“Ever tried racquetball?”
“I don’t like things flying at me.”
They had something in common; Gabe definitely didn’t like bullets flying at him.
He chuckled, rubbed his face against her head to feel the sleek silk of her hair and decided not to ruin a good moment by worrying. He could enjoy, couldn’t he?
Except she sighed, a puff of air he felt on his chest, and said, “I should go back to my bed.”
Gabe quit breathing, just held himself still. “Why?”
“Chloe will be scared if she wakes up to find herself alone.”
“She’s used to being alone in bed for a couple of hours before you join her.” What was he arguing for? Her to stay the night? To keep this casual, it would be better if she didn’t.
Trina was quiet for a minute. “Can I ask you something?”
Immediately wary, he said, “Is this a ‘get in my head’ question?”
“Well, kind of. No, more me wanting to know you.”
Because of Joseph, he knew quite a bit about her childhood. The loving parents, the tight family. His past was a blank to her.
“You can ask,” he said after a minute.
“Do you have family? People you stay in touch with, who worry about you?”
He didn’t talk about this. But... Trina was different.
Throat tight, he said, “No.”
“I guess I knew that.” She sounded sad.
Was he going to do this? “Never even knew who my father was,” he said hoarsely. “My mother was an addict. She died when I was five. I barely remember her.”
“I’m so sorry.” She turned her head enough to press a kiss to his chest. “I don’t suppose you were adopted.”
“No.” He hesitated. “A rancher took me on as a foster kid when I was fourteen. I stayed until I graduated from high school. He was a quiet guy. I thought he needed some extra labor. But...”
“But?” she prodded, when he didn’t finish.
“He died when I was in my early twenties. Left me the ranch.” Gabe stared up at the rafters. “It wasn’t a huge place, but it had a year-round creek running through it. Two neighboring ranchers bid each other up, and I came out of it with enough money to let me pay for half of this place, when the chance came.”
“You didn’t expect anything from your foster father.”
It wasn’t a question; she knew. But he shook his head anyway. “No. I wish I’d known—” His throat seized up.
“That he loved you?”
Had he? Gabe still didn’t know.
He felt something warm and...wet? She wasn’t crying, was she? He touched her face to find she was.
“I haven’t been a kid for a long time, Trina.”
“But you intend to stay alone, don’t you?”
A spasm seemed to close his throat completely, when he should be saying yes. Reminding her that this was recreational sex. But somehow he couldn’t speak at all. Which was fortunate, because for the first time in his life, he wasn’t sure what he’d have said. What he thought was, That’s what I always figured.
Past tense.
He was stunned to realize that the unexpected, unwelcome feelings he had for this woman had him in a tighter grip than he’d imagined. He wanted her to worry about him. He wanted to know she was waiting at home for him. And this felt like home: him, her, the ranch, his cabin...and Chloe.
In a panic, he stayed silent. Instead, he rolled on his side and kissed her, until neither of them could think about past or future. Only now.
* * *
TRINA WAS SOUND ASLEEP and really wanted to stay that way, but the mattress bobbed like a wave-tossed boat. She groaned, pried open her eyelids and found Chloe jumping on the bed about a foot from her.
“Go ’way,” she mumbled.
“Uh-uh. Gabe says to tell you it’s breakfast time.”
Trina whimpered and buried her face. Chloe kept bouncing.
Well, at least she wasn’t mute and sad. Why wasn’t she, given yesterday’s terrifying events?
Probably, Trina realized, because she hadn’t really known what was happening. Chloe had to have heard the gunshots, though. Was there any chance they hadn’t triggered panic because whoever killed her family had used a silencer?
Sad to say, Trina realized, she was definitely awake. “Okay, okay.”
Once Chloe was satisfied that Trina was really getting up, she scampered away. A shower mostly finished the job. When she got out, though, she saw herself in the foggy mirror and froze. Grabbing the hand towel, she swiped at the glass and kept staring. There were an awful lot of...not bruises, but red spots. Probably from Gabe’s stubble, she thought in chagrin. At the time, it had felt good.
So good, in fact, that her whole body tingled as she remembered their lovemaking.
Even the weight of his silence after her question didn’t squelch the tingles.
Trust, she reminded herself. He had talked to her. And he hadn’t said, Yeah, I’m a loner. His silence gave her hope she could change his mind.
And wasn’t that typical female idiocy, believing she could change a man? But that wasn’t it; she liked him, could even love him, exactly the way he was. If only...
She made a horrible face at herself in the mirror and got dressed.
When she went downstairs, Gabe gave her a hard, searching look that she returned with a feeble smile. Creases formed on his forehead.
She ate the pancakes he put in front of her, and produced a short grocery list for him when he reminded her that he was going shopping. Since he’d shopped Saturday, she didn’t need anything, but it wouldn’t hurt to have him pick up some fresh veggies, not to mention milk. They were going through an awful lot of it.
Chloe watched them. “You don’t hafta work?”
Trina did a little better with this smile. “Nope. I’m taking a vacation.”
The little girl brightened. “Can I ride Mack today?”
“Yep,” Gabe promised. “Later. I have to do errands this morning.”
“We could ride and then you could do errands,” Chloe said slyly.
He laughed, came around the breakfast bar to swing her in the air. Depositing her back on the stool, he said, “Good try, but no.”
“Well, poop.”
He only laughed again, kissed Trina on the cheek and left, after extracting a renewed promise that they stay inside and not answer the door. Fingertips pressed to the exact spot on her cheek that he’d kissed, she watched as his truck passed the cabin, then turned toward the ranch proper rather than the highway.
He was on his way to borrow yet another pickup truck from a ranch hand, and presumably took along another of those burner phones he’d bought as if every man kept a selection on hand.
Because while he did intend to grocery-shop, he also planned to call Risvold.
Trina’s skin felt too tight the whole time he was gone. What if someone came to the door? What would Detective Risvold say after Gabe told him about the ambush?
Would Gabe want her to spend most of the night in his bed again?
At six minutes past eleven o’clock, Trina saw the borrowed truck pass out on the ranch road. Not that she was watching or anything. But thank goodness, he’d only been gone two hours.
A few minutes later, he returned in his truck. She hovered in the kitchen, waiting for him. He walked in the back door laden with bags from a grocery store and Target, and glanced around. “Where’s Chloe?”
“Living room. She loves those puzzles you bought.”
His smile formed lines in his cheeks. “I noticed.” He hefted one of the bags. “Four more.”
After he plopped them down on the counter, Trina delved into the bag and saw, in delight, that his choices were perfect. The one on top was a unicorn. But, bless his heart, he’d also bought a pu
zzle with pirates, one with an animal alphabet and a barnyard puzzle.
“Thought we’d go for the dinosaur puzzle next time, and maybe the big trucks.”
How could he possibly believe he shouldn’t have a family, that he wouldn’t make a wonderful father?
After thanking him, she asked, “Did you reach Detective Risvold?”
Gabe went to the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water before he pulled out a stool and half sat, one foot braced on the floor. “No, I talked to Detective Deperro instead. Risvold was out. Deperro seemed a little less...aggressive.”
“I had the same impression. Did you tell him about the ambush?”
A glint in Gabe’s eyes, he said, “I didn’t share every detail, but yes. I said two vehicles, four men, tried a pincer move on us. They barricaded the highway, shot at us. I’d swear he was genuinely stunned, although he could have been playing me.”
“Did you give him the license plate number?”
They’d talked about this before he left this morning. He had a friend who was a cop in Portland, and Gabe had intended to ask him to run the number.
Gabe’s forehead furrowed, but he said, “I’m not sure I would have if it had been Risvold, but...yeah. Doesn’t mean I won’t tap my friend, too. We can call this a test. In fact, I’ll call Alan this morning.”
Trina told him her speculation that Chloe hadn’t actually heard gunshots when her parents and brothers were killed.
“Not a silencer, a suppressor,” Gabe said absently. “That’s a good thought, although I’m not sure knowing one way or the other helps us identify the killer.”
“Most normal people wouldn’t have one. In fact, aren’t they illegal or something?”
“Not in Oregon, although theoretically you have to get BATF approval to buy one.” He paused, interpreted her expression accurately. “Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms.”
“Oh.” She frowned. “Do you have a permit for that handgun?”
“Don’t need one in this state. For concealed carry, you do.” His lips twitched. “I haven’t bothered yet. I’m not spending that much time here, and until I met you, I didn’t have any need to carry a weapon at all.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he said brusquely. “Truth is, I was feeling pretty damn useless until you came along.”
Trina blinked at that, and wasn’t surprised when he turned his back to put groceries away. The conversation was over.
Her temper spiked. No, it wasn’t. “What did Detective Deperro say?”
Gabe dumped several plastic bags with vegetables into the refrigerator and closed it before facing her again. “He wanted to know who I am. Swore he wasn’t trying to track down you and Chloe.”
She snorted, sounding an awful lot like his horse.
“He didn’t say much, but his frustration came through loud and clear. I didn’t get the feeling he’s happy with how the investigation is going. Or not going. I asked about the random guy wandering through the neighborhood. He told me straight-out that they’d never taken that seriously.”
“Then why did Risvold try to feed that crap to me?” she exclaimed.
“Because he didn’t like the idea of you expecting information to go two ways?” Gabe suggested. He leaned against the counter and crossed his booted feet at the ankles. “I’m damn sure he didn’t want you to know if they were looking at Pearson or anyone else close to the family.”
“I’ve worked with children involved in a criminal investigation twice before. That detective trusted me enough to be frank. Of course, being a woman, she probably doesn’t have the same territorial issues.”
Gabe grinned, startling her into instant, intense awareness of him lounging there not three feet from her. Even with that big body ostensibly relaxed, she didn’t make the mistake of believing she could catch him off guard. Nope, she’d seen a demonstration of how lightning fast his reflexes were.
“You might be right,” he said, the smile lingering on his mouth. For a moment, they just looked at each other. Then he pushed himself away from the cabinet. “Hey. Come here.”
She sneaked a peek toward the living room. “I should check on—”
“Can you hear her?”
“Hear?” She concentrated. He was right—Chloe was singing softly to herself. Trina smiled and stepped forward into his arms, which folded around her. Splaying her fingers on his chest, she said, “She’ll be in here any minute demanding to ride your horsie, because you said ‘later’ and it is later.”
He laughed, and nuzzled her cheek. “Sure, but she isn’t here yet. And why waste an opportunity?”
He captured her mouth and made good use of their time.
Chapter Ten
Gabe decided to call his friend Portland police detective Alan Cullen before he did a single other thing. Fortunately, Alan returned Gabe’s call within ten minutes.
“You’re the last person I expected to hear from,” he said. “I thought you were still in rehab at Fort Benning.”
Sitting out on the front porch in an Adirondack chair, Gabe grimaced. Alan had been a good enough friend, he should have gotten in touch sometime in the last year. Loner that he was, he’d resisted even depending on Boyd. “I’ve been at the ranch for a couple of months. The damn rehab has dragged on.”
“Then what’s with the license plate number?”
Gabe gave him a synopsis of events, and even that took a few minutes. Voice changing as he shifted into cop-mode, Alan asked a few questions.
“Damn,” he said at last. “Joseph Marr’s sister. Lucky you were available. Although I suppose Joseph could have called Boyd instead.”
Feeling instant resistance, even repugnance, Gabe ground his teeth before forcing himself to say, “I guess so.” He’d seen the way Boyd looked at Trina the first time he and she had met. Hell. What if she and Boyd—
He shook off the possibility because it made him so angry.
“Okay, what’s the license plate number?” Alan asked.
Gabe read it off.
“I can run it right—” The silence didn’t last long. “Huh.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It’s tagged. Belongs on a charcoal gray Audi RS7. Was it fast?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Six hundred and five horsepower engine.” The remark was absent; it wasn’t what Alan was really thinking about. “Registered owner is a guy named Craig Jarvis. He’s ostensibly an importer, but the DEA has their suspicions about him.”
Drug Enforcement Administration? Gabe felt as if a critical puzzle piece had been inserted. Dark corners were suddenly bathed in harsh white light.
“Does he live on this side of the mountains?” he asked.
“Yes, Bend.” Alan paused. “You know central Oregon has become a hotbed of drug trafficking, don’t you? Lots of small airfields, rural sheriffs’ departments that don’t have the manpower to monitor odd comings and goings. There are several drug task forces over there, although—” he paused “—it doesn’t look like your county is included. Attention has focused on the major highways—I-5, of course, but also Interstate 84 and highways 97 and 20. You’re not on any of those, but a county with so little population might be ideal for bringing drugs in from Mexico and Central America. Distribution could be tricky, though.”
“I have a good idea how the drugs are getting distributed,” Gabe said tightly. He told Alan what he was thinking, and how drug trafficking might well have led to the murders.
“You need to contact the Oregon HIDTA Investigative Support Center. They coordinate information for federal, state and local law enforcement within their counties.”
“Granger County is outside their jurisdiction.”
“You think they won’t jump on this?”
“Maybe.” Sometime during this conversation, he’d
risen to his feet, too tense now to sit. He stood at the porch railing, looking at the dry forest surrounding his cabin. “I need to think about this. Tell me you don’t have any obligation to contact anyone.”
There was a short silence. “What’s your hesitation?”
“First, why hasn’t Sadler PD brought in some help?”
“You so sure they haven’t?” Alan asked.
“Not positive,” Gabe admitted with reluctance. “I did pass on the same license plate tag to one of the detectives. But damn it, there hasn’t been so much as a hint that they’re considering a drug trafficking angle. Even I’d begun to feel uneasy when several people mentioned the conflict at Open Range Electronics over whether they ought to maintain their own trucks versus shipping through other companies.”
“What’s your real problem?” That was like Alan—get to the point.
“Trina and Chloe,” Gabe said without hesitation. “If either of us talks to any law enforcement agency, they’re going to get right back to the investigators in Sadler. With my name. It would mean moving Trina and the girl, at the very least. I’m not letting them out of my sight. So then all three of us would be AWOL and hunted, and I’ll tell you, Alan, I think Sadler PD has a leak.”
“It wouldn’t be a shock if a major trafficking organization had bought themselves a cop or two,” his friend conceded. “But...hell. How are you going to handle it on your own?”
“Don’t know yet. No, I realize we’ll have to trust someone, sooner or later, but right now all I have is speculation. If those two detectives aren’t wondering the same thing you and I are, then they’re even more incompetent than I believed.”
“I’ll give you that.” Alan gusted a sigh. “This is your call, not mine. But if I can do anything, I will, even if it’s bailing you out of jail.”
Gabe’s grunt was almost a laugh. “What are friends for?”
“Keep me informed.”
They left it at that. Gabe stayed where he was for a long while, even though Chloe must be bouncing off the walls with impatience for the promised horseback ride.
What if Michael Keif had somehow discovered that his company trucks were being used to transport illegal drugs? Drugs that might even be packed in O.R.E.-labeled boxes? Everything he’d worked for would be at risk of going down if even one truck was searched and the drugs were found. The feds would have descended like army airborne troops on a known terrorist hideout.
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