When her explanation came to a fast halt, Harlan followed her gaze to his body. To his bare chest. Maybe even his open zipper.
“Sorry,” she mumbled.
“Not to worry. I think we got an eyeful of each other when we woke up in that bed this morning.” An eyeful he shouldn’t be remembering with everything else on his mind, but Harlan was sure he wouldn’t be able to forget it any time soon.
The past sixteen years had settled nicely on her body.
She cleared her throat, anchored her attention to the floor. “As I was saying...” But it took her several more seconds to continue. During that time, Harlan zipped up and grabbed a shirt. “Our attacker drew me out, waited until we were together and used that Taser before either of us could fight.”
Harlan nodded. “He wasn’t sloppy. So why leave a fingerprint on the threatening note in the truck?”
She nodded, too. “Are you thinking Farris might have planted Billy’s print there?”
“Yeah.” That was exactly what he was thinking. Too bad it would be a bear to prove, but it all started with finding Billy and getting his side of the story.
Harlan finished dressing and yanked open his nightstand drawer. His backup Glock was still there—yet another piece of this weird puzzle. Why hadn’t their attacker taken it? He grabbed both it and his badge and some extra ammo.
But not the condoms.
Too much temptation, and he and Caitlyn already had enough of that without adding condoms to the mix.
“Where are we going?” Caitlyn stepped back when he approached the door. Purposely putting some distance between them.
And he knew why.
Despite his fatigue and stress, that old attraction was still there, rearing its head. Good thing Caitlyn knew it’d be stupid and reckless for them to act on it. But not acting on it would test them to the limits.
Because they were going to be attached at the hip, so to speak.
He opened his mouth to tell her they were heading to a place that Declan owned, but then he stopped and glanced around the room. Their attacker had clearly had some time to look for whatever he’d been looking for, but he’d also had time to plant a listening device. That was a long shot, of course, since the person probably thought he and Caitlyn wouldn’t live long enough to return to his house, but it was a chance Harlan didn’t want to take.
“I’ll tell you when we’re out of here,” he whispered.
Caitlyn’s eyes widened, and she, too, made a sweeping glance around the room. That also got her moving pretty darn fast, and they made it to the door before his phone buzzed.
“Please tell me there’s not a problem with Farris,” Caitlyn mumbled.
Harlan shook his head and stared at the caller’s name on the screen. It was a name he recognized, but barely. “It’s Curtis Newell.”
The business partner of the missing woman, Sherry Summers.
“I didn’t know you knew him,” Caitlyn said, looking at the screen.
“I don’t.” Harlan hit the answer button. “Marshal McKinney.”
“Marshal.” The man sounded relieved or something. “I got your number from the Marshals Service because I’m trying to get in touch with Caitlyn Barnes. I heard about the shooting.”
Harlan groaned. God knew how many people had heard and how many welfare-check calls like this there’d be. He didn’t have time for them.
“Caitlyn’s okay,” Harlan assured the man.
“That’s good, but it’s not why I’m calling.” Curtis said it so quickly that his words ran together. “I really need to speak with her.”
Okay. Not a welfare check. In fact, this guy sounded frantic.
Harlan glanced at her, and she motioned for him to put the call on speaker. He did.
“I’m here, Curtis,” Caitlyn said. “What’s wrong? Have you found Sherry?”
“No, we haven’t found her. But there’s plenty wrong. God, Caitlyn, what the hell’s going on?”
Harlan didn’t like the sound of that, and judging from the way Caitlyn pulled in her breath, neither did she. “What happened?” she asked.
“I went over to Sherry’s condo to check her mail and see if there were any messages on her answering machine. I’ve been doing that since she went missing. Someone had trashed the place and left her a threatening note.”
Great day in the morning. If these were connected, then their attacker had been very busy. “What did the threat say?”
He heard Curtis’s hard, quick breaths. “‘This isn’t over. You’re a dead woman.’”
Caitlyn pressed her fingers to her mouth, but it didn’t stop the soft gasp she made. That was because it was the identical threat that had been left for her in the truck.
“But that’s not all,” Curtis went on. “I just got a call from Devin Mathis. You know who he is?”
Yet another name that was familiar to Harlan, but he didn’t know why.
“He was engaged to Tiffany Brock, a former resident at Rocky Creek who died in a car accident.”
“Devin says she was murdered,” Curtis corrected. “And he got a note, too. Someone left it on his car this morning. Not a threat exactly—the note was just one word. Dead.”
As a lawman, Harlan forced himself to look at the logistics of this. He and Caitlyn had been in Cross Creek, but if he remembered correctly, Sherry’s condo and business were in Houston. So that meant their attacker likely had an accomplice. Or else had hired someone to do his dirty work. Because that was too much ground for one person to cover in that short period of time.
“Did the cops get any prints?” Caitlyn asked Curtis. Her voice was shaking as much as her hands were.
“Two—they were both on the notes that were sent to Devin and the one left in Sherry’s condo. That’s why I had to talk to you. I have to know what’s going on.”
“I don’t know what’s happening,” she answered. “Was it Billy Webb’s prints on the threat?”
“No.” His breath seemed to shudder. “Caitlyn, it was yours and Marshal McKinney’s. Did you two do something to Sherry? Are you trying to silence her?”
Oh, man. That hit him hard.
“No,” Harlan and Caitlyn answered in unison. She looked at him, shook her head. “How could that have happened?”
Harlan didn’t have any more answers for her than he did Curtis Newell. That was bad enough, but then he heard the sound of an approaching vehicle. One glance out the window, and he saw it was Ranger Morris. Not alone either. There were two other Rangers with him—and they’d likely come to arrest Caitlyn and him.
This was all a setup, of course, and the evidence was growing. Harlan seriously doubted that the cops who’d found the prints on those notes had withheld that evidence. If the Rangers hadn’t heard it, they soon would.
“We’ll have to call you back,” Harlan said to Curtis.
“No—” Curtis insisted.
But Harlan ended the call anyway. “Come on.” Harlan took Caitlyn by the arm and headed for the back door. “We have to leave now.”
Chapter Eight
Caitlyn didn’t even ask Harlan where they were going as he maneuvered the truck along the sharp curves on the rural road. But she hoped and prayed it was somewhere safe. Away from the person trying to kill them.
Away from the Rangers, too.
With everything else going on, it could be downright dangerous for them to be arrested, since it was clear now that someone was playing a cat-and-mouse game. Why, she didn’t know. But here were notes left for both Devin and Curtis with Harlan’s and her fingerprints and the so-called evidence someone had sent to the Rangers. No matter how many times she tossed it around in her head, she kept coming back to one place.
Rocky Creek.
And one specific event: Jonah Webb’s murder.
Harlan had grabbed a laptop and some supplies from his family’s main ranch house while they were making their escape, and she hoped she got a chance to use the computer to do some research.
“Never been a fugitive from justice before,” Harlan grumbled. He finished off the last bite of the fast-food burger they’d stopped for along the way after they’d gotten out of Maverick Springs.
Caitlyn shrugged. “I have. When I was fourteen, I got into a car with some friends. Didn’t know the car was stolen until the cops spotted us, and we ran. Don’t worry—you’ll do better with your fugitive status once you get past the sick-to-your-stomach stage.”
He looked at her from the corner of his eye. She certainly wasn’t making light of it—she was scared, tired and frustrated. But in the grand scheme of things, the Rangers seemed like the least of their worries.
And complicating things even more was the old attraction between them.
But for some reason, it was both of those things that felt like dead weight on her shoulders. The Rangers—that was understandable. The attraction not so much. Well, except for Harlan’s hot body and the way that hot body filled out his jeans and T-shirt. He wasn’t a bad boy, but he looked the part. She knew just how gentle he could be.
Even for a girl’s first time.
She’d had a few lovers since then, but Caitlyn had never had a man treat her like priceless crystal while taking her breath away with pleasure. Ironic. That her first time had been her best, and she hadn’t even known what she was doing. Thank goodness Harlan had.
“What you thinking about?” Harlan asked.
Her gaze slashed to his as she wondered what had prompted that question. Oh. Her fast breathing. Flushed cheeks. And though those things were nonverbal, judging from the heated, puzzled look in Harlan’s eyes, he was picking up on it.
His breath kicked up the pace, too. No flushed cheeks, but the pulse on his throat did a little gallop. His lips parted. Probably to say something to her. But it was a reminder that the man’s kisses were orgasmic.
Mercy.
Enough of this.
“Um, I keep thinking that I’m responsible for nearly getting us killed.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. She had thought this over and over again in the past few hours.
He blinked. Frowned. But didn’t challenge her.
She crammed most of her burger into the bag. No appetite. “If I hadn’t suspected you, I wouldn’t have come to your house—”
“He would have found another way to get us together.”
That was probably true, but if she hadn’t come to Harlan, she suspected they wouldn’t be dealing with the Rangers and definitely not the heat.
Harlan checked the rearview mirror again. Something they’d both been doing during the entire drive, but there was no one behind or ahead of them. He turned onto another road, more rugged than the previous one, and drove another mile. He brought the truck to a stop in front of a log house. This wasn’t a cabin. It looked more like a vacation home nestled in the woods.
“Declan owns it.” Harlan got out and grabbed the bags that they’d hastily packed at the ranch.
Talk about a surprise—for several reasons. For one thing, she’d always thought of Declan as a rolling stone. Not really the home-owner type. But that was just an observation, not her real concern.
Her real concern was security.
Harlan had already switched phones to a prepaid cell and had left word with his brothers to transfer any calls to the number. He’d also made sure they weren’t followed. Still, there was the obvious five-hundred-pound gorilla in the room.
“What if the Rangers look for us here?” she asked. “Declan is, after all, your foster brother.”
“They won’t look here. The place isn’t actually in his name. About two years ago, a distant relative of his from Ireland left it to him in his estate.”
During their many chats, Declan had told her he was from Ireland. He still had a trace of the brogue, but it seemed odd that an Irish relative would buy a place like this in the middle of Nowhere, Texas, and then leave it to Declan.
“Why didn’t this relative come forward when Declan was placed in Rocky Creek?” Because she knew his time there had been hell for him, and almost any family would have been better than what he’d had to face at the orphanage.
“Don’t know,” Harlan replied. He pressed in some numbers on the keypad by the door to unlock it. “Let’s just say Declan has some secrets and leave it at that.”
That only made her uneasy feeling even more uneasy. “Not secrets about Rocky Creek?” And more specifically, about Webb’s murder?
But Harlan only shrugged, opened the door and punched in yet more numbers to disarm the security system before it started to beep. Obviously he wasn’t planning to spill anything else about his kid brother, but that didn’t mean Caitlyn couldn’t do some digging. Right now, everyone was a suspect.
Well, except Harlan.
She seriously doubted he’d screw himself over like this if he was trying to hide his guilt about anything. Of course, he seemed genuinely close to his brothers, so they probably wouldn’t put him through this either.
Now, she was a different story.
With the exception of Declan and maybe Stella, Harlan, his foster brothers and foster father might love to see her squirming on the end of a hook. That was why Kirby’s words back at the ranch had surprised her. Something about her and Harlan being suited for each other. Well, he was wrong about that.
Despite the attraction, of course.
In that one area, she and Harlan seemed way too suited, and that didn’t please either of them.
Harlan reset the alarm when he closed the door, and they put the bags on a foyer table and looked around. It looked like a place out of a glossy magazine, with its wood floors, leather furniture and massive stone fireplace. Even a work desk with a computer in the corner.
“There’s a stocked freezer,” Harlan said, leading her into the kitchen. “And canned goods. Just in case we’re here longer than tonight. The bedrooms are upstairs.”
“Two of them?” She hadn’t intended to sound so concerned, but she did.
“Two,” he verified, giving her a flat look. It would have worked—she might have believed the offended/uninterested act—if she hadn’t seen the pulse at his throat begin to throb.
Jeez Louise.
It was bad enough that she was battling her hormones, but Harlan needed to stay sane. And unaroused.
“Why don’t you go ahead and get some rest?” he mumbled.
She took a deep breath, hoping for a clear head. Didn’t happen. “I’d rather get a little work done. And change my clothes,” she said, looking down at the scrubs she was still wearing.
Harlan looked about to argue, but his phone buzzed. “It’s Slade.”
Which likely meant this might be news of the investigation. However, Harlan didn’t put the call on speaker. Maybe because he wanted to buffer any more bad news they might get.
While he was occupied with that, Caitlyn went to the computer in the corner desk and turned it on. The perfect thing to get kisses and arousing thoughts out of her mind was to work. She logged on to her email account to the dozens of unanswered emails, including several from her boss, Jeb Parker, asking about the two articles she was supposed to be writing.
That caused her stomach to knot.
She hadn’t forgotten about the articles, but nearly being killed had put them way on the back burner.
The first was a piece she needed to do about a captured fugitive who’d murdered his entire family and then fled. Caitlyn had managed to be in the news station’s helicopter during the chase, and even though she’d already given Jeb several eyewitness articles, he wanted a follow-up. Not just a written one, but a TV appearance so they could run the footage of the helico
pter chase. It would be an easy paycheck for her once she got around to it.
There was nothing easy about the second one.
Caitlyn opened the latest version of the second story that she’d put in secure cyber storage, and the headline she’d given it caused the knot in her stomach to get significantly worse.
“Trouble?” she heard someone ask.
Her own gasp echoed through the room. She’d been so caught up in what was on the screen, she hadn’t heard anyone come up behind her, and she whirled around, automatically bringing up her hands to defend herself. But no defense was necessary. Because it was Harlan.
“Wired up much?” he murmured. “You really need to rest.” Then he tipped his head to the screen. “Bad news?”
Caitlyn shook her head and stepped in front of it. “I’m just getting behind at work.” Then she noticed his expression. “Did you get bad news?” she repeated.
Harlan lifted his shoulder. “Disappointing news,” he corrected. “Slade tested Farris, but there was no gunshot residue on him.”
She groaned. “So no arrest.”
“No arrest,” he confirmed. “But that doesn’t mean he’s innocent. It could mean he had on latex gloves when he fired those shots.”
Caitlyn couldn’t remember seeing gloves, but their attacker could have been wearing them. “What about an alibi for the shooting? Does Farris even have one?”
“Says he was alone at his parents’ house, but claims one of the maids might be able to verify it.”
“Or lie about it,” Caitlyn muttered. If Farris had tested positive, it would have at least gotten him off the streets so Harlan and she could try to build a case against him.
“Farris turned over the photo and the note to Slade,” Harlan went on. “The lab might be able to get some prints.”
“Our prints,” she supplied. “Like the ones on the threats that Devin and Curtis got.”
Another shrug. “I figure when we were knocked out cold, it would have been easy to put our fingerprints on just about anything.”
That sent a chill through her. Heaven knew what other evidence was going to surface. “But why is the person doing this? Why try to set us up?”
OUTLAW LAWMAN Page 8