Willow Smoke (71 page)

“Maybe
it’s
something
you
can’t
fix,”
Tom
offered.

“Maybe.”

“Is
it
the
age
thing?”

“I don’t think so.”

“She
won’t
tell
you?”

“I’m afraid to ask.”

“Oh.
You
can’t
make
her
stay.”
Tom
stood
and
walked
around
the
canoe,
squinting,
looking
for
any
sign
of
imperfection.

“I
know
that.
Can’t
make
the
woman
do
a
damn
thing.”

“So
is
she
unhappy
with
the
horse
partnership?”

“No, not that. Oh, she
thinks I give her
too
much of the
horses for her contribution,
but I
don’t think so. Besides, I’ve agreed to reduce the percentages in the future.”
Nick
ran
his
hands
along
the
smooth
contours
of the canoe. “No, I think
she’s
upset that I’m now involved
with her family. And she’s still put off by my wealth. I
don’t
know
what
else
is
bothering
her,
but
something
sure
is.”

“That
might
be
enough,”
Tom
said,
dryly.

“There’s
more.
And
she’s
stubborn
as
hell.
Won’t
listen
to
reason.”

“You
mean
she
won’t
cowtow
to
Underwood
logic,
don’t
you?”
Tom
grinned
broadly.
“She’s
got
spunk,
Nick,
and
she
values
her
independence.
She
probably
needs
some
space
and
time
to
figure
out
what’s
going
on
around
her
and
what
she
wants to do.”

Nick
looked
at
his
palms
and
flexed
his
fingers.
“So
what
am
I
supposed
to
do?”

“Depends
on
what
you
want.”
Tom
ducked
his
head
and
examined
a
tiny
knot
in
a
wood
strip.
“If
you’re
done
with
her
and ready
for
another
woman,
you
help
her
pack
her
bags
and
wave
goodbye.”

Nick’s
stomach
knotted
and
his
fingers
balled
into fists. “That’s not what I want.
And
you
know
it.”

“Good.
Then
you
might
want
to
figure
out
how
you
can
help
her
do
what
she
needs to do. If she needs time, give her
time. If she needs space, give her space.”

“But how can I protect
her if she leaves?”

“How can you protect her
if she stays? If she’s in danger, and from what I know I
assume
she
is,
you
can’t
provide
twenty-four
hour
lock-down
security.
Sounds
to
me
like
at
some
point
this
brother-in-law
will
have
to
be
dealt
with.
He’s
more
likely
to
be
flushed
out
of
his
hole
if
Daisy’s
at her apartment than at your place.”

“I don’t want to use her
as bait.”

Tom
looked
directly
at
Nick.
“She
is,
whether
you
like
it
or
not.
The
question
is
who’s
prepared
to
move
in
if
the
bastard
steps
over
the
line?”

“Ah.
Surveillance.”
Nick
closed
his
eyes and
pinched
his
nose.
“God,
she’d
call
it
an
invasion
of
privacy.
Or
Nick
taking
control
again.”

“Maybe.
But
she
doesn’t
have
to
know,
does
she?
The
point
is
to
nail
Lassiter.
If
you
find
out
along
the
way
she’s
bedding
three
young
studs,
you’ll
have
to
deal
with that. But once Lassiter is off the
streets,
the
two
of
you
will
be
in
a
much
better position
to sort out what you may
have
between
you.
Until
then,
Lassiter
is
the
wild
card.
And
a
wild
card
can
trump
the
best
of
hands.”

Nick
shoved
his
fists
in his
trouser
pockets,
nodded
at
his
friend
and
without
replying
made
his
way
back
to
his
office.

Sitting
at
his
desk,
he
pondered
his
choices.
She
was
going
to
leave.
No
way
could
he
make
her
stay;
he
wouldn’t
want
her
unless
she
could
match
his
love.
Otherwise,
what
was
the
use?

He’d
do
what
he
could
to
provide
for
her
safety,
whether
she
liked
it
or
not.
Clint
Travers
was
high
on
his
list
for
a
phone
call.
But that
could wait another day. He
had
to
make
sure
they
didn’t
let
up
on
the
horses
during
this
period
of
redefining
their
relationship.
While
he
wouldn’t
try
to
buy
her
with
horses,
he
wasn’t
above
using their mutual interest in them to
remain
in
contact.
What
else?
He’d
think
of
something.

Nick
rose,
picked
up
his
jacket,
and
with his
jaw
firmly
set,
headed
out
of
the
canoe
factory
to his Jeep. He tried not to worry
too
much
about
what
was
waiting
for
him
at home.

Nick
gazed
at
Daisy
sitting
across
from
him in
a
captain’s
chair
at
the
kitchen
counter. It was Mrs. Brown’s night off, so
the
two
of
them
had
shared
a
meal of cold
cuts,
fruits,
veggies
and
wine.
Daisy
looked
as
bad
as
he
felt.
Her
eyes
were
red
and
her
cheeks
swollen.
They’d
both
been
uncharacteristically
silent
while
eating.
Now
with
the
dishes
cleared
and
coffee
before
them,
he
waited
for
Daisy
to
speak.

“We
have
to
name
Hip
sixty-four,”
she
said.
“I
hate
calling
him
a
number.”

Nick
cocked
his
head.
That
wasn’t
what
he
expected
to
hear.
He
nodded.
“Do
you
have
any
ideas?”