No Strings

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No Strings Page 2

by Gerri Hill


  “One?”

  “If it is female company you desire?”

  Morgan laughed. “They make toys for that sort of thing.”

  “What? Are you the only lesbian in a hundred-mile radius?”

  Morgan nodded. “Feels like it. Although there’s a college in Gunnison, so we’re not totally barren in the area.”

  “And do you raid the sorority houses?”

  “Not anymore, no. They keep getting younger and I keep getting older.”

  “Then professors, perhaps?”

  Morgan nodded. “On occasion.” But her lone dalliance with a professor ended nine months ago. She knew Stephanie wasn’t the woman of her dreams, but after six months of dating, she thought it was at least monogamous. Unfortunately, Stephanie had a weak spot for young college students, Morgan learned. It still smarted to know she’d been tossed aside for a twenty-yearold jock.

  The woman leaned closer. “I’m free this evening.” She laid a casual hand on Morgan’s arm. “In case you’re tired of playing with toys,” she purred.

  Oh, my. A sexual proposition within ten minutes. Must be a record. Morgan flicked her gaze to Tracy, hoping she hadn’t heard. She smiled at the stranger, wondering what she wanted.

  She was attractive. Tall and thin. A little too thin. And her clothes hinted at wealth. What was she doing in Lake City?

  And why is she hitting on me?

  But Morgan shrugged. Maybe this was what she needed.

  Mindless sex for one night. Why not? The last woman to share her bed she’d also picked up here at the bar. Not that either of them remembered it the next morning, and thankfully, the woman had hooked up with her camping buddies and had moved down to Pagosa Springs. Morgan had been shocked to learn the girl was only nineteen. That was in June.

  “What do you say?”

  Morgan drained her beer and set the mug down. She nodded.

  “Okay. Sure.” She got up, motioning to the door.

  “I’ll follow you,” the woman said. “I’m assuming you live alone.”

  Morgan was about to say, no, there was Jackson waiting for her at home. The reality hit hard. “Yes. I live alone.”

  Maybe she should reconsider. She wasn’t sure she was up for a night of passion. But after a slow, snowy drive through the tiny town, Morgan didn’t have time to consider her actions. She didn’t have time to consider much of anything. The woman was on her in a flash, holding her up against the door, her hands at her breasts.

  “I like it rough,” she said as she kissed Morgan fiercely.

  “Rough?” Morgan said weakly, then her eyes widened as the woman’s hand slipped inside her pants.

  “I’m going to take you places you’ve never been before,” she whispered into Morgan’s ear.

  Surprisingly, Morgan wanted to go to those places. She relaxed, giving in to her demands, shocked by how ready she was when the woman entered her. She gasped, her hips rocking against this stranger’s hand. She groaned loudly as the woman bit down hard against her neck.

  “That’s it. Ride me. Feel me so deep inside you. Oh, yes, you’re so wet. Ride me,” the woman chanted in her ear. “Then you can fuck me just as hard. You can fuck me all night.”

  Morgan came instantly.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Morgan lifted her head slowly, afraid to open her eyes. When she did, she sighed with relief. She was alone.

  “Good God,” she mumbled as she rolled over. She was on the wrong end of the bed, covered only by a sheet. The quilt and comforter had been thrown to the floor. She stared at the ceiling, wondering if she’d be able to walk.

  Yeah. She got fucked by a stranger, all right. Fucked in more ways than she could imagine. Her mouth tasted like sex. The room smelled of sex. She closed her eyes and moaned, too tired and sore to move. Even the cold couldn’t put her in motion. But she needed to get up. Jackson would want breakfast.

  Her eyes opened again.

  “No. No Jackson.”

  She turned her head into the pillow. That’s why she had a stranger over last night, she reminded herself. Because there was no Jackson. She finally sat up, groaning again as her muscles protested. She squinted at the clock that had been knocked to the floor. It was already after seven.

  “Christ, what was I thinking?” She swung her legs over the side of the bed, wincing at the ache between her thighs. She looked down, seeing the red bite marks. Then she felt her neck, touching the swollen flesh. A vampire?

  She grinned. No. Just a biter.

  But her grin faded when she looked at herself in the mirror.

  She looked like she’d been assaulted. She bent closer to the mirror, rubbing at the blood on her ear. Her neck was littered with bite marks and bruises, as were her breasts. Thankfully, both her nipples were still intact.

  “Who the hell was she?”

  §

  “What the hell happened to you?”

  Morgan shook her head. “Nothing.”

  “Did you get into a fight or something?”

  “Yeah. Something.”

  She walked away, heading to the coffeepot. Charlie followed.

  “Seriously, Morgan. You look like hell.”

  Morgan took a sip of the strong black coffee, looking at her boss across the rim. “I didn’t sleep last night. At least I don’t think I did.”

  “Because of Jackson?”

  A ghost of a smile touched her lips. “Yeah. Because of Jackson.”

  “You could have taken the day off, you know. They haven’t even cleared all the roads yet.”

  “I know. But I didn’t want to be at home.” She looked at the empty desk by the door. “Where’s Berta?”

  “Oh, I told her to stay home. She lives down past Turner’s Bend, you know. They won’t plow that road until later.”

  “How much did we get?”

  “Ten or twelve inches. Got a good base going. Another snowfall like that and the trails will be ready for snowmobiles.”

  He went into his office, his desk as cluttered today as it had been seven years before when she’d first met him. She was certain some of the same papers had been lying there for years.

  “Not much going on today, Charlie. Why don’t we clean your desk, huh?”

  “Leave my desk alone. Hell, I know where everything is.”

  “No. Berta knows where everything is.” Morgan sat down opposite him, pointing to the clutter. “You never look at this stuff. Why don’t you at least put it in a pile?”

  “September. Then you can put this crap into any kind of pile you want.”

  “That’s the day, huh?”

  “Yep. I’ll finish out August. I figure twenty-eight years in the business is enough.”

  Morgan nodded. “Won’t be the same around here.”

  “No. But I think I’m going down to your neck of the woods.”

  “Florida?”

  “Yeah. Going to buy a trashy travel trailer and park it on the beach,” he said with a laugh. “I love to fish too much to be away from water.”

  And she could imagine him doing it. He was sixty-two years old but could easily pass for ten years younger. He was fit and tan, a true outdoorsmen. And he’d be right at home on the beach.

  “You plan on hooking up with a rich widow woman?”

  He shook his head. “I did rich once. The rich have too many problems.”

  Morgan tilted her head. “How come we never talk?”

  “We talk all the time. What’d you mean?”

  “I know you were married years ago. Didn’t know she was rich. You say you have a daughter, but we’ve never met her, never even seen a picture.”

  “No?”

  “Nope.”

  “So why do you bring it up now?”

  “Why do you think?”

  He leaned back in his chair and propped his boots on his desk, folding his arms behind his head. “I see Berta’s peeked into my e-mail again,” he said. “I’m not used to a woman being around. I’m certainly not used to a daugh
ter.”

  “How old is she?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Thirty-ish, maybe.”

  “Maybe? You don’t know?”

  “I haven’t really been a part of her life. Kinda lose touch with dates that way.”

  She nodded. “So what’s with the visit now?”

  He shrugged. “She called me up and said she had a ski trip planned to Crested Butte. Wanted to know if she could drop by, that’s all.”

  “And are we going to finally get to meet her?”

  “Yes. In fact, I think she’s going to swing by today. Or else next week when she heads back. I didn’t talk to her this morning.”

  He dropped his feet to the floor and scooted closer to his desk.

  “After dinner last night, she said she wanted to see the sights.”

  He laughed. “I told her there wasn’t much to see after dark, but I guess she found something. I didn’t hear her come in until three this morning.”

  Morgan looked away quickly, her mind racing. Who the hell did I sleep with? “So she’s here alone? Didn’t bring a boyfriend?”

  “No, she’s dating some would-be politician but he didn’t come. To hear her talk, they’re about to get married. But this is a ladies only trip,” he said.

  Morgan grabbed the bridge of her nose and squeezed. “I see.”

  Oh, dear Lord, say it isn’t so. “So, your daughter, what does she look like?” she asked as casually as possible.

  “Mona. Her name is Mona. And she’s pretty. Tall and thin. Dark hair. Wears too much makeup if you ask me, but that’s her thing.”

  Morgan nodded. Mona. Moaning Mona.

  I am so dead.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Lake City?” Reese Daniels glanced around. It looked deserted save for the handful of cars parked along the curb.

  Definitely no shops or restaurants, no blinking neon lights, no laughter of tourists. “My God, is this the town?”

  A man cleared his throat behind her and she turned.

  “Need some help there, ma’am?”

  She nodded. “Sheriff’s Office?”

  “Down on the corner there,” he pointed. “Problem?”

  “Definitely,” she murmured as she walked away, her boots clicking on the wet sidewalk. Definitely a problem. Lake City wasn’t Winter Park. There were no ski slopes, no cute women in colorful jackets and tight pants, and no nightlife. She paused and allowed a small smile. And no mayor’s wife. “Ahh, the good old days.”

  She opened the door, surprised as a bell jingled overhead to signal her arrival. That would be the first thing to go.

  “Good afternoon. How may I help you?”

  Reese pointed to the bell. “What are we? A convenience store?”

  “I beg your pardon?” The older lady stepped from around the desk and regarded her. “Are you Reese Daniels?”

  “Yeah. Lose the bell.” She walked up to the counter, which was impeccably neat and organized. And why wouldn’t it be? She doubted much ever happened here in Hinsdale County. How could it? Most of it consisted of mountain passes without any roads. A year in purgatory.

  The woman looked at the bell, then back at Reese. “But Ned—Sheriff Carter—liked the bell. That bell’s been there for twenty years.”

  Reese nodded. “I see. And what’s your name?”

  “Eloise.” She smiled. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Right. So lose the bell, Eloise.” She turned. “And my office would be where?”

  “Oh. It’s in there.” She pointed. “But right now—”

  “Who’s in my office, Eloise?”

  “That’s Googan. He’s kinda been acting—”

  “Like the sheriff,” Reese finished for her. She walked to the door and knocked on the inside wall. “Hey.”

  Googan looked up from the newspaper he was reading and frowned. “What are you doing back here? Eloise?” He stood.

  “You’re not supposed to be back here, ma’am.”

  “Deputy Googan, I’m Reese Daniels. And I believe it’s you who is not supposed to be back here.” He had the grace to blush as he shuffled out of the office.

  “So you’re the temporary sheriff? We thought the snow might hold you up for a day or so.”

  “I’ve seen snow before.”

  “We told them we didn’t need a temporary sheriff. We told them we could handle it.”

  “I’m sure you did.” She turned to face him. “Trust me. I want to be here far less than you want me here.”

  “I’ve been working for Ned nine years. I know the ropes. I know the people here. I know the country. There’s not anything you can do better than me,” he said.

  Reese smiled. “Apparently your county commissioners thought differently. Something about real experience, training, that sort of thing.” She shrugged. “That’s different than being a deputy in a tiny little town, Googan.”

  “I’m just saying, I’ve put in my time. We’d be fine without you. That’s all.”

  Pompous, arrogant ass. She flung the backpack she carried into the chair. “You ever been shot at? You ever busted up a drug deal? You ever pulled your weapon and taken a life?” Her eyes narrowed. “You ever delivered a goddamn baby at two in the morning?”

  He slowly shook his head.

  “Yeah. That’s what I thought.” Then she surprised them by laughing. “Not that I expect we’ll be doing any of those things here in Hinsdale County.” She leaned to look out the window, pulling the miniblinds apart. “So, Googan, how many deputies we got?”

  “Two.”

  She stood and sighed. “Two? That’s it?”

  “Well, there’s not a whole lot of ground to cover in the county, Sheriff.”

  She shook her head. “Don’t call me Sheriff.”

  Eloise looked from Googan to Reese. “What should we call you then? I mean, what did they call you at your other job?”

  “Chief.”

  Eloise frowned and Reese pulled out the chair with her foot.

  “I was Chief of Police. Winter Park. So they called me Chief.” She sat down. “Call me what you want, Eloise, I don’t care. Although I’d prefer it not be bitch or anything like that.”

  Eloise grunted and left the office. Googan smiled apologetically. “I didn’t mean anything by all that. I mean, it’s just, Ned had been here for so long. Me too. We just assumed—”

  “I understand.”

  “And you know, come election time next year, I’ll be running for sheriff.”

  “It’s all yours, Googan. Trust me. As soon as my time is up, I’m gone.”

  “Why did you take this assignment then?”

  “Take it?” She laughed humorlessly. “No, Googan. I didn’t take it. Let’s just say it was forced on me and leave it at that.”

  She spun in her chair, turning her back on him. She finally heard him leave. Great, Daniels. Why don’t you piss off the staff in the first five minutes?

  “Okay, I think I will,” she murmured. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. A year and a week. That was her sentence.

  She was free to leave next November. Damn the mayor’s wife.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “Top of the morning to you, Morgan,” Sloan greeted her.

  Morgan frowned. “What the hell? You Irish today, Sloan?”

  He nodded as he filled her coffee cup. “The wife’s idea. Flavored coffee,” he said.

  She took a sip and grimaced. “Where’s my plain old roast, Sloan?”

  “Irish cream.”

  “How many people have you run off with this coffee so far?”

  He bent closer. “I have to give you one cup of this first, then we’ll go to the regular.”

  She sipped again. “I guess it could grow on you.” She glanced to the kitchen. “I feel like a full breakfast this morning.”

  “Sausage or bacon?”

  “Bacon.”

  “Toast or pancakes?”

  “Toast.”

  “Hash browns or—”

&n
bsp; “Hash browns and two eggs, over easy.” She rolled her eyes.

  After seven years, they still had this conversation.

  He topped off her coffee cup again. “You hear about the new sheriff?”

  She shook her head. “You mean we won’t be subjected to Googan for a year?”

  He laughed. “No. But some woman.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “A woman?”

  “A real hellcat, to hear Googan tell it.” He leaned closer.

  “The bitch from hell, that’s what he said.”

  “Great. Just what we need.” She set her cup down. “I’ll have Berta get the scoop from Eloise,” she said. She smiled as he went to place her order. Small towns. A curse and a blessing. You could usually find out anything about anybody just by going through Berta and Eloise. Of course that meant your life was also an open book. Which made her wonder how long it would be before someone brought up Moaning Mona.

  §

  Morgan sat at her desk and did what she always did after the first major storm. She made a listing of the most popular crosscountry trails and snowmobile routes and made notes on which ones she still needed to mark. Every summer, before the seasonal staff got laid off, she had intentions to get the trails marked for skiing long before the first snowfall. And each year, that plan fell through. So she was forced to strap on skis and hit the trails herself.

  She hated cross-country skiing. But the snowmobile routes?

  Oh, yeah, now that was fun. She intentionally left those for last, waiting until a good base was down before attempting those in the backcountry. But since the storm a week ago, they’d only had a dusting. The snow had all but melted in the lower elevations.

  “Hey,” Berta called quietly across the room. “Take a look,” she said, motioning to the street.

  Morgan inwardly groaned. Moaning Mona was walking beside Charlie, heading this way. She gripped the edge of her desk hard, trying to decide how she was going to play it. She tried to act as nonchalant as possible, only giving the approaching couple a cursory glance. Maybe Moaning Mona wouldn’t remember her.

  Or maybe if she showed indifference, Mona would think Morgan didn’t remember her.

  Yeah, good luck with that.

  She kept her head down when the door opened, feigning interest in her trail map. But it would just be rude to totally ignore them. She finally glanced up and offered a quick smile.

 

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