Seconds later, Maverick Nevarra’s voice came over the line. “Not much of a vacationer, are you buddy?” he said by way of greeting.
“I had a slight complication. And I need a new truck.”
After a brief silence, Maverick cleared his throat. “If you need a new truck, I’d say you’re talking more than slight complication.”
“I just don’t want to be recognized. And the back window blew out.” Gage caught Riley staring at him and turned his face away so she wouldn’t see the corners of his mouth turn up. All else aside, he did love to rattle Maverick’s cage.
“Blew out with what?”
“I’m guessing it was a gunshot, but just the one window broke. Maybe we got lucky and caught a ricochet.”
“Yeah, that’s luck for you.”
Gage shifted in the seat, looking for traffic. They were still alone at the intersection, not another car in sight. “There’s more.”
“No kidding?” Maverick grumbled. “You’re hell on a truck, man.”
“I told you that the first time. That’s why I won’t waste money on a good one.”
“To do your job—”
“Yeah, I heard you. I need something that will start without a screwdriver and a bunch of cussing. Look, I also need you to send an anonymous tip to the authorities in Barefoot.”
“Okay,” Maverick said, sounding anything but okay.
“My brother was murdered on my back porch. Someone needs to find the body.”
“Shit, Gage—”
“And they might know this by now, but Sheriff Burke is missing. They’ll find his body at the Beckett house, just inside the front door.” Gage told him the address.
Loud silence filled the connection.
“You there?”
“Excuse me. Did you just tell me two people were dead? And did you say Beckett?”
Gage had no desire to enter another long discussion about Riley—especially not in front of Riley herself. “And don’t forget I need a truck.”
Maverick sighed. “At least tell me how guilty you are.”
“I didn’t do anything but run,” Gage said, not loving the sound of the admission.
“Fine. Best I don’t know anyway.” He gave Gage an address he recognized to be a few minutes away. “There’s an old barn a couple of miles off the road. You’ll find another truck there—one more your style, I might add—and a place to wait the night out if you need it. Looks pretty rough from the outside, but it’ll keep your sorry ass for a few hours.”
“Thanks. We’ll take you up on that.”
“We?”
“Riley is with me.”
Maverick let loose with an impressive bout of profanity. “Please tell me she’s not bound and gagged.”
Beside him, Riley snorted. He realized she could probably hear every word Maverick said.
“Nah, I’m a little sore from a shot I took. Maybe later.”
“You were shot? Christ. Okay, I’ve heard enough. I’m going to assume you’re not dying, or you’d have mentioned it. I need to sleep this off. We’ll talk in the morning. Maybe—”
“Hang on. Can you do one more thing for me?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“I need you to dig up some information on someone.”
Riley’s sharp intake of breath left a bitter taste in Gage’s mouth, but it didn’t rival the bitterness of seeing his little brother dead. He had a feeling he was about to burn any fragile bridges they managed to build that day, so—in the spirit of keeping his enemies close—Gage looked her right in the eye when he spoke. “I need everything you can give me for the last twelve months on an old friend of mine in Tehcotah, Oklahoma.”
“No doubt I’m going to regret this, but I’ll do what I can. Does your friend have a name?”
“Yeah. Colt Oren Beckett.”
Chapter Four
The barn lived up to its mediocre billing. The metal roof, burnt orange with rust, loomed dark in the shadows above the sweep of headlights. The dim illumination hinted at a massive structure lined with rows of broken clapboard slats, gray and sad with age. Riley tried to grant the place a degree of gratitude, but gratitude didn’t allow her to welcome the thought of being crushed overnight by rusty aluminum and dry-rotted wood.
She hadn’t spoken a word to Gage since he launched his investigation on her brother, but one look at the barn prompted her to end the silence. “Wow, really?”
Gage pulled within a few feet of a sagging door structure and shifted into park. He jumped out without sparing her a glance, leaving her content to sit and watch him drag the ailing doors open all by himself, wounded arm and all.
And what contentment it was. The tangle of light and shadow did magnificent things to his shirtless physique, the scars on his torso far from suggesting imperfection. Rather, they added a hard edge to the growing mystery surrounding him. It was an odd feeling to have shared herself with someone so intimately, to look into eyes so familiar, and to realize she didn’t know him at all. She was clueless to the person he’d become in the year since the accident.
Riley swallowed a feeling that came far too close to regret. Even if forgiving Gage counted as less than utter betrayal to her family, she’d made a promise to Colt. Bedridden—his body irreparably broken, too damaged even for the relative freedom of a wheelchair—he’d lost far more than she had. She owed it to him to keep her word, but the oath had been easy in the shadow of her grief. Now, wearing the warmth of her memories, nudged by the breathless promises of forever she and Gage once made, she wondered if she hadn’t given up more than she bargained for.
He rejoined her in the truck. “Clever bastard.”
Riley’s raised brows didn’t elicit a response, but seconds later, as they idled into the structure, she had an answer. Much to her surprise, a gleaming RV sat in the middle of the cavernous space. Next to it was a beat up truck that looked much more at home in the tousled old barn than the RV did. A stout wood-framed shed encapsulated both vehicles, so anyone peering through the broken sidewalls of the larger structure would see nothing of either truck. The setup had a covert, spy-thing vibe going for it—an opinion likely born from watching too much TV, but logic refused to stand up and counter the thought. Besides, the idea of Gage being a spy couldn’t be more ridiculous than the truth, whatever that might be. “Anything you need to tell me?” she ventured.
He parked against the shed wall, close enough to keep her door from opening and forcing her to exit his side of the cab. “Yeah. I get first shower,” he said as she stepped to the ground.
Shower? “There’s a shower?”
“By the looks of that thing?” He tipped his head in the direction of the shed wall standing between them and the RV. “Yeah.”
Riley didn’t respond. The thought of him under a spray of water—lathered, naked—left her rethinking the utter fabulousness of running water. Heat rose to her face and settled low in her belly, setting fire to parts that had no business commenting on Gage in any capacity.
She gave herself a mental shake, knowing they were nothing more than two people thrown together by circumstance—that what had once been between them shattered with the flying glass and crumpled metal of that night a year ago. But as they stood there staring at one another through the darkness, intimacy crept into the moment. It pushed aside the stale air and broken memories, causing her heart to roll around in her chest.
Gage cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about putting the dogs on Colt. I hope you understand—”
“Forget it. Besides, who else could tell us anything? Daddy’s”—she swallowed—“Daddy’s gone. Mama’s gone. Although as far as I know, even she couldn’t get in the safe. Colt is in such bad shape they can’t even strap him into a wheel chair, and the prognosis for improvement isn’t good. The doctors said something in their PC bedside manner that translated i
nto him not getting out of that bed until they move him to a box.” She paused for an unsteady moment. “The gun is missing from a locked safe, so someone else has to know. People are dying over this…this secret, and I do want to go home one day.” She pressed her booted toe in the dirt and stared at the ground. “Under the circumstances, I think I can handle you asking questions about Colt.”
“Hey,” he said, touching a finger to the underside of her chin and coaxing her to look up. “Thanks for understanding.” The blue of his eyes reached her—held her—through the darkness with an intensity that went bone deep.
The effect wasn’t unpleasant. “No need to thank me. Like I said, I want to go home eventually.” She tried to sound nonchalant, but the words bordered on a whisper, shaking her from the inside out. “I want my life…back.”
He moved his fingers along the line of her jaw, the faint touch to her face drawing shivers from every nerve ending she possessed. Then he threaded his fingers through her hair, and whether he drew her closer or she ended up there on her own accord, she didn’t know, but the result was the same.
Surrender.
His lips brushed hers and lingered. She was dimly aware of his fingers holding the back of her neck through a tangle of hair, of her breath quickening. The scent of whiskey rose between them, warm and familiar, pushing aside the tepid night air to stir long-buried emotions to life. Without thinking—she couldn’t think—she leaned into him, forcing the pressure of his mouth against hers.
He needed no further invitation. His lips crushed hers, but he made no attempt to deepen the kiss—just as well, because the taste of him in her mouth would surely crumple her broken heart. After a long moment of swarming emotion, he retreated to a teasing nibble, pulling her lip between his teeth and finishing with the softest of kisses pressed to her lips.
For a few precious seconds, time stood still. The world was theirs.
Then he drew back with a couple of choice words. The sudden absence left her cold in the humid night. He brushed his fingers through his hair, pushing the long locks from his face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Gage—”
But he was already ahead of her, rounding the corner of the shed.
Torn, emotions churning, she had no choice but to follow.
When she stepped aboard the RV after him, he was studying an electrical panel in the wall with a penlight. After a couple of seconds, his look of scrutiny turned into one of triumph. He hit a button and the space filled with bright light and a low hum. “That’ll do it. We’ll have hot water in a little while.”
“Generator?”
He nodded, pocketing the small flashlight.
“Um, carbon monoxide poisoning?” she asked, thinking of the small enclosure. The large barn had to be about as air tight as the canopy of a tree, but even that didn’t do a whole lot to inspire confidence.
“According to this diagram it’s all vented, but I’ll make sure it’s clear.” He turned sideways to edge past her, disappearing through the doorway.
Still squinting in the first real light she’d seen since sundown, Riley examined her surroundings. The RV was small but impeccable, appearing to be late model and showroom clean. A double bed filled one end, a flat screen television at its foot. She stood in a kitchen dinette area, and to her left a door led to what appeared to be a bathroom. Riley went to investigate, poking her head in what was, indeed, a shower—one nicer than her own at home.
“Told ya,” Gage said from behind, his breath tickling her ear.
She jumped.
He took a step of retreat, blocking the doorway.
She hugged herself, trying to swallow her uncertainty with the whole covert op thing. “Are you involved in anything illegal?”
A grin played at his lips. “No, nothing you don’t know about, anyway. Locking a dead sheriff inside a house might be on the cusp, though.”
She frowned. “I’m not kidding.”
“Neither am I.” He unbuttoned his jeans and proceeded to shrug out of them. He was down to his boxer briefs before she managed to do anything more than gape. The flight instinct did little to help the situation. With him in the doorway, her options for escape were limited.
His bemused expression made it clear he sensed her discomfort. “Told you I had first shower. Water won’t be warm for a while yet, but I think I need a cold one anyway.”
Before she could stop herself, Riley’s gaze slid to the subject of his insinuation, now straining the limits of one-hundred percent cotton.
Oh God.
“Enjoy your shower.” She brushed past him, a half step from knocking him out of the way when he neatly sidestepped her stampede.
“Vents are all clear,” he called after her, laughter in his voice.
The door couldn’t close fast enough.
She stood in the kitchenette, ripe with the realization that she should ask if he needed help with his arm, but the offer couldn’t end well. The idea didn’t even end well, not with the taste of him still taunting her lips. Or the sight of him standing there pseudo-innocent in his underwear, just…taunting.
Emotion and confusion constricted her chest, leaving her to fight an inner battle. She didn’t want him—she couldn’t want him. She didn’t know which was worse—the physical attraction or the assault on her heart—but neither loving him nor wanting him was an option.
Gage Lawton was not an option. Not for her. Not anymore.
He was right when he said the kiss shouldn’t have happened, but no amount of being right took away the tendrils of awareness curling through her. Time hadn’t erased her loss, but seeing Gage again didn’t fill her with pain—or even anger—for what he’d done as she had expected it might. The effect had been almost opposite—once they’d gotten past the gun slinging, seeing him again returned warmth and love to what had become a cold, empty life.
Warmth, love, and hope.
Guilt rained down. She thought of Colt, and her mind’s eye saw him strong again, powerful. The depth of his fall was unimaginable. In the months prior to the accident, he made a name for himself on the rodeo circuit—fool enough to ride the biggest bulls, smart enough to stay on for the full eight seconds, and lucky enough to land on his feet more often than most. The day of the crash, Colt had gotten word of a national sponsor with pockets deep enough to put him through to the professional circuit. The first thing he’d done when he got the news was propose to his girlfriend. The second had been to invite them all out for dinner—his new fiancée Elizabeth, Riley, and their parents.
But not Gage.
The two had been best friends for years, long before Riley and Gage started dating and for months after. To her surprise, Colt had been supportive of her relationship with Gage, but at some point things changed, and neither man would say why. The fallout was the reason Riley wasn’t in the car that night. It sat like betrayal in her heart, knowing she was with Gage when he slammed his truck into her parents’ car, killing them instantly.
Elizabeth had walked away—and kept right on walking. Colt was not so lucky. He lost everything in a single moment: his parents, his career, and a woman who ducked on the “for worse” part. With them went all of his hopes and dreams.
Riley shuddered at the memory, at the agony that had contorted his face. The physical pain he’d experienced could be nothing next to the anguish of losing everything for which he’d worked. The guilt of being alive with nothing to do but think of what had been taken away.
In so many ways, Colt died too. He experienced the agony of death, but none of the release.
At first, he was in and out of consciousness, eventually lapsing into a coma. He knew who caused the accident. One of the first things he’d asked Riley after learning of their parents’ deaths was if Gage had been there, or if he was dreaming. Riley told Colt the truth, and even in his weakened state he’d been infuriate
d. One of the few things he managed to communicate before he slipped away was a plea for Riley to stay away from Gage.
Heartbroken, she’d agreed.
Thirty-four days later, Colt learned she was the reason Gage hadn’t been sent to jail, and she lost him anyway.
Behind her, the air shifted. She turned to see Gage standing in the doorway wearing the same pair of jeans, his upper body slick with moisture. Rivulets of water ran down his torso, and she followed their course all the way to the unbuttoned waist of his jeans.
“Water’s getting warm,” he offered.
So was she.
Hot water sounded divine, but a distraction would prove better. Against her better judgment, she asked, “You need help with your arm?”
“Nah.” He smacked the abrasion with his good hand, causing her to wince. “Just a scratch. Once it stopped bleeding, there was nothing to it.”
Riley wouldn’t call the chunk missing from his arm nothing, but she wasn’t going to argue with any answer that allowed her to keep her distance. Without another word, she slipped past him into the bathroom and tried to lose herself under a spray of water, as hot as it would go.
But the soap and steam did nothing to fade the image of Dawson, shot dead on her welcome mat, from her mind. It didn’t stop her from thinking about Gage, either. Her skin tingled with the memories of his touch, every trace of her fingertips across her flesh leaving a feverish trail in its wake.
It was going to be a long night.
Not in any hurry to face Gage, Riley waited out the limited hot water supply. But not even that saved her. Standing in the tepid spray, she was about as far removed from good intentions as she had been when he kissed her in the barn. With a sigh, she shut off the water, hoping he’d fared better with the cold shower than she had. Remembering his expression, she thought not.
Why do you still want him after so much pain? After the promise you made?
The questions barreled through a crack in her defenses, unwelcome.
Unanswered.
With a sigh, she realized she didn’t have an answer.
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