Rescue Me

filling up the Dumpster. At night, he’d hit a few local bars. He’d raised a Lone Star at Slim Clem’s and shot back tequila at the Road Kill, and both nights he’d returned home before midnight. Alone. He could have brought someone back with him if he’d stayed long enough, but as much as he hated to admit it, he’d been tired from hours of hard physical labor. There’d been a time when he’d survived on little or no sleep for days on end. When he’d hiked or jogged or swum against the current for miles, in unbearable heat or bone-numbing cold, often packing sixty to a hundred pounds of essentials, but he wasn’t in that kind of physical shape these days, and as much as he hated to admit it, years of pushing his body beyond its limit had taken a toll. These days his pain reliever of choice wasn’t tequila. It was Advil.
    After four days of not hearing from Sadie, she texted him and invited him to the JH. Clearly she just wanted sex. That was it. He’d never known a woman who just wanted sex and nothing more. Not after he’d been with her a few times. He didn’t think he was being egotistical. He liked to excel. To be the best. There was no quit until the job was done. Women appreciated that and always wanted more. But not Sadie. She didn’t want more, and he didn’t know how he felt about that. He should be thrilled. It was perfect. She was beautiful. Interesting. Good in bed, and only wanted to use him for sex. Perfect.
    So why did he feel mildly pissed? And if all she wanted to do was fuck, what was he doing here in the light of day? With all the ranch hands around? Why hadn’t she asked him to drive out this evening after dark?
    He had a lot he could be doing right now. A lot before his buddy Blake Junger finished up his own business and got his ass to Lovett. Blake was a master of many trades. Deadly sniper and licensed carpenter just two among them.
    “Vince!”
    He turned his attention to the right and spotted Sadie standing beside a corral attached to a big barn. She wore a pair of jeans and black T-shirt with something on the front and a pair of boots. A blond ponytail was tied at the back of her neck, and she wore the same white cowboy hat she’d worn the night of the Lovett Founder’s Day. He hadn’t seen her in four days. Damn, she looked good. Just standing there like a beauty queen, and for some reason, that just pissed him off a little more.
    Not enough to turn on his heels and leave, though. There was something about Mercedes Jo Hallowell. Something more than her looks. Something that made him drop his pry bar when she’d texted him. He wasn’t sure what it was about her. Maybe it was nothing more than that he wasn’t done.
    Not yet.
    “Hey, Vince.” Next to Sadie stood a tall, lean man wearing a blue-and-white striped shirt and a wide Stetson. He was a cowboy. A real cowboy. Tanned from the sun and tough from the life. He looked to be in his fifties and his name was Tyrus Pratt.
    “Tyrus is our horse foreman.” Sadie introduced the two.
    “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Vince shook the man’s hand. His grip and the look in his brown eyes were as tough as his hide. Vince had stared down drill sergeants and knew when he was being sized up.
    “Vince is Luraleen Jinks’s nephew.”
    The hard line around Tyrus’s eyes softened. “The new owner of the Gas and Go?”
    “Yes sir.” He wasn’t surprised that the foreman knew. He’d been in town long enough to know that news traveled fast.
    “You were a Navy SEAL.”
    Now that surprised him. “Yes sir. Chief petty officer with Team One, Alpha Platoon.”
    “Thank you for your service.”
    He always had a hard time with that. There were a lot of men like him who served for the love of country, not for the glory. Men who didn’t know the word “quit” because they felt a purpose, not so the world could thank them. “You’re welcome.”
    Tyrus dropped his hand. “Were you in on the raid on bin Laden?”
    Vince smiled. “Negative, but I would have loved to have been there.”
    “Tyrus just brought Maribell home,” Sadie said, and pointed to a black horse standing at the fence. “She’s been in Laredo breeding with Diamond Dan. The horse that kicked my daddy in the ribs.”
    “How is he?” Vince asked.
    She shook her head, and the shadow of her hat’s brim slid across her mouth. “He had a high fever that indicated possible infection, but his lungs are still the same. As a precaution, they put him on more