Tormented by the Lawman (Mountain Force Book 3)

by Rhonda Lee Carver

  “Job means I’m getting paid for work. This isn’t a job.” He swallowed hard, almost telling her it was a trade, but thankfully he caught himself. She didn’t need to know all the details why he came with her. “Maybe one day you’ll accept that I’m not an ogre.”

  “Maybe when you stop scowling like you’re sucking on lemons, I’ll start to see that you do have a warm heart.”

  He chuckled and left her side to throw another log on the blaze. The room was now comfortably warm. “I’m going into the kitchen and scavenging for something for you to drink. A couple cups of warm liquids and you’ll be back to your sassy self.”

  Her eyes dazzled in the firelight. Although she looked a mess with her wild red curls framing her pink face and her chapped lips, she still looked good enough to…what? Kiss? Make love with? Damn, that couldn’t have been his trail of thought. He didn’t like her let alone want to touch her, at least not undressed.

  Standing at the center of the room, he looked at several closed doors.

  “That way.” She pointed to a closed doorway. “You should find the cabinets fully stocked. Uncle Brent always keeps things in full living capacity for last minute getaways.”

  The kitchen was nice enough for a chef from its professional appliances to the glass cabinets and sleek, white accessories and ceramic floor. He didn’t know his way around a kitchen and preferred to stay far away, but he had learned to make a few things along his thirty-five years. Opening cabinet after cabinet and then another door, he struck gold. Hazel was right, the place was fully stocked and a person, or more, could live stranded on the mountain for weeks, maybe months.

  There was also a nice stock of coffee and tea. He needed caffeine like he needed his next breath.

  “Don’t get used to this,” he said as he carried out a tray.

  She pushed herself against a pillow and rubbed her eyes. “I think I fell asleep for a second or two. What did you bring?”

  “Soup and tea for you. Coffee for me.” He set the tray on the table next to a stack of contemporary art books and handed her the steaming cup. “I hope chamomile is fine. There were at least twenty varieties and I thought the box for that one looked the prettiest.”

  “Are you always this domesticated?” She looked at him through the steam of her cup.

  “Domesticated? No. But capable of heating water and soup? Yes.” He stacked another log on the fire and took his coffee and sat down on the chair, looking into the blaze as if it had turned into a crystal ball. What had he gotten himself into?

  A silence had lulled over them for a while and he happened to look over finding that Hazel had fallen asleep with the empty bowl sitting on her lap.

  He got up, placed his empty cup on the tray, took her bowl and did the same then covered her with the warm blanket. The sun had long set outside, so he decided to let her sleep.

  Taking the dirty dishes into the kitchen, he filled the dishwasher then checked his phone for service, disappointed that he had none. Shoving the phone into his pocket, he grabbed his bag where he’d left it by the front door then took the stairs. He and Hazel hadn’t talked about sleeping arrangements and he guessed, tonight, she’d spend it on the couch. A three-mile hike wasn’t anything, but add the thirty percent incline and twelve inches of snow and even the fittest would have trouble climbing it. He had a newfound respect for her, and she didn’t complain once. He had the feeling she wanted to prove something to him, and he could admire that too. Wanting to prove himself had gotten him through a lot of hard times in the tough SEALs training.

  Upstairs, he settled his bag on the bed of the first room he came to, removed his gun and placed it on the nightstand. He extended his arms high above his head, stretching the kinks in his muscles then he spread out on the red comforter, feeling his leg spasm. He’d pushed himself today and his leg was pissed. Once upon a time, he could have scaled a mountain three times the size of Pitchfork and not feel even a hint of pain. These days, his body demanded he take better care of it.

  Rolling onto his back, he looked up at the planked ceiling and sighed. Although Hazel could be a bit irritating and eccentric, she didn’t seem the type who’d see things that weren’t there, like a murder and two killers. Over the years, he’d worked with a lot of witnesses and making up killers wasn’t the norm. The question, what would she have to gain by lying? Sure, he’d thought that she wanted away from the campaign office, and Cox guessed that would be a good enough reason, but she seemed sincere.

  He’d meant to rest his eyes for a minute, but he ended up falling asleep. He came awake with a jerk and sat up, frantically surveying the room, realizing where he was, and that he’d only been having a nightmare of being back in the convoy that had been attacked by the enemy. His clothes were drenched in sweat and his stomach was in knots. Over the years, his sleep had been haunted with the scene of the explosion that had left many of his team—his friends—dead and his leg busted. The IED had exploded and knocked Cox out for a few minutes. When he awoke to the cover of smoke and the chaos of damaged Hum Vees, he managed to stand, although he had a three-inch piece of metal embedded in his thigh. Two men in his unit still had a pulse and he’d carried them to safety…a word he used loosely because he’d wanted to do more. If one man or woman lost their life then it was too many.

  Pushing off the bed, he refused to be consumed by that day. Not now. Not when he needed to concentrate on getting through the next few.

  Rummaging through his backpack, he found a shirt, clean jeans and laid them aside then tossed the pack under the bed with his weapons inside. Stepping into the adjoining bathroom, he turned on the water in the glass shower stall. Removing his clothes, he neatly folded them and placed them on the floor then stepped under the spray that felt heavenly to his strained body.

  Reaching for the bottle from the shelf, he lifted the cap and the feminine scent smelled a lot like Hazel. Pouring a small amount into his palm he scrubbed the shampoo into his hair then did the same with his body with the other bottle that promised softer skin.

  Rinsing and shutting off the water, he dried off, laid the towel over the hook and strolled into the bedroom about the same time he heard a shocked gasp.

  Chapter 11

  Hazel had woken up on the couch with the blanket covering her and the fire nothing but embers. The clock read ten thirty. She had slept for a while, and Cox must have gone to bed.

  Taking her suitcase upstairs, she placed it on the bed and opened the lid. Grabbing a sleep shirt, she undressed, removed her bra, and pulled the T-shirt over her head, dragging it down her hips before grabbing her small bag of toiletries and started for the bathroom when she heard a click.

  The door swung open and Cox appeared, followed by a fog of steam. He was completely naked. His eyes widened and an impetuous moan fell off her lips. He jumped back inside the bathroom while she stood frozen. When he came out again he had a towel slung around his hips.

  “What are you doing in here?” he muttered.

  “What are you doing? This is my room.”

  “How the hell was I supposed to know this is your room?” Beads of water dripped from the ends of his hair onto his bare shoulders. “Maybe you should have knocked.”

  “The door was open. I didn’t see your things.” The shock had passed and now the realization that she was standing in a bedroom with half naked man, one that looked amazingly good wearing only a towel, struck her like a wrecking ball. “Y-you can stay. I’ll go.” She backed up.

  “No. This is your room. I’ll go.” He stepped over to the bed and she watched him grab his bag from under the bed and all she could do was stand there admiring the breadth of his back and his muscular legs. She was still staring when he closed the door behind him.

  Lord, the man was built.

  Denise’s words echoed through Hazel’s head. What would you do if you saw him naked?

  Inside the bathroom, she inhaled the smell of her shampoo and body soap. Her eyes automatically went to the glass doors, seei
ng the drops of water left on the tile. She didn’t think she’d ever take a shower again without an image of Cox, naked, with the water running over his muscles.

  Hurrying to brush her teeth and wash her face, she ran to the bed and climbed between the sheets, immediately catching a hint of his musk scent. Her nostrils were consumed with his smell and it did silly things to her core.

  ****

  The tall, elegant blonde checked her reflection in the full-length mirror, fixing the already perfect ringlets brushing her cheeks, then saw that she wasn’t alone. “What do you want?” She twirled, sending the delicate hem of the Valentino floral lace gown swinging around her ankles.

  “There’s something you need to be aware of,” the slender man nervously pushed his glasses further up his nose.

  “How stupid can you be? Anyone can see you come here and then what?” She bit through clenched teeth and hurried to drag him inside the room and closed the door.

  “You’ll understand once you see this.”

  Frustrated, she sashayed to the vanity in her dressing room and sat down on the plush stool. “This better be good. The Congressman is expecting me to be at his side, looking fabulous, in fifteen minutes.” She patted her flawless face with a powder puff. Not one wrinkle or fine line marked her skin and at fifty-five she was proud—or rather proud of the work all the doctors had done. Worth every single cent of the thousands of dollars she’d spent over the last ten years to look her best—to hold her own against the other political wives. Once upon a time, she’d been the loyal, loving wife, but living as a politician’s spouse for as long as she had, she’d grown to see this as a career, or a business deal. She’d become a professional at her “job”. Dressing in the best designs, always wearing a flawless smile, and attending so many tea times she lost count . She deserved millions.

  “This is important,” Lucifer said in a low voice.

  She looked at him through the mirror. The man disgusted her. He’d agreed to help her out of a sticky situation, but what sort of slimeball betrays a Congressman? She didn’t trust him, not even a sliver. “I’m waiting.”

  “We have a big problem.” He stepped forward and laid a red flash drive onto the vanity top.

  “What’s this?”

  “Let’s just say that device isn’t worth a hundred grand.”

  Swirling on the stool to look at him, she sighed. “What’s the problem?”

  “I viewed it and it’s blank. There are no files on the drive. Except for a rather offensive picture of two pigs.”

  She jumped up so fast that she knocked the stool onto the floor with a loud crack. “What do you mean it’s blank? I thought you said the situation was taken care of?” Her limbs went cold.

  “I only told you what Dumb and Dumber told me. They said they retrieved the device and took care of the problem.”

  Strolling to the mini bar, she poured herself a small amount of whiskey and downed it, squinting as it burned its way into her esophagus. “These men…do they know the drive is empty? Are they playing games with us?”

  “I haven’t contacted them to ask. I was waiting for your instruction.” Lucifer tightened his hold on the folder he held against his chest, looking quite green around the collar.

  “If these thugs have tried to pull a fast one—”

  “There’s more. We might have an even bigger problem.”

  She gave the Botox in her face a run for its money as anger came over her. “I go away for three days—three fucking days,” she seethed, “And you botch things up. It was simple. Get the evidence for me and get rid of the witness. Tell me, is that man still alive?”

  “No.” Lucifer cleared his throat.

  “Spit. It. Out,” she hurled.

  “I’m afraid the office wasn’t empty as planned when the men entered. A worker had stayed over to get caught up. The killers attempted to get her, but because of the time constraint she slipped through their fingers.”

  Rubbing her firm brow line, she groaned, looking across the space of her dressing room to the scrawny man who she wanted to strangle. “My God, what does money buy these days? Two clumsy goons and a dimwit.” She slid her palms down the bodice of her gown and breathed in as deeply as she could in the one-size-too-small dress. Parading to the highbacked loveseat, she sat and regrouped her emotions and frustration. “What is the damage? What exactly did this employee see?”

  “She saw everything, at least the worst parts. There’s more to it.”

  “Of course there is.” She gave a laugh that sounded more like a cackle.

  “The witness is your niece. Hazel.”

  Her crimson lips snapped open into a perfect O. “Why doesn’t this surprise me? That little bitch has been a thorn in my backside since I married her Uncle,” she fumed.

  “I’m afraid the police were called, but the good news is the Dumb Twins at least did something right by cleaning up all the evidence, even the security footage just as instructed.”

  “Yet, where is my drive? Why didn’t we just do as that nitwit asked? Hand over the money for the flash drive.”

  “Ma’am, you said you didn’t trust him. That we needed to get rid of him,” he reminded her.

  She strummed her talon-like nails on the arm of the couch. “You know if anyone finds that damn stick I’ll lose everything. Your precious Congressman can say sayonara to the presidency. All of this will be gone.” She swept her ornamented hands through the air. “You’ll be flipping hamburgers at some greasy joint because once the word is out about your betrayal no politician, not one, will allow you within fifty feet of their campaigns. We have a lot at stake, Lucifer. Not just me but we both do. Now where is that bitch and why isn’t she on some slab at the morgue’s office? I’ll kill her with my bare hands if I must. She’s worth a chipped nail.” She started for the door.

  “She’s not here.”

  Vanessa swirled so fast that she almost lost her balance. Her hands were clenched tightly at her sides and she looked like she was ready to detonate. “Where. Is. She?”

  “At Pitchfork.”

  “Pitchfork? Really? Great. This should be easy to handle. It won’t bother me in the slightest seeing her put out of her misery—my misery.” She glared back at the assistant with dark eyes.

  “There’s a conundrum—”

  “What can possibly stand in the way? Dumb and Dumber should be able to find her and kill her. She’s nothing but a bitch with nice hair.”

  He rolled his eyes and dropped the folder onto the glass table in front of the loveseat. She stared at it for a good five seconds then finally picked it up and scanned the first page. Her brows gave a good attempt at scrunching. “Who is this?”

  “Agent Cox Landon. The Congressman called him in to protect Hazel. She’s not alone at the cabin.”

  She scrutinized page after page of the agent’s credentials. “It doesn’t surprise me that my husband would go to such length to protect his sweet little niece.” She growled and tossed the folder back onto the table. “There are now two who our men will have to take care of.”

  Lucifer chuckled. “You read Landon’s qualifications. I don’t think killing him is a choice—”

  “Look, I don’t care how you take care of this situation as long as I get my flash drive and the evidence is destroyed. Whomever you must destroy to make that happen you keep it to yourself. Just get it done.” Her breasts heaved up and down, almost falling out of the low neckline. “Tell those bumbling idiots that they don’t get the rest of their money until they finish what they started. If they value their existence, they’ll take care of this.”

  A knock on the door made Vanessa and Lucifer jump in alarm.

  “Vanessa? Are you ready? We don’t want to be late,” Brent said through the door.

  She pointed at the folder and Lucifer obediently grabbed it.

  “I’m coming,” she called out. Getting up from the couch, she grabbed Lucifer’s arm and practically dragged him across the room, pushing him into the bathr
oom. She mouthed, “Stay put!”

  Giving herself a quick look in the mirror and reaching in and fixing her large breasts in the low-cut top, she finally plastered a smile on her face and opened the door. As always, Brent looked regal and handsome in his black tux and signature red bow tie. His hair was stylish and he was polished all the way down to his polished shoes. Too bad they’d fallen out of love years ago and he no longer did anything for her. Now they were two strangers living under one roof. He cared more for his voters than he did for her.

  “Are you ready?” He didn’t even meander his gaze down her slim frame that she worked hard and diligently to maintain, not only for herself but for his political opportunities. Anger sliced through her.

  “I told you I’d be down when I was ready. I’d think by now you’d realize it takes me more than a brush through my hair for these events. Everyone expects me to look my best.” She couldn’t hide the irritation in her voice, not that she cared.

  “We need to be in the car in five. Maybe if you would have come home sooner you would be more prepared.”

  She snarled, “It might be your unspoken wish to have me here waiting for the next gala or party so that I can socialize and butter-up your old fogeys hoping they’ll contribute to the campaign, but I have better things to do. You should be thanking me that I’m here and wearing Valentino. I bet none of the other wives will look this good. Can’t you just say how beautiful I look and say thank you?”

  “You’re right, Vanessa. You certainly are beautiful and will certainly demand a lot of attention tonight. As far as compliments go, don’t you get enough from your lover?”

  Although it was no surprise that he knew of her extramarital affair, this was the first time he’d mentioned it—or rather thrown it up in her face. Anger swept through her, although she did admire his sudden backbone. “Don’t pretend that you’re Mr. Perfect, Brent. I know better. And don’t forget you didn’t get this far by yourself. Without me, you’d still be a legal aid attorney with no prospects.”