Cocked And Loaded

by Desiree Holt

  His breath was a warm current on her face as he kissed her eyelids, her nose, her chin. She didn't know whose heart was thudding harder, hers or his, or how to even separate the sound of the two. His kiss, when his mouth reached her lips, was so tender and gentle tears threatened to spill from her eyes.

  "Hey, hey, hey.” He lifted his head. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” He loosened his grip. “I'm squashing your poor, sore breasts, aren't I?"

  "No.” She swallowed hard and blinked the tears away. “I just..."

  "Just what, darlin'?"

  Jamie buried her head against his shoulder. “I never ... I mean ... this is so much more than I ever expected from you.” She was afraid to look at him, afraid she was misunderstanding everything and he'd think her a fool. He'd said he loved her, but this was so much more than words. So much deeper.

  His fingers touched her chin and tilted her face up to his. “Look at me, Jamie,” he commanded.

  She forced her eyes open to meet his blazing ones, emotions swirling in their darkness.

  "Just because I like my sex rough and because I'm a hardass, doesn't mean I don't enjoy tenderness. I've just never had it in a relationship. With anyone. Or wanted it, before this.” His hand caressed her cheek. “I ... feel things with you I never expected to. Not just possession but a ... a bonding. I want to be things with you that I've never been with anyone else."

  "I love you,” she said in a choked voice.

  "I love you, too. More than I ever thought possible.” He brushed his fingers across her cheek, then slowly eased himself from her body.

  She was lying on her back when he returned from disposing of the condom. “I don't hear Kit banging on the ceiling so I guess we were quiet enough for her,” she joked.

  "I don't care who hears us.” He slid into bed beside her and wrapped her up against him, being careful of her cuts. “Or who knows how I feel."

  Jamie wanted to just sink into is warm hardness forever. Her hand smoothed the skin on his chest. “You sure you really want to go public with this? You could get a lot of flak from a lot of people. Especially at work."

  He tensed briefly. “I do my job, and I do it damn well. No one can find a thing to complain about. And my men respect me.” He rubbed her back, his hand drifting down to the curve of her ass. “Besides, I get the feeling everyone on my staff knows what's going on anyway. And everyone else can think what they want. As long as I do the job I was elected to do, they can't complain."

  "I know you're checking into Grayson Ballou for me. He's a pretty powerful man who could make a lot of trouble for you."

  He snuggled her head under his chin. “If he's dirty, I'd welcome the chance to take him on. I don't kiss anyone's ass.” He chuckled. “Except maybe yours.” He reached behind him and snapped off the lamp. “Go to sleep, darlin'. I'll keep you safe. Count on it."

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Eighteen

  Zane's cell phone buzzed as he was shaving at six in the morning. He grabbed it before it could wake Jamie. The readout was Roy's number.

  "Did you even go to sleep last night?” he asked, wiping the last bit of lather from his face.

  "I think so,” was the comeback, “but I'm not sure. Three things. First of all—and I'm sorry I have to tell you this—but scuttlebutt around the county is that Danny Christopher did odd jobs for your mother. And some of them were very odd indeed."

  Zane gripped the phone so hard he was afraid he'd crush it. “What kind of odd jobs?"

  "We're still trying to pin that down, but she might have been using him at Grayson Ballou's direction. I'm sorry, Zane."

  The worst of it was he could actually believe his mother would hire such a lowlife to threaten Jamie. Over the past few years, a lot of things she did had begun to bother him. He swallowed back the bile rising in his throat. “Find out what you can and let me know. What else?"

  "Your friend Skip Conway left a message last night that he and his friends would be here around ten this morning. And number three, I think we should take a look at the entire Randall place in broad daylight."

  Zane's stomach tightened. “Why? Did something else happen?"

  "Not sure. One of the patrols thought he saw something last night, but by the time he got to the place, if there was anyone, they were gone."

  "Did he have any idea what they might have been doing?” Zane asked. “Did they leave any kind of trace behind?"

  "Nothing the guys could find. But someone, who doesn't want us to know, may be keeping an eye on the place. You want to meet me at the house, and we'll go over all the property?"

  "Give me thirty minutes.” He snapped the phone shut.

  "Trouble?” Jamie was still burrowed under the covers, but she peered at him with one eye.

  "Maybe. Probably.” Zane yanked on his uniform slacks and shoved his arms into the sleeves of his shirt. “Has there been anything else but lately?"

  She turned over so she could see him with both eyes, her forehead creased. “Not another body."

  "No, thank god. At least I don't think so.” He buttoned his shirt, then came to sit on the side of the bed, taking one of her hands in his. “How are you feeling? I didn't push you too hard last night, did I?"

  "As a matter of fact, I think you were just what the doctor ordered.” She reached beneath the covers to touch the nakedness of her cunt. “Oh, yeah. Home remedies are the best. Definitely."

  "Good. Very good.” He lifted her hand and kissed the knuckles. “I meant to pass something along to you last night, but somehow I got sidetracked."

  Her smile was slow and seductive. “Imagine that."

  "Witch. Listen, I got a new report on Frank's truck. It hurts my pride to admit it, but you were right all along. If you've got a large bottle of ketchup, I'll pour it all over the crow before I eat it."

  "I was right? After all your macho chest beating,” she teased. “I was right all the time?"

  He nodded. “Yes, damn it. I owe you a big time apology, and I'm sorry I was such an asshole. Someone pushed him over that hill, just like you said. But you have to understand the circumstances. None of this other stuff had come up yet, and Frank was..."

  "A drunken bum. I know, I know.” She pushed herself up against the pillows. “But I just had a feeling something was off. Damn it all, anyway. He may have been the world's worst father and a useless human being, but he didn't deserve that."

  "I know, darlin'.” He caressed her cheek. “And I take full responsibility for missing it. Will you forgive me?"

  Jamie pressed against the hand on her cheek. “I should make you squirm and really pay, but I think you're already suffering enough with this whole mess. Let's just find some answers here."

  He hugged her against him, kissing her hair. Then he set her away from him and caught her gaze with his. “Okay, here's what we've got. We recovered some paint chips from the tail gate and send them to the state lab. They can analyze them and tell us what kind of vehicle they came from. We'll take it from there, although I'm not holding out too much hope.” He brushed her hair back behind her ears. “This whole mess is getting more complex every day. Whoever's pulling the strings has got some brains and covers his tracks. Danny Christopher being the lone deviation."

  "I know. What's with that, anyway?"

  "Don't know yet, but we're working on it. Someone may have decided to go after you on his own."

  I hope like hell it isn't my mother, and that I'm only imagining her involvement with Danny. What a load of shit that would be to dump on this.

  She shivered. “I can't imagine what this is all about, unless someone wants the money that badly. But why keep trying to get me out of town?"

  Zane stroked her naked body, pulling her momentarily against his warmth. “We're going to find out, Jamie. I promise.” He set her away from him. “Gotta go. I'll keep in touch when I can, but I don't want you or Kit going anywhere today. I have regular patrols coming by the house and if anything—I mean anything—se
ems off kilter, call me right away on my cell."

  "Don't worry,” she told him. “I'm not ready to go out and fight the world again yet."

  His groin tightened. He reached between her thighs and stroked her naked folds, feeling the cream of her pussy coating his fingers.

  "But I think you might be ready for something else.” He groaned. “I wish I had more time right now."

  "I do, too. Hot sex is a good cure for everything. Haven't you heard?"

  He studied her face and saw something that had been missing up until now. Real fear. She'd been angry, a little scared, and hostile, but now her eyes were shadowed with terror. He had to tamp down the rage that bubbled up. He wanted to kill the people who'd put that look there.

  He kissed her as if he never wanted to let her go, and in truth, he didn't. With one large hand, he cupped her breast, his thumb teasing a plump nipple. His tongue danced with hers as it ravaged her mouth, his blood heating and roaring through his veins. The nipple beaded against his touch, his cock threatened to burst from its confinement, and pleasure stabbed at him like lightening gone wild.

  Holy shit! How can she do this to me so easily?

  He wanted to throw her down on the bed, spread her legs wide, and fuck her until she couldn't remember her own name. It took all of his willpower to pull away and settle her back in bed.

  "I'll check in with you every chance I get,” he promised, fighting to control his breathing. “You and Kit hang out and keep all the doors and windows locked."

  "We will.” She gave him an impish grin that temporarily wiped away the fear. “Go get ‘em, Sheriff."

  * * * *

  Roy Galvan and another deputy were sitting in a county SUV in the Randall driveway when Zane pulled in behind them. The deputy opened the passenger side door to climb into the back seat and Zane noticed the gym bag he carried with him.

  "Are we exercising today, too?” Zane asked, taking the deputy's place in front.

  "Leon is a camera whiz. He'll be taking photos. He also has a basic crime scene kit with him in the very lucky happenstance we find something."

  "So where are we going?"

  Roy backed out of the long driveway, but instead of turning onto the highway, he shifted into four-wheel drive and began a very bumpy journey across the scrubland of the Randall property.

  The hundred or so acres looked either natural or unkempt, depending on who was asked. Tall prairie grass that had never seen a mower moved like feathery soldiers in the early morning breeze. Thick stands of mountain cedar, live oak, and sycamore made passage over the ground difficult, but Roy navigated it expertly. Anyone who lived in this part of Texas knew how to drive in this kind of territory.

  "Are we just taking a tour of the property?” Zane asked after the first few minutes.

  "Oh, ye of little faith,” Roy said. “Hold on for one more minute."

  Finally, they were at the back end of the property. Roy pulled into a narrow space, stopped the SUV, and got out, motioning for Zane to do the same. They were walking through a small copse of live oaks when Zane suddenly stopped, realizing what Roy wanted to show him.

  Someone had very cleverly cut down enough trees, mostly mountain cedar, to leave space to drive a vehicle onto the property. There was actually room among the oaks for two or three large vehicles to park in scattered fashion.

  Roy crouched down and pointed to the ground. “We haven't had rain in months, so nothing's been washed away. Look. You can still see tire marks that haven't been completely destroyed by the wind.” He rose up and walked to the other spaces, pointing again. “I'd say at least two of the vehicles were vans."

  "Illegals,” Zane spat. “Coyote traffic."

  Texas constantly battled the coyotes, people who for exorbitant fees smuggled men, women and children across the border from Mexico. Diablo County sat smack in the middle of the state, a good distribution point if the coyotes could get their cargo this far traveling the highways at night.

  "That's my guess,” Roy agreed. “Whoever's running this particular operation is getting them across the border then bringing them up here. But I don't think this is just a place to let them off. I think these people are being sold—either as slave labor or as part of the white slavery market. Either to private individuals or to brothels. And not just in this country."

  "Jesus.” Zane blew out a long breath and forcibly held onto his temper. People being bought and sold like so much cattle turned his stomach.

  "One more thing.” Roy led him into a narrow space between two oaks and crouched down again, pointing. “There's been blood shed here. Someone's been either killed or hurt badly. And not all that long ago."

  He motioned to Leon, who opened his gym bag, took out a camera, and began taking pictures, taking great care where he stepped.

  "Frank Randall had to be part of this,” Zane said. “They couldn't use his property without his knowledge. And this is a perfect drop-off spot. Nobody ever paid attention to Frank, and there's nothing around back here for miles."

  "My guess is he's been doing it for years. That's where he got the money to support himself and Jamie. Such as it was, anyway."

  "And that's where the money came from that Jamie found."

  Roy was the only one Zane had told about that, swearing him to secrecy until they knew more about what was going on. At the moment, the cash was locked up in the safe in Zane's office, signed in by both himself and Roy.

  "Something must have gone wrong for them to kill Frank,” Roy commented. “Even if he'd asked for more money, it couldn't have been enough to get him killed."

  "You're right. It had to be something else. Something he either knew or discovered. But what?"

  Roy shrugged. “Beats me. We need to go back to the office and take a good look at everything that's happened around here in the past six months. Something will jump out at us. I hope."

  Zane took off his Stetson, ran his fingers through his hair, and stuck his hat back on his head. “How'd you happen to find this?"

  "I had Jimmy Black Crow doing the hourly runs past here last night, just keeping his eye out for anyone around the house or anything unusual. He thought he spotted something in the trees here. Caught the moonlight hitting something. When he got here, whoever it was had left, but he got out his flashlight and took a look around. This is what he found."

  "Someone was keeping an eye on the house."

  "That would be my guess. Whoever it was beat feet when he saw Jimmy heading his way."

  "Good work for Jimmy. I just hope he didn't step on anything important walking around here."

  Roy shook his head. “He was real careful. You made sure to train everyone about preserving evidence, even when they don't know if that's what it is. He keeps a pair of mocs in his car, so he put them on before he got out."

  "Smart kid,” Zane grunted. “Remind me to tell him so.” He paused, thoughts banging around in his head. “Here's another question for you. Frank Randall picked up enough odd jobs that no one questioned his ability to pay for things like groceries, and his utility bills can't have been all that high. But he had mortgage payments to make. Taxes to pay. How come no one ever thought it suspicious that he paid them all in cash."

  "Maybe he opened a bank account,” Roy suggested.

  "And dumped huge amounts of unexplained cash into it? Without the bank asking questions?"

  "So are you saying the bank is in on it, too? Christ, Zane. Dean Holman's practically Mr. Community. He's been president of everything from Kiwanis to the county playground committee. And he's run Holman Community Bank forever."

  Zane was quiet for a moment. “While we're speculating, here's another nugget for you. Gray Ballou owns the majority of the stock in that bank."

  "So now you're saying Ballou's involved, too? Wait a minute. Did you suspect the smuggling? And that Ballou was involved? Is that why those guys from ICE are showing up today?"

  "Just covering all my bases. And my ass."

  Roy looked at his watc
h. “Leon should be done here pretty quick, and we'll get you back to your car. You'll make your meeting in plenty of time."

  The deputy snapped off a dozen more shots, then took plastic evidence bags, tweezers, and a felt tip pen from the bag and began gathering up the debris on the ground that had what they suspected was blood spattered on it. He sealed the bags, dated and initialed them, then had both Roy and Zane add their initials to his.

  "Just adding extra weight to the chain of evidence,” he told them.

  Zane knew when the deputy returned to the office, he'd meticulously enter each item into the evidence log, then watch while it was locked up and another deputy signed the receipt. He'd do the same thing with the photos when they were developed, making extra copies for the sheriff. And he'd write a meticulously detailed report of what had been found today.

  And Zane knew they'd need everything they could get their hands on if what he suspected was true. Something so horrific he couldn't even voice it to Roy Galvan, his second in command, until he was absolutely sure.

  What with one thing and another, it was after nine o'clock before they were ready to leave the scene. Zane barely had time to get to his office, catch up on the overnight reports, and hold a quick morning briefing before the men from ICE arrived.

  He stood to shake Skip Conroy's hand. “Thanks for coming. I hope you brought some goodies with you."

  After introducing the two men with him, Skip reached into his briefcase and pulled out a folder, handing it to Zane. “That should cover everything you asked for."

  Zane carefully examined each sheet of paper, making sure every detail was covered. When he looked up at Skip, the smile on his face had no humor in it. “Thanks. This should more than do it. I can't believe you got a federal judge to authorize taps on all of Ballou's phones."

  "The next thing is to implement them,” Skip reminded him. “That's what these two guys are for. It would help if we could set up the tap directly at the local service provider, but there are so many alternates these days that doesn't always work. And my guess is Ballou uses an Internet service, thinking it protects him from something just like this."