Читать книгу Her Own Ranger - Anne Duquette Marie - Страница 10

CHAPTER FOUR

“OOH, LA LA, is THAT HER?” Ray asked as a woman in a black gown and fitted jacket approached their table. “She—” His comments were cut short by Adoette’s elbow jab to his side.

“Ray, don’t embarrass me,” Adoette warned. “Hush and stand up.”

Carson was already on his feet. He pulled out Alisha’s chair, then took her arm when she approached.

“Good evening, Alisha.”

“Carson. Adoette, you look lovely.”

“This is Ray Weaver, my cousin,” Carson said. “He works here at the casino.”

Ray took Alisha’s hand and gallantly kissed it before Carson seated her.

“Welcome to Florida.” Ray added a string of compliments that caused Adoette to droop and Carson to seethe. Carson noticed that Alisha didn’t seem impressed by Ray’s flattery—which, he had to admit, pleased him.

“I’m not as gorgeous as Adoette,” Alisha said lightly. “What a beautiful gown! Only someone as young and stylish as you could carry that off. I envy you.”

Adoette brightened. “Why, thank you! I—it’s new,” she stammered. “Do you really like it?”

“That color suits you perfectly,” Alisha complimented.

Adoette wore a lime-green slip dress, a tight sheath slit up the side. It left nothing to the imagination, and Carson felt uncomfortable seeing so much of his friend in it. A pair of panty hose seemed to be all she had on underneath, while every line of her body was visible through the thin, clingy material. It wasn’t the kind of outfit he’d choose for his woman—if he had one.

Strangely, or perhaps not so strangely, Carson found Alisha’s outfit much more exciting. He wanted to peel off those layers to discover what lay beneath, a reaction Adoette couldn’t possibly evoke in her dress.

Conversation switched to casual comments about the fine quality of the house wine—which Alisha regretfully passed up due to her medication, although she blamed jet lag—the local landscape and the casino business until their food was served. Then Alisha introduced a more personal topic.

“I’m still bothered about your fax,” she said to Carson. “Care to explain the tribal council’s change of heart?”

“Certainly. But first you tell me why you chose this place,” Carson said. He knew he’d have to confront the issue; it might as well be now.

Alisha’s fork hovered over the fresh grilled marlin. “I specialize in documenting dangers to human life and wildlife...especially from poaching. Josh suggested the Everglades after hearing about your father’s tragedy last summer. He was murdered by alligator poachers, I understand. My condolences to you and your family, by the way.”

“How did you learn about it?” Carson asked.

“Josh has family in this area.” She leaned closer to Carson. “The Seminole population here numbers about twelve hundred. Violent incidents like murder can hardly be hidden in a community that small. There were articles in the local papers, as well. His brother forwarded some to him. Josh originally thought we could cover gator poaching and its consequences—including murder.”

“I’ll help you as much as I can,” Carson said before taking another bite of fish.

“But why? We understood your reluctance to cooperate last summer. Such a topic would be painful in a very personal way. Plus, with the ongoing investigation...”

“It’s been a year. I’ve rethought my position.”

“Have you captured the poachers since we last talked?”

“Well, let’s just say if there is a problem, it’s nothing for you to worry about,” Ray cut in.

Dammit, Ray, now you’ve given her a reason to worry—and that patronizing tone won’t sit well with any woman. Especially this one.

He was right. It didn’t.

“So you haven’t caught the poachers.” Alisha turned toward Adoette. “I need to know what’s going on. Adoette, what can you tell me?”

“Nothing...nothing! I mean, I—” She switched to Seminole. “Shouldn’t we tell her about the poachers?”

Ray suddenly pulled Adoette away from the table. “Let’s dance.” Alisha and Carson were left alone.

“It seems you’ll have to tell me what Adoette knows about poachers.”

“You speak Seminole?” he asked, amazed.

“No, but Josh and I do our research. You’d be surprised what I pick up. I can say poacher in twenty-three languages.”

She’s furious! He saw it in her eyes, her mouth, the tight neck muscles.

“Are you going to fill me in, or am I leaving?”

Carson’s smile was equally tight. “Okay, I’ll fill you in.” So much for keeping any secrets from her. He told her about the poachers, his own shooting, his plan. Everything.

When he finished—silence. The waiter approached with the dessert menu. Alisha waved him away. Carson’s patience ran out.

“Well? Will you help us or not?”

“Help a man who deceived me? Who intended to go on deceiving me, despite the presence of armed criminals? Men who shoot to kill?”

“That,” he said, “is not an answer.”

She swiveled toward the massive picture windows, her profile expressionless. When she faced him again, the anger under control, her gaze distant, whatever hope he’d had vanished.

“You’re not going to help. Are you?”

“You’ve got that right.”

“Mind telling me why?”

“Because my job is to document and publicize the effects of poaching.... I’m not a game warden, not a law-enforcement officer—I’m a filmmaker and photographer! I’ve learned the hard way to stay within the bounds of my expertise. Trapping poachers isn’t part of that.”

“Trapping poachers is my area of expertise,” he insisted. “I’d keep you safe.”

She rose. “Judging by the bullet hole in your shoulder, I seriously doubt it.”

Carson flinched, but not from the violence with which she threw her napkin on the table.

“Find yourself another sucker, Mr. Ward. This expedition is off.”

BACK IN HER HOTEL ROOM, Alisha removed her evening jacket. The black silk slithered down and onto the bathroom tile.

He lied to me! That handsome, winning bastard fed me dinner and a smooth line! She yanked open the skirt zipper and kicked it off as it slid to her ankles. Just what I need in my life! More poachers!

She glanced at her scarred chest and shoulders in the mirror, then reached for the hotel’s white terry robe. As she turned to leave, she nearly tripped over the balled black material. Ashamed, she bent down and picked up the outfit. No sense kicking these. Carson Ward—now that’s a different matter.

She neatly placed her clothes and shoes in the closet, removed her panty hose and reentered the bathroom. She was about to brush her teeth when she heard a knock.

“You can go straight to hell,” she yelled at the door. “Because you aren’t coming in here!”

“It’s Josh.”

Alisha belted her robe more securely and crossed to the door. She opened it, the chain still on. “What? I thought you weren’t coming back tonight.”

“Nice manners, Al. Let me in.”

“Sorry.” She slid off the chain and opened the door. “You wouldn’t believe the evening I’ve had.”

“Let me guess. Your dinner was a big bust?”

“That’s putting it mildly.” She closed the door behind him and sat down at the table. “What are you doing back so soon?”

Josh removed two ginger ales and a pack of peanuts from the minibar, then joined her. “My evening was no picnic, either. My brother and his kids all had the stomach flu. One or other of ’em was always locked in the bathroom. Plus my mom and sister-in-law were busy with the patients. I left, did our shopping, and decided to come back here. I was only in the way at home.”

“Oh, Josh, I’m so sorry! I know you were really looking forward to your visit.”

“Yeah, well, that can wait. A couple days and they’ll be fine.” He popped open the soda and took a swallow. “Now, what about your evening?”

By the time Alisha had finished relating her tale, she was shaking. “Josh, how could you set me up with a story like this? With active poachers? He was going to use me...” Her voice was anguished.