Lay It Down

by Cara McKenna

  “And where are you from, Kim?” she asked, sliding a very full glass of white across the table.

  Kim took a tiny sip, reminding herself she had to drive in a couple hours. “Portland, Oregon. Though I grew up in Lake Oswego.”

  “Ooh,” Christine teased. “Fancy lady.”

  Kim laughed. “Yeah, snob central. You know Oregon?”

  “I did my ag program up north, worked for a couple years on a ranch near Hermiston.” That explained all the Pendleton. “But I grew up just outside Fortuity. Three years behind Don in school.”

  Vince covered his glass when Christine tried to fill it. “Pass. Need a clear head.”

  Their hostess settled down with her own generous serving. “Well, do make yourself at home while you’re here, Kim.”

  “Thanks. And I just finished the job I came here to do, so please—put me to work. Anything not involving animals, anyhow. I’m grossly underqualified there. But laundry, cooking . . .”

  “Works for me,” Christine said. “I’d much rather be out with the horses than cleaning up after my boys. And don’t worry—I’ve never been a contender for housekeeper of the year. The standard’s been set low.” She winked, then sipped her wine, the gestures and the casual way she hunkered down, elbows on the wood, making her seem no older than thirty.

  She began dinner shortly, delegating tasks to Vince and Kim until a massive meat loaf was in the oven, baking alongside a dish of potatoes and carrots. As it cooked, they chatted about the ranch. The missing Churches appeared shortly. Miah had showered and changed, but Don seemed content to putter in his work clothes.

  “Smells good,” he said, kissing his wife on the cheek.

  “Can’t say the same about you,” she teased. “Dinner needs another half hour. Get yourself cleaned up.”

  “Later. Got a steer to check before bed.”

  Christine relented.

  Don pulled a laptop from the hutch and propped it open on the dinner table, playing some regional agricultural report at a volume that made his wife’s eyes roll. Miah joined him in watching, the two of them standing side by side with identical postures, like twins separated by a generation.

  “It never stops,” Christine said, shushed by her husband. She rolled her eyes again. “Workaholics. Too bad we don’t have a stockbroker’s lifestyle to show for it.”

  Eventually the Church men were enticed to sit still, and small talk steadily blossomed into good-natured, wine-fueled conversation.

  A salad was procured from the fridge; then dinner was served. Christine deflected all compliments, but it was the best meal Kim had had in weeks. Though perhaps that was due to the company more than anything else. She glanced at Vince now and then, wondering if he envied his best friend’s family life, so different from his own. Two loving, in-love parents, as opposed to an absentee father and a mentally absent mother. And until recently, a missing brother.

  The Churches were a contrast to Kim’s erstwhile home life as well. After her mom had passed away when Kim was twelve, her father had lost his ability to be loving, mistaking overprotection and control for affection. Or maybe he just hadn’t dared to risk loving anyone—or losing anyone—after they’d lost her mom. Something had broken inside him, sudden and stark as a screen going black. Though in the end, he got exactly what scared him most. He lost me, too. He’d pushed her away even as he fought to keep her close, too close. He’d smothered her, just as Ryan had begun to.

  Her mouth took part in the conversation, but the rest of her was distracted. With the adrenaline finally waning, other sensations surfaced, ones that had her blood pumping hard from something far different than fear. She eyed Vince, wondering when they might find themselves alone together again, near a bed. And if she should even be thinking such things, given everything that was going on.

  Then again, her attraction might just be the only tangible thing left to cling to.

  The dinner conversation came around to Kim again, and to what had brought her here. She explained the Sunnyside assignment, and how Vince had been acting as her unlikely tour guide.

  “Interesting time to visit Fortuity,” Don offered. “The casino’s really shaking things up . . .”

  Everyone had an opinion about that, and it carried them through the rest of the meal, until the table was cleared and the dishwasher loaded.

  Don excused himself to check on the animals, and Christine announced she was off to collapse in front of the TV with a second glass of wine.

  Vince beckoned Kim and Miah to follow him out to the front porch.

  “We got a lot of shit to get on top of,” he said quietly, leaning against the thick wooden rail. He’d clearly done a lot of thinking during dinner, and he touched a finger, ticking off item one. “What happened to Alex, first and foremost. What he saw, and who wanted him shut up. And who it was Kim saw today.” He pinched another finger together with the first. “Next, and not as pressing—Welch.”

  “Indeed,” Miah said, his distaste for the guy so transparently personal.

  “I dunno if what Kim saw at the motel really is cause for concern, but if the guy Sunnyside sent to supposedly help me get answers is more shady than he lets on, I want to know. Though God help us all if this cover-up is spread out wide enough to involve the developers.”

  “What are you thinking?” Miah asked.

  Vince considered it. “I could break into his room, except with my parole, that’s not the smartest idea in the world.” Another thought seemed to strike him. “Or, I could get somebody invited into his room. Now don’t get pissed, Church—”

  Miah was already shaking his head.

  “She’s halfway to bed with him already,” Vince said, and Kim caught on. Raina.

  “No goddamn way.”

  “If she’s up for it,” Vince said, “why not?”

  “You know the hell why not.”

  “You two’ve been exes ten times longer than you spent fucking—get over her. Seriously. If she wants to bang that asshole and help the greater cause, I say good for her.”

  Miah’s anger was limited to flared nostrils and a burning in those black eyes, but he kept his mouth shut.

  “I’ll ask her, at any rate,” Vince said firmly. “If she doesn’t feel it, she could just get him drunk. Or Case could pick the lock. Hell, Case could fuck the desk girl and steal a spare copy of the key.”

  “Why do your plans all involve fucking?” Kim asked.

  Vince ignored that, ticking another finger. “I want you to take a little tour of the sites,” he told Miah. “See if you don’t spot anything suspicious. Plus, your Spanish is good—ask the workers if they’ve heard any rumors about bones, if you can.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “If any bigwigs question you, tell them the truth—Three C’s got a vested interest in the quality of the creek. You’re just checking that everything looks aboveboard. You can spare a trespassing citation. And I want Casey to go with you.”

  That got Miah shifted back into his cool-and-collected gear. “I can probably take tomorrow afternoon off. I’ll hit all the sites, if Kim can give me a sense of where they are.”

  “Maybe not all, but the ones I was asked to photograph, sure. I have a map I can give you.”

  “Think Casey’s leg is up to the ride?” Miah asked Vince.

  He nodded. “His bike needs a little more work, if you’re going off-road, but I told the quarry I was fucking off for a few days, so I can get it ready tomorrow. We’ll swing by here around five.”

  “What can I do?” Kim asked.

  Vince considered the question, which flattered her. She’d expected him to tell her to stay put and out of trouble . . . like her father and Ryan would have.

  “You focus on getting your affairs back home sorted out. Tonight we get your rental returned, and maybe tomorrow I can see about finding you a vehicle for around here.”

  Miah shot her a cautious look. “You sticking around that long?”

  “Not sure. For a little bit,
at least. Until I’ve had a chance to identify those guys I heard.”

  “They’ve seen you. You really think that’s smart?”

  Vince’s mother saw me in all this. Cluing Miah in on the whole visions thing seemed a bit much, though, given how Vince had just now convinced him he wasn’t a paranoid nutcase.

  “No, it’s probably not smart,” she admitted. “But it’s what I’ve got to offer. And it sounds like your friend deserves to have the truth known about how he died.”

  Miah nodded, looking uneasy with the plan. “What’s Casey’s situation, exactly?” he asked Vince. “He got any warrants?”

  “Not sure. He’s not on parole, though. Says he’s been careful.”

  Kim could scarcely believe they were talking this way, pondering whether Casey Grossier might have a warrant out on him as casually as they might question whether or not he had any food allergies.

  Vince went on. “Kid needs a bike license, stat. I can fix that tomorrow, too; I’ll call that guy I know.”

  That guy you know?

  “And we need a wire, maybe,” he added. “If Raina could get Welch wasted and willing to gossip, it still won’t do any good if we can’t record it. And a cell phone’s probably not going to cut it.”

  Miah said, “Dancer might have that kind of shit.”

  Good God, that sociopath again?

  But Vince agreed. “Swing by his place when you’re out checking the sites. See what he’s got on hand. And give him this, for his trouble and his supplies, and the rental on any audio equipment he might have.” Vince fished out his wallet and handed Miah what Kim could swear was a hundred-dollar bill. His supplemental gigs flashed across her memory.

  Miah pocketed the cash and they all headed inside.

  Vince turned to Kim as they entered the kitchen. “You’ve had a long-ass day, and it’s not over yet. You want to grab a shower?”

  Man, did that sound good. “Yes, please.”

  “Gimme your room key—I’ll borrow Miah’s truck and get your shit from the motel.”

  “Thanks. My phone and camera chargers are plugged into the wall by the desk, and my laptop’s in one of the dresser drawers.” She grabbed her purse from the counter and found the key. “Just leave that on the bed when you’re done—I’ll call them tomorrow and have them run my card. I’ll tell them I had to rush out of town unexpectedly or something.”

  He nodded. “Good plan. Back in forty, give or take.”

  Vince headed out, and Miah excused himself to finish some paperwork. Kim made a beeline for the guest bathroom, finding towels in the cupboard and plenty of shampoo and soap on the shelf that ran beside the old free-standing tub. Actually, a hot bath sounded even better than a shower. Get her body lost in the warm water, maybe shut her racing brain up for a half hour.

  She was involved in some kind of secret investigation. Surrounding what now struck her as a truly likely murder. Her allies were a motorcycle thug with a gun strapped to his ribs, his wayward brother, their sexpot saloon-owner friend, and a guy who owned chloroform and lived in a van. Plus Miah. Thank God for him, and for Kim, really—maybe that was why she was destined to be involved. She and Miah were the only people wrapped up in this bullshit who might be taken seriously by the authorities—if and when it seemed safe to go to them.

  She watched the tub filling, drew the steam into her lungs. It tasted like a jungle after four dusty days in the badlands. She hadn’t realized how banged up she was until she sank into the water. Every muscle felt jarred from the bike, her back and neck were tight from stress, her butt and hips sore from the horseback ride. Or perhaps her hips were sore from last night . . . And as those tensions eased, a far different ache beneath it all surfaced. A hot, damnable knot, low in her belly. She named it Vince, and resolved to shake it loose as soon as possible.

  By getting over it? she wondered. Hell no. By giving in to it again, as soon as possible.

  When the heat of the water waned, Kim abandoned the tub.

  She stole a dollop of lotion to shield her skin against the desert air, toweled her hair, surveyed her face in the foggy mirror. She looked extra . . . vital. Had to be a touch too much sun on her cheeks and nose, though. Or the steam of the bathroom, or the wine. Or this ridiculous infatuation.

  She dressed in her damp and dusty clothes, eager for a fresh set once Vince showed up with her—

  “Shit.” She’d given him access to a small pile of her dirty underwear.

  Oh well. Not like she hadn’t shared far more personal things with him already.

  She shut off the fan and light and padded over broad, worn floorboards toward her room. But as she turned the corner—

  “Vince. Jesus.” Her hand had flown to her chest. “Lurk much?” She spotted her suitcase at his feet. “That was quick.”

  “Speed limits are only suggestions.” The matchstick at the corner of his lips jumped as he spoke. What she’d give to know what that habit was about. Oral fixation, you say?

  “Thanks for doing that.”

  “I tried real hard not to take too much notice of your undies.”

  Christ, had there ever been a man she wanted to slap as badly as she wanted to mount him?

  “I mostly succeeded,” Vince went on, “but I like those stripy blue ones best, in case you’re wondering.”

  “Oh my God, you are the worst.”

  “And you look really hot with your hair wet.”

  She grabbed her suitcase and hauled it through the bedroom doorway, eager to hide her pink cheeks. And the dark room grew a touch darker, telling her Vince had framed himself in the threshold. Kim unzipped her case, pulling out clean items.

  Eager to get the topic off her underwear, she said, “It sure is nice of the Churches to just let me crash here.”

  “They’re nice people. Like my second family.”

  “You seem closer with Miah than you are with your own brother.”

  “I am. He’s a good guy . . . A better man than me,” Vince added, his voice sounding odd, too casual.

  “That’s a subjective opinion.”

  He laughed softly. “No, it’s not. Anybody can see that. Bet you can.”

  She smirked at that, pinpointing his tone. “I don’t have a crush on your friend, if that’s what you’re dancing around.”

  His expression was a jumble of denial, innocence, Don’t be ridiculous. And Jesus, why was his jealousy turning her on so much?

  Kim shrugged. “Miah’s handsome—a blind woman could tell you that. But I don’t even know him. Well, except I know he’s hung up on Raina, and that’s a pretty big turnoff.”

  “He wouldn’t have said that stuff I did that first night, outside your door.”

  She smiled. “No one but you would have, Vince.” And he had no clue how late she’d stayed up, imagining what would’ve happened if she’d flipped to a different page in that Choose Your Own Adventure and invited him in. “It worked in the end, anyhow.”

  Vince didn’t say a word as Kim boldly stripped naked, then dressed in fresh clothes. She tugged a sweater on and replaced her glasses, finding his eyes locked on her. “Not like you didn’t see it all last night.”

  “Doesn’t get old.”

  She found her perfume and brush in her luggage, spritzing the brush and running it through her damp hair. “Shall we head to Elko?” she asked, grabbing her shoes.

  “Yeah. And we’ve got some business to take care of there.”

  She raised her brows. “Aside from dropping off my rental?”

  “Unfinished business. Kind that’s going down between our two bodies. You follow?”

  She snorted. “A dog could’ve caught that innuendo.”

  “Good. ’Cause you’ve had enough surprises for one day. When I take you later, you’ll sure as shit see it coming.”

  She swallowed, the room seeming to rock. “Good to know.”

  Chapter 19

  The drive to Elko was just under two hours, and Vince led the way—thirty-four years in north
ern Nevada trumped GPS, any day of the week. Every mile wound him tighter. Every backward glance to check that Kim was still behind him was a nail in the coffin of his patience. The sun was setting, and he could just make out her face through the windshield, the red of her sweater, the dark blond of her hair, the shape of her glasses. Just that little peek had him right back in her bed the night before, with her skin against his, her hand on his cock. Her clit pulsing hard and hot and her pussy wetter with every stroke of his fingers.

  Christ. He couldn’t remember getting off with a woman and still wanting her this bad. Must be the tease of it—of everything but. Or maybe something a little fiercer, like attraction shot through with thankfulness, that she was even willing to consider sticking around.

  Kim honked and switched on her blinker, exiting to get gas. Vince used the break to make a quick call to Casey, relaying what Kim had overheard at the site. His brother promised yes, he’d go with Miah the next day and check things out. Vince would fill Raina in tomorrow about everything Kim had seen and heard, and ask her about getting nosy—and possibly cozy—with Welch.

  After what felt like a month, they reached the airport and Kim dropped off the rental. She exited with her ever-present camera bag and the borrowed helmet in hand, and headed for where Vince was straddling his bike. The closer she got, the more he felt like they ought to kiss. Goddamn. He’d gotten to third base with the woman, and already his body thought she was his.

  “This is your chance,” he told her.

  Her brows rose. “My chance?”

  He nodded to the terminal. “Last chance to realize this is all insane, get yourself on a flight back to the real world.”

  Her pretty face grew serious. She fussed with her glasses, as she always did when she was unsure about something. Funny how he could recognize such a thing so soon.

  “You tempted to skip town?” Vince ought to be terrified she’d say yes—he needed her to ID those men, after all. But he felt just as freaked to imagine she could walk away from him without finishing what they’d started last night. That made his stomach knot, sure as it made his balls ache.