by Lora Leigh
“Did you hear anything else, Teddy?” Zeke asked.
Teddy shook his head. “Nothing about the girl they were seeing. They started talking about being thrown out of their cousin’s bar. Said Rogue had a mean knee.” Teddy’s gaze lightened with a hint of laughter then. “Jonesy taught her how to use that knee, I hear. Jonesy used to be a hell of a fighter.”
“That’s what I’ve heard.” Zeke nodded, moving to rise to his feet.
“You know your dad and Jonesy used to be good friends,” Teddy said.
“I know that.” Zeke nodded.
“Yeah.” Teddy rubbed his hands together slowly. “Jonesy, James, and Thad, they were all real tight at one time. Until your dad started hooking up with that Dayle Mackay. Jonesy never could get along with Dayle, you know?”
“I didn’t know that, Teddy.”
Teddy nodded. “Your dad was a good man when he was younger, until he hooked up with Dayle.” Teddy grimaced soberly. “He changed. But I guess all men change when they grow older in some ways. Some for the better, some for the worse, huh?”
“So it would seem, Teddy,” Zeke answered. “So it would seem.”
Teddy nodded again before wiping his hand over his jaw. “You had a good mother though. She loved you like crazy. She was always taking those pictures of you and your dad. Everywhere she went she took pictures. Memories, she called them.” He grinned at that. “She used to say they were her memories, and when she was old they would serve her good. I saw her once when I was hunting, taking pictures in the mountains by herself. Your daddy and some friends were fishing out by the old cabin he kept. She didn’t see me. She was taking pictures of your dad and you, I guess. There were a lot of folks there. She liked her pictures.”
Zeke tensed. Memories flashed in his mind, comments his mother used to make, arguments she’d had with his dad. And one odd comment that stuck in his brain and shot adrenaline through his body.
His mother and her damned pictures. Her insurance, she had told his father when Zeke had been twelve, maybe thirteen. It was her insurance and if Thad was smart he’d save his own insurance. And he knew where his mother had hid her insurance. Son of a bitch, all these years, time spent investigating, searching, and the proof he needed could have been right under his nose all this time.
TWENTY
Rogue watched her brother warily as he prowled the living and kitchen area of her spacious apartment. He made the walls shrink in the once-airy rooms. Pacing like a caged tiger, she wouldn’t have been surprised if he had started growling at her.
“You know, Mom and Dad are not going to be pleased.” He threw her a fulminating glare as he turned and faced her from the other side of the couch. “Why the hell do you think I showed up? Dad is within days of arriving, Caitlyn. He’s not happy over this situation.”
“He’ll have to live with it.” She shrugged. “It’s no more his business than it is yours.”
She didn’t need family interference right now. She’d managed to keep her father off her back for the past five years by putting up with Jonesy, which she had considered the lesser of two evils. Now, she had her brother here looking for all the world like a younger version of her father, albeit with blond hair rather than her father’s red gold.
“Dad is not just going to live with it, Cait,” he warned her.
“Rogue,” she corrected him. She’d lost count of the times she had corrected him. He just threw her another glare, just as he had each time she had reminded him before.
“Look, just come back to Boston for a few weeks.” He crossed his arms over his chest and stared back at her as though that look alone would get him his way.
Rogue almost smiled. Why was it that men thought all they had to do was cross their arms over their chests and stare back at a woman with determined eyes to get their way? It didn’t work on her.
“And do what?” She grinned. “Are you going to take me out with you at night and make certain I’m entertained?”
His expression didn’t change.
“Of course you aren’t,” she answered her own question with a mocking edge of humor. “And Mom and Dad have their things to do. That leaves poor little Rogue sitting in the corner to stare at the walls.”
“Caitlyn,” he growled her name. “Your name is Caitlyn. Son of a bitch, you’ve had four years, Cait. You’ve had plenty of time to get back at the bastards that hurt you. Now it’s time to come home.”
She stared at him in surprise, and she admitted a bit of anger. She would have thought that her brother would have known better than to believe she had stayed in Somerset for such a paltry reason.
“You think the only reason I stay here is because I want to get back at someone?” She felt like pulling at her hair. She hated dealing with her brother, or her father, when they got something into their head. They didn’t let up until they got their way, and Rogue wasn’t of the mind to give in to them.
“That’s exactly why you stay,” he bit out harshly. “Tell me what else you have. Family? Friends? You didn’t even make friends outside the damned bar until last year.”
“So? I have friends now.” She shrugged as she adjusted the hem of her T-shirt over the band of her jeans. “I have a business, a job, and a sheriff.” She winked suggestively as she watched him flush angrily. She hadn’t said the word lover, it hovered there in the air between them, infuriating his brotherly sensibilities.
“Caitlyn …”
“Rogue,” she injected softly. She was getting tired of reminding him.
He grimaced. “Even I know Sheriff Mayes’s reputation with women. He’s not a relationship kind of guy and you know it. He’s going to break your heart.”
Rogue pushed her hands into her back pockets and gave him a tight smile, warning herself to keep her mouth shut. She didn’t want to fight with her brother. It had been too long since she had seen him. She’d let him bitch a little, then maybe take him down to the bar and let him have a drink or two. Maybe a beer would chill him out a little.
“You’re not even listening to me, are you?” he accused her, a hint of anger entering his voice.
“Should I be?” Rogue arched her brows as she pulled her hands from her pockets and turned away from him to grab her apartment keys and cell phone from the kitchen table. “Let’s go down to the bar. I need to check a few things out and you need a beer.”
“I don’t need a damned beer.” His violet gaze hardened as he stared back at her. “I’ll help you pack instead.”
Her lips quirked. “You can come downstairs for a beer, or you can find yourself a hotel room for the night first. But packing isn’t something we’ll do.”
His lips thinned. “You have a spare bedroom here; why should I have to find a hotel room?”
“Because you aren’t staying here,” she informed him as she moved for the door.
“Because your sheriff stays here?” he forced out between clenched teeth.
“Pretty much.” She shrugged mockingly. “I prefer not to have my brother in the next room while I’m sleeping with my lover. It just smacks of tacky.”
His hands plowed through his hair. Anger marked his face and glittered in his eyes as she strolled past him.
“Come on, John.” Opening the door, she stared back at him warningly. “I’m not in the mood to fight with you, and you don’t want to push it. Let’s go downstairs and have a beer and chill out. You can go back home tomorrow and tell Daddy I’m just as stubborn as I ever was and you can go on about your business.”
“You think all it takes is telling Dad that you’re being stubborn, don’t you, Rogue?”
“That’s all it took before.” She moved for the stairs. “I’m a big girl, John. I really can make these decisions all by myself.”
She heard him follow behind her, the door closing before she started down the stairs. Music drifted up the stairs, clashing and wild as a popular classic rock tune thundered out onto the dance floor and beyond.
“You like to think you’re a
big girl,” he snorted behind her. “A half-pint wishing is more like it.”
She grinned at the comment. A half-pint wishing, that was one of her father’s ways of telling her she was too small and delicate to do the things she normally did. It was usually in reference to another fight she had been involved in, or when she went nose to nose with Jonesy over something he ended up tattling over.
Pushing through the door that led to the main customer area of the bar, she let a grin tilt her lips. It was going to be hard at first to step away from the home she had taken over four years ago. The bar had been her rebellion, and she had done a damned good job of rebelling in it. Maybe she had grown up a bit over the years though. The bar wasn’t as important as it had been, or maybe she was tired of rebelling. Either way, she knew her time there was limited.
Moving behind the long counter, she drew her brother a draft beer before pulling a chilled bottle of her favorite brand from beneath the counter. Her gaze went over the bartenders’ activity, from Jonesy at the register as he made a point to ignore her, to Kent as he filled orders quickly and efficiently.
“You know, you should move to Somerset.” She grinned at her brother’s look of horror. “Just think, you could escape that stuffy lifestyle you’ve adopted for yourself and have some real fun. I’d even let you take over the bar.”
She leaned a hip against the counter as she stared out over the dance floor before swinging her gaze back to her brother.
“You’re joking.” He grimaced as he glared at her.
“Not in the least,” she assured him, raising her voice to be heard over the din. “I like working with Janey, John. I want to spend more time at the restaurant rather than here. You’d do well here.”
Come to think of it, her brother would fit in here, she thought. He’d been discontent for years at her father’s law firm. Where her sister seemed to fit in fine, John and her father clashed constantly.
“You’ve lost your mind.” He turned his back on her as though she weren’t worth listening to any longer.
Rogue grinned; she knew her brother, and he wasn’t as disinterested as he wanted to pretend. His body was tense, a frown was brewing at his forehead—proof that he was at least considering her suggestion.
Shaking her head at him she finished her beer before disposing of the bottle and making her rounds of the bar.
She greeted regulars, chatted with visitors, and picked out tourists from among those just passing through on their way to other locations. She laughed and made certain the waitresses kept the drinks flowing. And through it all she kept her eye on the door, watching for one figure, one man.
“Hey, Rogue.”
She turned at the pat on her shoulder.
“Gene, how are you doing?” She shot the deputy a quick smile as he looked around the bar.
“Seen Zeke this evening yet?” he asked as he looked around the bar, his ruddy face creasing into a frown.
“Not yet.” She kept her smile relaxed, kept the worry out of her expression. “He usually shows up before the night’s over.”
“I thought you’d be at the restaurant tonight?”
She looked around the bar as she shook her head. “I’ve had some things to take care of, so I took tonight off.”
“Things like your brother?” His grin was slow and easy. “Talk is already making rounds that another Boston Walker is in town. I hear he’s a hell of a lawyer.”
Gene’s voice lifted to carry over the music, making it loud enough for those standing and sitting around them to hear their conversation clearly. Rogue was aware of the interest they were generating; it would have been impossible to miss.
“John is definitely one hell of a lawyer. If you’d like to chat with him, he’s over at the bar.” She nodded toward John’s location. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a few things I need to check on.”
“Of course,” he answered. “I might just do that, Rogue. Tell Zeke I was looking for him before he left the office. He’s not answering his cell phone, but I left a few messages.”
“I’ll let him know you’re looking for him,” she promised as she moved away. “Night, Gene.”
If she saw him. She checked her watch. It was going on nine and she hadn’t seen him yet. That was unusual, and she admitted, it bothered her.
After making a full round of the bar she slipped back through the door next to the counter, managing to evade detection by her brother or Gene. She moved up the stairs, pulled the key to the apartment from her jeans, and unlocked the door before slipping inside.
The apartment was dark. She never left it dark. She always left lights on, simply because she hated fumbling for the switch.
Moving to back out, a surprised yelp left her lips as a hard hand gripped her wrist, pulled her in as the door was pushed closed, before she found herself flat against the wall behind her.
She would have screamed if a part of her hadn’t instantly recognized the man that pressed against her. Her lips, parted on instinct, rather than blasting out in furious sound, let a moan slip by as hard male lips pressed into them, and a ravenous tongue licked over them.
Rogue let her arms wind around a muscular male neck. She arched into the hands that slid beneath her T-shirt and caressed her up her back. Her lips returned the fiery kiss that blazed over her lips.
She tasted him, felt him, smelled him. Her senses became filled with him as he lifted her against his harder body, his thigh sliding between hers as his hands moved her to ride the hard muscle.
Heated, pulsating pleasure erupted through her pussy. Instantly, her clit became swollen, her juices began to spill. Her breasts swelled beneath her bra and her nipples tightened. Every cell of her body went on high alert at the touch and the taste of this one man.
Her lips closed on his tongue, hers met it, stroked, licked. A soft cry filled the air, throttled as their lips held it back. Her body was instantly electrified, responsive, needy. She needed and wondered at her response to him. At the sheer pleasure, the sense of anticipation that filled her as his hard hands held her hips, his heavy thigh muscle grinding between her thighs.
Blood thundered through her veins now; her flesh became sensitive, her body weak with arousal. It was like this. Each time he touched her, each time he was near, she was ready for him, waiting for him.
“John is here,” she gasped as his lips moved from hers and arrowed down her neck. One hand pulled at the neckline of her T-shirt, pulling it back from her collarbone as he devoured flesh there.
His tongue stroked over the sensitive skin as she breathed in harshly, her head falling back to give him greater access as heated sensation raced through her.
“He’s not up here,” he growled before raking his teeth over the upper swell of her breast. “I checked.”
“He has a key,” she moaned, her nails digging into the muscles of his shoulder, feeling naked flesh.
He must have taken off his shirt before she entered the room. He still wore jeans, she assumed he still had his boots on. But his back and chest were bare, heated and hard.
“He’s always interrupting things that he shouldn’t.” She nearly lost her breath as his hands pushed her shirt over the swell of her breasts. “God, Zeke, you make me crazy like this.”
When he was hard and demanding, determined to take what he wanted. It made her blood pressure soar, made heat erupt throughout her body as her pussy clenched in need.
She ached for him. She’d ached for him all day, watched for him, needed him.
“I want you crazy,” he breathed over the valley of her breasts. “Crazy and wild. Come on, Rogue, show me how wild you can be.”
How wild she could be? She was weak, arching to him as he pushed aside the lace of her bra and licked over her nipple.
“Wild?” she moaned. “Damn, Zeke, I can barely breathe.”
His chuckle was dark and sexy against the tight tip of her breast as his lips covered it, sucked it into his mouth, and sent her senses spinning.
The las
h of his tongue against her nipple sent fire rippling through her nervous system. Each hard draw at the tender tip sent a spark of reaction straight to her womb, stealing her breath and leaving her gasping at the pleasure.
Her world was on fire with pleasure. Pinpoints of light sparkled behind her closed lids, and nothing existed, nothing was real but this touch, this man that held her against him with a strength, a power that she hadn’t sensed in him before.
“Where is the little bastard?” he finally groaned as his head lifted from her breast.
“Who?” she lifted to him, desperate for more.
“Your brother.” His cheek rubbed against her breast, the dark rasp of a shadow of a beard sending a shudder through her body.
“Oh. Downstairs, with Gene. Your deputy left you a message on your cell phone.” She finally remembered. “You can answer him later. Much later.”
She felt him tense against her. Every muscle in his lean, corded frame seemed to tighten to steely hardness.
“Definitely much later,” he agreed, though he was drawing away from her now, pulling back before reaching beside her to flip the lights on.
Rogue blinked at the sudden bright light, staring up at him as he slowly released her before jerking his shirt from the back of the couch and pulling it over his head.
“What?” She watched him with a frown as he pushed his arms through their holes and pulled the shirt over his lean abs.
“Grab a jacket.” He turned back to her, his expression hard. “I had Alex drop me off here; we’ll take your cycle back to my place.”
Rogue tilted her head to the side as she watched him curiously now.
“Are we slipping away, Zeke?” she asked him.
“Not for the reasons you might be thinking,” he grunted. “This has nothing to do with caring who sees me with you. There’s just a few things I’m avoiding right now.”
That was strange enough; she couldn’t imagine Zeke avoiding anything that needed to be taken care of or anyone causing him any problems.