Ladies Love Lawmen: When It's A Matter of The Heart or Death...

by D'Ann Lindun

  She shifted so he could have better access, and he took advantage of her open invitation. Kneading and releasing her breast until she was gasping had him breathing nearly as fast. When she slid a hand up his back and cupped the back of his neck, he deepened the kiss. Reluctantly tearing his mouth from hers, he moved just far enough to lift her T-shirt over her head. He dropped it in a heap on the floor and dipped his mouth to taste coral colored nipples. First one, then the other.

  If the warnings flashing in his head could ever have stopped him, it was too late now. Blood pounded in his head and below his belt. The top button of his jeans was undone and when Castaña squeezed her fingers between his waistband and his skin to skim over his erection, he almost lost it right there. The investigation, the FBI, none of it mattered. Primal instinct took over. He had to finish what he’d started.

  With flying fingers, they finished undressing each other.

  With her clothes on Castaña was sexy as hell. With them off she was exquisite. Her long hair spilled over her shoulders and breasts, not completely hiding them, creating its own erotic lingerie. He took a strand in his fingers and the texture was like none he’d felt before. Smooth, delicate, soft.

  Below her waist nothing hid her from his view and his gaze roamed over the curve of her hip, the mound of her sex, and amazing long legs. Some women would have tried to hide from his frank appraisal, but she held her chin high. His admiration for her grew. When he gently pushed her, wanting her under him, she shook her head and straddled him instead. Happy to oblige, he waited until her hips were positioned over his own, then slid a hand between her thighs. With his thumb, he drew circles over her slick opening.

  When her whole body trembled, he reached for his jeans and dug a condom out of his back pocket. After he covered himself, he pulled her down over him and sheathed himself inside her. A shudder rippled down his spine as she encased him in tight, wet walls. She leaned forward and her hair fell around them like a curtain. Taking care not to speed to his own release, he moved with deliberate, slow strokes until she was tightening around him and digging her fingers into his shoulders. Aware of his straining muscles, he increased his pace a fraction. Each thrust drove him deeper until they both were spiraling dangerously close to the edge. When he shifted his position a bit, with a muffled cry against his mouth, she came in waves that sent him over the edge into his own release.

  He wrapped his arms around her and held her close as aftershocks shook them both. Finally, when his breathing had returned to close to normal, he brushed her hair back from her face. “You okay?”

  Now she was shy. She tipped her head down and nodded.

  Lifting her chin, he brushed a light kiss over her lips. “Good?”

  “Oh, yes,” she sighed, making him smile.

  As Jake’s head began to clear, he realized the edge of the wicker chair bit into the back of his thighs. All the implications of what he’d just done slammed through him. He’d just compromised the investigation. For a few minutes of pleasure, he’d very possibly thrown away his case, his career. He had no right to get involved with a suspect, no matter how great their lovemaking had been. Even if everything in him believed Castaña didn’t know anything about Martin’s part in the murders, she was still part of the case. He had to get away to think things through. “We should move.”

  Even before Jake began to withdraw from her physically, Castaña felt him pull away emotionally. She’d been this route before—a man all hot and heavy until he got what he wanted then so distant she’d wonder what she’d seen in him in the first place. Why had she thought Jake was different? How could she have read him so wrong? She slipped off him and stood as gracefully as she could manage. He, too, stood and pulled his Levi’s over his hips. Smooth muscles rippled under the moonlight and she stared, transfixed. Using her clothes like a shield she said, “Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight, Castaña.” Did she hear regret in his voice?

  Her earlier tears threatened to return and she blinked rapidly, forcing them back. Crying in front of Jake would not be an option ever again. Maybe it was time for him to leave. What did she know about him anyway? If she hadn’t nearly run him over they never would have met. If she’d bumped into him in the supermarket would she have looked twice? Yes, she had to admit, she would. Jake appealed to her on so many levels. Too bad it had been just a sexual thing for him.

  She slipped between her cool sheets, body still tingling. A few minutes later, she heard Jake’s bedroom door close. Was he thinking about her, too? Wishing they’d never made love? Or was he thinking of a way to come to her door, open it and say, “Let’s do it again?”

  “Yeah, right. Get real, sister.” He was probably packing faster than a speeding bullet. No wonder casual sex wasn’t for her. She just wasn’t good at it. Some of her friends didn’t have a problem with one-nighters, but to Castaña sex implied a deeper connection.

  She buried her head in her pillow.

  Jake hadn’t promised anything.

  In fact, she’d practically thrown herself into his arms. No wonder he’d backed up faster than one of her horses. She blamed all her pent up emotion over Martin on her actions. If she had been thinking clearly, kept her entire mind on business, she wouldn’t have let things get out of hand. She had to get a grip, focus on her task and act like tonight never happened.

  Like that was possible.

  ~*~

  With the arrival of Patty and Eagle before 8 a.m., Jake didn’t have a chance to get Castaña alone. Other than a quick hello over toast, she hadn’t made any special effort to hash over last night. He needed to talk to her, to tell her he was leaving. During the night, he made the decision to go talk to Caroline Delacourte. He tried to tell himself fleeing didn’t have anything to do with the mistake he’d made last night, but his gut said different.

  Filling a thermos and taking four coffee cups, he walked to the corral. Watching Castaña unload her horses from Eagle’s trailer in the morning sun, he almost had second thoughts. Wearing only a plain gray T-shirt and jeans, with her hair plaited in a single long braid down her back, she looked even more beautiful to him than she had the night before. It would be too easy to stick around. If circumstances were different . . .

  He held up the thermos. “Coffee?”

  Patty looked at him over the back of her bay gelding. “Aren’t you coming with us?”

  Eagle looked at him with knowing eyes. As if she sensed he and Castaña had made love last night. How could she? His paranoia was getting out of hand. He shook his head, aware Castaña stood frozen. Damn. He hadn’t wanted to tell her like this. “Not today.”

  He poured each of them a cup of coffee, then handed it out. As Castaña took hers, she made an effort not to touch him. No one else would’ve noticed, but he did and it stung a little. Maybe she was having as many second thoughts as he was. As they stood in a circle sipping coffee, he explained. “I received a call this morning from my insurance agent. There’s a problem with my claim. I need to go to Phoenix and straighten it out.” Even to his own ears, he sounded lame.

  “Are you coming back?” Eagle asked.

  Damn again. Nothing like being put on the spot. “I’m not sure.”

  “There’s no need.” Castaña didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Although I appreciate what you’ve done.”

  “Just in case I get things wrapped up faster than expected, what are your plans?” He hated the confusion in her wide eyes. “I might be able to come back to keep searching.”

  “We’ll be fine on our own.” Castaña tossed the last of her coffee on the ground and looked at her friends. “Are you ready?”

  They nodded, seeming to sense the tension. After they told Jake goodbye and moved away, he grabbed Castaña’s wrist. “Wait a minute. I wanted to thank you . . . for everything.”

  She tugged her arm away. “You’re welcome, Jake. Now I need to go.” Her tone was polite, but cool. She wasn’t a fool. She knew he was running away. He wished he could tell her everythin
g, but he’d already messed up and a confession at this point would only make things worse.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Jake found Tsosie’s art gallery with a minimum of trouble. Situated in downtown Scottsdale, sandwiched between an upscale jewelry store and a southwestern clothing boutique, the shop featured a bronze sculpture of a Navajo girl holding a basket of flowers. Kelso leaned against the sculpture with his arms and ankles crossed. Arizona heat blasted Jake in the face when he stepped out of his pickup. Even from a distance of several feet, he saw the sweat rings under Kelso’s arms. He greeted his partner and they turned toward the shop.

  “You do the talking,” Kelso said. “I’ll hang back.”

  Not sure if the store would be open, Jake checked the doorknob and it turned easily. They stepped inside and a welcoming cool blast of air washed over him. Dim, with low lights highlighting the paintings on the walls, the atmosphere was oppressive. A slim, blonde woman hurried toward him. “I’m sorry, gentlemen, we’re closed today. I thought I locked the door behind me.”

  As she approached, Jake took in the woman who at first glance looked younger than she probably was. Somewhere in her early fifties, he’d guess. Dressed in a bright blue silk suit with matching heels, she seemed flawless. But as she drew near he noted dark circles ringing her eyes and several strands of pale blonde hair escaped from a knot. “I’m unable to conduct business today.” She sounded slightly annoyed.

  “We’re not here to buy, although I wish I could.” Jake looked around in frank admiration. Although small, the studio was packed with everything Navajo. There were pictures filled with poses of grandmothers and strong young men and adorable children. The artist hadn’t limited himself to people and had also painted hogans, sheep, and horses scattered across the Navajo Nation.

  “What can I do for you?”

  Kelso showed his badge. “If you’re Caroline Delacourte, we’d like to ask a few questions about Axell Tsosie.”

  Jake’s attention was held by an especially provocative painting of a familiar woman. Nude, her back to the camera with long hair falling to her waist, she looked shyly over her shoulder. “Who is this?”

  “She is—was—one of Axell’s favorite models.” Her voice caught. “There are several more poses of her in the gallery.”

  With a jolt, Jake recognized the young woman. Nascha Nizhoni. Interesting. He turned to the blonde. “Ms. Delacourte?”

  “Yes?”

  “Jake Breton.”

  Kelso moved away and began to look at the artwork displayed around the studio.

  She studied him openly. Something like admiration shone in her eyes for a flash. “You’re here about Axell?”

  Attractive enough to turn most any man’s head, had Caroline been more than a business partner to Tsosie? “What can you tell me about him? And what’s your relationship?”

  “We own the gallery together.” Close up, faint lines fanned out around her eyes and mouth.

  “I see by the subject matter that your partner was into Navajo culture.” Jake glanced at the painting of Nascha again. She had seemed so prim and proper. How had Axell convinced her to pose nude?

  “Yes,” Caroline agreed. “Axell loves everything from his culture. The people, the land. He wanted to share his passion through his art.”

  The dead guy had been so bloody and bruised it had been difficult for Jake to tell anything about him. Although Axell didn’t sound like any Navajo name Jake had ever heard, Tsosie was common enough among them. “And you shared his vision?”

  “We’ve been very successful.” She played with one of her large diamond earrings. “People can’t—couldn’t—get enough of Axell’s work.”

  “How did you two form this partnership?”

  “At an art show downtown a few years ago. Axell had brought a few of his prints and I fell in love with them. We chatted, I found out he had no funding to sponsor a show or even to buy supplies. My late husband left me a substantial inheritance, and I was absolutely thrilled to fund Axell. It’s been a wonderful partnership.” She grasped her throat as if she couldn’t breathe. “I can’t believe he’s gone.”

  “I’m sorry.” Jake waited a minute for her to somewhat regain her composure. “Do you know why he was in the Apache-Sitgreave?”

  She nodded, still rubbing her throat. Her pale skin was turning red under her tight grasp. “He went to shoot some pictures of wild horses to paint later. Somehow he was run over by those vile animals.” A visible tremor ran through her. “The last thing I said to him was to be careful.”

  “He didn’t use live models?” Jake thought again of Nascha.

  “Sometimes, but usually he works—worked—from snapshots.”

  Jake glanced around, and although he saw a painting of a skinny Indian pony, there were no other paintings of mustangs. “Did he have a special interest in wild horses?”

  Her neck now looked like a beet. “Not that I knew about. But he recently contacted a national horse magazine and offered one of his paintings for their October cover. It was strange because other magazines vie for Axell’s work. He didn’t have to solicit work at this point in his career. He didn’t have any mustangs on file to paint so he made plans to go to the forest.” She looked around as if bewildered. “The paperwork is around here somewhere. I can find it if it’s important.”

  “Not right now.”

  She nodded.

  “Did you ever go with him on these trips?”

  “No. Axell didn’t think I’d fit in and I honestly didn’t want to. My job was to stay here and take care of business.” She didn’t sound like she meant a word of it.

  “Were you more than business partners?” Kelso asked, suddenly at Jake’s shoulder. “Lovers?”

  “No.” She looked past him, toward the door as if Tsosie might come strolling in. “No.”

  “No?” Kelso sounded dubious.

  Continuing to look over their heads, she whispered. “Not anymore.”

  “Was there someone else?” Jake asked gently.

  When her blue eyes met his, they were filled with tears. “I don’t know. He just lost interest. I tried talking to him, but he withdrew even more into that stoic silence of his. I thought if I gave him his space he’d eventually come around. We used to have such a beautiful love.”

  Kelso snorted, but Jake kept his face impassive. “When did he pull away?”

  Her chin trembled. “A while ago.”

  “But you continued your business as usual?” Kelso sounded sarcastic.

  “Yes.” She held out her bejeweled hands in a helpless gesture Jake was pretty sure she’d perfected. “I didn’t have any choice. A lot of my money is tied up in this venture.”

  “But you were plenty mad at him.” Jake shot a warning glance at Kelso and made his voice as sympathetic as he could, trying not to think of Castaña. She was probably telling her friends what a jerk he was right now. He tried not to wince and attempted to concentrate on Caroline Delacourte.

  “Well, yes.” Suddenly she looked old and defeated. “I loved him.”

  Kelso abruptly shut up.

  Jake cleared his throat. “Do you know a Martin Castillo?”

  She looked confused. “No. Should I?”

  “No.” Once again, he was drawn to the painting of Nascha. He studied it and Caroline followed the line of his gaze. “How did Axell know this girl?”

  Although he tried to sound casual, something in his voice must have alerted her because she looked at him sharply. “I don’t know. Axell had many, many models. I was not acquainted with most of them.” She added quietly, “Maybe I should’ve paid more attention.”

  Jake didn’t answer right away. His mind stalled on the connection between Axell and Nascha. Something about it seemed strange, although he’d seen stranger coincidences. It couldn’t be that odd that the two knew each other—they were both most likely from the Navajo Nation—but that they both had connections to wild horses made the tie a little different.

  “Why are
you investigating Axell’s death?” Caroline suddenly asked. “It was an accident, wasn’t it?”

  “Just following up on a few things.” He sidestepped her question. “Will you be around?”

  She nodded. “I guess his mother is going to take care of the arrangements. I’m going to close the gallery until I figure out the legalities, then I’m going to take a cruise. Maybe I’ll meet a nice old gentleman who likes to play bridge.” She sounded bitter. “Is there anything else I can help you with, Mr. Breton?”

  “No, thank you.” He fished a card out of his wallet and handed it to her. “Here’s my card. Please call me if you think of anything else. May I have your number in case I have any more questions?”

  She hurried to an antique desk in the back of the room and took a business card from it. He followed. “Here. My cell number is on the bottom. Call anytime.”

  “Thank you.” He was uncomfortable by the open invitation in her eyes. A pretty lady, but not for him.

  ~*~

  Jake and Kelso stepped out into the hot Arizona sun. Not even noon, yet the sidewalk already warmed the soles of Jake’s shoes. A couple of young women wearing sundresses sat at an outdoor café across the street. “Let’s get a drink,” he suggested.

  After he and Kelso ordered iced coffees and settled at their own umbrella-shaded table, Jake told Kelso about Nascha and Axell’s connection.

  “Tsosie’s death seems like a bizarre accident, but it strikes me odd that both he and Nascha Nizhoni have ties to mustangs. I should go back to Payson to talk to her, but if I do I’ll probably blow my cover.”