The Gentrys: Cinco. Linda Conrad
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really gotten a look at his eyes. Warm chestnut brown at first glance, but the longer she’d stared into them, the darker and more intelligent and dangerous they’d become. He quickly ranked right up there as one of the most important reasons why she couldn’t stay out here in this wilderness.
“Let me take your coats.” Cinco tugged at the back of her flight jacket as she jammed her sunglasses into the pocket and shrugged her shoulders free.
He grabbed Kyle’s coat and hung both their jackets on pegs that jutted out from the rough, wood-paneled walls in the small hallway that was lined with boots along the floorboards. The shoes stood like little sentinels, guarding the entry.
“Go on into the kitchen. The coffee’s already made. Grab yourselves a mug.” Cinco slipped his hat off and put it on a rack, nodding toward the door opposite the one they’d just entered. Kyle led the way, leaving her to look around as she followed the enticing aroma of fresh brewed coffee.
The outside of this place had appeared oddly out of time. As she’d arrived, her view had been mostly obscured by tall trees and bushes, although she’d noticed the place rambled on over a wide area and impressed her as being sort of slapped together from differing styles.
She knew she’d spotted what looked like clapboard on one two-story wall but another adjoining room seemed to be made from a grayish-colored brick. All that confusion didn’t even begin to take into account the strange buildings she’d spied in the distance.
Stepping into the kitchen behind Kyle, she found herself in the same sort of out-of-time room. The cabinets were made in an old style from hand-sawn wood but done with precision and care. The appliances were stainless steel in an institutional-type style, brand-new and sparkling clean.
One wall was a floor-to-ceiling rock fireplace, with a big enough hearth for a six-foot man to walk into. The blackened side walls and old-fashioned fire boxes looked ancient. On the other side of the room, a huge expanse of glass covered the wall from countertop to raised ceiling above the sink. Hanging plants and small pots of greenery surrounded the sink and partially blocked the view of trees and grass beyond the window. Glancing only at this part of the room, a person would swear it was a picture from a glossy magazine article in some modern home and style digest.
Meredith’s head began to swim with visions of the two differing eras, so without thinking, she dragged a huge wooden chair from under a polished cedar table. She sat down just as Kyle handed her a blue-and-white mug full of steaming black coffee.
“Cool ranch house, don’t you think?” Kyle stepped over to the slate counter and poured himself a cup from the glass carafe on the stove.
Looking up at him, she saw that the peaked ceiling had barely discernable modern track lighting tucked alongside the huge, roughly finished beams. The incongruity of the distant past existing right next to the gleaming future made her shake her head in wonder.
“It’s…interesting,” she mumbled. “Like nothing I’ve ever seen before. But it doesn’t change anything. I still don’t need to be imprisoned out here, Kyle.”
“We’re not going through that again, Powell. The decision has been finalized, and that’s all there is to it.”
Cinco appeared inside the kitchen doorway. “All there is to what? What’s going on?” He was running his hands through hair that Meredith realized was the same warm-chestnut color as his eyes.
Cinco grabbed his own mug and filled it with the steaming coffee. “What’s the problem between you two?”
“No problem.” Kyle took a slug from the mug so he wouldn’t spill it, swallowing the hot liquid with an audible gulp. “Frosty’s got it in her head that she can simply go on with her life like nothing’s happened while a crazed murderer skulks around the country gunning for her. That’s all.”
Meredith wasn’t about to sit through this argument again. She jumped out of her chair and faced the two men.
“I am not planning on going ahead with life like nothing’s happened. My whole life was about to change anyway,” she muttered through gritted teeth.
She and Kyle had been over this so many times during the past couple of days that Meredith was exhausted from talking about it. She decided to try convincing the cowboy. He looked like a fairly intelligent man. Maybe he could make Kyle see reality.
“Look…Cinco. It’s like this,” she began. “When that insane jerk shot the general right in front of me on the steps of the Capitol, it also happened to be my very last day in the Air Force. I’d already resigned my commission and had accepted a position as a pilot with a commercial airline.
“Transcon Air has been kind enough to hold the pilot’s position open for me. Meanwhile, the feds bungled their arrest and lost the guy. And now the airline says they’ll keep the job free for only a little longer.”
She spread her hands wide, trying to appeal to Cinco’s best judgment, but immediately felt way too open and vulnerable and crossed her arms over her chest instead. “So tell me, how would crazy man Richard Rourke know where to find me if I went ahead with my plans and began the airline’s flight school?”
“Rourke may be crazy, but he’s not stupid,” Kyle said, as he stepped to Cinco’s side, facing her. “You know the FBI believes Rourke has contacts in several militia groups, and the militias have access to all kinds of supposedly confidential information. You’re not nearly devious enough to elude the militias if they want to locate you. Why, you’d probably use your own social security number for payroll purposes, wouldn’t you?”
She opened her mouth to protest, but first Kyle turned to plead his case with Cinco, the same way she’d tried to do.
“You know as much about security as I do, Gentry,” he declared. “Do you honestly think a woman who looks like this one could hide out in plain sight without being spotted?”
Cinco turned his narrowed gaze on her but kept silent.
Meredith felt a chill under his perusal and rubbed her arms in response. “Wait just a minute.” She spun on Kyle. “Who do you think you are to—”
She felt a strong hand on her shoulder, silencing her more efficiently than any words.
“You’re the witness that can identify Richard Rourke as the murderer of General VanDerring?” Cinco asked, while he gently turned her to face him. “The whole damn country’s looking for Rourke. You’re the only thing standing between him and freedom. No one else can place him at the scene.”
Cinco softened his gaze and pinned her with a piercing but concerned look. “He isn’t someone to fool around with. You must know that.”
“Fool around?” She tried to keep her voice low but heard the words cracking with her anger.
Kyle slid an arm over her shoulder and squeezed. “Easy, Frosty. This is a senseless argument anyway.” He dragged her to his side, taking her by surprise and silencing her once again as he explained to Cinco. “The U.S. Marshal’s Office wanted to place Frosty in protective custody while they search for Rourke. After she called me for help, I convinced them that I had a place and a man capable of providing the same security they could…but with fewer restrictions.”
Cinco nodded, as he apparently agreed that his ranch was as secure as anything the U.S. Marshals might come up with.
Meredith sighed, knowing her case was lost. She only had two choices—federal prison or ranch life with her friend’s partner. She realized she had to give up the fight, but she didn’t have to like it.
Cinco smiled at her for the first time, but the dimple creasing his left cheek didn’t do much to soften his eyes. “This here’s a real homey place, sugar,” he drawled. “You’ll be a lot happier and safer here.”
She straightened her shoulders and stood tall. “I’m sure.” But in her heart she knew the truth of her situation.
She probably would’ve been much better