by Penny McCall
“The closest phone will be in Casteel. We can leave the horses there, too.” She took a deep breath, met his eyes. “And then I’m going to Boston.”
Jackass snorted and stamped a hoof. Jackass didn’t like that idea. Neither did Tag. Harper was in Boston, but so was Sappresi. He hadn’t told Alex about Sappresi on purpose. He couldn’t risk her running into him by accident.
“We’re going to Boston,” he said.
She shrugged. “It’s a free country, do whatever you want.”
“As long as I don’t get in your way? Dammit, Alex, the last thing I need is you going off on your own. I can keep you safe, but we have to do this my way.”
“Nope. I said I was going to deal with Harper. That’s exactly what I intend to do.” She swung up into the saddle and nudged Jackass into a walk.
“That’s really annoying,” he called after her, “you leaving in the middle of the conversation.”
“The conversation was over.”
Like hell it was. Tag jammed himself into the saddle, wincing when he had to urge Angel into a trot. “You might know what you’re doing out here, but you can’t carry your Winchester in the city.”
“What I have in mind for Bennet Harper calls for an entirely different kind of weapon.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“I DON’T KNOW ABOUT YOU,” ALEX SAID, “BUT I need some rest.”
“You’re the one who got back on the horse.”
“I thought it would be best to find somewhere protected before we camp.”
Tag wanted to continue their argument, she could see it in his eyes, the cranky set to his mouth. She turned her back on him and nudged Jackass into a walk. Let him stew for a while, she thought, and sure, she was getting some petty satisfaction out of it. But she wasn’t changing her mind, either. Bennet Harper had messed with her life for the last time.
She led them back toward Casteel, traveling until they’d worked their way into the heavier tree cover. They made camp not far from where the wreckage of her cabin stood. She didn’t have the heart to see it yet, but it got her started thinking about the entire fiasco, examining every conversation she’d had with Tag, trying hard not to filter it through anger and hurt. She’d let those emotions dictate her actions for too long.
He’d lied to her, there was no getting around that. But now she knew why, and she was having a hard time holding it against him. Sure, he’d kept things from her in the interest of closing the case, but would she have done anything differently in his shoes? He hadn’t known her any better than she’d known him in the beginning, and the circumstances of the game had been designed by Bennet Harper to make them distrust one another.
Then there was the game itself. Tag’s explanation was logical and followed the series of events too intricately to be anything but the truth. Not to mention she knew the scumbag behind it all too well to doubt he was capable of setting them both up.
It would have been nice to know, going in, what she was up against, and there was a point at which Tag could have come clean. But there again he was reacting to a history she understood all too well, one that had crippled his judgment and his ability to trust his own instincts. And he at least had the excuse of timing. His loss was recent, not to mention his partner had died; she’d only been betrayed and used.
They made a cold camp, not wanting to risk a fire. Tag had gotten their personal belongings from Mick and Franky, but he hadn’t wasted his time with amenities, and that included food and water. And blankets.
The sun was high in the sky when they went to sleep. Sometime during the day, however, they ended up in the shade. Alex woke up first, wrapped in Tag’s arms, hip to hip with him. And face to face.
She’d seen him like this once before, when she’d studied his face while he was unconscious after falling out of the airplane. He’d been pale and drawn then, but she could see the toll the last week had taken on him. He looked exhausted, and even in sleep she could tell he was restless. Worried. His mind seemed to be moving a mile a minute, wrestling with their predicament and looking for a solution.
She lifted a hand, tracing the lines around his mouth. She’d barely touched him, but his hand came up and latched on to her wrist, his eyes flying open. She could see the shadows in the usually laughing blue depths before the cobwebs cleared and he came fully awake.
“It’s all true, isn’t it?” she said.
“Yeah.” He released her hand and rolled onto his back, looking up at the sky.
“And you’ve told me everything?”
“I’m in love with you,” he said, exhaling heavily. “I haven’t told you that.”
Alex rolled onto her back next to him, closing her eyes while she fought to tame her pounding heart and overcome the foolish need to cry. “You have a hell of a way of showing it,” she said when she thought she could trust her voice.
“You play by the rules, you miss all the fun.”
“This isn’t exactly what I’d call fun.”
“Sure it is,” Tag said like the adrenaline junkie he was. “Maybe there’ve been some lows, but doesn’t that make the highs so much better?”
“I’m still waiting for the highs.”
He rolled onto his side. “Let me see if I can help you with that.”
She laughed softly—not the reaction he was going for, judging by his expression. “You said that with an absolutely straight face,” she explained.
“Yeah, and?”
“You don’t think it’s a little arrogant to describe yourself as a high?”
“How about I give you a demonstration and let you be the judge?” And he kissed her, not the kind of kiss that assaulted her senses and caused hormonal oblivion. This kiss was slow and thorough, so tender it all but broke her heart. So did the uncertainty in his eyes when he pulled away.
He was giving her a chance to tell him no.
She took his face in her hands and kissed him back. But when she would have deepened it, he kept it soft and light, a seduction of her mouth, her senses, her defenses. He pulled her to her feet, kissing the palms of her hands, her forehead, all with the kind of gentle deliberation that made it impossible to refuse him. Or protect herself.
He peeled off his shirt, keeping his eyes on hers as he laid it on the ground so that when he slipped her shirt and jeans off she had more than the cold ground at her back. She had his body heat.
He surrounded her, his hands sliding up to cup her breasts as he laid his mouth on hers again. She breathed him in, felt the heat of his skin against hers, swore she could hear his heart pounding as frantically as hers.
She didn’t feel the cool air, or hear the wind sighing through the trees. The world fell away and there was only the touch of his hands, his mouth, the pleasure that spread through her, robbing her of breath and thought and pushing her toward a place she wanted desperately to go. But not on a wave of tenderness.
Sex with Tag Donovan was one thing. Physical pleasure, she could handle. It was the emotional assault that scared the hell out of her. With each gentle kiss, each touch of his fingertips, Tag was working his way over and around and through the walls she’d built to protect herself. With each passing moment it became harder to shut him out. And then he made it impossible.
“Look at me, Alex,” he said, waiting until she opened her eyes before he joined his body to hers in one long, slow slide. “Let go. Don’t fight what you’re feeling.”
She didn’t want to open up to him, but he didn’t give her a choice. Need swamped her, pleasure stripped her raw, and the depth of feeling in Tag’s eyes stole what little resistance she had left. She gave him everything she had to give, physically, emotionally, let him take her over the edge of reason, felt him fall with her. And when he gathered her into his arms and simply held her, she turned an emotional corner there was no walking away from.
So she tried to hide from it. “I think you could call that a high,” she said, going for a light, teasing tone. The tears probably kept her from hitting
the mark, not to mention the sobs that seemed to come all the way from her toes.
Tag just wrapped his arms around her tighter. Her capability was sometimes annoying, her sarcasm frustrating, but her tears were devastating. There was nothing quite as disarming as a strong woman’s tears, and nothing was more difficult for a woman as strong as Alex than to bare her sorrow in front of anyone, let alone a man.
She turned onto her side, but he refused to let her run away. He went with her, holding her while she cried herself back to sleep. He should have done the same—not the crying part, although he felt pretty raw after all the upheaval of the last twenty-four hours. What he needed was more sleep. Unfortunately he couldn’t seem to turn off his brain.
As horrible as the last week had been, Alex didn’t really understand that it might be infinitely worse when they got back east. Tag didn’t know for sure who they might be up against. If it was Sappresi, he was more than ready to face him. The problem was, Alex refused to let him handle it, and taking her into danger scared him spitless. The possibility that he’d make another mistake, that she’d get hurt, or worse, was unbearable.
For the first time in his career he wanted to walk away from a case. He might have if he hadn’t known the case would follow him—follow them—for the rest of their lives. And that the rest of their lives might not be a very long time unless he did his job, and did it right.
———
THEY RODE INTO CASTEEL THE NEXT MORNING, WELL rested if not exactly easy in each other’s company. Tag had opened himself up, but Alex hadn’t done the same. At least not verbally. She was holding back, and the silence between them was deafening.
Alex stepped through the front door of the sheriff’s office and went right into Matt’s arms. Tag felt the hot breath of the green-eyed monster, another first for him. She needed comfort and she hadn’t turned to him. That stung more than he would have expected and had him reevaluating some decisions he’d made.
Matt sent him a what-have-you-done-to-her-now glare over the top of Alex’s head, which had Tag rolling his eyes and getting back to what was important, namely, keeping them both alive.
“We need food and water,” he said.
Alex stepped back, shoved both her hands through her short hair so it stood on end. “We’ll have to leave Jackass and Angel at the stable, but we don’t have any money.”
“I’ll take care of that,” Matt said. “You two can’t be seen in town.”
“What’s going on?” they said, almost in unison.
“A couple guys hit town last night, said you found the Lost Spaniard.”
“Shit,” Tag said.
“Mick and Franky,” Alex supplied, with the same kind of disgust in her voice. “We didn’t find the treasure,” she told Matt. “It’s a long story, but the bottom line is we’re being set up. Tag is an FBI agent—”
“Figures,” Matt said, his turn to be disgusted. “He dragged you into one of his operations, and now you’re in danger.”
“I really appreciate the support. Matt, but if we don’t have time to explain, we really don’t have time for you to be pissed off before you help us,” Alex said.
Matt ran a hand back through his sandy hair and down to knead at the back of his neck. “I’ll take the horses around back and get you something from the diner, and then…?”
“We need to get to an airport,” Tag supplied.
“Then I guess I’ll have to drive you to Denver.” Matt pulled open the door, then shut it again. The look on his face was enough but he gave them the bad news anyway. “Jackass has been recognized.”
“There’ll be a mob out front inside of ten minutes,” Tag said, needlessly, as they were all thinking the same thing. “It’s a good thing there aren’t lynchings anymore.”
“Don’t count on it,” Matt said. “Tension in this town is thick enough to shovel up with the horse manure. There’re fist fights practically on the hour, and the other day Mort Hackett pulled a gun down at the market because they tried to charge him fifteen dollars for a package of Oreos.”
Alex gave a little half smile. “If somebody messed with my chocolate, I might try to shoot him, too.”
“This is all fascinating,” Tag cut in, and the fact that Alex had actually smiled felt like something to get excited about, “but we need to hit the road.”
Alex squared her shoulders, and when she looked at him, Tag knew there was going to be trouble. “I can’t remember the last time I showered, I’ve been wearing these clothes for a week, and I probably smell worse than Jackass. I’m sick of this whole stupid fiasco, and I’ll be damned if I let the hicks in this town scare me off without food and water.”
Tag and Matt shared a look, both of them thinking some variation of don’t mess with Miss USA.
“What do you suggest we do about it?” Tag asked her.
“I suggest we pay a visit to the diner.”
Tag and Matt both started to object, but she was already out the door, marching down the steps. She was surrounded before she could get to the hitching rail. Jackass took care of that; a fondness for alcohol wasn’t his only well-known personality quirk. He’d made his dislike of being separated from Alex painfully clear, and apparently he’d decided to extend his protection to Angel.
A hand—likely belonging to an out-of-towner—reached for the mare’s bridle. Jackass bared his teeth and went for the hand, which disappeared back into the press of bodies. The look Alex sent around the crowd was even scarier. When it came to nonverbal threats, Junior had nothing on Alex. Hell, Medusa couldn’t really compare. Nobody was turned to stone, but they were careful not to make eye contact with her, either.
Alex set off, leading Jackass. People scurried out of her path, but they didn’t go away. And they didn’t curb their curiosity for long.
“Word is you found the Spaniard,” someone called out before they’d made it to the end of the block. The questions came hard and fast after that, people shouting each other down and breaking into side arguments over who got to be heard.
Alex wasn’t dignifying any of the commentary. She was focused on her empty stomach. But she was getting more pissed off with every remark shouted at her. By the time they got to the diner, Tag decided it would be a good idea to remove her Winchester from temptation range. Jackass didn’t bite his hand off, which was a good thing since the look Alex sent him suggested he go off and do something that would be anatomically impossible without two operational hands.
He probably should have gone into the diner with her, but he figured crowd control would be a better idea. And there was the way Alex stared in the wide front window before she went in, crazy still shadowing the exhaustion in her eyes. Annabelle had treated Alex like crap, and if Tag knew his girl, she was about to get a little of her own back. At least he hoped she stopped at a little.
The few occupants of the diner all turned to stare when she burst in. She started off by pulling four bottles of water from the cooler by the register and stuffing them into the saddlebag she’d slung over her shoulder. Then she slammed a hand on the counter and made a couple of gestures. Annabelle folded her arms and gave back as good as she got. Alex headed around the counter, probably intending to exchange more than words with Annabelle when Matt arrived.
“You let her go in there alone?” he asked Tag.
“Did you see the look in her eyes?”
“Yeah.” Matt sighed, and pulled out his wallet. “Any idea how much grief this is going to cost me?”
Tag took it for a rhetorical question. Compared to what he and Alex were going to face, Matt catching hell for buying his ex-girlfriend a meal was nothing.
A picture was worth a thousand words, Tag thought, and in Annabelle’s case they all spelled pissed off, but after a few words from Matt she dumped the plated food waiting to be served into foam takeout boxes. Tag’s mouth began to water, his empty stomach knotting, but he laughed out loud when Alex demanded another container and cleaned out the donut case. He saw, with some regret,
that she’d left anything with chocolate behind, but he had to admire her style.
She came out with two plastic bags, gave one to Tag, and took her Winchester back, keeping her eyes on his while she slid it into the saddle holster.
“Let’s go,” Tag said, gathering up Angel’s reins.
“At least show us the treasure,” someone called out.
Alex turned to look at the small crowd. “If we found the treasure, don’t you think we would have paid for breakfast?”
“Not if you hid it again.”
She rolled her eyes, looked at Tag.
He lifted a shoulder and said, “You’re right, we hid it again, next to a big rock that looks like a finger pointing straight at the sky.”
“A raised middle finger,” Alex added, then to Tag, “you need to be a little more specific around here.”
Most of them got the point, but to his amusement there were a few whispered consultations resulting in belated comprehension. The knot of men standing halfway down the block didn’t seem amused.
“I don’t think they got the joke,” Alex said, following his line of sight.
“Yeah, and they’re coming this way.”
She watched them spread themselves across the road and start toward the diner, then she met Tag’s eyes.
“What do you think?” he asked her.
“I think I’ve had it with this town.”
Before Tag could stop her she strode out into the middle of the street. Her hands were empty, but she wasn’t completely without weapons. “We’re in Casteel, not Dodge City,” she said, unleashing her face, in all its crazed, pissed-off glory, on them. “This isn’t High Noon?”
The men looked at one another, kind of drawing together, unsure suddenly.
“Jeez, Alex,” somebody behind her said, “you got PMS or something?”
She whipped around, and everyone recoiled. Even Tag had the urge to cross himself.
“It’s this damn town,” she said. “You’re all nuts.”
The place fell so silent they could hear the wind sighing through the trees, then someone said, “Well hell, Alex, you’re one of us. If we’re nuts, so are you.”