Deadly Hunter

by Rachel Lee

  He only wanted one of them. Only one of them would be justified. Being justified mattered to him.

  He was so busy trying to figure his way around this complication that he barely noticed how quiet the woods were, except for the wind. He didn’t even notice the remains of the wolf he’d killed a few hundred yards below the cave he’d taken over. Already the carrion eaters were reducing it to nothing.

  That wolf didn’t matter. His target did.

  A target that he thought of as an object, not a person. He’d learned that trick a long time ago. Only after he completed his task would he allow himself to savor what he achieved. Only then.

  Right now it was just a target to be removed.

  * * *

  Still uneasy, Jerrod walked with Allison back to her car. After he opened her door for her then closed it, he stood looking back at the mountains. Someone was up there, he was sure. It might just be a hunter who hadn’t gotten the warning. Or somebody who liked winter hikes.

  He wasn’t buying it. They’d been watched, and he tried to think of ways to get back here without Allison to check it out. Nothing occurred to him. Given his concern that someone might want to stop her investigation, he didn’t know if he should leave her alone even in town.

  He walked around the rear of the car and took in once again the shattered and taped rear window. Message? He feared it might be, one that had missed entirely, at least as far as Allison was concerned.

  But if it was a message, it hadn’t missed him. Since she was back out here today, she’d certainly sent a clear signal that she wasn’t quitting. That could ratchet up any threat to her considerably.

  He slid in beside her finally and closed his own door.

  “What were you looking at?” she asked.

  “Just scanning the mountains for general terrain. We’ll map out a search pattern tonight.” Unless he could think of a way to persuade her not to pursue this any further. Somehow he doubted he would succeed. She brushed away any suggestion that this might be dangerous with all the ease of someone who had never lived in a truly dangerous world.

  She might be right, too. He could well be overreacting, but he couldn’t bet on that.

  As the car warmed up, he started to smell Allison’s shampoo, something laced with coconut. The woman smelled good enough to eat. In fact, he’d like to lick and taste every inch of her. Spend hours in her bed learning every inch of her. Sweep them both away on the red haze of urgent need.

  Damn, he needed to wrap concertina wire around some of his own thoughts before he got stupid enough to act on them. What could he offer her, anyway? Until he got himself sorted out, he had no business messing with a woman, or worse, messing in her life.

  When they pulled up to the ranch house, he felt an instinctive desire to just keep going. He figured having lunch here was apt to remind him just how rough around the edges he’d become over the years. This wasn’t like going to a bar with his buddies.

  Ah, suck it up, he thought. It was his own fault he’d grown short on social graces over the years. He just hadn’t made the effort. Too damn hard to talk to the women who haunted the bars because they were starry-eyed about guys in uniform, and no need to talk to the ones who just wanted a roll in the hay. Yeah, he’d been invited to dinner and barbecues by his buddies and their families when they were stateside, but he’d been in the company of men who understood the rough edges, and their wives who had learned to smooth them over a bit.

  This was different.

  He also might be making entirely too much of it. He ought to be able to handle an hour or so of small talk. It wasn’t as if his brain was crippled. Not much, anyway.

  Suspecting that he had become a coward for some reason, knowing damn well he’d faced harder things, he climbed out and accompanied Allison to the front door.

  A pretty blonde opened it and invited him in. So this was Nora Loftis, daughter of the unlikable Fred Loftis, that Nate had introduced him to. Sympathy sparked in him. He couldn’t imagine growing up under that man’s thumb.

  They moved directly to a large dining room with a long table that was already set for three.

  “Fancy,” Allison remarked.

  Nora laughed. “The first time I came here to visit Jake we ate here, too. Rosa has very definite ideas about how visitors should be treated. I have to admit, though, that it felt odd to be sitting at such a large table with only one other person.”

  Rosa, dark haired and beaming, appeared carrying a tray. “The kitchen belongs to me,” she said firmly.

  “And you’re not kidding, are you?” Nora said with a twinkle in her blue eyes.

  “I am not,” Rosa said firmly, as she placed large earthenware bowls of chili in front of them. A long loaf of crusty bread followed on a platter. “Plenty more if you want it.”

  Then she left them to eat.

  “Jake’s sorry he couldn’t be here,” Nora said. “He hoped he could make it but something came up. How’s the sampling going?”

  That made it easy at least for a while. Jerrod ate some of the best chili he’d ever had, delighting in both its taste and its heat, while Allison did most of the talking. He put in a word from time to time, just to be sociable, but this was her bailiwick.

  Of course, it didn’t last, though. Nora eventually turned to him. “You just moved here, didn’t you?”

  “A few weeks ago.”

  “Right about the time...” Nora trailed off, stared into the distance, then shook herself and returned her attention to Jerrod. “Are you planning to stay?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  Her brow knit a little then smoothed over. “Well, this county has a lot to offer, depending on what you like. Hunting, fishing, hiking, Nordic skiing. It’s great if you like the outdoors. Otherwise, maybe not so much.”

  Her smile looked amused, and he felt his own face stretching into a responsive one. “I’m outdoorsy, all right. As for the rest...” He shrugged.

  “What did you do before?”

  “Military,” he said.

  “Big change for you, then.”

  Just as he was beginning to wonder if he was about to get grilled, Nora turned the topic to her own work as an archivist at the library, and Allison’s job teaching.

  He found himself mostly watching Allison, the animation that livened her face. It occurred to him that he’d probably never get sick of watching the play of her thoughts and feelings over that pretty face.

  Aw, cut it out, he told himself. He was sitting there with his jacket on and only partly unzipped, looking like he was ready for flight, because he was armed. He had a cell phone in his pocket that could ring at any moment with the news he was being reactivated. He figured Allison was right, too, that he was at least partially paralyzed by grief or something over the sudden change in his circumstances, and losing his entire reason for existing.

  Drifting. He was drifting, and probably making a mountain out of a molehill over this whole poison thing because he didn’t know any other way to think or act.

  He had no right to inflict that on anyone.

  The chili was great. He had a second bowl of it, and ate so much bread that Rosa brought another loaf for him to dig into. If he was being a pig, nobody seemed to think so, especially Rosa, who gave him an unmistakable look of approval as she brought him more to eat.

  He complimented her on the wonderful meal and she smiled even more broadly. “I like a man who eats,” she said.

  “I’m certainly doing that.”

  By the time they left, he felt he’d walked through that potential minefield reasonably well. Maybe he hadn’t forgotten as much as he thought. Or maybe reasonable manners once learned were never entirely forgotten.

  Once they were headed back to the main road, Allison asked a surprising question. “I’ve always wanted to kno
w something.”

  He tensed a little. “About what?”

  “Do they really make you eat square meals in the academy?”

  The question shook a laugh out of him. “Actually, yes, but only during plebe summer. It’s just part of the discipline, although I’ve gotta say it makes eating extremely uncomfortable. Worse, though, was being quizzed throughout the meals. That went on all year.”

  “But what exactly is squaring?”

  “Mainly it’s simple once you learn it. You sit on the edge of your chair, perfectly straight, with your chin tucked in. Really tucked in. Then you have to keep your eyes straight ahead while bringing your fork or spoon straight up before then moving it horizontally to your mouth. You repeat the process in reverse, putting your hand in your lap until you’re ready for another mouthful.”

  “So it’s hazing?”

  “I don’t think I’d call it that, although I suppose you could. Mainly I think it’s one of the many introductions to ‘these are the rules, follow them no matter how stupid they seem.’” He paused. “For a few days it’s absolute hell, but you get the hang of it. And considering how I’ve seen some people eat, it may be a good thing.”

  “You’ve got a point there.” She laughed. “Okay, I always wondered about that. Don’t ask me why, it just intrigued me since I first heard of it.”

  “Well, it doesn’t last forever. You should see us hunkered around a fire in the middle of nowhere eating our rations. No manners at all.”

  “In that situation, they’d seem out of place. So you can have a square meal at my place tonight, in the other meaning of the term. If you don’t mind stopping at the grocery with me. I want to pick up a few things and make something nice. I’ve been eating out of jars, cans and packages all week because I didn’t cook last weekend.”

  “Meaning?”

  “I usually prepare food once a week and freeze it. I didn’t do it last week and I need to today if I can. Okay about the store?”

  “Sure,” he said. “And if you want to cook for the coming week, I’ll help. I can take orders.”

  “That might be fun.”

  It also might be stupid, but he realized he was seeking every possible excuse not to let her out of his sight. Whether the urge rose from concern about her or from his own desire for her, he didn’t know.

  Wise or foolish, there it was.

  * * *

  The grocery store didn’t take very long. Allison had a pretty good idea what she wanted and needed and didn’t get sidetracked or linger over things. She rapidly filled the cart he pushed for her.

  Exactly the kind of shopper no retailer liked, she thought with amusement as she stood in the checkout line.

  However, she was not as amused about spending the rest of the day cooking with Jerrod. It somehow struck her as an intimacy she wasn’t prepared to share, although she couldn’t figure out why.

  Yes, they had to plan tomorrow better if she really intended to look for dead animals up on the mountainside. Most likely a fool’s errand, given the amount of territory up there and the likelihood that any dead animals would be quickly eaten and their remains scattered. Equally foolish given how far some of these animals would be able to travel before they sickened.

  But she still felt compelled to look. If she found any freshly dead animals, then they might have a serious, ongoing problem. It could mean that the poison was still at work or that it had been used again.

  The instant she had that thought, an icy uneasiness trickled through her. If that poison had been used again. All of a sudden she wondered if Jerrod’s concern about her safety might be justified. If someone was still using the stuff, her poking around could well get her into trouble.

  It could be linked to the smashed tailgate window. That might really have been a warning, not a stupid prank.

  The uneasiness followed her all the way into the house, while she put away the groceries Jerrod carried in for her, while she changed into something comfortable and warm. By the time she got back to the kitchen, Jerrod had started a pot of coffee.

  “What if someone is still using that poison?” she said as soon as she saw him.

  He leaned back against the counter, folding his arms. For the first time, she noticed he was armed with both knife and pistol. “My God,” she whispered.

  He looked down, then looked at her. “I wasn’t going out there without protection. Want me to ditch this stuff?”

  “Ditch it where?”

  “I can put it by the front door with my jacket, or take it home.”

  She met his inky gaze almost reluctantly. He really did come from a different world. Well, not totally. Plenty of people hereabouts had guns, and some wore them. But somehow this felt different. Maybe because she hardly knew this man and he was in her house?

  Nor did most people around here carry in town. There were guns aplenty, mostly reserved for being out in the countryside hunting or on the ranch. Guns were part of life. Why this reaction?

  Because there was only one reason he would have carried those weapons today. And it explained why he’d eaten lunch with his parka still on.

  “I’ll go home,” he said.

  “No.” The word was out almost before she knew it was coming. “I’m just surprised.” That was certainly true. “I don’t have any guns. Well, except for the shotgun in the attic. It was my dad’s.”

  “A moral objection?”

  “No. This is gun country. I’d have to object to most of my neighbors if I felt that way. I’m just not used to seeing weapons inside my house.”

  “Then I’ll get rid of them.”

  “It’s okay. Really. This is you, right?”

  Something in his eyes narrowed. “Yeah,” he said, his voice rough. “This is me. This is me on high alert. I don’t need to be on alert in your kitchen.”

  “I hope not.”

  Without another word, he unbuckled his belt and removed both holsters from it. The sound of leather slipping against denim, the sight of him tugging at his belt, caused a sensual shiver in her despite the situation. She repressed it swiftly.

  “I’ll put them with my jacket.”

  She wondered why he hadn’t done that while she was changing. Maybe because he was so used to being armed he hadn’t thought about it? But the idea that he’d felt it necessary to accompany her to the ranch like that...

  She sank onto a chair, the house not quite silent. The coffeepot made its familiar noises, but there was a less familiar noise now, a man in her little entry hall ditching weapons.

  She felt as if she’d just run head-on into the brick wall of a very different reality. That was crazy. There were guns all over this county, so why was she reacting this way?

  Because it was Jerrod? Because he had just given her a truly honest glimpse of the life he had led before his wounding? Because she was sure that unlike most of her neighbors, he wasn’t armed to deal with varmints? No, he was armed to deal with people.

  She nearly shuddered.

  “Maybe I should just go home.”

  She looked up. He was standing in the doorway of the kitchen now, his face like chiseled stone. Her reaction had stung him, as if she were rejecting him.

  “No, stay,” she said quietly. “Please. I was just surprised. Nothing more.”

  He pulled out the other chair, swung it around and straddled it. “I suppose I should apologize, but I forgot I was armed. I’m used to it. I don’t think about it often.”

  She nodded. “And I’m acting like a foolish civilian. I get it.”

  “I don’t think you’re foolish at all. This is me, like you said. You’re not used to the things I’m used to. We just had a culture clash.”

  The sense of shock was easing, and her heart was slowing down again. She managed a faint smile. “Well, if you don’
t disappear in a couple of days, I suppose there’ll be more of them. It’s just that I don’t know you very well. I probably never will.”

  He frowned faintly. “Maybe not. I don’t seem to be in a position to promise much of anything right now.”

  “Because you could be reactivated?”

  “Partly. But mostly because I haven’t figured out what I’m going to do yet. I’m still adjusting.”

  “I get it.” She did, too, and the understanding didn’t make her happy. Jerrod was beginning to knit into her life in a way that made her reluctant to think of him going. And it wasn’t just because he could ignite her desires so easily. Something else was getting to her. His extreme protectiveness of a woman he hardly knew? Maybe. It had been a long time since anyone had made her feel protected, and it was only now that she realized how much she wanted that feeling, even if she didn’t need it.

  Crazy thoughts, she told herself. “I’m struggling here,” she said finally. Might as well just have it out in the open.

  “How so?”

  “I sit here pondering you when I have almost nothing to go on. Then I ponder why you evoke the feelings you do in me when there’s little basis for them. You’re making me crazy.”

  His facade cracked a bit and she thought she caught a glimpse of humor, just a quick one. “I’m crazy making, I suppose.”

  “So it seems. Anyway, for all intents and purposes, you’re a stranger to me. That should make it easy, right? Wrong. I’m entirely too wrapped up in you.”

  He leaned forward against the back of the chair and put his hands on the table. Spread out like that, she could see the signs of a life lived the hard way. The assortment of dings and scars were almost an encyclopedia.

  “Didn’t you wear gloves in the field?” she asked suddenly.

  “Of course.” He looked down at his hands. “But not quite often enough.”

  “Apparently,” she said drily.

  “I wear them because they’re necessary, not because I like them. I hate not having the sensitivity of my fingertips.”

  Oh, hell, she thought. That had been a simple statement of fact, but it struck her as sensuous beyond belief. The thought of sensitive fingertips touching her kindled the fire that never quite went out when he was around, and that all too often leaped to a blaze even when he wasn’t. She ached to make love to this dangerous stranger, and perhaps that was the craziest thing of all.