“Not exactly,” he said, sounding almost regretful about it. “But I have a pond—spring fed, nice and cool. If you need to cool off.”
Somehow, she’d gotten close enough to him that he could cup her cheek with the palm of his hand. Her eyelashes fluttered and she couldn’t help leaning into his touch. Even though this had been one of the stranger afternoons in her life, she still felt safe with him. Maybe she shouldn’t. They were a million miles from nowhere. But she did.
“Let me take you home.”
A pond? She didn’t love mud squishing between her toes, but at this point she wasn’t sure she cared. “Promise me we’ll get there soon. I don’t know how much longer I can wait.”
She meant for the food and wine. For the cool pond. But she felt his body tense and realized that she hadn’t been talking about dinner at all.
She didn’t know how much longer she could wait for this man. This confusing, confounding man who cared what happened to her.
“Ten minutes. You won’t regret this.”
“I better not.”
Neither of them moved for a second. Then, so slowly that she could feel the electricity between them crackle, he stroked his thumbs over her cheekbones. His hands were rough, but his touch was gentle and she was too tired to fight the shiver of attraction anymore.
Damn his sunglasses. Damn her exhaustion. Damn the fact that they were parked in the middle of nowhere instead of at some romantic restaurant or, even better, a bedroom. Any bedroom. Damn this corruption case she was unwillingly a part of because, better than a glass of wine and a pint of ice cream, falling into Tom Yellow Bird’s arms would definitely relieve some of her stress.
He held her there, stroking her cheeks, and she thought he was going to kiss her. She wanted him to. She also didn’t—what she really wanted was for the world to go back to making sense—but that wasn’t going to happen. So she’d settle for a kiss.
“We need to get going,” he said, pulling away from her with what she chose to believe was reluctance. Because that way, it didn’t sting as much.
“Of course,” she said, staring at the trees in the distance. “Let’s just go.”
It almost didn’t even matter where anymore.
Five
In his life, Tom had made mistakes. Beyond being unable to rescue Maggie and overlooking the fact that he should have been behind the wheel instead of Stephanie in the car accident—he had screwed up.
He’d lost the notoriously violent pimp Leonard Low Dog not once but twice and, as a result, the man had nearly killed Maggie. He’d lost the trail on Tanner Donnelly’s killer until Tanner’s sister, Rosebud, and her now-husband, Dan Armstrong, had cracked the case open. And Tom hadn’t yet been able to uncover who was paying off judges in South Dakota.
All of those were epic errors in judgment, ones that he’d tried hard to rectify. Leonard Low Dog was serving twenty without parole. Shane Thrasher was doing forty for killing Tanner. Tom had put three judges in prison and had a hand in forcing others to retire from the bench.
But none of those mistakes were in the same category as bringing Caroline Jennings home with him.
She gasped when he finally rounded the last bend and his cabin came into view.
Aside from the Armstrongs and the Carlsons, Lilly and Joe White Thunder—people he trusted beyond the pale—he’d never brought anyone else back here. This was his sanctuary. This was where he could be close to the memories of Stephanie.
“Good God,” Caroline exhaled. “Where the hell did this come from?”
“I built it.” It was the summer home he and Stephanie had planned, once their careers had been established. Once they would’ve been able to take a month off in the summer.
And now Caroline was here. It was a mistake, but if there was one thing life had taught him, it was that there was no going back. Own up to what you did and keep moving forward. She was here, and he was sworn to protect her.
“You built it? Like, by yourself?”
“I had a few contractors, but only ones I could trust.” He didn’t see Lilly’s pickup truck anywhere—good.
The low-slung building practically glowed in the fading sunset, the solar panels on the roofs of the house and garage glinting in the light. The panels had been a compromise. Someone could easily see his house from the air, but he was off the grid.
He hadn’t exactly sworn to protect Caroline. He’d promised to take care of her. And when he’d made that promise, he’d felt the shiver pass through her body.
This was fine. Yes, he had to be in DC Monday evening, but she wouldn’t be with him that long. He’d keep an eye on her this weekend until he could sweep her house. Early Monday morning, Tom would take her to work, and she’d go home Monday evening as if nothing had happened.
“This is amazing.” Her voice was breathy—and that was before she turned those beautiful eyes toward him. “You live here full-time? In the middle of nowhere?”
He shrugged. “I needed a place to think. I have an apartment in Pierre, but it’s not as secure.”
Right. That was why he’d brought her here. Security. He would do anything to keep her safe. Even break the rules—his own rules.
Bringing her to his house? That broke every rule he’d ever set for himself. That was him putting his selfish wants ahead of his job, and that was a risk not just for him, not just for her, but for all the years he and Carlson had spent on this case. That was an unacceptable level of risk.
But what was he supposed to do? He couldn’t leave her. The pull he felt to take care of her wouldn’t let him. But it was more than that.
Caroline hadn’t cut him a single bit of slack. Except when he’d touched her, her soft skin warm in his hands.
He pulled into the garage. It wasn’t until she gasped again that he looked at her. “Who the hell are you?” she asked, staring at his vehicles.
There were a couple of nondescript cars that he used for surveillance, his motorcycle, the old pickup truck he used when he went to the reservation and the new one he used when he was hauling supplies—not to mention his fire engine–red Corvette Stingray, which he only took out when he needed to give off an aura of wealth. “I know you may not believe this, but I don’t make a habit of lying.”
Based on her expression, if he thought that was going to fly, he had another thing coming. “You must not be including lying by omission in the definition.”
He snorted as he got out of the car, pleased that she followed. He snagged her bags out of the trunk. “This way.”
He led her to the wide porch that wrapped around three of the four sides of his house. “I have a few things I need to see to, so if you’d like to take a dip in the pond, now would be a great time.” That would give him a chance to contact Carlson and see about getting her house swept for bugs.
But it’d also give him a chance to get his head back in the game. Lilly White Thunder should have gotten dinner started, and hopefully she’d had enough time to put fresh sheets on the beds.
But the thought of Caroline curled up in his bed, her hair mussed and the sheet slung low around her waist—
“Come on,” he said, dropping her duffel just inside the door. The scent of pizza baking in the oven filled the cabin, but the windows were open and the house smelled fresh and clean.
As much as he loved Lilly, he was glad the older woman wasn’t here. He didn’t want to introduce Caroline to her, didn’t want to risk the chance that Caroline’s presence would slip out and make the rounds on the res.
Because that kept Caroline safer. Not because he didn’t want Lilly looking at him with her warm eyes and getting any funny ideas.
Unable to help himself, he took Caroline by the hand. She was too hot and tired to meet new people, anyway. The sooner she got out of those clothes and cooled down, the better she�
��d be.
And her being nude had nothing to do with him. Not a damn thing.
He was rock hard as he led her through the patio doors and down a small flagstone path to where he had dammed the natural spring to create a small pool.
Caroline stumbled to a stop when she saw it. “It’s...red. The water’s red?”
“It is. Higher iron content. It flows into the Red Creek River,” he said, stepping in close to her and pointing down the riverbanks. “That’s where the name comes from. Don’t worry, it won’t dye your skin.”
The next thing Tom knew, she whacked him on the arm. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?” she demanded, her voice sounding unnaturally high. “If you had just told me you had a luxury log cabin complete with stone fireplaces and leather furniture and...” Her voice cracked. “And a little pond that isn’t even a pond.” She sniffed. “You lined the bottom with stones, didn’t you?”
It was the most accusatory statement he’d heard—and it wasn’t about a crime or a case. It was about his little pool. “If I want to feel mud squishing in between my toes, I’ll swim in the river.”
She slapped him on the arm again and he let her. “You could’ve told me. I didn’t even bring a swimsuit.”
“I didn’t know you needed to cool down until we were in the car.” He turned his gaze out to the trees, where his spring flowed into the river. He specifically did not look at her. “If you want to soak, it’s about three feet deep,” he added. “Not enough to do laps.”
She sighed and he glanced back at her. She was staring at that water like it was a long-lost lover that she’d never thought she’d see again. And Tom knew he was crazy, because he was suddenly jealous of the pool. “If you look, I’ll gut you in your sleep,” she said, sounding so tired that Tom felt like a cad.
He knew he was not an easy man to get along with. Never had been—that’s why Stephanie had been so good for him. She had never let him get away with anything. She’d challenged him and pushed him and held him to a higher standard. She had met him on the playing field as an equal, and Tom had loved her for it, completely and wholly.
But even Stephanie had never threatened to gut him like a fish.
Grinning, he said, “Then I best not look.”
Caroline turned away from him and grabbed the hem of her shirt, slowly lifting and revealing the pale skin of her lower back. She had the shirt halfway off and she looked at him over her shoulder and if he hadn’t been lost before then, he sure as hell was now. “Shouldn’t you be hiding the knives?”
“You know I’m used to sleeping with one eye open, right?” She started to lower the shirt, so he quickly took a step back. “I’m going. I won’t look. I’ll let you know when dinner’s ready.”
“At the rate we’re going, it’s going to be breakfast,” she said with a sigh.
He turned on his heel before he did something stupid, like give in to the urge to pull her into his arms. He’d been battling that urge since he’d pulled up in front of her house that afternoon, stomach churning with dread. She’d sounded so scared on the phone—she’d been trying to laugh it off, but Tom had heard the truth in her voice. All he’d wanted to do was hold her then and make sure she knew she was safe with him.
Instead, he’d gone into her house, ready to shoot any intruder who’d stolen her peace of mind. He’d told her to pack for a weekend away and driven her way out here. She was well within her right to gut him.
And now he had to make it through the next forty-eight hours alone with her. The only things to do out here were hike and hunt, soak in the pool, and sleep. There was no television, no internet, and the only cell service was his satellite phone.
She was safe now, and he was pretty sure she knew it. After all, wasn’t she actively stripping out of her clothes? Wasn’t she, at this very moment, stepping into the shallow pool he’d built, seemingly just for her? Wasn’t she lowering her nude body into the water, feeling it lap at her inner thighs, her stomach, her breasts?
Jesus, how was he going to make it until Monday morning?
* * *
The water was deliciously, blissfully cold. It shocked Caroline awake and kept right on shocking her. Which was good. It was so much easier to sit and think about goose bumps than to let her mind wander over the events of the last four hours. Had it really only been four danged hours? Sheesh, what a day.
Her stomach grumbled. She would kill for a glass of wine but, bathed in the last light of dusk and letting this not-pool wash the day’s sweat and anxiety away, she was content.
However, no matter how cold the water was, it couldn’t erase all the heat from her body. Safely submerged beneath the waterline, her nipples were so puckered they were painful, and the heat between her legs? This water would have to be a whole lot colder before it knocked that down. Even though her skin was chilled, she was warm from the inside out.
She was lying naked in a pond that Tom Yellow Bird had built. She could almost pretend he’d built it for her, but she knew that was ridiculous.
Still, it was a nice fantasy. Why hadn’t that man told her about this place? She could see leaving out detailed directions. He was more than a little paranoid, but maybe in his line of work, he had to be.
She floated sideways so she could get a better look at the house. She hadn’t seen any sign of a maid or a housekeeper—or a British butler, for that matter. The only sign that anyone else knew where this house was had been the scent of pizza in the oven.
The house had also been spotless, as if this supposed housekeeper came in regularly to dust and air it out. Tom had hurried her through the house pretty quickly, but she’d gotten glimpses of the rough-hewn logs, a massive fireplace done in stone with a chimney that rose up to the ceiling. It was rough and overwhelming—much like Tom himself.
The whole house was a long structure, but not tall. It probably didn’t even have a second story. It rode low to the ground like it didn’t want to be noticed—except for the solar panels that covered the entire roof. There were trees close enough to the building to throw some shade on the porch, but otherwise, all they did was block the view from the road, however distant that was.
The logs were great behemoths of wood, and she let her imagination play over the image of Tom cutting and fitting them together like life-size Lincoln logs. Undoubtedly, he would’ve worked shirtless, sweat running down his neck and over his chest. Of course he would know how to use tools. And then he would lift each log into place, his muscles straining and—
“I’m coming down.” His voice rang out over the plains, breaking up her reverie. “Are you decent?”
“I’m still in the water,” she called back. “I... I don’t have a towel or anything.” And she had stripped a good six feet away from the pool because she had been so anxious to get out of her clothes. And her shoes—they weren’t waterproof flip-flops. She couldn’t just shove her feet back in them without ruining the leather ballerina flats, and she wasn’t sure she could make it up the flagstone walk without slipping. “I may be trapped in here forever.”
His laughter, deep and rich, was another pleasant surprise. She hadn’t heard him laugh like that yet. “I would be a terrible host if I left you in there to turn into one giant prune. I brought you a towel.”
“I haven’t yet decided if you’re terrible host or not. It better be a fluffy towel.”
“The fluffiest. I’m not looking.”
“You better not be,” she said, standing slowly to let the water sheet off her body. But when she turned for the towel, she saw that he was standing by the pool, holding out the unfolded towel, his head ducked and his eyes closed. “What are you doing?” she demanded, sinking back into the water.
“The rocks are slick. I’m making sure you don’t slip.” He said it as if this were just an everyday occurrence instead of a giant leap of faith on her behalf.
<
br /> Oh, hell—what was she talking about? How was the risk of him catching a glimpse of her nude somehow a bigger leap of faith than getting into a car with him and letting him whisk her away to the middle of nowhere?
She had already leaped. Now she just had to trust that he would catch her before she fell.
So she stood again, her skin tingling as the water rushed off it.
Moving carefully so she didn’t do something embarrassing like face-plant, she stepped into the towel. His arms came around her, but he didn’t step back. And he didn’t open his eyes. She was so glad those damn sunglasses were gone. “You never lie?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t look.”
She shifted so that the towel was secured under her arms. It was a very fluffy towel. Then she took a deep breath and rested her hand against his cheek. His eyelashes fluttered, but they stayed closed. “Why did you bring me out here? And I don’t want to hear that line about how you were keeping me safe.”
“That line is the truth.”
“There were a hundred ways to keep me safe inside city limits, Tom. Stop lying by omission. Why did you bring me out here?”
His hands settled around her waist, holding the towel to her body. She shivered, but it had nothing to do with the temperature of the water or the air. “I can take you back. If you want, we can leave after we eat.”
She wanted to throttle him and kiss him and slap him and drop the towel. She wanted to drag him into that pool of water with her and spend time exploring. She wanted to go home and she never wanted to leave. “What if I don’t want to go?”
His fingers dug into her waist, pulling her close. They were chest to chest now, her sensitive nipples scraping against the towel. Against his chest. Unconsciously, her back arched, pushing her even closer to him. “What if I want to stay?” she asked him, pushing up on her tiptoes.
“You feel it, too, don’t you?” His voice was so soft she had to tilt her head to catch the words. “I never thought I’d feel this again.”
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