by Jill Gregory
She held on, tight, small, wild cries bursting from her. Time and space wavered. Blended. There was only Jake, inside her. His touch, his kiss, his strength. His voice saying her name and his body hot and lean and strong, making her gasp and cry out and bury her face against the warmth of his neck as they joined together in a blur of deep, pure pleasure.
Their lovemaking was sweet and wild and intense. It was different from that night in Houston. Then he’d been practically a stranger, tough, fascinating, and mysterious.
Now…
Now she wasn’t trying to forget someone else. She was here with him, wanting him, not just because he was her childhood hero or rock-star sexy. But because he was Jake—who’d fixed her screen door the week before, who was trying to teach Emma old cowboy ballads he’d learned from his father’s foreman as a kid. Who had stayed here tonight because he cared about her and knew she needed him.
He was kind, calm, fearless, and steady Jake. The daring rodeo rider and the solid-as-a-rock man. The father who made Emma laugh effortlessly, whose face Carly had secretly longed to see in the crowd the night of the auction—though she’d never have admitted it to a soul. The man who made her heart miss a beat whenever she heard his voice or saw him standing on her front porch waiting to be admitted, his black Stetson shading those midnight eyes.
Jake.
After another bout of slow, delicious lovemaking that lasted even longer than the first, a silver-pink dawn drifted gradually into the room, delicate as a dream. She spooned against him, their bodies warm, close, somehow more intimately linked even than when they’d been making love.
Just before she slipped into sleep in his arms, she felt the brush of his lips on the back of her neck.
“I’ll be here just like this when you wake up,” he said quietly. “That’s a promise.”
And those were the last words she heard before drifting into a long, deep, untroubled slumber.
Chapter Twenty
All night long, Jake’s advice had drummed in Brady’s head.
He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it.
As he parked his Harley on Spring Street just before nine o’clock the next morning, and headed to A Bun in the Oven for a muffin, fried eggs, and coffee, he knew he should have been there a lot more for Madison. He never should have stayed away from her these past weeks, watching out for her from a distance. He should have had her back all the time.
He’d thought it wasn’t his job, or his place. That all he’d do was make more trouble for her. That her grandparents would give her grief about him, and she’d had enough strife in her family already.
He hadn’t wanted to be the cause of more.
But ever since the gig at the Spotted Pony, he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about her. Worrying about her. He’d even hung out across from her apartment building a few times late at night when he knew she had gigs. Just to make sure that after parking her car, or getting dropped off by one of the members of the band, she got in the door and upstairs safely.
Not once had she even known he was there.
So now I’m following her, too, he thought. And wondered about the other guy.
Who was he? Brady hadn’t seen anyone else hanging around her building late at night. Not once.
Hell, just call her, he told himself. You owe her a date. It’s a matter of honor.
Torn between eagerness to see her and the conviction that he wouldn’t be doing her any favors, he finished his breakfast and paid his tab. Shoulders straightening with resolution, he left the bakery and strode the few blocks to Madison’s apartment.
He took the stairs two at a time and knocked on her door more than once, but there was no answer.
Maybe she was at work already, taking care of little Emma McKinnon.
Or rehearsing somewhere with the Wild Critters for her next gig. He’d seen a poster at the Lucky Punch, advertising the band’s next performance in Big Timber.
Brady cursed himself for never having asked Madison for her cell number. So he dug a scrap of paper from his jeans pocket, found a stub of a pencil, and scratched out a note.
How about our date? Ice cream. Tonight. I’ll pick you up at seven. If you can’t make it, call me. He hesitated before writing the next line. But I hope you can.
Then he scribbled down his cell number and shoved the scrap of paper under her door.
He’d been intending to go back home and sit with his feet up on the porch railing for a half hour before he had to be at work, but he suddenly was hit by another thought and changed his mind.
Leaving Madison’s apartment building, Brady turned left on Hickock Street and walked toward the sheriff’s office.
Chapter Twenty-one
“All I know,” Carly told Martha on the phone as sunshine poured through the kitchen windows, “is that it definitely wasn’t my cousin breaking in, looking for money. It seems he’s been located—in New Jersey. I can’t believe it. I was so sure it was him.”
She paced across the kitchen, then back toward the table. “According to Sheriff Hodge, Phil’s turned his life around. He works at a manufacturing plant now. He’s been gainfully employed for just over a year. His foreman says he clocked in for the late shift yesterday and was at work during the time of the break-in, so now I don’t know what to think.”
Jake filled two bright blue mugs with coffee and noticed how tightly her fingers were clenched around her phone. She looked rested at least, and beautiful in sleek jeans and a soft plum sweater, but her tension was palpable—and had been ever since the call from Teddy Hodge minutes before.
He couldn’t say he blamed her. If her asshole bully of a cousin wasn’t behind the break-in, they were back at square one. Jake would be spending a whole lot more time making certain she and Emma not only were safe but that they felt safe.
“There’s going to be a lot going on here today while Travis installs the security system,” Carly continued, “and Madison has a three-hour online exam this afternoon, so if you’re sure you don’t mind keeping Emma at your place, I can pick her up sometime later when I head to the shop—”
Carly listened a moment. “Of course I know you like to take her shopping, Martha, but you weren’t planning on being tied up today. Are you sure? You don’t have appointments at the Cuttin’ Loose? Okay, thank you, but don’t spend too much money. Emma has all the clothes she needs. I’ll pick her up at your apartment no later than four.”
Disconnecting the call, she set her phone on the burnished wood countertop and met Jake’s gaze as the smell of fresh coffee wafted through the kitchen.
“She and Dorothy are taking Emma clothes shopping in Livingston today. Martha insists on buying her a new dress to wear for Thanksgiving dinner. I think because it will be her first Thanksgiving at Sage Ranch with your family.”
“My family? Her family,” Jake corrected her. “And yours. They all love you—you know that, don’t you?”
She nodded, a faint smile touching her lips. But her eyes still looked troubled. He knew she was still focusing on the break-in.
Her next words confirmed it.
“I can’t believe we need a security system,” she muttered for the fourth time that morning as she carried a platter of bagels to the table and set it alongside the cream cheese, raspberry jam, and apple cinnamon muffins already arrayed in the center.
Jake was opening the sliding door to let Bronco back in from the yard. “Think of it this way. You don’t actually need Travis’s system. It’s only a backup.”
“A backup to what?” She’d been about to slip into her chair but she paused and stared at him in confusion.
“A backup to me. I told you, until Hodge gets this guy, and all this is resolved, I’m your full-time, round-the-clock, living and breathing security system.” He lifted a brow. “Unless, after last night, you have any objections.”
“Hardly.” She grinned up at him. “Unless you’ve changed your mind.”
“I’m not changing my mind.”
/>
He moved toward her, cupped her face, and brushed his lips against hers. At her instant response, a fierce fire seemed to shoot through his blood. He kissed her again, wanting to do so much more.
But now wasn’t the time. Reluctantly he forced himself to let her go, and as she slipped into her seat, he took the chair beside her.
“How do you know Hodge will get him?” she asked as she spread cream cheese on a bagel.
Jake sipped his coffee. “Because Hodge is good at what he does. And so is Travis. I can guarantee you, after today, no one’s breaking in here again.”
She lifted her cup, then set it down again without drinking. “I really thought it was Phil. It’s been a long time since he called me demanding money, but I can’t think of anyone else who would break in here. It’s unnerving not knowing who was in my house. You heard Sheriff Hodge say there haven’t been any other reports of home invasions in town. And nothing was even stolen. So…”
“Someone was searching for something.”
She nodded, stared bleakly into his eyes. “The question is what.”
He’d been wondering the same thing, turning possibilities over and over in his mind. But so far, he didn’t have a single theory. “We’ll get to the bottom of this, Carly. Give it some time. But right now, I have a plan for the day.”
She swallowed another bite of bagel and studied him. How did he always manage to appear so calm? Somehow, his easygoing confidence steadied her and she found herself smiling almost lightheartedly.
“Does this plan include something besides me going to work and you helping Travis install the system?”
“So happens it does. Since Laureen is opening the shop, I thought we’d wait and let Travis in, then take off while he does his thing. He can put in your system blindfolded—he doesn’t need my help.”
“Take off for where?” she asked, taking a sip of her coffee.
“That I can’t tell you. It’s a surprise.”
Her spirits lifted inexplicably as she saw the anticipatory glint in his eyes. “I have to warn you, I’ve never been fond of surprises. I had a nasty one yesterday when I found someone broke into my house and I’m—”
He leaned forward, cupped her chin, and gave her mouth a gentle little kiss to quiet her. “I promise you this is a good surprise. There’s something I want to show you. It won’t take long. Then I’ll get you to work and after you close for the day, we’ll take Emma to the Lucky Punch for an early supper. If she’s not too tired, I thought we might stop for ice cream at Lickety Split. Something tells me today might be one of the last days we want ice cream for quite a while. We’ll be freezing our butts off before we know it.”
She momentarily forgot about the break-in and the security system and someone searching her home. All she saw, all she knew, was Jake, tall and hunkily handsome in a black shirt tucked into faded jeans, his longish jet hair still damp from the shower, his elbows on her kitchen table as he kneaded her hands gently within his. He was talking about “we” and “us” as if he was going to be around all winter. But he was leaving soon for Salt Lake City. Did he mean that he’d be back fairly often?
Whoa. Don’t count on it, a wiser voice inside her head counseled.
She leaned back and nodded.
“I’d love to see what you have to show me. Something at your cabin? The one you’re turning into a lodge?”
“Not far from my cabin, but we’re actually going past it—somewhere else.” He pulled her to her feet, wrapped an arm around her waist. “Let’s pack a lunch and head out soon after Travis gets here. Bronco can keep an eye on ol’ Travis. I’ll keep an eye on you.”
“And where did you say we’re going again?” she persisted.
“Oh, hell, I may as well tell you.” With a smile, he brushed a strand of her hair from her eyes. “We’re going to Blackbird Lake.”
Chapter Twenty-two
The tall man waited until Tanner’s pickup turned the corner off Blue Bell Drive. Then he hit his accelerator and followed at a discreet distance.
Giff Hurley had watched through binoculars as a powerfully built, dark-haired man driving a black SUV had parked in the McKinnon woman’s driveway and carried a box of some sort into the house, and then a few moments later, Tanner and Carly McKinnon had headed out—only the two of them. He didn’t know what that was all about but the man who’d gone inside had “cop” of some sort written all over him.
The sheriff had been there, too, the previous night. And now this guy shows up.
Damn. I really screwed up. Shouldn’t have been drinking before I went in there. I got real careless.
His client wouldn’t be too happy. The asshole had a temper and had made it more than clear he didn’t want any attention from the cops. But then, Giff thought, he doesn’t need to know. I sure as hell don’t plan to tell him. Not if I don’t have to.
Giff had started out in life planning to build a career on the right side of the law. He’d never thought he’d end up skirting the edge of it.
Hell, he’d wanted to be a cop himself, until he got kicked out of the damned police academy. All because they found out about that stupid drunk driving accident when he was fucking seventeen. They were pissed because he hadn’t bothered to mention it on his application. He guessed mouthing off to his training officer hadn’t helped much, either.
This career was a better fit for him, though. He worked for himself and he didn’t have any dumb-ass rules to follow, except the ones he made up as he went along.
When business was good, he had plenty of dough. When things were quiet, and he hadn’t picked up a case in a while, there were always the casinos.
He usually did pretty well at blackjack—except lately when he’d been on a gawd-damned crazy-shit losing streak.
As Tanner’s truck took a left on Coyote Road, he swore under his breath. Tanner and the McKinnon woman were driving away from town, not toward it, and he scowled at his bad luck.
He’d assured his client the woman would be going to her quilt shop like she did every day. Their plan had been to corner her there, with just her and the other woman who worked for her in the shop. Giff had observed that normally customers didn’t show up until an hour after the shop opened. This little town came awake lazily in the morning—except for that bakery, A Bun in the Oven. So they’d be alone with the two women—and maybe only with Carly McKinnon—if things went their way.
Giff had done his best to make sure the other gal got in late so they could lock the door again and have the McKinnon woman all to themselves.
But now she wasn’t even headed to town, not yet.
And, worse, she wasn’t alone.
Where the hell were she and Tanner going?
He clenched his hands on the steering wheel as he realized he’d have to inform his client there was a little hitch in their plans. Maybe even a major change.
Reaching for his cell, he eased back on the accelerator, keeping Tanner’s truck in his sights.
His employer had landed at Gallatin Field Airport nearly an hour before. He’d rented a car and was already headed to the damned quilt shop in downtown Lonesome Way. The guy was uptight and so keen to get his hands on this woman he probably hadn’t even stopped along the way to piss or eat any breakfast. The bastard wanted answers and he wanted them bad.
He was already riled up and pissed as all hell that during all this time Giff hadn’t managed to produce anything conclusive, nothing substantial enough to use, except a few photos that didn’t prove squat.
So now that his client was finally here, the guy was pumped. Ready to tear up this town and whoever got in his way, if need be. Giff figured it would be best if the man never found out how much time he’d been spending at the casino in Billings, trying to rack up enough dough to keep his ex-wife from squawking since he’d missed three or four child support payments, all the while billing his deep-pocketed client by the hour.
Better that the boss should keep all that fury raging inside him centered on the w
oman, and not on Giff. His sister’s husband had recommended him for this job and he didn’t want any crap hurled back at his brother-in-law, or his sister would get royally pissed.
’Course he could take the guy if he had to, but he’d rather get paid in full and finish this job ASAP with a wad of cash in his pocket. The way Giff figured it, that could happen as early as this afternoon.
He punched the client’s number into his cell, then sped up a little, careful to keep a good distance back from the rodeo champ’s truck as it rumbled away from the outskirts of town, headed in the direction of Sage Creek and the rolling prairie beyond.
Could be those two were headed to some nice secluded romantic spot. A good place to corner the woman, if that was where the boss wanted to do it.
But you never know, Giff reminded himself. The client might want to go a different route. He might want to go after the kid.
Giff could handle that, too. He’d followed Carly McKinnon when she dropped little Emma off at an apartment building in town, apparently for one of her sleepover dates with the old bag—that Davies woman.
Eenie meenie miney mo. Let the client choose how this will go.
One way or another, this job was gonna be finished and done. And he’d be cruising back to Wyoming with a pocketful of dough before the sun stuck its head out the next morning.
Chapter Twenty-three
Laureen was twelve miles from town and singing lustily along to Brad Paisley on the radio when her engine light flashed on.
“Oh, crap. What’s this going to cost me?” Her heart sank as she slowed, staring at the flashing light.
This was turning out to be some week. Three days before, her clothes dryer had conked out and she’d had to fork over almost three hundred bucks for a new one—which hadn’t even been delivered yet. And the night before, she’d finally had her “date” with Cal Meeks, the rancher from Livingston who’d paid good money for a chance to go out with her.