"Oh, no!" Dodge's objection boomed loudly in the small confines of the trailer, and he began to pace. "I'm not prepared to believe that anyone at that table is guilty of ransacking your room or is entertaining the notion of getting all the gold for himself. And"—he halted and pointed a finger at Tory—"and I refuse to believe that Ramona had anything at all to do with this! She . . . why, Ramona was crazy in love with the old coot! Don't you think that means anything?"
Tory turned her head away. "It didn't mean anything to my father when my mother was crazy in love with him."
There was a moment of uneasy silence, and Dodge moved to her. "Oh, God, Tory, I'm sorry. I didn't mean—oh, hell. I keep forgetting . . ."
Her lips pressed together firmly. "I can't forget the past, Dodge. Sharkey may have been something close to a saint in the last few years of his life, but he wasn't anything like that to us. And I have a few doubts about some of his friends, too."
"Oh?" He arched an eyebrow and gave her a quizzical glance.
"Not you, of course, Dodge. You—you're different."
"Of course," he murmured, sighing heavily. "Let's drop the speculations now, while we're still speaking to each other, Tory. I think we should go over to your motel room and pick up the pieces."
"Do we have to go back there?"
He glanced at her and watched the fear return to her blue eyes. "Yes, we do," he repeated firmly. "I'll go with you and help you get your clothes. You can come back here for the rest of the night until we decide what to do next. Obviously, you don't feel safe enough to spend the night there again. And I don't want you to. If they could get in once, they can get in again."
"Where . . ." She halted and swallowed heavily.
"Right here." He aimed a thumb toward the back room. "You can sleep in there. I can bunk down on the sofa."
"Oh, Dodge, I can't take your bed."
He grinned. "You know you'll be safe here with me, Tory. I won't let anything happen to you."
She gave him a shaky smile. "Thanks, Dodge. I appreciate your generosity."
"Generosity has nothing to do with it. Sharkey's ghost would haunt me forever if I let anything happen to his little girl."
She stiffened. "So it's for Sharkey? I should have known."
"It's a joint effort," he conceded with a devilish grin. "But I couldn't let you spend a terror-filled night all alone back at that motel. I'll get a shirt, and we'll go survey the damage and gather your things."
As Dodge ambled into the back room, Tory noticed that he was barefooted. No cowboy boots. No shirt. Just hip-hugging jeans on his lean male figure. And darned sexy, too. Was she crazy, agreeing to come back here for the night? Could she trust this man—this man she didn't know at all? But he was Sharkey's trusted friend and partner. Didn't that mean anything? Since she couldn't depend on Sharkey, what made her think she could trust his right-hand man?
When Dodge appeared again, he wore a blue plaid western-cut shirt with those skin-tight jeans. But he'd put on his boots. He looked quite trustworthy . . . and ruggedly masculine.
"Ready to go?"
Tory nodded and knew immediately that she could trust the man. She didn't understand how she knew that, but she did. And she slid confidently beside him onto the Blazer's front seat.
Dodge searched through the ransacked motel room, picking up items at random, stepping over her scattered clothes. Tory stood in the corner, rubbing her arms with a feeling of foreboding she'd never before experienced. Dodge finally turned to her. "Let's get your stuff together here, Tory. Looks like a routine pilfering. Yep, he was looking for something, all right. And he didn't find it."
They worked quietly, Tory neatly folding blouses and slacks, Dodge crushing filmy panties and lacy bras into the corner of her suitcase. He tried not to think of her donning such frilly items. Curiously, he lifted a small hand barbell. "This yours?" he quizzed with a twinkle in his eyes.
"Yes," she answered defensively. "Helps keep me toned while I travel."
"Oh. Is that what does it?"
"Well, I don't have a chance to go to the spa and work out when I'm away from home."
"I see," he observed, tucking the barbell into her suitcase. "No wonder you're so well toned."
She gave him a sideways glance and continued packing without comment.
When they reached Sharkey's old trailer, Dodge hauled her suitcase into the back bedroom. Tory slumped on the sofa in the living room, staring off into space. "I can't believe this is happening to me," she muttered.
Dodge went into the kitchen and she heard glasses clinking. Then he was beside her, his arm extended. "Here, Tory. This'll help. A little Scotch."
She accepted the small glass with a weak smile. "Thanks, Dodge. You know, I'm not usually such a wimp. It just caught me off guard, and I got real scared all of a sudden."
"We just have to be careful in the future."
"I guess ..."
When they finished the drinks, he showed her the bathroom, hung up clean towels, and handed her a set of clean sheets. "This should be enough for tonight."
"It's more than enough, Dodge. And I promise not to be a bother again. Tomorrow I'll—"
"No, you won't. You're staying with me until this is over."
She drew up sharply. "Now listen here—"
"No argument, Tory. I feel responsible."
"To whom? Not to me! Why you never saw me before yesterday, so how could you feel responsible for me?"
"I'm responsible to Sharkey," he said, winking. "I told you, if I let anything happen to you, he'll haunt me forever. Don't worry, Tory. I'll take care of any intruders. You just go to sleep and try to forget everything that's happened." With that, Dodge wheeled around and turned his attention to fixing his bed on the sofa.
She prepared to launch another protest, but when he peeled off his boots and shirt and unsnapped his jeans, Tory thought better of the idea. Shoving the bedroom door shut, she decided she could wait until tomorrow for any further objections to this arrangement.
As she began to unbutton her blouse, she realized that Dodge was in complete charge of the situation and she had put him there. He was making her decisions for her, directing her next move. It had been a damn long time since a man had made her decisions, and she intended to get back in control again. First thing in the morning.
Quickly, she began stripping the bed to apply clean sheets. In the pale light, she noticed a small dark object beneath the head of the mattress and reached for it.
To her horror, Tory drew out a heavy black revolver. Inlaid on the wooden handle was a turquoise star. Distinctive, yet frightening. "Dodge!"
Instantly, he burst through the door and stood beside her, dressed only in his briefs. "What is it? Did you hear something?"
She turned to face him and lifted the trembling hand holding the ominous weapon. "Is—is this how you would take care of any intruders?" At the moment, she was too alarmed to notice his state of dress. Or undress.
His large hand closed briefly on hers as he casually removed the gun from her hand. "Oh, yes, my thirty-eight. Forgot to get it." He turned his back and took a step.
"Dodge?"
He turned back around, and this time she noticed how he was dressed. He wore only a pair of dark-colored briefs. Navy. Oh, dear heavens, navy briefs with seams outlined in white. And his package was bulging!
She tore her eyes away from his body and tried to pretend it didn't matter. Why, she saw men in similar attire at the spa all the time. So what made this cowboy different from any other well-formed, muscular, virile, tanned . . . man? Oh, dear, he was different. And the things he did to her insides were disastrous!
Dodge gazed at her levelly. "Yes, Tory, that's how I would handle any intruder, if I had my weapon within my reach. Unless you want to keep it?"
"Y—you would shoot someone?" She stared at him incredulously, forcing her eyes on his. They were brown and warm and amazingly sexy.
She shook herself. It was just because those gorgeous e
yes were attached to a gorgeous male body and she was extremely weak at the moment.
"I'm a crack shot, Tory. I'd aim for the leg. Or shoulder."
"Oh, my God!" She sank down on the edge of the unmade bed and covered her face with her hands. "Oh, dear, Dodge! What—what kind of place is this? Have I stepped back in time to the old Wild West? Or south L.A. I don't think I belong here."
"Don't be alarmed by our old Western attitudes. Let me worry about that. You just ... go to sleep, and I'll take care of anything else that happens tonight."
"But, Dodge, I don't want any shooting over this."
"Look, Tory, do you mind if we discuss this in the morning, when I have a clearer head and more clothes on?"
"Oh! Yes, of course!" She blushed for the first time in years and waved one hand. "Yes, please, go. It's very disconcerting to see you standing there like that."
"Disconcerting? Does that mean there's a real woman beneath that silky exterior?"
Her mouth twitched as she was torn between laughing hysterically and snapping his head off with another caustic retort. Then her emotions took over, and she responded quite unexpectedly. Large tears formed in her blue eyes as she said in a low voice, "Undoubtedly, I'm more real than most people around here realize or expect. And I'm damned upset by everything that's happened in the last two days. And now I'm damned scared." She turned her face away and quickly swiped at the tears coursing down her cheeks.
Dodge sat down beside her and tucked a long arm around her shoulders. "I guess all this has been somewhat traumatic for you, Tory. Would be for anyone."
She sniffled and leaned back against his shoulder. "This is stupid. Please, go on to bed, Dodge. Forget this ever happened. I—I'm just tired tonight. I'll be all right tomorrow."
He pressed her against his rock-hard shoulder for another moment. "I'll be okay tomorrow, too, but damned if I'll forget the way I feel right now." A quick squeeze-hug, and he was gone.
She sat on the bed's edge for a long time, thinking not of the break-in at her motel room or her father's strange friends or even the pending trek up the mountain for the gold. She could only think of Dodge Callahan and what he did to her libido and how being near him nearly wrecked her emotions. Crazily, she even marveled that a cowboy-type like Dodge would wear colored briefs and how good he looked in them. And, oh, how he filled them out.
The man had responded to her, too. She was close enough—and aware enough—to realize he had reacted physically to her. And that thought sent a feminine thrill radiating through her.
Although mentally and physically exhausted, Tory tossed and turned for hours. She wrestled with the mattress that Dodge's large frame had dented only a few hours before. She couldn't stop thinking about him and wondering what it would be like to make love to the man.
With a shudder, she remembered the gun he'd so easily claimed. He could be a dangerous, violent man. How could she consider letting him touch her when those same hands had eagerly wrapped around the handle of a deadly weapon?
But she did. She not only considered it, but dreamed it.
The next day, both Tory and Dodge made conscious efforts to regain control of their hot attraction and keep their relationship on a business level. Over breakfast, they were subdued and relatively quiet. She didn't mention the dreaded gun and neither did he.
Between sips of steaming black coffee, he muttered, "You didn't sleep much last night. I heard you rolling around. Wasn't the bed comfortable?"
"The bed was fine. It wasn't that. Too much going on inside my head, I guess." Or in my body, she thought. "Sorry I kept you awake. That's another reason I think I should get another motel room."
"Absolutely not. Much too risky. We don't want to take a chance on this happening again and you possibly being around next time."
"Then how about a small apartment for a few weeks?"
"This is a small town, Tory. There aren't any short-term apartments available."
"But I can't just stay here with you."
"Why not? No one will know. I want to keep your presence here as quiet as possible, now that we know someone is causing trouble."
"I'm sure everyone knows about me after the will reading in the saloon."
"If you check out of the motel today, maybe they'll think you've left town."
"Is that necessary?" she asked.
"Well, we'll be leaving for the mountains in a couple of days, and you won't need that or any other room for a couple of weeks. It might fit in with our plans if they think you've left town completely."
"Will we be safer in the mountains?"
"I hope so." He rubbed his hand raggedly over his face.
"Dodge, I'm sorry I caused you so much trouble. It was a rough night."
"Couldn't be helped," he said tightly as he poured more coffee. There was a tension between them that would not go away. They tried to be polite, pretended to ignore the mounting electricity. But something existed that made them both aware of the other's every move.
When Dodge suggested they go shopping for supplies and groceries for the trip, Tory readily agreed to help him with the chore. That would keep them busy and in the public for hours. And Lord knows, that's what they needed until this rush of physical attraction subsided.
They were gone all day. First, Tory checked out of the motel, then drove down the highway several miles and circled back to the trailer on a back road. Dodge was waiting for her.
Then the two of them scouted the stores in Sierra Vista and filled the rear of the Blazer with items needed for the trip. Tory double-checked the lists Dodge had made and helped him organize everything into small boxes that could be easily transferred to pack mules and saddlebags.
Before returning to the tiny trailer for the night, they stopped in Sierra Vista for dinner.
Dodge rested his forearms on the table. "You tired?"
"Exhausted," she admitted. "I won't have any trouble sleeping tonight."
"Good. Me, either. Ready to go?"
Tory accompanied him out, congratulating herself on a day well spent and, soon, an uneventful night. Maybe they had conquered their sexual magnetism, after all.
Dodge unlocked the trailer door, and before she could step inside, he uttered a stream of expletives and bolted inside.
Tory followed him and looked around at the mess inside. "Oh, no, not again!"
CHAPTER SIX
Stunned, Tory gazed around. Every item in the entire trailer had been turned over—and tossed. The place was a wreck, and Dodge was acting like a crazed man.
Furious, he plowed through the rubble, throwing things, cursing. His long arms flailed in frustration, his fists impotently thrashed the air. "Damn it! Look at this mess! Just look at it! How dare he break in here? This is Sharkey's place!"
Last night Dodge had calmed her fears with his strength and self-assurance. And when she'd stayed with him, he'd kept her safe all night. Now was her chance to give him the same reassurance he'd given her.
"Dodge, please, you're making it worse." Tory reached out to him, but he wouldn't stand still and slipped from her grasp.
"What the hell does he think he's doing, disrupting everything like this? The map isn't his! It's ours." He flipped on the hall light and gazed angrily into the bedroom. "He has no right to it alone —no right to do this! No right to invade our lives. Why, I'll—"
"Maybe we should call the police." She followed him, picking her footsteps between the canned goods and skillets and overturned chairs.
"The police?" he repeated derisively, shaking his head. "Do you want everyone in Cochise County to know what we're up to? Nothing will be safe then."
"But I don't want anyone hurt, either," she said. "Especially us."
Dodge gave her a speculative glance, squinting one brown eye. "He's after the map, Tory. Don't you see that?"
"He? Maybe the intruder is 'she'." She shook her head bleakly. "The map. Where is it? Do you still have it?"
He clapped his left hand over his heart, and sh
e heard paper crinkling. "Safe. Right here."
Sighing, her shoulders slumped with relief that she'd given it over to him and forgotten about it. "Good." She moved closer to him and barely resisted the urge to reach up and touch the spot on his shirt he'd patted. Oh, God, he was alluring. Damned appealing, even now in his anger. Maybe more so because he exuded so much power. And masculinity. "Right. It's safe with you, Dodge."
She looked up at him, her blue eyes sincere and warm. She felt no fear, not even the deep resentment she'd exhibited in the past few days. Confidence and admiration replaced everything else.
He was momentarily caught in her gaze. Breathing in deeply, he tried to displace his frustration. "I wish I could say the same about us, Tory, that we're completely safe."
"I feel very safe with you, Dodge."
"Even after this?" He gestured over the mess.
"Yes. He—or whoever—is obviously after the map and waited in both cases until no one was home. He isn't out to harm us, only to steal the key to the gold."
"Besides, I've got the gun."
She shuddered. "But I trust you wouldn't use it unless absolutely necessary. For some crazy reason, I trust my feelings about you, Dodge." She smiled breathlessly. They stood exceedingly close, not touching but exuding an attraction that was nearly tangible. And strongly magnetic, pulling them together.
"Maybe you trust these feelings," he said softly, running a single tanned rough finger over her smooth cheek, "but I don't. They're dangerous. But exciting and. . ."
She breathed through slightly parted lips as he moved slowly to take her in his arms. One hand reached around her neck, long fingers splayed in the wispy blue black hair at her nape. His other hand closed over her shoulder, then eased down the stretch of her back. The chasm between them narrowed until their breathing intermingled and his lips descended to hers. His mustache was like a feather, brushing and teasing her skin while his lips melded with hers. He sipped as if she tasted of sweet wine.
Tory poured herself out to him, giving and at the same time receiving. She opened her lips to take the strength of his tongue, symbol of his masculine life and power.
Callahan's Gold (Southwest Desert Series Book 3) Page 6