One Night with a Red-Hot Rancher. Diana Palmer
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chuckled. “Once, a long time ago.”
“Kell only got out a year ago,” she said. “He was freelancing for a magazine in Africa and got hit by flying shrapnel. He’s paralyzed from the waist down—at least until the shrapnel shifts enough so that they can operate.”
Kilraven blinked. “He got hit by flying…he was working for a magazine?” He seemed incredulous. “Doing what?”
“Writing stories.”
“Writing stories? Kell can write?”
“He has very good English skills,” she began defensively.
“I never,” Kilraven said in an odd tone. “Why did he get out of the army?” he wanted to know.
She blinked. “Well, I’m not really sure…” she began.
“Look at this one,” Dr. Rydel interrupted helpfully, holding up a game. “Have you ever played this?”
Kilraven was diverted. He took the green case and stared at the description. He grinned. “Have I ever! ‘Elder Scrolls IV, Oblivion,’” he murmured. “This is great! You don’t have to do the main quest, if you don’t want to. There are dozens of other quests. You can even design your own character’s appearance, name him, choose from several races…ever played it?” he asked Cappie.
She chuckled. “Actually it’s sort of my favorite. I love ‘Halo,’ but I like using a twohanded sword as well.”
“Vicious girl,” Kilraven mused, smiling at her.
Dr. Rydel unobtrusively moved closer to Cappie and cleared his throat. “You shopping or working today?” he asked Kilraven.
The other man looked from Cappie to Dr. Rydel and his silver eyes twinkled. “If you notice, I’m wearing a real uniform,” he pointed out. “I even carry a real gun. Now would I be doing that if it was my day off?”
Dr. Rydel smiled back at him. “Would you be shopping for video games on city time?”
Kilraven glared at him. “For your information, I am here detecting crime.”
“You are?”
“Absolutely. I have it on good authority that there might be an attempted shoplifting case going on here right now.” He raised his voice as he said it and a young boy cleared his throat and eased a game out from under his jacket and back on the shelf. With flaming cheeks he gave Kilraven a hopeful smile and moved quickly to the door.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Kilraven murmured, “I’m going to have a few helpful words of advice for that young man.”
“How did he know?” Cappie asked, stunned, as she watched the tall officer walk out the door and call to the departing teen.
“Beats me, but I’ve heard he does things like that.” He smiled. “He’s on his lunch hour, in case you wondered. I was just ribbing him. I like Kilraven.”
She gave him a wry glance. “Sharks like other sharks, do they?” she asked wickedly.
AT FIRST, Bentley wasn’t sure he’d heard her right. Then he saw the demure grin and burst out laughing. She’d compared him to a shark. He was impressed.
“I wondered if you were ever going to learn how to talk to me without getting behind a door first,” he mused.
“You’re hard going,” she confessed. “But so is Kell, to other people. He just walks right over people who don’t talk back.”
“Exactly,” he returned. He shrugged his broad shoulders. “I don’t know how to get along with people,” he confessed. “My social skills are sparse.”
“You’re wonderful with animals,” she replied.
His eyebrows arched and he smiled. “Thanks.”
“Did you always like them?” she wondered.
His eyes had a faraway look. He averted them. “Yes. But my father didn’t. It wasn’t until after he died that I indulged my affection for them. It was just my mother and me until I was in high school. That’s when she met my stepfather.” His expression hardened.
“It must have been very difficult for you,” she said quietly, “getting used to another man in your house.”
He frowned as he looked down at her. “Yes.”
“Oh, I’m remarkably perceptive,” she said with amusement in her eyes. “I also suffer from extreme modesty about my other equally remarkable attributes.” She grinned.
He laughed again.
Kilraven came back, looking smug.
“You look like a man with a mission,” Bentley mused.
“Just finished one. That young man will never want to lift a video game again.”
“Good for you. Didn’t arrest him?”
Kilraven arched an eyebrow. “Actually he knows some cheat codes for ‘Call of Duty’ that even I haven’t worked out. So I called our police chief.”
“Cheat codes are against the law?” Cappie asked, puzzled.
Kilraven chuckled. “No. Cash has a young brother-in-law, Rory, who’s nuts about ‘Call of Duty,’ so our potential shoplifter is going to go over to Cash’s house later and teach them to him. Cash may have a few words to add to the ones I gave him.”
“Neat strategy,” Bentley said.
Kilraven shrugged. “The boy loves gaming but he lives with a widowed mother who works two jobs just to keep food on the table. He wanted ‘Call of Duty,’ but he didn’t have any money. If he and Rory hit it off, and I think they might, he’ll get to play the game and learn model citizen habits on the side.”
“Good psychology,” Bentley told him.
Kilraven sighed. “It’s tough on kids, having an economy like this. Gaming is a way of life for the younger generation, but those game consoles and games for them are expensive.”
“That’s why we have a whole table of used games that are more affordable,” the owner of the store, overhearing them, commented with a grin. “Thanks, Kilraven.”
The officer shrugged. “I spend so much time in here that I feel obliged to protect the merchandise,” he commented.
The store owner patted him on the back. “Good man. I might give you a discount on your next sale.”
Kilraven glared at him. “Attempting to bribe a police officer…”
The owner held up both hands. “I never!” he exclaimed. “I said ‘might’!”
Kilraven grinned. “Thanks, though. It was a nice thought. You wouldn’t have any games based on Scottish history?” he added.
The store owner, a tall, handsome young man, gave him a pitying look. “Listen, you’re the only customer I’ve ever had who likes six-teenth-century Scottish history. And I’ll tell you again that most historians think James Hepburn got what he deserved.”
“He did not,” Kilraven muttered. “Lord Bothwell was led astray by that Frenchthinking Queen. Her wiles did him in.”
“Wiles?” Cappie asked, wide-eyed. “What are wiles?”
“If you have to ask, you don’t have any,” Bentley said helpfully.
She laughed. “Okay. Fair enough.”
Kilraven shook his head. “Bothwell had admirable qualities,” he insisted,