climbed into bed, still worried and upset.
Her mind went back to the dinner and Jake McGuire and the gentle, soft way he’d kissed her at the end of the evening. She could feel the hunger in him, and she sensed that it wasn’t the way he usually was with women. She didn’t think he’d ever be brutal. But then, how did she know? Men were different behind closed doors. She’d learned that the hard way. It was a lesson she was never going to forget.
* * *
THE FOLLOWING WEEK Paul Browning had investigators looking into her allegations about the threats Bailey had made, and she was getting ready for a dinner date with Jake.
He’d phoned her Thursday night. “I know this sweet little fish place in Galveston,” he began lazily. “It’s only a couple of hours away by jet. How about it Friday night?”
She laughed, delighted. “Oh, I love seafood.”
“So do I. I’ll pick you up about five. That okay?”
“That’s fine.” She hesitated. “What should I wear?”
“Suit yourself, but I’m going in jeans and a warm jacket. I hate dressing up when I don’t have to.”
She smiled. “So do I. Jeans it is.”
“I’ll see you then.”
She was trying to think up a sophisticated reply, but he’d already ended the call. Just as well, she thought. She wasn’t good at conversation anymore.
* * *
HE WAS WEARING jeans and a chambray shirt with a sheepskin jacket and a Silverbelly Stetson. He looked comfortable, but the jeans and boots were designer ones, and the sheepskin jacket probably cost more than the diamonds in Ida’s dinner ring.
“Ready?” he asked with a gentle smile.
“Ready. I fed Butler and left him plenty of cat food. He’s