Cocked And Loaded

by Desiree Holt

  Manny shook his head so hard he nearly pulled a muscle in his neck. “No, no, no. You said to get the money. Even I know enough to wait until the girl's not there and look for it again."

  "You'd better be telling me the truth because this is going to make a bigger mess than you and I want to see. The chance of getting that money just shrank, and I don't dare make another offer for the house and land on the heels of this. And we have another shipment coming through. This is going to be nothing but one big clusterfuck."

  "I thought you were going to change the date for the shipment?"

  "I did, but only by a couple of days. Otherwise we'll lose out altogether.” He tossed his napkin on the table. “If this operation tanks because of what happened, some people are going to wish they'd never been born.” He signaled for the waiter. “I need to get on this. Watch your step, Manny, and don't do anything else stupid."

  * * * *

  When she woke again and could force her painfully sore eyelids open, Jamie realized she was still in the hospital, only now she was in an actual room and someone was holding her hand. She listened for sounds of another patient, but the room seemed to be a private one. Shifting her gaze to the right, she saw Zane's big body sprawled in a chair next to the bed, his eyes closed, her small hand swallowed up in his big one. The thumping in her head was only marginally better.

  She vaguely remembered throwing up a time or two and fervently hoped Zane hadn't witnessed the humiliating process, although the chances of that were probably slim and none. Every time she'd managed to surface from the blessed fog, he'd been right beside her, holding her hand, giving orders, brushing soft kisses on her cheek.

  She tried to wet her lips with her tongue, but her mouth was so dry it was a feeble effort.

  "Hey.” She sounded like a frog croaking.

  Zane was instantly alert and leaning forward. “Hey, darlin'. How's the head?"

  "Like something left over from the Mad Drummer's Party.” She tried licking her lips again. “Water?"

  "Right here."

  He held a cup with a bent straw, putting the straw to her lips so she could sip through it.

  A few swallows were all she could take at the moment. Her throat hurt inside and out. She leaned her head back against the pillow and closed her eyes. “Thanks. Now can you make this marching band in my head go away?"

  "Let me ask the nurse for more acetaminophen. That's all they'll give someone with a concussion. But now that you're awake you can have an ice pack on your head, too."

  "Anything,” she moaned. “Anything at all."

  She heard the sound of his booted feet as he left the room and again when he returned. A soft hand slipped behind her head and raised it a little.

  "I've got some pills here for you, Miss Randall,” a soft female voice said. “Can you open your eyes and take them?"

  Zane held the water for her again, then helped the nurse adjust the cold pack, wrapped in a soft cloth, on her head where the lumps were.

  "This should help a little,” the nurse told her. “And I'm sure the sheriff will let us know if you need anything else.” The last was said with just a touch of ironic humor.

  Then Zane was right there, holding her hand again, feeding her his strength.

  The ice helped more than she expected, and in a few minutes, the pain medicine began to work. She forced her eyes open, and this time it didn't hurt quite so badly. Especially when she focused on Zane's face.

  "Bad morning,” she tried to joke.

  He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers again, squeezing them slightly as if to assure himself they still moved. That she still moved. “You scared the crap out of me."

  "Me ... too,” she croaked. She waited a moment, then asked, “Did he ... I mean...” She shifted her legs and stared up at him. “I don't think so, but—"

  "No. The son of a bitch didn't get a chance, thanks to Kit. But he would have.” He held her hand up to his cheek, and she was startled to feel wetness. “Jesus, Jamie. When I saw you, I thought my heart would stop. It's bad enough what he did to your breasts. Thank god he didn't get to do anything worse."

  "Thank Kit.” Her smile was weak.

  "You bet. Can you talk enough yet to tell me what happened? All I got from Kit was she walked into your bedroom, found some guy in a ski mask trying to slice you up, and shot him in the shoulder."

  "Knew ... that gun would come in handy.” Her mouth felt stuffed full of sand, and she motioned for the water again. “Did she ... kill him?"

  "No, damn it. She winged him pretty good, though, judging by the trail of blood he left.” He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. “Tell me what you can."

  Haltingly she explained as much as she remembered. The anger in Zane's eyes grew fierier, and a muscle jumped in his cheek as she finished.

  "They've gone way too far,” he said, his barely controlled rage evident in his voice. “I'll get them if I have to call in the National Guard for help."

  Something was running around in her head and with great effort she plucked it out. “He seemed ... more interested in getting rid of me ... than anything else. Why?"

  "I don't know, but something isn't tracking here. Listen, I've got to get to the office. I have—"

  She held up her other hand. “Don't ... apologize. Go. Catch these bastards."

  He leaned down and pressed a warm kiss to her lips. “I'll be back later. Kit's right outside, and she's going to stay with you. I've also got a guard posted on the door."

  Her eyes widened. “Guard?"

  "I don't trust them not to make a try for you here. You just be a good girl and do what they tell you. If all goes well, I can take you home tomorrow. But this time, I'm taking you to my house."

  She raised an eyebrow.

  "No back talk, darlin'. For one thing, I want to leave your place vacant and see what happens. For another, you're too isolated out there. So it's done. That's it."

  "Kit?"

  He sighed then grinned. “There's room for Kit, too. I'll just tell people I'm collecting a harem."

  She tried to laugh, but it made her head hurt.

  Zane kissed her one last time, then he was gone, replaced at her bedside by Kit.

  "You sure do know how to show a girl a good time,” Kit joked. “And here I thought New York had all the excitement."

  * * * *

  Jamie slept most of the day. The nurses fed her pain meds, changed the dressings on her cuts, and replaced the cold pack whenever it got too warm. When she was awake, Kit entertained her with details of her visit with her friend in San Antonio. She also agreed with Zane that they needed to use the house as bait, but not with either of them in it.

  "This little episode scared the shit out of both of us,” she pointed out.

  "That's ... why Zane wants us at his house, I guess,” Jamie said.

  "I'll try not to cramp your style.” Kit winked at her. “Although, I don't know just how much playtime you'll be up for. The doctor said he'd be in late this afternoon to check you over again. Meanwhile, rest. That's an order."

  "My ... insurance card. The newspaper gave me an extension on my coverage. Can you get it?"

  "It's the least the bastards could do,” Kit spat out. “And yes, I found it in your purse."

  Jamie looked around the room. “It ... doesn't cover a private room.” She struggled to sit up. “I can't—"

  Kit was there at once, easing her back on the pillows. “The hunky sheriff took care of everything. And I don't think he's in a mood for you to argue with him. I'd just go with the flow if I were you."

  Jamie closed her eyes. “You know, don't you?"

  "That you're in love with him? Hard to miss, kiddo. And you couldn't have picked a better one.” She paused. “But that might mean staying in Amen."

  Jamie sighed. “I guess. We'll see.” And then she was asleep again.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Sixteen

  "The other bitch shot me."

/>   Alone in his car, cell phone to his ear, Danny Christopher popped four more ibuprofen and washed them down with straight vodka. The bullet had been a through-and-through, thank god, but he'd bled like a stuck pig. Traces of his DNA had probably dripped all over Jamie Randall's bedroom and hallway.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  "I gave you specific instructions.” The voice came through distorted by a synthesizer, making whoever was calling the shots impossible to recognize.

  The instructions were always left in his car, as was his payment. Always taped under the driver's seat, and then the car was locked. Twice he'd tried to watch to see who delivered the payment, but then he'd gotten a call.

  "Stop spying or you won't get paid."

  So he still had no idea who it was, only that they paid well for every job he did. And there sure was a variety of them. But even the riskiest ones he'd gotten away clean.

  "You said she'd be alone,” Danny complained. “Just wait for the sheriff to leave."

  "My contact in San Antonio failed to give me enough notice when her friend left. And you didn't answer your cell phone."

  "I felt it vibrate, but I was little damn fucking busy, you know."

  "Well, there's no help for it now. You'll have to get out of town. And stay gone, for a long time."

  Danny took another long swallow of the vodka. “Just where the hell am I supposed to go? And who's gonna pay for my little vacation?"

  "Tonight I'll leave money in your car. Go wherever you want, as long as it's not in the state of Texas. If they ever catch you, you'll wish I'd killed you instead."

  The phone clicked off.

  Danny swore and threw it on the bed. In the bathroom, he pulled off the stained bandage he'd improvised and gritted his teeth while he cleaned the wound again with peroxide. Clumsily, he smeared on antibiotic ointment and wrapped a fresh gauze bandage around it.

  Two more slugs of vodka and he felt okay enough to throw his stuff into two large canvas bags. He didn't have much so there wasn't that much to pack. Renting one room didn't allow you to put down too many roots. For a situation like this, though, it was a benefit.

  He flopped onto the ratty sleeper sofa and knocked back another drink of vodka. Nothing to do now but wait for dark.

  Jesus, but his shoulder hurt like a son of a bitch. Too bad he couldn't stay around and show that cunt it didn't pay to hurt Danny Christopher.

  Well after ten, he staggered down the stairs to his car. It took him two tries to unlock it, even with the remote lock, but finally he was inside, the package retrieved from its usual place. Draining the last of the vodka, he tossed the empty bottle to the floor and backed out of his parking space.

  Gunning the engine, he roared down the street heading for the highway leading west. He'd always wanted to see Arizona. This was probably as good a time as any. If only his eyes didn't blur so much. Had to be the goddamn ibuprofen. Or maybe the pain itself. Wrestling with the steering wheel was no picnic.

  Lucky for him there wasn't a lot of traffic on the road. Headlights coming toward him blinded him, and he had to keep jerking the wheel to the side, sending more pain shooting all the way down his arms.

  He made it nearly to the county line when something big came over the rise at him. He couldn't seem to react fast enough. He felt as if everything was moving under water. When he managed to pull to the right to get out of the way, his vision was off, and he didn't even see the huge tree or the gully next to it until it was too late to avoid the crash.

  * * * *

  Jamie was dreaming, a restless sleep, conjuring up images in her mind. She couldn't seem to get away from the pain in her head or her breasts.

  Zane was there, walking toward her through a cloud of fog.

  "Hush, darlin',” he soothed. “I'll make you feel better."

  "Where are we?” She was confused. Nothing looked familiar.

  "It doesn't matter. All that matters is I can make you feel good."

  As he emerged more fully from the fog she saw that he was completely naked. His muscles rippled beneath his already bronze skin, kissed a darker shade by hours in the sun, his raven black hair like a fall of silk on his shoulders. His ebony eyes were like onyx fire.

  Jamie's entire body quivered in anticipation, her pussy dripping with juices that coated her naked thighs.

  Naked? Was she undressed, too? She didn't remember taking her clothes off.

  She was floating, anchorless, and there was Zane between her thighs, his big hands sliding beneath her buttocks and lifting her up to him.

  "When I get you out of here,” he told her in a guttural voice,” I'm going to fuck you until you don't even know your own name. Handcuff your wrists and tie your ankles to the bedposts, so I can eat that cunt until I've had my fill of your sweet juices. Until I've licked every inch inside that pussy. Until I've sucked that little clit so much it will stand up just like a little dick."

  Jamie moaned, as much from the first swipe of his tongue across her slit as from his words.

  "Then I'm going to untie your ankles, flip this sweet little body over and take you to your knees. Oh, yeah. With that gorgeous ass waving in the air. But first I owe you a spanking for being a bad girl, remember? So when those pink globes are fiery red and the heat streaks all the way into your cunt, I'm going to slide the butt plug into the hot little dark hole, fill your cunt with my cock, and fuck you blind. You'll never want another man again, Jamie. And I'll never want another woman. Ever."

  Guttural sounds floated on the air, and Jamie was startled to realize they came from her. Zane was holding her up to his mouth, one pinky finger breaching her anus, the tip just inside her hole. His tongue was everywhere, inside her, outside, lapping at her labia then flicking at her clit.

  "I don't want anyone else,” she gasped as he took her right to the edge then pulled her back. “I just want you."

  "Damn right.” His voice was muffled as he pressed his mouth against her pussy. “This is mine. You're mine."

  She thrust her hips at him, but she had nothing to brace herself on, only his hands. “Please,” she begged, her body crying out for release.

  "Do you want to come, Jamie? Pour all that sweet cream into my mouth?"

  "Yes, yes, yes,” she chanted.

  "All right, darlin'."

  He pressed his finger more deeply into her ass and grabbed her clit with his lips, pulling and tugging on it. Like a wave crashing on the shore her climax hit her, sharp and intense and fierce. She squeezed her thighs around his head as the last violent spasm shook her.

  She reached for his shoulders, struggling to grab him when a shadowy figure morphed out of the fog, nothing but darkness. Its arm moved, a sharp crack split the air, and Zane slumped forward over her.

  "Zane!” she shrieked. “Zane! Get up, you're bleeding. Someone help me."

  "Jamie. Jamie, wake up."

  Hands were shaking her, and she tried to shrug them off. “Zane!” she screamed again.

  "Wake up, Miss Randall.” An unfamiliar voice. “You're having a nightmare."

  The fog dissipated and she forced her eyes open. She was sitting straight up in bed, still in her hospital room, Kit on one side, the nurse on the other, holding onto her. She looked at Kit's face and saw the lines of worry and the concern in her eyes.

  She tried to wet her lips with her tongue, but she had no saliva in her mouth.

  "Here.” Kit held the cup and straw in front of her so she could drink.

  She was so parched she took it all, then flopped back on the pillow. “What happened?"

  "You had the mother of all nightmares. Scared the shit out of me.” She looked at the nurse. “Pardon my language."

  The nurse smiled. “That's okay. I felt the same way. I paged the doctor. If he thinks she's doing okay, he can order something stronger for her."

  "Zane.” Jamie was suddenly frantic. “Where's Zane?"

  "He was here earlier, but you were sleeping so deeply he didn't want to wake you. Said he'd be ba
ck later."

  "Later? How much later?"

  "I don't know, honey. He's busy trying to find out who did this to you and what the hell else is going on. Come on. Lie back. The doctor will be here in a minute."

  "I was ... we were...” No, better leave the personal details out of it. “What time is it?"

  "Almost ten o'clock. You've slept most of the day away.” Kit fussed with her covers. “You can bet your body needed it."

  She pushed Kit's hands away and sat up again. “Call Zane. Right now. This minute. I have to make sure he's okay."

  "Honey, I'm sure he's fine.” Kit tried to settle her down again.

  Jamie's heart was beating erratically and fear chilled her blood. “Call. Him. Now. Damn it, Kit, I mean it. Just do it."

  "Okay, okay.” Kit fished her cell phone and the card Zane had given her with his number on it out of her purse.

  Jamie waited while her friend punched in the numbers, frantic with impatience. “Did he answer?"

  Kit nodded and held up a finger. “Zane? Sorry to bother you, but your girlfriend seems to think you're in some kind of danger. Hold on a minute.” She handed the phone to Jamie.

  "Are you okay? Tell me you're all right."

  "I'm fine, darlin'. As fine as I can be with all the crap that's going on. What's the matter?"

  She let out a slow breath. “You have to be very careful. I saw him shoot you."

  "Shoot me? Who?"

  "I don't know. Don't laugh at me, but I saw it in a dream, and Zane? It was too real. Please, please, please be very, very careful."

  He didn't laugh at her as she'd expected. “I promise. I believe in premonitions. I'm half Comanche, remember?"

  She heard voices in the background and someone calling for him. “I'll let you go, but will you keep in touch until you can get back here?"

  "Count on it. No matter how busy I am."

  "Zane?"

  "What is it, darlin'?"

  She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, clutching the phone. In or out, she thought. “I l-love you."