Prodigal Son

by Debra Mullins

  “Wow, they’re really mad.” Cara leaned toward the right, watching the drama in the side mirror. “I sliced the tires on the passenger side. They’re not going anywhere.”

  “You did a good job. That should give us a chance to put some distance between us and them.”

  She turned toward him, a frown on her face. “Do you think they know we’re going to Flagstaff?”

  “I think they know we’re following Danny.” A vision swept into his head: Danny leaving Flagstaff, heading south through the desert in an old Jeep. He tightened his hands on the wheel to control his elation. “Actually,” he lied, “I got a call on my cell while you were in the ladies’ room. A guy I know saw Danny leaving Flagstaff.”

  “You’ve got someone following him?”

  “I put the word out. Once we get closer to him, I’ll call in my friend Mike Torrez. The law says I need to go through an Arizona agent since I’m licensed in Nevada, and the extra man might come in handy.” He sent her a sidelong glance, noticed the way she gripped her purse. “What’s the matter?”

  “It’s bad enough to have one bounty hunter after him. I trust you not to hurt him, maybe to even listen to his side of the story. I don’t know what others might do.”

  “Listen to his side of the story? Cara, he skipped bail. There’s nothing he can say to get out of that.”

  “What if he was innocent of the crime?”

  “I told you, that’s up to the court. My job is to bring in the guy who cost the bail bondsman a bunch of money when he skipped out on his court date. You told me your condo is on the line for this. Aren’t you ticked about that?”

  “Of course I am. I plan on having a long talk with Danny when we find him. I just don’t want to see him go to jail.”

  “A long talk? Cara, Danny broke the law when he skipped. He’s guilty of that, whether or not he’s guilty of the crime he was arrested for.”

  She was quiet for a long moment. “I thought you might be able to help him,” she finally said.

  “I’m sorry, Cara, but that’s not what I do. Look, I’ll put off calling Mike until the last possible second, but I’m a hunter, not a charity worker. The sooner you understand that, the less disappointed you’ll be.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Cara didn’t know what to say after Rafe’s pronouncement. Somehow she’d thought he would help Danny when they found him, not just haul him back to jail. And now the law said he had to bring in another guy? She stared out the window, wondering if she was bringing more trouble to her brother instead of aiding him.

  She took a steadying breath. Her emotions were all over the place these days. Between Danny and Warren, the stress alone was enough to raise her blood pressure. And then there was Rafe.

  What had possessed her to kiss him back at the diner? She wasn’t usually so spontaneous, so forward. But Rafe’s talk of living in the moment had energized her, especially after hearing from her ex. After all, why shouldn’t she live in the moment, too? She’d spent a lifetime following the rules. Maybe it was time to break some.

  But now she regretted making the first move. She shouldn’t have kissed him. What if Rafe Montana was the type of guy to help himself to a casual fling and then still throw her brother in jail? She should have waited to be sure rather than jump right in.

  So much for living in the moment.

  “Cara? You okay?”

  She wanted to ignore him, but sticking her head in the sand wouldn’t help anyone. No one had forced her to make a move on him; she’d made that foolish decision on her own. “I’m all right.”

  “Listen, I want you to understand where I’m coming from. I don’t want you to get the idea I’m some white knight taking you to rescue your brother.”

  She gave a laugh. “The last thing I would ever call you, Rafe Montana, is a white knight.”

  “Good.”

  She turned to face him. “Though I was hoping you would give him a chance to explain.”

  “Sweetheart, I don’t think you understand how all this works. Your stepbrother broke the law, and as an agent of that law, I am obligated to bring him in. Pretty cut and dried.”

  “You’ve never found an exception, huh?”

  “No. You break the law, you do the time. Like I said, cut and dried.”

  “No second chances in your world, Rafe? No forgiveness?”

  “I’m no saint, Cara.” He slanted her a hard look. “In my world, everything is pretty black and white.”

  “I’m starting to see that.” She turned her gaze out the window at the darkening sky, wondering if she had jumped from the frying pan into the fire.

  * * *

  The sun was setting, turning the desert sky into an explosion of orange and lavender and deep blush pink. The boulders and mesas stood in stark silhouette against Mother Nature’s vivid show as Ekhia—the sun—sank deeper into the horizon. Cara had drifted off to sleep about an hour ago, granting him precious solitude at this powerful moment of ending and beginning.

  Low in his throat, he crooned a melody ingrained from childhood—the song of farewell to Ekhia, followed immediately by the higher notes of the song of welcome to Ilargi, the moon. The ritual settled his soul, quieted the Hunter and gave him invaluable peace for a few cherished seconds.

  “Are you Native American?” Cara’s sleepy voice came from the shadows of the passenger seat.

  He exhaled, serenity floating away like a dream. “Some. On my father’s side.”

  “I thought you looked it the first time I met you.” She shifted, her light hair visible even in the dimness of a highway without street lights. “That was a beautiful song. Does it mean something?”

  That she had witnessed his ritual should have disturbed him. In his culture only a mate observed a man’s private communion with the elements; only a mate could possibly share in such an intimate moment without disrupting the balance. Had he known she was awake, he would never have exposed his soul in such a way.

  Yet she was awake, she had heard his song, and no sense of violation disrupted his harmony with the universe. Even the Hunter remained quiet. Such a thing had never happened before, and he didn’t know what to think.

  “It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me,” she said when he didn’t answer.

  “It’s not that.” He searched for words. “The song—it’s something of a prayer. My mother used to sing it to me.”

  “It’s lovely. You have a nice voice.”

  “Thanks.”

  Shuffling noises came from the passenger side, and he glanced over to see her pulling the band out of her ponytail. Her hair settled over her shoulders, curling and waving in every direction. She combed her fingers through it, then started to gather it again.

  “Don’t.” He turned his eyes to the road. “It looks nice that way.”

  “Thanks, but it gets in a million tangles if I don’t keep it under control.”

  The image of her curly hair spread across his pillow, of Cara out of control, had his hands tightening on the wheel.

  “We should probably stop soon,” he said, trying to focus on business. “Since Danny left Flagstaff, this trip is going to be longer than we thought. We should crash for the night, start fresh in the morning.”

  He saw the way she stilled out of the corner of his eye, her hands still tangled in the hair she was trying to tame. “What do you mean, crash for the night? I thought the drive was only a few hours.”

  “That was before I found out that Danny had left Flagstaff,” he said. “I don’t know where he’s going to land, so this road trip just got longer.”

  “I see.” She finished doing her hair, then settled back in her seat.

  He waited for her to say more, but the heavy silence spoke for her. The confines of the SUV’s cab seemed to shrink around them, the air filling with awareness.

  “We should talk about that other thing now,” he said.

  She whipped her head around. “What other thing?”

  The challenge in her to
ne stirred the Hunter. He took a calming breath before he replied. “Sex.”

  “I knew it!”

  “We can’t ignore this thing between us,” he forged on.

  “Listen, kissing you in the diner was a mistake,” she said. “It was just a way to cover you slipping me the knife. It was a dumb plan.”

  “It worked. And that kiss was pretty hot.”

  “You can forget about that. It didn’t mean anything.”

  “Sweetheart, you can lie to yourself if you want, but there have been sparks flying between us since the moment we met.”

  She shrugged. “It happens.”

  “Yeah, it does. And I want you to know that when we do stop for the night, we’re sharing a room. So get used to that now.”

  A squeak of outrage came from the passenger seat. “I am not sharing a bed with you!”

  “I didn’t say that. I said a room.” He shot her a quick glance. “There’s usually two beds, or I’m fine on the floor. But someone is chasing us, Cara, and we can’t ignore security for modesty’s sake. This is no time for games.”

  “I don’t play games.”

  “Good. Neither do I.” He caught sight of a neon sign advertising a popular motel, the lettering only half lit. “This place looks good. You hunch down in the seat so they don’t see you from the inside. It might be better if I check in alone.”

  “Good, then you can pay for the room.”

  He steered the truck toward the exit ramp. “No problem.”

  * * *

  Cara did as she was told and scrunched down on the floor of the passenger side while Rafe walked into the motel to register. Her nerves jangled so much that her fingers trembled. She breathed slowly, trying to calm the peculiar excitement flooding her.

  So they were stopping for the night. They were both adults. She’d already explained about the kiss at the truck stop, so he knew not to expect her to jump into bed with him. She was a sensible woman and understood the need to stay together for safety’s sake, especially since they were being followed by a couple of strangers. She wasn’t so naïve to think that a pair of flat tires had completely discouraged them. No, they would probably be back, and she had to agree with Rafe that staying together promised the best protection.

  She’d protested when Rafe was around, but now that she hid crouched in the SUV, she couldn’t lie to herself. She was attracted to the guy, had been from the beginning.

  She hadn’t been with anyone in over a year, not since Warren had broken their engagement. Having foolishly made him a partner in the company, she was forced to work with him, but she no longer loved him. Maybe she never had. She’d loved the dream of a husband and children, the longing for a family that she had clung to since her mother died.

  When Warren had announced his engagement to Ashley only three months after he’d broken it off with her, all her old insecurities rose like ghosts to haunt her. She could still hear his words the night he’d asked for his ring back. A man likes to feel like he’s needed, babe, and around you—well, I always feel like you’re so smart, you don’t need anybody.

  Was that why she’d never had a lot of dates? Because the boys always felt intimidated or emasculated by her intellect? Nerd. Geek. Egghead. The names had plagued her since the first day she’d made the honor roll in junior high. Were men really not attracted to intelligent women?

  Rafe didn’t seem bothered by it.

  Maybe that’s why she was having such a hard time ignoring this attraction between them. She couldn’t deny the physical allure, and here they were, all alone on the road together. She’d mentioned her degrees and her business, and he hadn’t seemed to think any of it was at all out of the ordinary. She found that alone very appealing. Yet how much of what she was feeling stemmed from genuine attraction, and how much from worry over Danny? Rafe struck her as a cool place of reason and safety in a world suddenly gone off-kilter, and she didn’t want to get intimate with him only to realize she had been using him as comfort. He didn’t deserve that.

  Which left everything as muddled and confusing as ever.

  * * *

  Rafe climbed back in the truck, the key to room 203—around the back of the motel—safely in his shirt pocket. He glanced over at Cara. She knelt on the floor facing away from the windshield, her arms resting on the seat, her head below the window line. Her ponytail curled along her back, and he couldn’t resist trailing his gaze along the blond mass, then farther over her curvy rear end. Her position put her in a provocative pose that grabbed hold of his imagination and wouldn’t let go. He could think of any number of uses for such a position, all guaranteed to bring both of them to screaming orgasm.

  “Everything okay?” she whispered.

  He gave a short nod, not trusting himself to speak. Then he shifted the SUV into reverse and turned his head to look out the rear window as he backed up.

  A lime-green Volkswagen flew into the parking lot behind him. He stomped on the brake. Cara cried out, scrambling for balance. The car sped past him, music blaring and its teenage passengers laughing. Once they had passed, he started to reverse again, this time more slowly. Cara grabbed at the console between the seats, trying to regain her position. Her hand slipped, landed on his thigh.

  He braked again, the force sending her hand sliding upward. Her fingers halted an inch from his groin.

  “Oh, my God. Sorry. Sorry.” She curled her fingers into his jeans for an instant while she found purchase, then yanked her hand back. “I lost my balance.”

  “I know.” His gaze was drawn to her mouth as she worried her lower lip with her teeth, then down to where her tank top pulled away from her breasts. The edge of her lacy bra peeked out. The Hunter stirred, along with his rising sexual interest.

  She glanced down at herself, squeaked, and tugged her tank top into place. “What is it with you staring at my boobs all the time?”

  He shrugged, a grin tugging at his mouth, and smoothly shifted the SUV into gear. “They’re nice.”

  “Men,” she muttered, wrapping her over-shirt more tightly around her.

  They made it to the room without further incident. Rafe got out first, opened the door to the room and checked it out without turning on the lights. Empty. Then he signaled to Cara. He opened his Hunter senses wide, alert for danger, as she darted from the truck into the room. When she brushed past him in the doorway, her feminine scent hit him like a sledgehammer: pungent, primal, irresistible.

  He breathed in her essence, then stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. His senses were so jazzed he could hear her breathing, her heartbeat. He leaned back against the door, his sharpening eyesight picking out the pale outline of woman in the dark.

  “Rafe, aren’t you going to turn on a light?”

  “In a minute.”

  She shifted, her clothing gliding over flesh with a soft swish. He wanted to touch her, to sweep away those layers until skin grazed skin. He wanted to bury his face in her hair, inhale the scents that drove him crazy, even now, even from a distance, as he slid into her hot, slick depths. He closed his eyes, rested his head back against the door, willed his senses to return to normal levels. The Hunter fought him, but they’d had this battle before. Always, they struggled. Always, he won.

  Except once. And that once had forged the rules he lived by ever since.

  “I think there’s a lamp over here somewhere.”

  “Wait, don’t—” The bedside light clicked on, and Rafe held up a hand, blinking against the unexpected glare. He had his powers about seventy-five percent contained. The light helped, but the sight of Cara beside the bed, didn’t.

  She bit her bottom lip again. “Sorry, was I not supposed to do that?”

  “I’m in charge of security, Cara.” He stalked over to the drapes and yanked them shut. The action gave him the extra moment he needed to regain full control. “You do what I say, when I say it.”

  “I was trying to help.”

  “Don’t.”

  “I hate
this.” She clenched her fists at her sides.

  “You can hate me all you want.”

  “Not you. This.” She spread her arms. “This whole situation. In my world, I’m the one in charge. I fix the problems; I put out the fires. But out here, nothing makes sense or looks right or is what it appears to be. Even the landscape is different!” She swiped a hand over her face, weariness evident in the movement. “I feel so useless.”

  The despair in her voice touched him, reaching deep inside to a place he had thought well guarded. He knew he shouldn’t go to her. He knew he shouldn’t fold her into his arms. But he did anyway.

  She fit into his embrace like a key in a lock, her head resting against his shoulder, that soft ponytail curling over his arm. Her quiet hiccup of a sob pierced his heart, sparking his protective instincts. Something about her got to him. Was it her love for her stepbrother? Her obvious loyalty to him? She had flown across the country and taken off with a virtual stranger for parts unknown, all to protect Danny.

  Lucky guy.

  She sniffled one more time, then pushed back a step, breaking the embrace. He looked into her reddened eyes, swiping a tear from her cheek with his thumb. The dejection he saw tugged at him. And the shadow of death still lingered.

  He tightened his jaw. She wasn’t going to die, not if he had anything to say about it. He would not let her mission be in vain.

  “Get some sleep,” he said. “I’ll take the bed by the door.”

  “I need my carry-on,” she said. “The little suitcase.”

  “I’ll get it.” He headed toward the door, then stopped with his hand on the knob. “Go wash up. You’ll feel better.” She nodded, and he opened the door.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  He gave a jerky nod, then stepped outside. The cooling air hit his heated skin in welcome relief, helping him battle the lingering arousal. He hit the car remote, and the snick of the locks opening echoed through the empty night. He reached for the door handle, then paused, resting his palm against the side of the vehicle. Bent his head.