Page 51 of His Virgin Vessel

Porter took a little bit of a risk. "You know, he could have had you just then. You dropped your guard when you went for your gun. A street fighter like him, he'd have had you, if he'd wanted you."

Dad was silent a while longer. "Rassi?"

"Yeah."

"Get him on his feet."

During this exchange, I had helped Asa up into a sitting position, wrapped some ice in a towel, and had been holding it against his head. Now, I helped Asa up. He was pale, but still strong, and met my father's eye unafraid. Dad returned the stare.

"You all right?"

"I've had worse," Asa said.

"I've given worse," Dad replied, with implicit threat

"You've got a good arm.”

"I'm guessing you have, too."

"In my day."

Dad nodded. "You and I are going to have a little talk about some things. In the living room."

I tried to walk with Asa, but he stopped me. He could manage by himself, and, clearly, I was no part of this conversation. I watched the two most important men in my life walk out, Dad closing the door behind them.

Porter poured himself a cup of coffee. "Well, this is either going to go very bad or very good. Nothing in between."

"You think there's a chance of very good?" I was grasping at whatever hope there was on hand.

Porter shrugged. "I think stopping your father from beating Asa to death is a definite step in the right direction. I wouldn't have put money on that. Father and daughters, you know?"

I wasn't sure that I did. "He's never really taken that active of a role before."

"I don't think he was ever really scared before," said Porter. "Your dad doesn't confide in me, or anyone else, really. But, if I had to guess, I'd say that whoever you've been with in the past, he hated them, but never feared them. With Asa, he's torn. On the one hand, he wants a man who'll be with you forever. On the other, that's every father's worst nightmare. He'd rather a man who cared about you than a one-night-stand. On the other hand, it's the one who cares about you who's going to take you away from him. I got chased by a couple of angry fathers when I was younger. They were all angry, but it was the father of the girl I cared about who I thought was about to kill me. No father wants their daughter to be treated like a sex object, but at least those men aren't going to take her away."

I listened carefully. I had never really thought about it like that before.

"There again," Porter continued, "Whether it's a quick fling, or a lifelong relationship, there are several billion men in the world your father would rather you picked than Asa Covert."

"If it wasn't for me, Dad would give Asa the deal," I assessed glumly.

"If it wasn't for you, he wouldn't even be here," Porter corrected. "Before last night, I'd have laid money that there wasn't an ounce of good in Asa. You didn't make him good, but you showed us—hell, you showed him—the good that was there all along. That's a bit of something."

I smiled. I was more grateful than he could realize to hear that.

"Your dad's trying to take the personal out of this," Porter went on. "Which is a tough ask under the circumstances. Hopefully, he'll give Asa the chance to explain why he told your dad to pick you up at the motel and then ran off with you again. Once your dad understands that he had your best interests at heart, I think he'll get down to business. Then, it's up to Asa."

"What do you mean?" I asked. I didn't pay much attention to my dad's work.

"If he's got the goods on Rassi, then he's home-free," Porter said. "Hell, even if your dad had heard what the two of you were up to last night," I blushed vividly, "if Asa can give us Rassi, then your Dad will throw him a parade."

"You really want this guy," I said. It was a pretty dumb thing to say, when I thought about it.

"We want him. We want his organization. I'd tell you some of the things we think he's done, but which we've never been able to tie him to, only the thought makes me sick. He is a bad man on a whole other level. But that's why we have to be sure. If we go into this and fail, then your dad and I, and especially Asa, are going to be targets for Rassi and his boys. And the sort of executions they stage aren't the nice polite ones that the state is inviting him to. They take days."

I shuddered at the thought. But I was feeling better about Asa's chances. Dad might never have liked him and might like him a whole lot less because I was in love with him, but he believed in serving the community. He was a good sheriff, and the chance to rid his town of someone like Rassi was not one he would turn down.

As I thought this, the door re-opened, and Asa came through with Dad behind him. Dad looked from me to Porter, his face as frustratingly unreadable as ever.

"All right," he said, finally, "Let's do it."

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