The Black Sheep and the Hidden Beauty

by Donna Kauffman

  “Right. The poker game. It was in the news, remember?” he said, when she looked surprised. “All the negligence reports.”

  “Right.”

  “So, the reports were correct, then? No one else was there?”

  “No,” she repeated. “As far as I know, anyway.”

  “But no one knew you were there.”

  She shook her head, dipping her chin a little and wishing like hell she didn’t have to run the events of that night through her mind ever again. “No.”

  “So, is it possible there was someone else there? Someone you didn’t see? Someone no one knew was there, like no one knew you were there?”

  That had her looking up. “I—I don’t know. It’s not a big barn. I—I don’t think so. I called out, but no one answered.”

  “If you were out there setting a fire, would you have answered?”

  She shivered. In all the times she’d relived that night, over and over again, awake and in endless nightmares, she’d never once contemplated that possibility. She’d worried that someone had seen her coming or going, especially the someone who’d started the fire. But she’d never thought they might have been there, hiding, waiting for her to leave. “If someone was there, if they saw me, then don’t you think they’d have said something about my being out there? If for no other reason than to shift the suspicion to me?”

  “Not unless they were afraid they’d been spotted, too.”

  “But if I had, it would have been obvious right off that I didn’t tell anyone.”

  “Which might be what got you quid pro quo. You kept quiet, so did they. Perhaps if the fire marshal had been able to build a case, they’d have come forward.”

  “But he couldn’t.”

  “Exactly. However, the insurance investigators—”

  She gasped, and her heart skipped a beat. “You don’t think—is that why they called me? You think they finally have proof I was there?”

  “Did they say anything that led you to believe that?”

  She shook her head. “He just kept questioning me about Geronimo and what I knew about him, and if I’d had contact, but he never accused or even intimated that it was anything more than standard interrogation procedure.”

  “And yet, he was pretty adamant about talking to you.”

  “I figured it was because you guys had called and stirred things up that they figured they’d look at me again, just in case. If for no other reason than to prolong paying the claim.”

  “But you were scared. Sheet-white scared.”

  “Of course I was. I didn’t know what they knew, or why they wanted to talk to me after such a long period of time. It can’t be coincidence that it happened right after you started snooping around. They weren’t this interested in me when it all happened, so why now if not that?”

  “I don’t know. I guess we need to find out.”

  “Rafe, you can’t go digging—”

  He reached over and put his hand on her arm. “When I was asking after you, I was direct and aboveboard about it, as I had no reason not to be. But the direct route isn’t the only way to get answers.”

  “Still—”

  “I know what I’m doing, Elena. And I’m very good at my job.”

  She held his gaze a bit longer, then finally sighed. “Okay, but I want to know what you’re doing. And who you’re talking to. Every step of the way. No more surprises.”

  “No more surprises.”

  “Good.” She huddled a bit more in her seat. “Okay.” But she didn’t feel remotely okay. She wasn’t used to this, used to someone else having any say in how things were going to be handled.

  “Come here,” he said, reaching over and tugging at her arm.

  “What?”

  “You’re too far away. This can’t be easy for you,” he said, pulling her across the bench seat, reaching under it and shifting it back as far as it would go before turning and pulling her into his arms, so her back rested against his chest. “Much better.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss against her temple. “I know it doesn’t count for much, but I’m not liking dragging you through this, either.”

  It was all so much—unburdening herself, trying to reconcile having someone else in the loop, then this…this overload of sensations with him holding her, caring about her…“I can handle this,” she said, while not making the least effort to climb out of his lap.

  “I know you can. It’s one of the many reasons I’ve been such a pit bull. You’re not an easy person to help.” He tipped her head back, so their gazes could meet. “Thank you for trusting me, Elena.”

  She trembled a little, wanted to be strong enough to scoot away, but had the presence of mind to finally admit to herself that this felt good. Having someone on her side didn’t just have to mean physical support, it meant emotional support, too. And her world wouldn’t come to an end if she admitted she needed a little of that right now.

  “It’s a lot. This,” she said. “And it’s good. Almost too good. I’m—I’m not used to it, so I might not always handle it very well, but it’s not because I don’t appreciate it.” She turned a little more, so she could look more fully at him. “Now that you know more…if you don’t want to get involved, I’ll understand. I—”

  He shut her up with a kiss.

  And that felt pretty damn good, too. How he had gone from complete stranger to this in such a short time, she had no idea. But he was here. And he was staying. And, for now, she liked it that way. Enough to kiss him back.

  And despite the fatigue, the stress, the worry—or maybe because of it, or maybe because it would always be that way with them—it quickly got out of hand. And she did absolutely nothing to stop it. There was so much left to be said, so much more to go through, and this felt so very, very good. There wasn’t enough of this in her world, and she, quite greedily, decided to take it now that it was here.

  Rafe seemed of the same mind as he shifted them both around, sliding to the middle of the seat so she could straddle his lap. Both of them groaned when she settled her weight more fully on him, the rigid length of him fitting all too sweetly between her thighs. His hips lifted and she pressed down as he continued his almost decadent assault on her mouth. She kissed him, dueled tongue with tongue, as they pulled and yanked at each other’s clothes.

  Safely off the highway, in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere, with only the starry sky as company, she shut out everything except this man, and this moment.

  Struggling with their clothes, they broke apart. “This isn’t…even as a teenager, I didn’t—” he started, then stopped as he dragged his shirt over his head. His breath was coming in warm gasps as he finally wrestled free and helped her do the same before bracing her face with his hands. “You deserve better than the front seat of a truck. I want you on the softest linen sheets, I want you—”

  “You want me now,” she told him, then pinned him to the back of the seat and kissed him for a change. She had no experience with this sort of thing, so she just went with what felt right. Considering the deep growl that came from him, and the way his hips pistoned off the seat, she figured she was doing okay.

  He reached between them and undid first the button of her pants, then his. She wriggled hers down her hips, lifting up to slide them down further, then froze with a loud gasp as he used her leveraged position to help himself to the very tight tips of her nipples.

  “Oh…God. You—that is—” She gave up trying to find the words and instead let her head drop back, never so thankful for the roomy interior of her truck cab as when he leaned her back over his bracing arm and took his sweet time paying almost reverent attention to first one, then the other, turgid tip.

  She sank her fingers into his hair, keeping his mouth warm and wet where she wanted it.

  “I want to taste all of you, mijita,” he murmured, and she shuddered, hard, at the very thought of his hot mouth taking the rest of her to the places he was already taking her now.

  She wriggled
her hips, wanting—needing—to feel him there, too, knowing she couldn’t have both at the same time. “You’re right,” she managed, “a bed would be great right now. Hell, a blanket would do.”

  “You have one?” he asked, lifting his head, making her whimper a little in disappointment at having that lovely sensation cease for even a second.

  “Not one I’d want to get naked on.”

  “Well, then, we’ll just have to make do.” And with that, he shifted her from his lap to his spot behind the wheel, only with her back up against the door. He was dragging her pants and panties the rest of the way off without so much as asking permission. Of course, the fact that she was helping him might have negated that requirement. “You have way too many clothes on.”

  As he maneuvered around, tucking his legs in the well of the passenger side so he could lean down and kiss her bare tummy, she got her first brief glimpse of him shirtless. And she found herself wishing their positions were reversed so she could be the one trailing her tongue across that smooth chest, down that rigidly defined abdomen and across all that taut, honey-toned skin. But then his tongue was marking the same trail and she forgot every last thought in her head except the one begging him not to stop.

  “Sweet,” he murmured, tracing his tongue lower, closer, teasing the ends of her curls, nudging her thighs apart. “Oh, so very sweet.” Then he slid his tongue over her, and into her, and she arched against him as he moved his hands beneath her thighs and teased with brushed fingertips as he held her where he wanted her.

  She was climbing rapidly, her nails scraping his scalp as she gripped his head more tightly, keeping him there…though he didn’t seem to need the direction. And then it was there, hitting her like shock waves, more powerful than the first time as he continued tormenting her, wringing every last bit of shuddering pleasure from her before tugging her down so she lay flat on the seat, and covering her body, or most of it, with his own. She wanted the full weight of him on top of her and kicked at the passenger door in frustration as there was no way to wedge the lengths of them along the seat bench.

  He shifted back, fishing his wallet out of his jeans, sliding the condom packet out, before looking at her. She nodded, and that was all he needed to know. “Come here,” he said, shifting back, pulling her on top of him, straddling her across his hips, then looking up into her eyes before guiding her down onto him. “Elena—”

  “Don’t stop now,” she told him.

  “I just want to make sure—”

  She pressed her finger across his mouth, then gave in to the need she’d had almost from the first time she’d laid eyes on him, never once thinking she’d actually do it…do this. She traced her fingertips over his lips, so beautifully sculpted, so perfectly suited for her own, then leaned down and replaced her fingertips with her lips as she pressed down and took him inside her.

  They both groaned, and prolonged the moment of joining, neither moving, both just accepting and reveling in that exact moment of filling and being filled…and then she moved, and so did he. His hands were in her hair and she was clawing at the seats as they took each other on a wild ride. He pushed her up and over again—as she shuddered through her release, he let go with his own.

  Both of them breathing heavily, they held each other for several long minutes. Then he finally pulled her up, sprawled across him, and tucked her against his damp chest. The windows had fogged, the air was humid and heavy, tendrils of her hair lay damp against her neck. But he tipped her chin up and looked into her eyes, and all she could think was that she wanted to be able to look into his whenever she wanted to. Like this, intimate and personal, or across a crowded room, when nothing more than a quick smile would say everything that needed to be said between them. It had been like that with her parents, that connection that no distance could diminish. It would be like that with him. She knew it. She saw it there.

  She started to speak, to try and find the words, but he tucked her back against his chest then, and she knew there’d be time later. Reality would intrude shortly, and drag her back into a situation she was heartily sick of dealing with. So she soaked up as much strength and serenity as she could, tucked here, safe. For now.

  It might have been minutes later, might have been hours, but when he finally shifted them both up, she only knew it felt too soon. She wanted to curl up and keep the world at bay longer, even as she knew they’d already taken all the time that they could.

  He kissed her temple, then her cheek, then her mouth, then they both began to dress. Nothing was said, but nothing needed to be said. As she’d known it would be, the silence was easy between them, but that didn’t render the reality of it any less profound. It was too soon to think it through, to analyze it, and she was frankly too tired and spent to do it justice at the moment. So she just did what needed to be done. Later, whenever later came, she’d think about this and figure out what it meant. And what she was going to do about it.

  She glanced over at him as he settled himself once again behind the wheel. And she would have to do something. Because he mattered now, too.

  He didn’t start the engine right away, and for the first time, she wondered what he was thinking.

  “We need to get back on the road,” he said, at length, then looked over at her.

  His expression wasn’t readable, and that gave her pause. Had she just stupidly romanticized something that was nothing more than a backseat romp? She didn’t think so, but what did she know of such things? “Rafe—”

  “I know that wasn’t what either of us would have wanted.”

  Now she did tense. Was he saying he regretted what they’d done? He certainly hadn’t acted like it. Before, during, or, most importantly, afterward. “I wanted it,” she said, quietly. No more holding back, she decided. It was far too late for that.

  “I meant here. Like this. It’s not…me. Not how I’d have—”

  “I know.” She smiled then. “At least you weren’t wearing anything tailored.”

  His lips curved a little, too. “True. But that’s not what I meant.”

  She reached across between them. “I know. It’s okay. There will be other times.” Her smile spread. “And I promise the thread count can be as high as you want.”

  He laughed then and lifted her hand to his lips, kissing the back first, then the palm, before curling her fingers in to seal it there. It was a simple gesture, both playful and intimate, and because she wanted to hold on tightly to both of those things, knowing what lay ahead, she kept her fingers tightly curled as he started up the truck and pulled back onto the highway.

  Chapter 17

  They drove for a half-hour before he finally spoke up. “You up to talking about this any more?”

  “This being us, or this meaning Geronimo?”

  “Geronimo.” He looked over. “Unless there’s something about us you need to talk about.”

  She smiled briefly. “No. I’m okay with us.”

  “Good,” he said, meaning it, relieved she did, too. It wasn’t that he’d worried about that, but who knew what she’d talk herself into, or out of, given enough time. He’d thought—hoped—that maybe she’d drift off and catch a little sleep, giving him time to think all of this through. But she hadn’t, and being alone with his thoughts wasn’t making things any clearer. Except for one thing. Kate wasn’t the only one who was going to do her damnedest to keep Elena Caulfield around.

  “Where did we leave off?” she asked.

  “You, at the barn, being the last to see Geronimo.”

  He noted she tucked her hands between her thighs, but otherwise didn’t seem to tense up too much. “Do you really think someone saw me?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, wishing he could be more reassuring. “It’s an angle, and all angles have to be considered.”

  She was silent for a moment, then said, “I guess you’re right. But I really don’t think anyone was there. I think I’d have felt it. Or something. I don’t think things would have gone this long wi
thout anything happening, only to happen now.”

  “Still—”

  “I know,” she said, lifting her hand. “I understand.”

  “So…where were you when the tank blew up?”

  “Back at the employee stables.”

  “How long from the time you left the barn until the time it blew up?”

  She flinched a little, and he knew she was replaying the horrific scenes from that night. He wished he could spare her that, but with his observations as well as her own in play now, maybe she’d recall something of importance that she wouldn’t have before, something that would help them.

  “About forty-five minutes,” she said.

  “Why did you think it wasn’t an accident?”

  “Because there was a kerosene heater in the center aisle and the tank was sitting next to it. I assumed it was there because they’d just set the heater up for that night.”

  “And that was suspicious?”

  “No, it wasn’t. But they said the tank blew in the attached shed out back. And there was only one tank, according to what they reported.”

  “Meaning that someone had to have come in after you left and moved the tank from the aisle to the shed.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Couldn’t it have still been an accident?”

  “Yes, but it just didn’t add up. The reports had JuanCarlo in the main barn waiting for the vet and the other guys at the trailers playing poker. When the explosion happened, all of them came running. The media reported on every single detail of that night, ad nauseam. So, whoever moved it wasn’t one of the people who were supposed to be there.”

  “Why didn’t you come forward with all that?”

  She gave him an incredulous look. “Right. I was supposed to volunteer that I just happened to be the last one to see him alive, putting me where it was strictly off limits to go, and with questions of arson flying all around.”

  “Maybe the same can be said of whoever moved the tank to the shed. Maybe it was still innocent, still an accident, but they didn’t come forward for the same reasons.”