Protected Pt. 04

"No, not that I know of. Not personally, anyway," Harris replied as Pamela shook her head. "Of course, there's always the occasional crackpot environmentalist whacko who hates oil companies."

"This isn't crackpots," I said firmly. "Crackpots don't generally have access to automatic weapons. It feels like a drug cartel, but I can't figure out the motivation."

Harris nodded. "I don't think it matters now. Willow is done in the field for a while, at least until we open our next lease anyway. Maybe whatever is going on will be resolved by then."

I nodded slowly in agreement. "Hopefully. Because it's almost certainly cartel related, she should be safe here in Houston, but I'd keep security on her for the time being, just to be sure."

Harris nodded and extended his hand as he stood. "I agree. Thank you again for all you've done." He glanced at Willow as she rose with me. "We'll see what we can do about providing for your men and their children. We'll also include a nice bonus. I think you've earned it."

"Wait! What?" Willow asked, looking between the three of us. "That's it? What about the security?"

"There are several good firms here in town that specialize in this sort of thing," Pam said. "There's no need to keep Mr. Arne so far from home."

"Oh, hell no!" Willow said loudly as she looked at me. "If you think I need security for a little while longer, fine, but it's going to be you and the BDMC, or it's going to be nobody."

"Willow, it's okay. If--" I began.

"No! Absolutely not! I trust you, you and the BDMC. I don't trust anyone else. If you really think I need security, then I want it to be you. I'll go back to Rio Lago if I have to."

"Willow, here in Houston there are firms that can protect you better than we can."

"He's right," Harris agreed. "They have more resources and expertise than Colton's men."

"Yeah? Where were these firms before? If they're so damned good, why'd you hire Colt?" She turned to me. "And what about what you said after Packard was killed? I haven't forgotten what you said about how hard it'd be to protect me here."

"That's when we weren't sure it was the cartel behind the attacks and thought the biggest danger came from a lone sniper."

"Okay. So?"

"So... now we know it's almost certainly the cartel. Now that you're out of the area, you should be safe enough here in Houston."

"Then who was shooting at me at the derrick? You think it's more than one person?"

"No," I finally admitted.

"Okay," she said, her voice is firm. "So you don't think the cartel will follow me to Houston?"

"I don't know. A lot of this still doesn't make sense, but I can't see why they would."

"So you're saying protection for me now is just in case you're wrong?"

I nodded. "More or less. Yes."

"Then you should be able to handle it, right? You've already seen how they operate. Anyone else will be starting from scratch and won't know what to watch for." She paused. "I know you can do the job. I don't know that about anyone else."

Pamela nodded. "If she wants Mr. Arne, and he's willing to do it, I think we should abide by her wishes. Colt's men took on the job when everyone else said it was impossible. He's proven his men can get the job done."

"Willow," I tried again. "We're not set up for this. Houston is too far from Rio Lago for us to cover you... and your father's right, there are firms that specialize in this."

"I don't care." She paused as sadness crept into her face. "Unless you don't want to do it. If you don't, I understand," she said, her voice barely audible.

"It's not that, but I want you to be safe. They should be able to protect you better than we can here in the city."

"Nobody could do better than you did. Aunt Pam just said so," she murmured as she looked at the floor.

There was a long moment of silence. "Can you do it?" Harris asked. "Can you protect her as well here as out in the field?"

I considered for a long moment. She'd backed me into a corner with her logic. The RV attack screamed cartel, but it was too fantastic to believe the sniping was carried out by another group. It had to be one group, and since the cartel was the only thing that made even a little sense, because of my experience with them, I might be able to spot a situation developing before someone else would. Maybe. The problem of protecting her hadn't changed. The only way to guarantee her safety was to lock her in a room and never let her leave, and I knew she'd never stand for that. It wouldn't matter how many men she had around her if a bunch of guys rolled up in an SUV and opened up with automatic weapons, willing to kill everyone in the area just to get her. That was how the cartel operated, and the only way to prevent that was to be discrete and unpredictable enough they didn't get the chance to execute. Having a bunch of suited guys wearing sunglasses and earpieces simply screamed 'look at me!'

"There are different challenges here. Many more people, a lot more places to hide, but, yes, I think I can do it."

"What do you need?" he asked.

"I don't know yet. Until there's a verified threat, I don't think I need any more men. All my broth... men have other jobs, and bringing them to Houston for no reason is an unnecessary hardship for them."

Harris looked at Pam and Willow. "This is what I'm talking about. A regular security firm can--"

"No," Willow said firmly. "If Colt says he can do it, and is willing to, I want him." She looked at me. "Can you do it? Can you leave Rio Lago for a few weeks?"

I considered again. I still had no pressing jobs... and the pay from Larke Oil was far more than I'd make drilling a well. I nodded. "Yeah, I can do it."

"Then it's settled," Willow said, her voice firm as she jerked her thumb toward me. "You want security around me, he's it."

"Now that that's settled," Pam said heading off more discussion, "I need to talk to you about how to stop these thefts."

-oOo-

"Want to do something for lunch?" I asked as Willow and I stepped into the parking lot of the Larke Oil building.

While Willow went off and did whatever it was she did, I'd spent the next two hours in discussions with Pam about their theft problem. I made several suggestions, and then managed to secure another job for the BDMC. The club was temporarily taking over well security for Larke Oil. Pam wanted to know what we could do that WSS, their current contractor, couldn't, but I'd cautioned her against asking too many questions. Pam was a smart lady, had picked up on what I was saying immediately, and had dropped the matter. We'd agreed on a flat price of $10,000 to see to it the thefts stopped.

When Pam and I finished, I'd sat in Pam's reception area while I'd waited on Willow to return from the bowels of the building. I'd stared at the wall, replaying in my mind all my fuckups that had brought the BDMC to this place. Even the ice queen behind the desk couldn't hold my attention, though she was far less frosty than she'd been the last time I'd been in the room.

While waiting, I'd called Limpkin and informed him of our new deal with Larke Oil and to check up on my brothers, both dead and alive. He had no news that I didn't already know. As I hung up, I realized I was going to have to return home, sooner rather than later, and find out if I was still president of the club... or even a member. We'd also lost Fish and Grace, and we needed to elect new officers to replace them. Thank God Willow had arrived before I became completely lost down the rabbit hole.

"What did you have in mind?" she purred with a smile.

"I don't know. What would you suggest?"

We paused beside the Mustang, I saw her eyes flick to my manhood, and I instantly began to harden. "Want to go back to my place?" she asked softly. "We could... eat there."

I considered her offer. It was stupid and dangerous for her for me to become involved with her. I should keep our relationship entirely professional... but I'd already broken that rule last night. It wasn't too late to backway, to claim last night had been a mistake and not repeat it, but this morning I'd told her I wasn't sorry it'd happened, and I wasn't. Not only was I not sorry, I wanted her. Holding her last night, even before we fucked, had made the night bearable. Feeling her warmth, having her in my arms, gave my brothers' deaths some meaning. The smart thing was to keep my professional distance, but nobody ever said I was the smartest guy in Texas. I knew what I should do, but I also knew I wasn't going to do it. I felt like I was on the verge of coming apart, and she was the glue that was holding me together. If I lost that... I needed her, and I didn't have the strength to push her away.

"Later." I saw the look of disappointment and annoyance flash across her face but I forced myself not to smile. I stepped in so close that our bodies were almost touching. "I want to give you time think about all the things I'm going to do to you, about all the things you want me to do to you," I rumbled.

She flushed with a smile. "You're a real asshole, you know that?" she murmured. "Besides, it's a thirty-minute drive home. I think of a lot of stuff in thirty minutes."

I smiled as I open her door. "You said you liked guys who stood up to you."

"Yeah, but I also said I didn't like assholes." When I shrugged a smile flickered across her lips. "You can make it up to me tonight. How about Bubba's? Ever had a burger made from pure Longhorn beef?" she asked as she slid into the car.

"No, can't say that I have."

"You're in for a treat, then."

.

.

.

WILLOW

"There. See it? On the right?" I asked as I pointed to the sign advertising Bubba's Burgers.

"Got it."

It was a few minutes after eleven as Colt turned into the mostly empty parking lot. The lunch rush hadn't started yet, thank goodness, because I was starving, and I didn't want to have to wait. Within the hour, there would be a line of people waiting for a table extending out the door, and cars in line for the drive-thru would be spilling into the street. Colt hadn't had much to work with for breakfast, as my cupboards were bare, and our meal had consisted of coffee and a granola bar.

He pulled the car into one of the empty slots. "Wait," he said as he opened his door. He walked around to my side, paused as he glanced around, and then opened the door. As I exited the vehicle, he took my hand and led me to Bubba's door. I was used to him holding me, but normally he held me by the arm, not the hand, and I wondered if the change meant anything. When we entered, he quickly took in the room. Even at eleven, the large dining area was half full of patrons.

We had to wait in line behind two others before we arrived at the register. We ordered two of their 'world famous' longhorn burgers. I started to hand my credit card to the cashier, but he gently pushed my hand down and paid. Taking the receipt, he turned and nodded to the dining room as we stepped out of the way so the next person could order.

"See that table in the corner? Grab that. I'll wait on the food. What do you want to drink?"

"Tea."

I claimed the table he indicated. The table was designed to seat at least four, more likely six, but with it tucked into a corner, I could avoid sitting beside a window. I watched Colt as he stood out of the way while waiting on our order. I noticed he looked away from the entrance only when someone came in the opposite door.

I smiled to myself as I watched him. He wasn't wearing his BDMC jacket today, making his powerful chest and arms, and flat stomach, even more visible. Dressed in a white button front shirt, jeans, and boots, he was so damned sexy. I wasn't the only one who noticed either as several woman in line were casting furtive glances in his direction.

This morning had only whetted my appetite for him, but if I were being honest with myself, I rather liked the fact he didn't jump me the moment I made the offer, a pleasant change from most of my previous lovers. His sexy, growling, comment about me thinking about all the things he was going to do to me had left me doing exactly that. Now I was all wet and squirmy, and I wanted him more than ever.

When our order slid across the counter, he took the tray, paused to fill two cups, then brought the order to our table. We had a leisurely lunch while talking about nothing. He was more like his old self before he'd lost three more of his friends, though I could see the lingering sadness in his eyes, and he wasn't as quick to joke or laugh.

People were waiting, so as soon as we finished eating, we gave up our table. We stopped on the way home to restock my pantry, and as we moved up and down the aisles, Colt seemed to have a very clear idea of what he wanted and added several items to my cart. As we were checking out, I nudged him out of the way with my card at the ready. He didn't protest and I inserted the card to pay. Every little thing he did seemed to make me want him more. He'd paid for my lunch, but hadn't protested me buying the groceries. I hoped that meant he was a guy wasn't hung up on money and who had to pay for what.

By the time we arrived home, I was all but panting for him. I'd had a relatively satisfying sex life, taking a lover when I chose, but nobody had really clicked with me. All the men I'd taken seemed to be either dull, weak, insecure, overbearing, uncaring, not good in bed, or some combination of two or more of the traits.

No matter the reason, I'd tired of them quickly, but I was starting to have a feeling about Colt. He'd spent the entire afternoon seducing me without even trying. A casual touch here, a soft caress there, or sometimes a soft smile or a look that sent a chill racing through me. I liked how he'd started guiding me by the hand instead of the arm, and I hadn't missed his light, almost accidental touches as we moved about each other in the grocery store. As much as I wanted to drag him upstairs and fuck his lights out, I was enjoying him making me wait, allowing my anticipation build while making his desire for me clear in subtle little ways.

The fact he'd save my life against overwhelming odds, and likely would be willing to give his life for mine, didn't hurt him either, nor did the fact he was one of the sexist men I'd ever met. His quiet confidence also spoke to me in a way no man ever had, and he'd proven that confidence in his ability to protect me wasn't misplaced. As we stowed the groceries, I issued a silent prayer that I wasn't misreading the entire situation, despite his words in the parking lot earlier.

"Leave that out," he said as I opened the refrigerator door. He took the round steak from my hands and placed it beside the peppers, onion, and tomato he'd placed aside as we were emptying bags. As I started to close the door to the 'fridge, he stopped me, reached inside, and pulled out one of the beers we'd just bought and offered it to me.

I took it, willing to take just about anything he wanted to give me. He pulled another from the case, opened it, and handed it to me, before taking back the first beer he'd given me and opening that one for himself. He took a swallow then turned to the ingredients waiting on the cabinet.

"You liked my enchiladas?" he asked.

"Excellent," I said as I propped against the island, slowly swinging my beer bottle like a pendulum.

"Wait until you try my fajitas."

"Kind of early to start dinner, isn't it?"

He smiled and I again felt the rush of anticipation. "Do you have a cast iron skillet?"

"Under the oven."

He nodded his thanks as he bent and, after some clattering and banging, straightened with the skillet in his hand. I hoped it wasn't dusty because I hadn't used it in years. "Cutting board?"

"Thin cabinet next to the oven."

"Mixing bowl?" I pointed. He selected my smallest bowl. "Spices?" I pointed again. I watched as he rummage in my cabinet, reading bottles and pulling out container, lining them up like soldiers before washing and drying his hands. "Maybe a little," he said, returning to my question, "but I want to turn in early tonight... and I don't want to feel stuffed," he said as he began dumping spices into the bowl.

My mouth instantly dried as other parts of me moistened, and a wave of heat washed over me. I had to resist the urge to look down to see if I was dripping in the floor and took a small pull from my bottle instead.

"What can I do to help?" I asked. Anything I could do to hurry this along I was willing... eager even... to do.

He glanced at me as he quickly stirred the small pile of spices in the bowl together. "Not a thing. Keep me company," he said as he pulled a knife from my block, opened the meat package, and began slicing the beef into thin, bite sized chunks.

I watched as he went about his task, slicing, browning, and adding spices. So far, he'd only prepared Mexican dishes, but not for the first time I felt a tiny bit of envy at how daring and relaxed he was with his cooking. Where I carefully measured every ingredient, he either didn't measure at all or used his cupped hand, and yet everything he produced was excellent. One more thing for me to add to my list of Mr. Colton Arne's positives. He was a good cook and didn't seem to mind doing so. I took another pull from my beer as I imagined him as a stay-at-home husband... cooking for me and greeting me at the door each day wearing nothing but an apron and a smile. I had to take another sip just so I didn't groan with the thought. I knew him well enough now to know he wouldn't be happy in that role... but a girl can dream, can't she?

Soon the kitchen was filled with the distinct smells of cooking fajitas. When he started adding the peppers, onion, and tomato to the skillet, I began placing plates on the table along with two fresh beers and a container of sour cream. He warmed four tortillas, hot fingered them to a separate plate, and placed them on the table along with the still sizzling skillet. My mouth had been watering all day, but now it was watering for a different reason as the smells nearly made me drool. I built my fajita, and after a few puffs to blow it cool, I took a bite. I nearly swooned. Colt's enchiladas were excellent, maybe as good as any I'd tasted, but his fajitas were to die for.

"Oh my God!" I mumbled around a mouth full. "These are amazing! Have you thought of opening a restaurant?"

"Nah."

"Why not? You should."

"I only cook for special people," he said as he took a bite.

The rush of heat washed over me again, and it had nothing to do with the excellence of the food. I felt giddy, almost like I was sixteen again and about to receive my first kiss, and the intensity of his gaze made me want to squirm in the most pleasant ways. Despite the fact I wanted to eat until I was stuffed, and then lick the pan, I limited myself to one fajita so I didn't feel full or weighted down. We took our time eating, allowing the conversation to go where it willed, and made plans to retrieve my Jeep.

After dinner I helped him clean up. As we tidied the kitchen, he always seemed to need to reach past me, pressing his body into me or dragging his fingers lightly along my arm to have me move out of the way. When I rose from pouring soap into the dishwasher, he was there, and pulled my back into his chest before kissing my neck. I tried to turn to face him, ready to get it on, but he held me as his hands slowly slid down my stomach toward my womanhood, his lips making my simmering desires rise to a boil. Then his lips and hands were gone as he stepped away, but I was wise to his game and tamped down my surging desire. He was stoking the flames of my desire, and then leaving me to sizzle and burn with their heat... the asshole.