by Julie Rowe
She caught her breath as his hands stroked over both cheeks, then delved between.
“Hot, wet and ready.”
“Only for you.”
He paused for a fraction of a second then circled her clit with a finger as he leaned over her to whisper in her ear, “Only for you.”
His cock slid over the entrance to her body then pressed inside. Two strokes later he was seated to the root. She felt every…single…inch.
Shivering, she groaned out, “God, you feel huge.”
He stroked out then in. “And you feel tight, hot and very wet.” He put one hand on the bed next to hers while the other tormented her nipples. His thrusts sped up, lengthened and she couldn’t keep her pleasure quiet.
“More, give me more.”
He responded by speeding up and thrusting harder, hitting every pleasure nerve ending she had. She began to shake as nirvana wound tighter and tighter in the pit of her belly.
He left her breasts to flick her clit and her orgasm sprang loose. It wound around her, dragging her down into a pool of heat that made her shake, shiver and moan.
Smitty sped up, thrusting hard then groaned out her name as he came. He slowly bent over to rest his forehead on her back. He kissed his way up to her neck and whispered, “Doc, you’re something else.”
Her knees gave out on her and she lay on the bed with her eyes closed, feeling more relaxed than she could remember for a long time. “I’m wore out, that’s what I am.”
“Damn, and here I thought we could do this all night.”
“In your dreams, soldier.”
“You feature in them nightly.”
“Do I?”
“Yeah, since we met.”
“Smitty, I wore a uniform and body armor most of the time. You could hardly tell if I’m male or female when I was geared up.”
“Sweetheart, there’s no hiding your sexy wiggle when you walk or your I’ll-take-you-to-heaven smile.”
“Why wait so long to say or do anything?”
“Because a combat situation is no place to be initiating anything more than a one-night-stand.”
“This isn’t a combat situation?”
He shook his head. “I’d have come regardless of the circumstances.”
She rolled over and petted him with one hand. “I used to watch you, too. You move like a big cat, graceful and dangerous.”
“But…?”
“You have the power to hurt me. You’re the one man I trust. The only one who doesn’t set my internal alarms off.”
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
“No?”
“No. I’m going to stick to you like glue.”
“What about after we find the guy who’s been shooting at me?”
“I have no plans to leave.” He ran a hand down her face. “In fact, I’ve discovered I really like it here.”
“Really like it?”
“Yeah.” He leaned forward and kissed her.
They cuddled together a bit longer, then went down stairs to finish cooking supper and put their supplies away. They ate then went back to bed, making love again.
Smitty liked to snuggle when he slept, curling around her body and holding her like she was precious. She tried to relax, to enjoy the feeling of having someone close, but the series of events from the second shooting kept replaying through her mind.
The wood exploding behind her head.
Yes, she agreed that the shot had been aimed at her, but it was also only a couple of feet from Smitty.
He could have died as easily as she.
Who was the ghost behind the sniper rifle?
If this person really thought she’d found the mine, she had to do something to convince them she hadn’t.
The simplest thing would be to show them, but could she do that without getting killed first?
She’d been tossing dynamite into the lake for weeks and nothing happened until Smitty came along. The only thing she’d done differently had been to give him the dynamite and miss a morning.
Perhaps she shouldn’t miss this morning.
She wiggled out from Smitty’s embrace, found her clothes and got dressed. The keys to Smitty’s Jeep were in his jeans pocket. She hated to strand him like this, but it was only about ten miles back to the ranch from the cabin, so he’d be fine.
She’d ensure it.
She started the Jeep and drove off, hoping he wouldn’t wake up until she was well into her insane plan.
Setting herself up as a target could only be called crazy, but it was also the only plan she could come up with that might end things without anyone other than herself getting killed. If it worked even she would still be around to wake the dead.
Driving through the yard at the ranch was fun. She had to turn off the headlights and creep past the house, but no lights came on, so she figured she’d made it through without waking anyone. She headed back to town and her house.
The key to the whole problem lay there. She’d kept quiet about where she’d gotten the dynamite because her grandmother asked it of her in a private letter she’d left for Abby in her will. The letter included a map to where the dynamite was stored.
Abby had visited the site a couple of times, removing enough dynamite for a few weeks of daily explosions, but there was still some left.
Hopefully, Ghost would be watching. She’d thought of a way to ensure that too.
She arrived in town and carefully began searching up and down the streets for a particular person. She found him sleeping on the back step of her office. Again.
“Get up JD,” she said, nudging him with one foot. “Rise and shine.”
“It’s still dark outside,” came the grumpy reply.
“I don’t care. You and I have a mission.”
“A what?” he sat up and looked at her bleary eyed.
“A mission. I want your buddy Ghost to see something.”
“Ghost isn’t watching me, he’s watching you.”
“Well, I’m not taking any chances. Come on.”
“You’re going to show me and Ghost the mine?”
“No, I’m going to show you where I got the dynamite. Two very different things.”
He frowned and reared his head back. “You’re not going to try to blow up the lake anymore?”
“Actually, I’m planning one heck of an explosion over there in an hour or so.”
He lay back down on the cement. “I don’t like loud noises.”
“I don’t like getting shot at. Now get your ass up and come with me.”
“There’s no need to get snippy with me.” He cracked open one eye. “Which reminds me, where’s your boyfriend?”
“A long way from here.”
He smirked. “You left him up at your folk’s cabin, didn’t you?”
“How did you know where we were going?”
He snorted. “Didn’t take much to figure that out.”
“I’m way too predicable.”
“I don’t know about that,” he said, rubbing his face. “I didn’t think you’d come back to town and wake me up to do some fool stupid thing in the middle of the night.”
She quirked an eyebrow. “Surprise.”
He laughed. “Well, if you don’t take the cake. What the hell, I didn’t have anything important to do right now anyway.” He got to his feet, wobbled a little then straightened. “Lead on MacDuff.”
“You don’t think we’ll come out of this alive.”
“Nobody gets out alive. We’re all going to go someday. I don’t know that it’ll be today, but what you want to do isn’t without risk.”
“You sound suspiciously like a military officer, JD.”
He looked at her like she’d insulted his mother. “No name calling or I’m going back to bed.”
Chapter Eleven
Jack Daniels smelled like…Jack Daniels.
“How much do you drink in a day?” she asked as they drove down the street towards her house. Getting him into the Jeep hadn�
��t been as difficult as she thought. Getting the smell out of the upholstery might be a different issue, however.
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“Whether I have to beg, borrow or steal it.”
“Okay, different question, how much did you drink yesterday?”
“Doctors never stop with the questions. It’s always how much did you drink? When was the last time you ate, and when was your last bowel movement? As if my taking a shit has anything to do with anything.”
“Answer the damn question.”
“I don’t know, maybe a two-six of whiskey.”
“Is that typical?”
“Pretty much.”
“Any other recreational drugs?”
“No.” He sniffed. “I may be a drunk, but I’ve got standards.”
“Of course, how silly of me.”
“You’re a woman, you can’t help it.”
“Don’t insult your doctor, it could be detrimental to your health.”
He chuckled. “Maybe some, but not you.”
“What do you mean not me?”
“You’ve got a good heart, a kind soul.” He patted her knee. “You protect people. You don’t hurt them.”
“But I have JD, I have.”
“Is it really a sin to defend yourself from lethal force?” he asked, his gaze as sharp as a well-honed knife.
“I…don’t know.” She slowed the Jeep as they approached her house. “How did you know?”
“You weren’t the first one to be put in a situation like that, and you sure as hell won’t be the last.”
“But how did you know?”
“Whenever you think no one is looking an expression comes over your face, like someone shot your dog then kicked you in the gut.”
“You spying on me, JD?”
“Of course, it’s part of the drunk, homeless guy’s job description to keep an eye on everyone.”
“That is the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard.” She parked the Jeep in her driveway and got out.
JD opened the passenger door, but when he moved to get out, he ended up in a heap on the ground.
She came around the vehicle and crouched down next to him to see if he was okay. “JD, you all right?”
He looked at her, his face stone, cold, sober. “Ghost is here.”
“Oh yeah?”
He nodded.
“Well, let’s get this show on the road then.” She stood. “You need a hand getting up?”
JD reached out to take her outstretched hand and yanked her down to his level again. A bullet hit the tree behind her.
She pulled her hand away, stood and stomped to the middle of her front lawn. “That’s enough of that,” she said, raising her voice loud enough for anyone in the near vicinity to hear her. “Ghost, or whatever your name is, I didn’t find the mine. I found some old dynamite. That’s all. I don’t expect you to believe me, so I’d like to show you where I got it.”
She paused, hoping for some sort of response, but none seemed forthcoming. “I’m going to go there now, so please hold off on the shooting. I’m never going to be invited to visit anyone anywhere at this rate.”
She walked back toward the Jeep. “Come on JD, you’re coming too.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Too bad. I’d rather be doing just about anything else, so welcome to the pity party.” She headed for the backyard, JD shuffling behind her.
The side gate to the yard wasn’t obvious, as it was hidden by a slightly overgrown shrub, but Abby managed to get it open and slip through.
“It’s back here?” JD asked, surprise making him sound slightly drunk.
“Yep. Grandma told me about it in a letter she left me in her will.”
“Told you about what exactly?”
They walked to a small stone garden shed that had been mostly taken over by vines, flowers and a couple of apple trees.
“This,” she said opening the rickety wooden door. On the floor next to the door was a flashlight. She turned it on.
Inside was mostly for storage. Plant pots, a wheelbarrow and gardening tools that had seen better days inhabited the space.
“This isn’t much,” JD said peering at the interior.
“Keep looking.” She handed JD the flashlight then moved the wheelbarrow out of the shed. “Shine the light here.”
The space on the floor where the wheelbarrow had been wasn’t stone like the rest of the floor. It was wood, and it had hinges.
“I thought it was just a root cellar.” She lifted the wooden door. “Turns out it’s more than that.” Stairs led down into darkness.
JD shone the light on the stairs then glanced at Abby. “I ain’t going down there.”
“I thought you wanted to know where the dynamite came from.”
“I don’t give a shit about that. Ghost is the one who wants to know.”
“You said Ghost thinks this is some hidden entrance to the mine. It’s not. Get down there and confirm it.”
“Ghost can go down there if he wants. Not me. I don’t like dark, dirty places.”
“You don’t like dark, dirty places?” She looked him up and down. “You’re covered in dirt.”
“Not dirt from some hole in the ground dirt. Like a grave. I’m not ready to die.” He shuddered. “Besides, it’s probably full of spiders and bugs.”
“Don’t be such a girly girl JD.”
“I’m telling you, I ain’t going down there.”
“We’re all going down there.”
Abby jerked back a step and whirled to stare at the doorway and the shadow that stood there. The voice of that shadow was deep, dry and filled with a lifetime of disappointments.
“Ghost, I presume?” she asked.
“Is that what Jack is calling me?”
She knew that voice, but she couldn’t place it.
“Among other things,” JD mumbled.
“You first, Jack.” The shadow gestured toward the dark hole in front of them.
“You gonna make me go down there? Man, that’s hard. I didn’t get in your way. Why you gonna do this to me now?”
“But you did get in my way. Get down there.”
Grumbling, JD put his foot on the first step then the second and the third.
“You next, doc.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you the one who’s been shooting at me? In town?”
“That piss you off, doc?” The shadow chuckled and she knew.
Unless she and JD were very careful, they were both dead.
“Yeah, it did. You risked a lot of lives, innocent lives by taking shots at me in town.”
“You still believe there are innocent people in the world, doc?” The shadow snorted. “There aren’t.”
“Children, housewives, farmers, average every day people are innocent. They believe they’re safe here at home and you’ve taken that away from them.”
“We know different, don’t we, doc? We know no one is safe anywhere.”
“I don’t know what you know, but my nightmares are mine. I will never foist them on someone else.”
“Shouldn’t they know? Shouldn’t they know a little of the hell we’ve gone through? They treat me like a pariah. No respect, none, but if I have the gold, if I find the mine, they’ll all have to pay me the respect they’ve owed me for years.”
“There’s no mine here.”
“I’ve seen you with the dynamite. Every morning like clockwork, throwing a half dozen sticks into the lake. I kinda liked it. It shook people up and our uppity Sheriff hated it. Until that soldier showed up. You gave him the dynamite. Old dynamite. The only place you could have gotten it was the mine.”
“I don’t know how the dynamite got down there, but there’s no entrance to the mine. It’s a hole in the ground. Period.”
“Get down there.” There was no give in the voice. No compromise. No patience.
“Fine. Let’s get this over with,” Abby said, wavi
ng her hands at JD to get down the stairs.
“For the record,” JD said to the shadow. “This blows.”
“That,” Abby told him. “Is a distinct possibility.”
“Someone owes me a mickey after all this,” JD said as he disappeared into the dark.
Abby followed him down the stairs. The air was cool, dry, dusty and filled with earthy smells. As she reached the floor of the cellar, she bent over to keep from brushing the top of her head against the dirty ceiling.
Feet came down the stairs, then the rifle gesturing at them to back up. Finally the shadow emerged.
“I didn’t know you fought in Vietnam, Virgil.” Abby said.
Virgil Hackey was a local hunter and trapper who owned and ran a taxidermy business out of his home a couple of miles outside of town. He’d seemed old when she’d been a girl. He looked ancient now with his deeply wrinkled skin, white hair and droop eyelids. Something had aged him that had nothing to do with the number of years he’d been alive.
“Nobody knew,” Virgil snarled. “I was a sniper in a small group of men who went on long range patrols. We lived off the land and went after Charlie in his own backyard. But, when we got home, we were told to keep our mouths shut. The killing we did, a secret.” He scoffed. “No veteran’s benefits, no nothin.”
“I’m sorry you were treated that way, but as you can see there’s no mine or gold here.” She swept her hands in a wide arc.
The cellar floor and walls were packed earth, the ceiling stone framed with wood. Two barrels sat along the wall, one marked for potatoes and another for carrots.
“Where is the dynamite?”
“Here.” She walked to the far corner and removed a wooden plank from the floor. “There’s another hundred or so sticks left.” She stood to the side so Virgil could edge closer and see in the hole.
“How deep is it?”
“The size of one of the barrels maybe, or a little smaller. There’s no tunnel, no doorway, no map. I don’t know where the dynamite came from. My job was to dispose of it.”
“Job?” Virgil asked.
“Gran asked me to in her last letter to me. She said she’d found it a few years back, but didn’t know what to do with it. So she left it where it was and forgot about it until she heard on the news about the improvised bombs used in Afghanistan.”