Tough to Tame / Her Lone Cowboy: Tough to Tame

He grinned. “A few drug dealers in prison could attest to the truth of that statement,” he said.

“What?”

“You don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“Cy Parks is a retired mercenary,” he told her. “He was in some bloody firefights in Africa some years back. More recently, he and two other friends and Harley Fowler shut down a drug distribution center here. There was a gunfight.”

“In Jacobsville, Texas?” she exclaimed.

“Yep. Parks is one of the most dangerous men I’ve ever met. Kind to people he likes. But there aren’t many of those.”

She felt odd. She wondered how it was that her brother had come to know such a man, because he and Cy seemed to be old friends.

“Where do you go from here?” Dr. Rydel asked suddenly.

She blinked. “I don’t know,” she blurted out, flushing. “I mean, I thought I might, well, stop by the game store in the strip mall.”

He stared at her blankly. “Game store?”

She cleared her throat. “There’s this new video game. ‘Halo…’”

“‘…ODST,’” he said, with evident surprise. “You’re a gamer?”

She cleared her throat again. “Well…yes.”

He said something unprintable.

She glared at him. “Dr. Rydel!” she exclaimed. “It’s not a vice, you know, playing video games. They release tension and they’re fun,” she argued.

He chuckled. “I have all three Halo games from Bungie, plus the campaigns,” he confessed, naming the famous company whose amazing staff had engineered one of the most exciting video game series of all time. “And the new one that just came out.”

Now her jaw fell open. “You do?”

“Yes. I have ‘Halo: ODST,’” he said, pursing his lips. “Do you game online?”

She didn’t want to confess that she couldn’t afford the fees. “I like playing by myself,” she said. “Or with Kell. He’s crazy about the Halo series.”

“So am I,” Dr. Rydel told her. His blue eyes twinkled. “Maybe we could play split screen sometime, when we’re both free.”

She gave him a wicked look. “I can put down Hunters with a .45 automatic.” Hunters were some of the most formidable of the alien Covenant bad guys, fearsome to engage in the Halo game because they were huge and it took a dead shot to hit them in their very few vulnerable places.

He whistled. “Not bad, Miss Drake!”

“Have you been a gamer for a long time?” she asked.

“Since college,” he replied, smiling. “You?”

“Since high school. Kell was in the military and a bunch of guys in his unit would come over to the house when they were off duty and play war-game videos. We lived off base.” She pursed her lips and her eyes twinkled. “I not only learned how to use tactics and weapons, I also learned a lot of very interesting and useful words to employ when I got killed in the games.”

“Bad girl,” he chided.

She laughed.

“I’ll probably see you in the video store,” he added.

She beamed. “You probably will.”

He grinned and went back to the suits.

Fifteen minutes later, she parked in front of the video store and went inside. It was full of teenage boys mostly, but there were two men standing in front of a rack with the newest sword and sorcery and combat games. One of them was Dr. Rydel. The other, surprisingly, was Officer Kilraven.

Dr. Rydel looked up and smiled when he saw her coming. Kilraven’s silver eyes cut around to follow his companion’s gaze. His black eyebrows arched.

“She’s Christmas shopping,” Dr. Rydel announced.

“Buying video games for a relative?” Kilraven wondered aloud.

Dr. Rydel chuckled. “She’s a gamer,” he confided. “She can take down Hunters with a .45 auto.”

Kilraven whistled through his teeth. “Impressive,” he said. “I usually do that with a sniper rifle.”

“I can use those, too,” she said. “But the .45 works just as well, thanks to that magnified sight.”

“Have you played all the Halo series?” Kilraven asked.

She nodded. “Now I’m shopping for ODST,” she said. “Kell, my brother, likes it, too. He taught me how to play.”

Kilraven frowned. “Kell Drake?”

“Yes…”

“I know him,” Kilraven replied quietly. “Good man.”

“Were you in the army?” she asked innocently.

Kilraven 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.