I Shot You Babe (9 page)

Debi: I should have worn a skirt.

Marty: I should have brought a gun.

—
G
ROSSE
P
OINTE
B
LANK

Ronnie’s folder was a loving homage to a dead politician. I remembered when I first heard of Senator Anderson. He’d been campaigning at a county fair I was working about ten years ago. William Anderson was a small-town nice guy who spoke from the heart in plain English fused with common sense. Many people compared him to Kennedy with his youth, good looks and optimism. Others saw him as a down-home Bill Clinton. Whatever side you agreed with, almost everyone thought he was presidential material right from the start.

I remember seeing him talk while I ran the Tilt-A-Whirl. The man definitely knew how to work a crowd. And people liked him. He crusaded against big business and corporate America. Anderson came from blue-collar roots and it showed. And everywhere you looked, he was followed by a throng of college students eager to be part of his mission.

I couldn’t blame them. I liked him too. I just wasn’t into politics. Not my thing. Oh, I can chew on an idea for weeks. But politics frustrate me. Not because I can’t understand them…but rather because I do. And then there was the fact that politicians occasionally showed up on the Bombay hit lists. That was part of the problem.

It didn’t surprise me that Veronica had been a follower of Anderson’s. There was a lot to like about the man. I’d like to think that if he’d lived, he might have made the changes he spoke of. But the fact of the matter was, he didn’t. Senator William Anderson had died of a heart attack before he’d had a chance to take the national stage. And the country mourned him as his most ardent supporters cried out conspiracy theories.

“I never said he wasn’t a good man,” I murmured. Veronica tried to slip into the
ger
unnoticed, watching me as I read her folder.

“You questioned his ideas,” she said as she took long strides to where I stood and snapped the folder from my grasp.

I looked her right in the eyes. “So?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“He’s just a man. That’s all.” It irritated me that she had this dead guy on a pedestal. Life was for the living.

“He could’ve changed the world. And he was cut down in his prime.”

I sat on her cot. “So, you are one of the conspiracy theorists, eh?”

Ronnie turned sharply toward me. “It’s not a theory. There’s a lot of evidence that says he was murdered.”

That was something I did understand, in a way. After all, the Bombays have been pretty good about hiding their tracks over the centuries and have tended to be at the center of some conspiracies. It’s the nature of the game.

“Ah, but which conspiracy? The right? The left? Fundamentalists? There are so many.”

Ronnie sat next to me. “Don’t make fun of me, Cy. This is something I’ve always felt very strongly about.”

“I can see that.”

“If they can kill a man like that, what hope is there for someone else to come along and take his place?”

“That’s a pretty bleak thought.”

“I believed in him. I volunteered with the campaign. When I wasn’t studying, I was campaigning. It was my whole life.”

“That’s not much of a life. Living only for other people.”

She didn’t say anything. I felt bad about arguing with her. It was pretty obvious I had cut her to the quick.

“I’m sorry. I have a talent for being argumentative.” It comes with a philosophy degree. Or maybe people who argue just tend toward philosophy. And sometimes they become lawyers. Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do about that.

Veronica stared at me and, deciding I was worthy of continuing the conversation, began, “My parents died in an explosion. I wasn’t really raised by family so much as shipped off to school. I loved learning, but people came and went in and out of my life too much. When Senator Anderson came to town, I found a family in his other supporters. And I really believed in him.”

I took her hand, stroking her fingers as they rested in my palm. “He had a heart attack. It happens.”

She waved her hand over the papers on her cot. “I’ve been researching his death for years. I’m convinced he was murdered. And someday I will prove it.”

“And you are doing this in addition to your thesis? That’s a lot to take on.”

She nodded. “Well, as you’ve seen, I don’t have much of a social life. Mongolia is the first time I’ve been outside the United States.”

“I hope you’ve learned something here.” And I did, too.

“Yes and no.” Ronnie didn’t add to that, and I decided not to push her.

“I’ll help you.” Now, why did I say that? That was strange.

Her eyes flicked up to mine. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I’ll help you. I’ll help you with your thesis, and I’ll help you with your investigation.”

She stood up quickly. “Why? Why would you do that?”

I stood also. “I don’t know. Maybe because I’ve been a dick. Maybe because I have feelings for you. Maybe I’ve been knocked on my ass too much lately. The fact is, I said I’d help you and I will.”

Veronica threw her arms around me. “Thanks, Cy.”

As I buried my face in her hair, I wondered what the hell I’d gotten myself into.

“The
naadam
is just a few days away,” Chudruk was telling me as I nursed a bruised shoulder. Zerleg, Zolbin and I were now training together, and those boys were a lot younger than I was.

“I know. Look, I didn’t plan to win. I just wanted the experience,” I managed through gritted teeth. My shoulder might have been sprained. And that would suck.

He shook his head. “That is obvious.” He ducked as I playfully tossed my hat at him. “Yalta wants you to stop messing around with Veronica.”

He had my attention now. “What?”

A wide grin spread across his face. “It will sap your strength.” He punctuated his less-than-great news with a shrug.

“Oh. I see.” And I did. It was a typical requirement made of fighters in all types of disciplines, from boxing to martial arts. The idea was that sex before a fight took away your aggression, making you weak.

“No problem,” I said, rising to my feet. “Tell my
zazul
not to worry.”

Chudruk laughed as he walked away. He laughed even harder as he passed a very red-faced Ronnie as she came toward me.

“You’ll never guess what Odgerel just told me!”

“That we had to cool it on the sex until after the
naadam
?” I answered casually, as if I was asking for the time.

You know, I didn’t think it was possible for a person to turn purple with embarrassment. Huh. I guess you really do learn something new every day.

“How…how…” the poor thing attempted.

“Because I just had the same conversation with Chudruk.”

Veronica turned to look at the retreating man. “So that’s why he laughed.” She turned back to me. “Cy, this is humiliating! You mean to tell me they all know?”

Now it was my turn to laugh. “Really, Ronnie. We’re not in high school. This is hardly scandalous information here.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means we are adults. And in most cultures around the world, sex is a natural and casual thing.” I felt a spike of pain in my shoulder and started to rub it.

Veronica walked around me and rubbed my shoulder for me. “Are you saying I’m a prude?”

“Yes.” Uh-oh. The massage stopped. “And no.” It started up again. “You certainly have no problem getting in the mood. But I think your experience with the way other cultures see sex is somewhat limited.”

She said nothing, so I continued. “Remember your reaction to hearing about my sexual past?”

“Yes. I was shocked by the fact that you were some sort of gigolo.”

That made me laugh. “A gigolo? I never accepted money. I think of it more as a rock star with groupies.”

I couldn’t see her, but I knew she was rolling her eyes behind me.

“Oh, yeah. A carney is just the same thing as a rock star.” Was it possible to actually see sarcasm as it floated past you in the air?

“Well, something like that. Anyway, you just have to get past those Midwestern morals and loosen up.”

She slapped me on the shoulder. It took everything I had not to wince. “I admit I’m a bit conservative about sex. And I admit that the romance of this place had its way with my mind…and body.” She walked around to face me. “But I will certainly have no problem with celibacy over the next few days.” Ronnie stuck her tongue out at me and walked away, swaying her hips as she went.

Somehow, I had the feeling that the gauntlet had been thrown. And I was going to lose.

Tony Stark: They say that the best weapon is the one you never have to fire. I respectfully disagree. I prefer the weapon you only have to fire once. That’s how Dad did it, that’s how America does it…and it’s worked out pretty well so far.

—
I
RON
M
AN

Zolbin, Zerleg and I wrestled the rest of the afternoon. My shoulder burned with pain, but I blocked it out mentally. After a few hours I was favoring my good shoulder, and the boys were exploiting my injury to their advantage. Not that I could blame them. As Yalta had explained, any opponent would do the same thing.

After soaking in the ice-cold stream for a while, I wet a T-shirt and wrapped it around my joint. All the way back to my
ger,
I thought of nothing but the extra-strength aspirin I had smuggled in for something just like this. In combination with some hot tea and rest, I should be better in the morning.

I stepped into my tent and shut the door. Ronnie was playing with Sartre on a blanket on the floor. My mind was absorbed with finding the painkillers, and once I swallowed them, I sank down on my cot and unwrapped the rag from my shoulder. It was swollen and sore. But the meds would take care of that. I turned my attention to my tentmate and stopped cold.

Ronnie smiled seductively. How I’d failed to notice she was naked was beyond comprehension. The woman was actually nude on a blanket in front of me. I started toward her.

She held up her hand to stop me. “No sex, remember?”

I started to peel off my shorts. “Oh, I’m not worried about that superstition.”

“But I am. And
no
means
no
.”

“Then why are you laid out like a flesh buffet?” I loosened the stays on the
shuudag.

“Me?” Her eyes grew wide in feigned innocence. “I was just overly warm.” Her hardened nipples and goose bumps said otherwise. I sat down on the floor next to her.

“Now who is thinking like a puritan? Nudity is not as important in other cultures, Cy.”

I was one breath away from her. The scent from her skin made not touching her unbearable. I pulled her onto my lap, her breasts pressing against my chest. If she was still serious about celibacy after feeling my cock against her, then I would—

“No.” Veronica pushed off me and giggled as she scooped up Sartre and moved to her cot.

I sat there in complete confusion, not to mention sexual frustration. Was she for real? Apparently, the game was afoot. Ronnie was taking her vow of celibacy until the match was over to new heights by throwing in torture…just for fun.

You know those commercials for erectile dysfunction where they warn you about calling a doctor immediately if you have an erection that lasts more than four hours? Well, mine lasted for a lot longer than that. And the nearest doctor was too far away to visit. I was beginning to wonder if Ronnie had switched my aspirin with Viagra. At one point that night I was pretty sure I was hallucinating. Either that or there really was a telephone pole attached to my groin with seven bluebirds and a turkey buzzard sitting on it.

I would like to say that I could have justified her playful behavior. But every time I saw that sweet little ass or her bare shoulders (hell, even a naked elbow was driving me mad), I began to think I knew absolutely nothing about women.

In addition to my constant state of arousal, almost the entire camp was readying for the move to the outskirts of Ulaanbaatar for the national
naadam.
From rounding up the animals to taking down the
gers,
everything was a flurry of activity. Even Veronica was too busy helping Odgerel to spend much time naked in our
ger
—a fact that made me eternally grateful. Yalta had stopped training to allow us to help.

Ronnie and I were to take down our own
ger.
And to my surprise, she was very excited about it. The hardest part for us was removing the felt cover. But once we had it off, collapsing the lattice frame and packing everything was fairly easy. We worked very well together. And that surprised me too.

Most of the women who’d wandered through my life over the past decade were mere sexual nomads at best. They joined me in my bed, then left. I was used to that. But none of them ever hung out with me, did chores with me, or even engaged in everyday conversations with me. Sure, there were one or two women on the carney circuit. But I never really worked with them directly, nor did I get involved with them physically. I wondered why that was now, but I never did at the time.

There was something so simple, yet amazing about spending time this way with Veronica Gale. On this trip, we could be working on chores side by side one moment, then committing all sorts of carnal delights in bed the next. And we were together all the time. There was nowhere to go on a proper date. No movie theaters, no fine dining, no computers, television or radio even. Just two people in the wilderness.

I didn’t know what would mess with my brain more: the relationship or the purity of the whole thing.

“And we should have dinner with Arje when we get to the city.” Veronica interrupted my thoughts on Veronica as we hauled the stove to the truck.

“What?”

“You know, Arje Dekker? We met him at the last
naadam.
I think he was Danish or something.”

“Dutch,” I said absently. Now, there was another problem entirely. I still had my assignment to take out Dekker. My complications had just taken on complications for themselves. “I don’t know if we will have time,” I mumbled.

“Of course we will. We’ll be there for three days!” She was careful to punch me playfully in my good shoulder.

“We might not even run into him.” I had to discourage her from the idea of hanging out with my vic. At some point, Dekker would be dead and Ronnie would probably be somewhat pissed off about that.

She stopped and put her hands on her hips. “Cy! You said you would help me with my thesis. And Dekker will add another dimension to it.”

“I know, but…” Damn. I had said that.

“You promised.” Ronnie narrowed her eyes and it sort of turned me on. Hell, everything she did turned me on lately. She was in for one hell of a six-hour-long ride when this whole thing was over. I might even throw my first match just to spend the rest of the festival naked in her arms—I was that desperate.

“Fine. If we see him, we can make some plans for lunch or something. But that’s it.”

I was grateful when she accepted this with a smile and we continued working. However, I had the sneaking suspicion it was far from over.