The Girl with the Golden Gun

When Collins looked up in surprise, Valdez’s smile was sly. “Who do you think has been feeding you information about him all these months?”

Suddenly Collins could barely contain himself. For months he’d wondered who the Sombra was.

“I sent you that videotape of Octavio and the federales.”

“But how did you penetrate his organization…?”

Valdez’s smile grew hard. His eyes were equally cold. “Like all shadows, the Sombra has secrets he must keep.”

“Okay, I’m curious. Who the hell is this ‘disappeared’ heiress?”

“Mia Kemble.”

Terence whistled. “Of the Golden Spurs Ranch?”

Valdez handed him a photograph of a redheaded woman on a magnificent, black Arabian stallion. She was pale, and her eyes looked haunted. Tavio was holding the bridle as he stared up at her. Everything was just as Valdez had described. The murdering son of a bitch was besotted.

Terence’s blood congealed even as his heart began to thump at a maniacal pace.

“How do I know the picture isn’t fake?”

“Has the Sombra ever lied to you before?”

Terence shook his head. He couldn’t help but think of Abby. For her sake, the Kembles of the Golden Spurs Ranch were the last people on earth he should mess with.

If he refused, the Sombra would simply tip off some other reporter.

Hell. Once a bastard, always a bastard. When had he ever let his personal life get in the way of a good story?

“Can I keep the picture?”

Valdez smiled.

Five

Buckaroo Ranch

20 miles south of Austin, Texas

“Tonight’s the night.”

Shanghai gritted his teeth. The jeering note in Wolf’s deep voice on the other end of the line set Shanghai on edge so much he wanted to punch him.

“You’re doing it, hombre. You’re asking her the question. Tonight! Before you leave for the big rodeo in Vegas.”

“Don’t remind me, brother.” Shanghai’s stomach tightened as he clutched the cell phone a little closer to his ear. To settle his nerves, he took another long pull from his Lone Star.

What was he waiting for?

“You still there, brother?”

“Where the hell do you think I am?” Shanghai shot back in the space of a heart beat.

“So, what’s the big deal? You know she’ll say yes.”

“Hell, maybe that’s the big deal. You ever been married?”

“Twice. When I was still in the military.”

Wolf had flown helicopters in the Middle East. Recently he’d been honorably discharged from the National Guard.

There was a short silence. “Divorced twice, too,” Wolf admitted.

“Then you’re a two-time loser.”

“I was gone a lot. Top-secret shit. They couldn’t take the stress.”

“Why the hell am I asking you for advice?”

Ever since Shanghai’s daddy had run his mother off, he’d been afraid he’d do the same.

“Just ask her, okay. Just get it over with, you wuss.”

“I ain’t no wuss.”

“Not when we train. You can take any kind of pain then. But you’re a wuss.”

Wolf was his physical trainer. Modify that—his psycho trainer. Wolf was six foot six and built like a lethal African-American god. He had a black belt in karate and had been in Special Forces. He’d even done a bit of bull riding. The man worked him until every muscle in his body ached.

At thirty-nine Shanghai was hardly the newest kid on the block. Not that he ever liked thinking about his age.

Bull riding was an extreme sport. He put up with Wolf’s abuse to stay in shape to ride bulls.

Why the hell did he still want to ride bulls?—that was the million-dollar question. He’d proved himself—hadn’t he?

Unlike most in his profession, he’d made a lot of money and had invested it well. His land, which was just south of the Austin airport, was worth more every year. Why did he keep putting off moving here and ranching full-time? He couldn’t tell himself he rode just for the money anymore.

“When it comes to women, you’re a wuss. You see a pretty little filly you’ve bedded a few times and you like a lot in your rearview mirror, and you stomp on the accelerator. When things start getting serious, you do it every time, brother. Every time.” Wolf laughed. “Zoom.”

“If you were here, I’d punch your lights out.”

Wolf roared. “No, you wouldn’t. Even you’ve got enough sense not to start something you can’t finish.”

He was so right. Although some of his bull riding friends might disagree, Shanghai didn’t have a total death wish.

“Gotta go,” Wolf said. “A mama just walked in with her fat kiddo, who probably wants to take karate lessons. No can do. The kid’s gotta lose some major weight first. Do some jogging. Eat broccoli instead of fries.”

“Go easy on ’em, huh? Eating broccoli may be a radical thought.”