Celeste Monroe.
Jasmine’s mother.
The news struck like a blow, winding him. This time Storm did sit down. He collapsed into the wooden straight-backed chair, stunned by the revelation.
Gretchen continued, but the buzz of disbelief running through his head made her voice sound odd, as though she were speaking to him through a tunnel. “Mrs. Monroe is being held in the sheriff’s custody, until her arraignment tomorrow morning. If you have any further questions, please feel free to call me, or Sheriff Rawlings, at the station.”
Storm realized she was winding down her speech, preparing to leave. Riveting his gaze at her, he said, “There’s got to be some mistake.”
Gretchen looked at him, and the wooden expression she’d worn since stepping into his hotel room slipped from its place. He saw the uncertainty in her gaze and remembered that she, too, had a connection to the Kincaid family. The word around town was that she and David Hannon were engaged.
She shook her head. “It’s a strong lead. Mrs. Monroe was able to give us a detailed account of the crime. Plus, she’s turned over the murder weapon.”
The last of Storm’s doubts dissolved. Unable to stop himself, he recalled Celeste’s initial reaction to his presence in Whitehorn. It must have been his resemblance to Raven that had brought the shocked look to her face before she’d collapsed into a dead faint. Time and again, Jasmine had professed her mother’s normally liberated views. Now Celeste’s objections to his seeing Jasmine made more sense. She had murdered his brother. It wasn’t any wonder that she wanted to keep them apart.
“Mr. Hunter, are you listening to me?”
Storm blinked. Startled, he glanced up at the detective. He’d been so lost in his own thoughts he’d forgotten her presence.
Frowning, Gretchen said, “We’re leaving now, Mr. Hunter. If there’s anything more we can do…” She let the words fade.
“There’s nothing more to be done. It’s over.” Storm shook his head, giving a mirthless laugh. “It’s finally over.”
Gretchen hesitated, studying him, her concern obvious.
Deputy Austin cleared his throat, motioning toward the door. Gretchen turned to leave. With her hand on the doorknob, she paused and said, “I’m sorry the investigation didn’t go as quickly as you’d hoped. A lot of time has passed since your brother’s death. There just weren’t that many leads to follow.”
Storm nodded, unable to answer. His frustration at the police department’s lack of progress seemed minute compared to the crippling sense of betrayal that was growing inside him. Now he understood Jasmine’s absence.
Without another word, Detective Neal and Deputy Austin left his hotel room, closing the door behind them.
For a long moment Storm remained in the chair, immobilized by shock and disbelief. He felt crushed, as though he’d been run over by a semitrailer. For thirty years, Celeste had kept her guilt a secret. He didn’t understand how she could have lived with herself.
Was the killing of an Indian so unimportant that it didn’t bother her?
The acrid taste of bitterness rose in his throat, making him feel sick to his stomach. The chasm he’d always felt between the whites and the Native Americans deepened. His heart thudded painfully against his chest. What hurt most, even more than Celeste’s callous in difference, was Jasmine’s betrayal.
As Jackson Hawk had predicted, Jasmine had kept the truth from him. How long had she known of her mother’s guilty secret? Was her pledge to help him nothing more than a ruse? Just a way for her to throw him off track?
A surge of self-disgust propelled him to his feet. He paced the floor, giving vent to his growing anger. Like a sheep, he’d allowed her to lead him astray. Certainly his desire for her had been a potent distraction. Jasmine had used him and his own weaknesses to keep him from discovering the truth.
How could he have been so blind?
As he struggled with a growing bout of self-recrimination, a hesitant knock sounded at the door.
Storm froze, stopping midpace. He stared at the door. His first impulse was to ignore the knock, giving the unexpected visitor no choice but to leave. He was in no mood for more bad news.
But a higher force overrode his good judgment. Ignoring the voice of reason, he moved to the door. Deep in his heart, he knew who had come calling. He told himself that delaying the confrontation would only prolong the inevitable heart break.
It was time he faced what fate had brought him.
Bracing himself, he opened the door. And found Jasmine waiting for him.
Jasmine’s breath caught painfully in her throat. From the look in Storm’s eyes, she realized she was too late. He’d already heard the news. He knew the truth about her mother.
Nervously she licked her lips. “Storm—”
“Whatever you have to say, I’m not interested,” he said, cutting her off, his voice hard and unforgiving. “I’ve heard enough lies to last me a lifetime.”
“I didn’t lie to you, Storm,” she said, slowly shaking her head. “You have to believe me. I didn’t know about any of this until this morning.”
“This morning?” He glanced at his wrist watch. “It’s almost two o’clock in the afternoon. It’s certainly taken you long enough to find me to tell me the news.”
“Storm, please—”
The hotel’s house keeper walked by, pushing a cleaning cart, her gaze curious. The plump, dark-haired woman paused outside the room next door, busying herself with checking inventory. But more likely she was giving herself a chance to eavesdrop.
After the frustrating morning she’d spent at the sheriff’s office waiting to hear the outcome of her mother’s fate, the last thing Jasmine needed was to be further humiliated by being caught in a heated argument with Storm outside his hotel room. With all the pride she could muster, she lifted her chin and said, “If you don’t mind, I’d prefer to discuss this in private. May I come in?”
Jasmine steeled herself for a rejection.
To her surprise, without arguing, Storm stepped back and allowed her to enter.
Jasmine’s legs felt unsteady as she made her way into his hotel room, her strength gone. Memories of the first time she’d been here, of the steamy embrace they’d shared, crept into her mind. She brushed away the untimely image, knowing she needed her full wits about her to convince Storm of her innocence.
The door closed with a loud click, setting her nerves even further on edge. Slowly she turned to face him.
His steely gaze flitted over her before he pushed past her to stand at the opposite side of the room, putting distance between them. Jasmine’s heart sank further when he refused to look at her.
Not allowing herself to give up, she made her plea for understanding. “Storm, my mother never confided in me. Her confession… It’s been just as much a shock to me as it must be to you. I didn’t know about any of this until this morning. You have to believe me.”
“I don’t have to believe anything,” he said, his icy tone sending a shiver down her spine. “I don’t know why you bothered to come here. You’re wasting your time, Jasmine. I want nothing more to do with you, or your family.”
The sharp words cut her to the quick, leaving a raw and open wound in her heart. Despite the blow, she refused to admit defeat. She refused to believe that the bond they’d built, the precious moments they’d shared, had been for nothing.
If he thought she would give up so easily, he was wrong.
“That’s it?” she demanded, letting the anger rise in her voice. “One thing goes wrong, and you’re ready to toss aside everything that we’ve shared?”
“It’s more than just one thing,” he said, biting out the words. “Your mother killed my brother.”
“But I didn’t know—” Her voice broke. Tears of frustration blurred her vision. She blinked hard, refusing to allow anything to stop her. “I’ve never lied to you, Storm. You have to know that’s true.”
He remained stubbornly mute. Standing with his h
ands on his hips, his face set in a harsh line, he wouldn’t meet her gaze.
Jasmine shook her head, letting the tears of frustration fill her eyes. Her voice trembling with emotion, she said, “You can’t let yourself believe me, can you? If you do, then you’d have to let go of all that hate and resentment you’ve built up all these years toward my family. You said you’d come back to Whitehorn to see justice done for your brother. But that isn’t true. This isn’t really about Raven, is it?”
A vein pulsed at his temple. His jaw clenched and unclenched. But he refused to answer.
“This was never just about Raven,” she said, forcing herself to continue. “Raven’s just an excuse you’ve used to push everyone out of your life. I know you were hurt deeply. But you’ve used your past as a reason never to let yourself get close to anyone else.”
Still, he wouldn’t answer.
Despite the helpless frustration rising inside her, Jasmine knew she had to finish what she’d started. “Raven wasn’t the only one who died all those years ago. A part of you died, also. The part that’s capable of caring about others. Can’t you see? You’ve got your feelings so bottled up inside, you can’t allow yourself to love someone enough to forgive even the worst of mistakes.”
Storm’s silence spoke volumes. He turned his head and looked away, not saying a word.
Feeling the sting of his rejection, Jasmine took a quick, steadying breath. She had tried to get through to him and had failed. There was nothing more for her to do.
Gathering her shattered pride, she wiped the tears from her face and said, “I want you to know something, Storm. No matter what’s happened here today, I won’t forget the time that we spent together…or what could have been between us. I will always care about you.”
With her heart feeling as though it had split in two, she turned to leave.
Chapter Eleven
“Jasmine, wait.”
The words escaped his mouth before he had a chance to think them through. It wasn’t like Storm to act on impulse, to let his heart rule his actions, but right now his heart wouldn’t let her walk out that door.
To his relief, Jasmine stopped. Slowly she turned to face him.
For the first time he really looked at her. The red, cap-sleeved T-shirt was coming untucked from the waist band of her black slacks. Her dark hair looked mussed, as though she hadn’t taken the time to comb it into place. Her makeup was non existent, emphasizing the paleness of her complexion, the weariness etching her face and the dark circles beneath her eyes. And he knew she hadn’t told him the complete truth.
She, too, was suffering.
Her mother had kept a devastating secret from her and her family. A secret that had destroyed the balance of their lives, as it had his. Jasmine, of all people, understood the pain and disillusionment that he felt.
But she understood more than just his pain. She knew of his weaknesses, as well. What she’d said, it was as though she had looked into his very soul and had seen his worst fears.
She knew why he had never allowed himself to get close to anyone else. The only person he’d ever truly cared about had been Raven. When Raven disappeared, he’d felt his loss as a rejection. That was the real reason he’d run away from his life on Laughing Horse. Because he couldn’t allow himself to acknowledge just how much his brother’s “abandonment” had hurt.
She was right about his resentment toward her family, too. When Raven left, instead of letting himself accept the worst, that his brother simply didn’t care about him, Storm had blamed the Kincaids for his disappearance. Being proven correct seemed little compensation for the years he’d wasted, allowing his resentment to fester into a crippling distrust of all whites.
And now Jasmine stood in front of him, the same woman he’d waited so anxiously to see only minutes before. The same beautiful woman who had the power to set his blood on fire with a single look.
The same woman with whom he’d allowed himself to fall in love.
Silence echoed in the room. Fear tightened his chest, making it hard to draw a breath. Even now, he couldn’t put into words what he felt in his heart. He couldn’t run the risk of another abandonment.
He would rather be safe and live his life alone.
But that didn’t stop him from wanting her, from needing to feel the reassuring warmth of her body next to his. Unable to stop himself, he crossed the room and closed the distance between them. For just a moment he studied her, memorizing the sculpted lines of her exotic face, the gut-wrenching tears that she tried so hard to hide, and the stubborn yet fragile pride in the tilt of her head.
Storm bit back an oath, his anger directed at himself. She’d come asking for understanding. Instead of listening, he’d pushed her away. His behavior had been in excusable. He didn’t deserve her forgiveness. He didn’t deserve a second chance. Still he longed for the sweet redemption he could find only in her arms.
His voice thick with emotion, he whispered, “Jasmine, I’m sorry.” Something seemed to melt inside her. The tension gripping her body loosened its hold. Fresh tears welled in her eyes as a sob of relief escaped from her lips. With a shake of her head, she said, “Oh, Storm.”
He wasn’t sure who reached out first. But it didn’t really matter. Somehow they found themselves wrapped in each other’s arms, clinging to each other for support.
Relief poured through him as he held her close, savoring the feel of her slender body next to his. He buried his hand in the short strands of her dark hair, cradling the back of her head. He tipped her face upward to his, forcing her to look at him. With the pad of his thumb, he wiped the trail of tears from her cheek, then showered the spot with soft, delicate kisses. His lips grazed her temple, the hollow of her cheek, the tip of her chin, before settling on her irresistible mouth.
Beneath his gentle assault, she closed her eyes and inhaled a shaky draft of air. Her quiet exhalation sounded in his ears, her breath fanning his skin.
He lowered his hands to measure the narrow width of her waist. His fingers skimmed her breasts, stroking the turgid centers. Her body quickened, tensing beneath his touch. Through the thin fabric of her shirt, he felt her nipples contract and harden.
His own body responded in kind. A warm rush of heat flooded his groin. He moaned, as Jasmine shifted her stance, brushing her tummy against his arousal. Never before had he felt such sweet misery.
He took her mouth in a greedy kiss, plunging his tongue into her moist heat, finding his own taste of heaven. She gave as much as she took, opening her mouth to his, staking her own claim.
The last of his self-control evaporated in a blaze of red heat. With his arms still firmly around her, he back stepped toward the bed, half carrying, half leading her every step of the way. The edge of the mattress caught the backs of his knees. He fell, sprawling spread-eagle against the soft bed covers.
Jasmine landed on top of him, one leg wedged between his thighs, her body straddling his. The box spring sighed in protest at the unexpectedness of their combined weight. She dug her elbows into his chest and lifted herself to look at him. Her gaze was so wide-eyed and innocent that for a moment second thoughts caught up to him. His mind raced with all the reasons he should put a stop to this, before they went any further.
Then a slow, tentative smile touched her face. Slowly, deliberately, she lowered her head and kissed him. Just a fleeting touch of her lips against his. A kiss meant to tease, to test his willingness. She nibbled on his lower lip, tugging it through her teeth. Her tongue lashed against his mouth, making him close his eyes against a growing desire.
Following the chiseled line of his jaw, she dropped butterfly kisses onto the smooth skin of his face. Pushing his long hair out of her way, she nuzzled his neck and bit down onto the lobe of his ear, giving it a gentle tug.
Storm let her have her way, until he could stand no more. With a growl of impatience, he anchored his hands around her waist and rolled her onto her back. She fell against the tousled bed covers, staring up at h
im, with a look that only fueled his desire. She was an irresistible combination of innocence and seduction.
Tacitly they acknowledged that both of them were wearing too much clothing. Storm pulled the ends of her shirt out of her waist band, lifting it over her head. The black lacy brassiere gave him pause. Recovering his composure, with a quick, deft movement, he unhooked the center clasp, exposing her beautiful body for him to see.
With an impatience of her own, Jasmine struggled with the buttons of his shirt. Her fingers fumbled over the openings, wasting much too much precious time. Obligingly he tore the shirt open, the buttons popping their threads in protest. Tossing the ruined shirt aside, he focused his attention on more important matters. Gently he circled the tips of his fingers around one rounded breast, then the other, noting the contrast of his dark, coppery skin against her pale, creamy flesh. Lowering his head, he suckled one aroused tip.
Her reaction was reflexive, primal. She arched her back against the bed, gripping the sheets in her hands, inhaling deeply through clenched teeth. Dragging one leg slowly upward against his thigh, she pulled him close, cradling him in the softness of her body.
Storm unhooked the clasp of her slacks. The zipper rasped as he tugged it open. Snagging his thumbs around the waist band, he lowered her slacks over her hips. The matching strip of black lace panties soon followed. Her cowboy boots proved a challenge. Impatiently he raised himself from the bed to tug one, then the other off her feet. Finally she wore nothing—but a locket around her neck and a demure, almost uncertain look on her face.
Biting anxiously on her lower lip, she watched as he undressed in front of her. When he stepped out of his jeans, she caught her breath, her eyes widening—with second thoughts, or simple appreciation, he wasn’t sure which.
His fears were put to rest, however, when they melded into a steamy embrace as he rejoined her on the bed. Their hands impatiently explored each and every inch of their bodies, leaving no secrets. He marveled at the firm tautness of her breasts, the flatness of her stomach, the softness of her skin. Lowering his hand past the mound of dark curls, he found her warm to his touch, moist as he tested her readiness.
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