Redemption at Hawk's Landing

by Rita Herron

  Which meant this probably wasn’t Chrissy. Although they still needed to wait on the autopsy.

  “How long has the body been here?” Lucas asked.

  The doctor shrugged. “Years. I’ll call in a forensic specialist to help us narrow down the time frame and cause of death.”

  Lucas jammed his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “Let me know what you find so we can compare to the FBI’s database and NCMEC. We also have a forensic artist who does facial reconstruction.”

  “Have you searched the mine?” Harrison asked.

  The detective rubbed his temple. “We did a preliminary search in case there were more bodies, but didn’t find one. We’ll process again for forensics.”

  “Lucas and I want to look around,” Harrison said.

  The detective nodded agreement, and Harrison and Lucas tugged on gloves, then used their flashlights to illuminate the interior as they examined the area where the body lay.

  Harrison stooped to study a clump of dirt and found a book of matches that were half-rotted along with kindling as if someone had built a fire inside. Kids or hiker/campers, although they weren’t very smart. There could be gas pockets inside and the place could have exploded.

  The tunnel led to a section that had once been excavated, then parted in two directions. Lucas took one and Harrison inched into the other. The space was small, ceiling low, dark and dank, and somewhere ahead water trickled.

  His foot hit something, and he shone the flashlight on it and realized he’d stepped on a beer can. Moving deeper, he scanned the floor and walls, then something shiny glinted in the darkness.

  He inched toward it, then dropped to his knees and aimed his light on it. Something was almost buried in the dirt. He dug the dirt away with his fingers, his breathing puffing into the enclosed space as he struggled for air.

  The dirt gave way to a silver chain. Frowning, he dug more dirt away until he freed the chain.

  He held it up, studying it. It was an old-fashioned pocket watch. Not one a little girl would have, but a man.

  Had it belonged to the girl’s killer?

  * * *

  HONEY RUBBED HER arms to chase the chill away as she watched medics bring the body out and load it to transport to the morgue.

  Harrison and Lucas finally emerged, both ashen faced and grim. She joined them with the detective by the ME’s vehicle.

  Harrison lifted a silver pocket watch and showed it to the detective. “I found this inside. It could belong to one of the miners or someone exploring the cave. But it’s possible it was the killer’s.”

  Lucas bagged it. “I’ll get it to the FBI’s lab right away.”

  Dr. Thoreau opened the driver’s side of his vehicle. “I’ll let you know as soon as I finish the autopsy and the forensic artist does her thing. I’ll also send those samples to the lab as you requested and fax you the results.”

  The men shook hands and the ME climbed in his vehicle and took off.

  Harrison and Lucas headed toward Lucas’s sedan and she climbed in the back seat.

  But the image of that pocket watch nagged at Honey as Lucas drove away.

  Someone she’d known as a kid had a pocket watch.

  Her father?

  She racked her brain but couldn’t remember him owning one.

  Fatigue pulled at her, but every time she closed her eyes, she saw the girl’s skeleton. Vacant pockets where her eyes had been. Bones brittle and decayed.

  Lucas and Harrison had lapsed into a strained silence, the tension thick with unanswered questions.

  “Do you think we should talk to Mother?” Lucas asked as he made the turn to Lower Tumbleweed.

  “Not until we know something for certain,” Harrison said.

  Lucas agreed, then pulled up to the ruins of her father’s house. The scent of burned wood, grass and leaves permeated the area, smoke clogging the air. A few embers still sparkled in the debris, but a fire worker remained to monitor the area in case the sparks reignited and started to spread.

  They all climbed from the sedan and the Hawk men stepped near Harrison’s SUV and conferred for a moment while Honey retrieved her keys and unlocked her van.

  “What about Honey?” she heard Lucas murmur to Harrison. “Is she in a hotel?”

  “She’s going to stay at my place,” Harrison said in a low voice.

  A breeze stirred the smoke again, reminding her of the fact that someone burned down her house tonight.

  “What’s going on with you two?” Lucas asked.

  Harrison muttered something beneath his breath. “Nothing. I’m the sheriff and she’s in danger. I’m just doing my damn job.”

  Honey opened her van door and slid inside. Harrison was right. Nothing was happening between them.

  It couldn’t.

  Even though she wanted him with every breath of her being.

  * * *

  HARRISON WAITED FOR Honey to park at his cabin before he went inside. He’d lied through his teeth to Lucas.

  Well, maybe not lied...

  There was nothing really between him and Honey, except...this tension. Sexual tension he had to resist.

  Hell, after seeing her work in Austin, his admiration for her had risen even more.

  Liking her and wanting her was messing with his mind.

  “I need to shower,” he said as they entered his cabin. He desperately had to wash the stench of the mine and what he’d seen off him. The acrid odor of smoke and sweat also permeated his skin.

  “I need a shower, too,” Honey said.

  She slipped into the guest room, and he gritted his teeth as the shower water kicked on. Dammit, he wanted to strip and join her. Work off some of his nerves and anxiety and hunger for her by pounding himself inside her body.

  He wanted to wipe the pain and fear off her face and make her smile and whisper his name in the throes of passion.

  Anything to erase the memory of that skeleton from his mind.

  He ducked into his room, removed his clothes and stepped into the shower. The hot water soothed the knots in his shoulders, and he soaped and scrubbed his skin and hair, washing away the odors of the night.

  He wished he could wash away the ugliness in his soul, the pure bitterness and hate he had for the person who’d taken Chrissy and destroyed his family.

  The water grew cold, and he stepped from the shower and dried off, then slipped on clean jeans and threw on a T-shirt. The cabin felt warm from the Texas heat, and outside the trees stood motionless with the lack of a breeze.

  He ran a towel over his wet hair then shoved it back off his forehead with one hand and strode into the den. He went straight to the bar and poured himself a whiskey.

  The guest bedroom door opened, and Honey appeared, wearing a tank top and pair of thin cotton pajama bottoms. His mouth watered as he looked her over.

  Her long golden hair hung in damp strands around her shoulders, framing her beautiful face. Void of makeup, she looked impossibly young and innocent. Her rose-colored lips accentuated her pale skin and triggered wicked thoughts of kissing her again.

  “I understand today was hard for you,” she said in a low voice.

  * * *

  HE TOSSED THE drink down, then poured another. Honey walked toward him then picked up a second highball glass.

  “Mind if I have one?”

  He shook his head. “Sorry, I should have asked. I—”

  “You don’t have to explain,” she said softly.

  He averted her gaze and focused on pouring her whiskey to keep from touching her. But when he turned to hand the glass to her, and their fingers brushed, a current of need shot through him.

  Her eyes widened as if she felt it, too. As if she shared that same need.

  He hasti
ly walked away, stood in front of the French doors leading to the back porch and stared at the view of Hawk’s Landing that stretched behind his cabin. This ranch was beautiful, but he hadn’t enjoyed it in years for dwelling on his family’s sorrow.

  Behind him, he heard Honey approach. Then he felt her stroke his shoulder, and he groaned.

  “I’m sorry, Harrison. It’s been a rough day.”

  He nodded. “For you, too.”

  “Like I told you, that house means nothing.”

  But it was her childhood home. It held bad memories of a life when she’d felt unwanted.

  Yet she’d come so far since. In spite of the cold way his mother and the people in Tumbleweed had treated her, she’d grown into a loving, caring woman and made a success out of herself. Here, today, she’d been threatened and her house had burned down in front of her eyes, yet she seemed more concerned about him than herself.

  He tossed the second drink down, then faced her. The compassion and yearning in her eyes shredded his last bits of composure.

  He set the glass on the side table, then took a step closer to her. Her eyes darkened. Her lips parted on a breathy sigh.

  He slipped her empty glass from her hand and set it beside his own. Then he yanked her into his arms and closed his mouth over hers.

  * * *

  HONEY DIDN’T KNOW what to think. She’d heard Harrison say there was nothing between them, yet all she could think at the moment was how much she wanted him and that he wanted her.

  And after all they’d been through, there was no way she would deny him. Or herself.

  Pleasure rarely came to her and she wanted it now. Wanted this time with him. Wanted to feel what it was like to be naked with Harrison, to be held in his arms and loved by him.

  Even if it only lasted tonight.

  He plunged his tongue inside her mouth and she met him thrust for thrust. Her arms slid around his neck, her body fitted hot and close against his as he drew her hips into the V of his thighs.

  Hunger, need and desire exploded inside her, and she murmured his name, silently begging him not to stop. Not ever.

  He cupped her hips with his hands and thrust his hard length against her belly and she moaned his name.

  The clothes were too much.

  They had to go.

  She was emboldened by the passion in his touch as he raked kisses along her neck and jaw and trailed one hand over her breast. Gently he stroked her ripe nipple until it ached for his mouth, and she pushed his shirt off his shoulders.

  He hadn’t bothered to button it, thank God, or she would be ripping buttons in her haste.

  With one quick flick of her hand, she dropped the garment to the floor and drank in his bare chest. Bronzed, wide shoulders led to taut muscles in his arms and chest that hardened and flexed beneath her gaze. She traced her fingers down his chest to the waistband of his jeans.

  His breath hissed out. “Honey...”

  “Yes,” she breathed against his chest as she teased his nipple with her tongue.

  He threw his head back and moaned, allowing her access, and she kissed and stroked his chest and abdomen, tasting the salty skin of his washboard abs and lower to his belt line where she yanked the snap on his jeans free and slid her hands inside to stroke his waist and hips.

  He groaned again, then pushed her away, swung her up in his arms and carried her to his bedroom. He closed the door with his foot and laid her on his massive oak bed, then stopped and stared at her with hooded eyes.

  She was afraid he’d change his mind, but instead he released a guttural groan, half pain, half pleasure. “Honey, I wish I didn’t want you but I do.”

  Hurt wavered with the heat his words evoked. She started to get off the bed and run, to try to save herself from the memory of his touch so later she wouldn’t be tormented by it, but he growled and shook his head, then leaned close to her and kissed her again.

  This time a fever broke loose in her body, the throbbing need so intense, she forgot everything except that she had to have him.

  She raked her nails down his bare back as he climbed on the bed on top of her, then she shoved at his jeans. He pushed at her pajama bottoms just as frantically, and she kicked them away, leaving her wearing a tiny white lace thong and tank top. He lowered his mouth and kissed her neck and throat, his fingers toying with her nipples through the thin fabric. His hot breath bathed her neck and breasts as he lifted her top over her head and tossed it to the floor. She heaved a breath and closed her eyes, savoring the sensations spiraling through her as he tugged one nipple between his teeth.

  She clawed at him, wanting him closer. But he took his time, suckling one nipple then the next, triggering erotic sensations to stir in her womb and rise to a crescendo.

  His lips found her belly button next, and he licked and teased his way along the lace line of her panties, then tugged them away and fused his mouth to her center.

  She cried out as he lifted her hips, tossed the panties aside and took her sweet nub into his mouth.

  Her body quivered in ecstasy and she groaned his name, losing herself in the moment as he brought her to the brink of release.

  When he pulled away, leaving her aching, she whispered his name in a plea. He smiled through eyes glazed with passion, then snatched a condom from the bedside table, rolled it on and shoved her legs apart.

  Wet, slick and needy, she opened for him, clinging to him as his sex teased her opening. He moved against her, stroking her inner thighs with his fingers until she practically begged him to join his body with hers.

  And he did.

  One quick hard thrust, and his thick manhood filled the emptiness inside her. She cried his name as sensations overcame her and her body exploded in a frenzy of mindless heat and pleasure. He stroked and rubbed her with his sex, pulling out and thrusting again, tormenting her with the force of his hunger.

  Her body shook and quivered, and she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him deeper inside her until she felt him stiffen, then tense.

  She sucked at his neck and raked her hands over his butt, thrusting her hips upward. He buried his head in her neck and moaned as he came apart inside her.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Harrison’s body shook with the force of his release.

  He breathed against Honey’s neck, savoring the feel of her soft skin and body beneath his.

  Unexpected emotions pummeled him, and he held her tighter, willing himself to maintain control. He’d had sex with plenty of women before, but he’d never made love.

  Love?

  He couldn’t love Honey Granger.

  She whispered his name against his chest, and he stilled and looked into her eyes. He feared he’d see regret and she’d shove him away, but instead passion glazed her expression and a soft smile lit her normally sad eyes.

  God, she was beautiful when she smiled.

  He wanted to erase the sadness forever.

  Fear nearly choked him. How could he do that?

  She rubbed his back, planted a kiss on his chest, then cupped his face between her hands and drew him closer for another long, heated, mind-blowing kiss.

  He forgot all reason and kissed her again, loving the way their bodies fitted together and the way she clung to him.

  He rolled her sideways, then slowly extricated himself, dropped a kiss into her hair, then slipped from bed and padded to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. A quick look in the mirror and he didn’t recognize himself.

  Hunger and raw desire darkened his eyes and made him look primitive and rough.

  He washed up, then glanced at Honey through the crack in the door. She lay naked, tangled in the sheets, and she’d turned to her side, facing him. Her hair draped one sexy bare shoulder and spilled across the pillow, the pale moonlight streami
ng through the window creating a soft glow. She looked like a cross between an angel and a sex goddess.

  Desperate need burned through him. He didn’t stop to analyze it. There would be time for that when she left Tumbleweed.

  Right now she was here, in his bed, naked and hot from his loving. He wanted to keep her there a little longer.

  Heart hammering, he strode back to the bed. One knee hit the mattress, then the other. He tilted Honey’s chin up with his thumb. Her lips parted, her breath puffed out. Her gorgeous breasts rose and fell, her nipples’ stiff buds begging for his touch.

  He complied. First with his hands, and then with his mouth.

  She gave in return, kissing and suckling his neck, raking her fingers across his back, then his butt, then guiding his sex to her. He paused long enough to roll on another condom, then he parted her legs and stroked her sensitive nub.

  She braced her hands on each side of him, rotating her hips in sensual decadence as she coaxed him deep inside her. He gripped her waist and thrust hard and fast, plunging in and out of her warm chamber, driving her to a frenzy of need that sent them both over the edge.

  She cried out his name as her body quivered in release. Then she rotated her hips again, pumping his hard length until his body gave in to another orgasm. Sweet, blissful release overcame him, and he dragged her mouth to his, telling her with his moan and with his body how much she meant to him.

  * * *

  HONEY CLENCHED THE covers and willed this euphoria to last as Harrison disappeared into the bathroom again. She half expected to hear an apology, but instead he climbed back in bed, wrapped his arms around her and pulled her next to his hard body.

  She smiled, pure bliss enveloping her, as she snuggled into him.

  She’d been alone all her life. But tonight she’d made love to the man she’d fantasized about for years. It was even more wonderful than she’d imagined.

  Harrison brushed her arm with his thumb, and she closed her eyes, content in his arms.

  Fatigue dragged her into a deep sleep, and she dreamed that she and Harrison had made a life and a home together. They’d built a house on his ranch and they had horses and...a baby on the way.