Desperado

by Lisa Bingham

  *

  P.D. waited patiently while Elam investigated the area. The trembling had begun to subside beneath the throbbing of her head and the dozens of stinging cuts and scrapes. But worst of all was the tightness that gripped her throat and the burn of moisture at the backs of her eyes.

  She never cried. Never. But she was tired and hot and hurt and she couldn’t afford any setbacks in the competition.

  Her eyes skipped up the hill and she took comfort from Elam’s strength. If anyone could get her through this, it was this tall, tough cowboy. And that thought alone was enough to shock her to the core. In the past, she’d always maintained her emotional distance. It wasn’t that she consciously held people at bay. It was just that, after spending most of her life moving from place to place, a part of her was always preparing for the next set of good-byes. Partings were painful enough. But if you truly cared about a person …

  They were gut-wrenching.

  So P.D. had learned early on to keep things casual. Even with Bodey—whom she’d considered the closest friend she’d ever had—there had always been a hidden line of defenses. There were intimacies she’d never shared and confidences that she’d never allowed.

  But with Elam, she’d unwittingly bared it all—her pain, her vulnerability, and her wounded pride. He’d seen her at her best and at her worst. And miracle of miracles, he hadn’t pushed her away. Instead, he’d willingly accepted all of her baggage while sharing his own.

  She heard the horse approaching and looked up, expecting to see Elam regarding her with barely concealed pity. P.D. was crazy to think that someone had pushed her. The notion defied all logic.

  But what she hadn’t thought she’d find was his face set in fierce lines of fury and concern. He could have been wearing a neon sign blaring, NO ONE HURTS WHAT’S MINE. And his blatant display of possessiveness was completely at odds with the closed-up, stoic stranger that Elam had been the first day they’d met.

  “You were right. Someone was there.”

  P.D. hadn’t even considered how she would react if her fears were confirmed. But she hadn’t thought she would burst into tears. Nevertheless, as she pushed herself to her feet, she started to sob.

  In an instant, Elam was there, folding her into his arms, one broad hand resting tenderly at the back of her head.

  “We need to get you to a doctor,” he whispered, his voice thick with worry.

  “No, I … I don’t even know why I’m c-crying …”

  She never let anyone see her cry.

  “You’ve been hurt, P.D. It’s natural. Just let it all out.”

  She wrapped her arms around Elam, knowing that she could sob the night away if she wanted, and Elam wouldn’t think any less of her. He didn’t see her tears as a sign of weakness. He understood her chaotic emotions and allowed her the release, free from censure. And that, in itself, brought more tears until she felt as if she were cleansing her soul of years of apprehension and regret.

  When she grew calm again, she felt his mouth against the top of her head. “P.D., I think you have a concussion or—”

  She stopped him with a finger to his lips. “No. I’m fine.” She stared up at him through lashes that were still beaded with moisture.

  “But you—”

  This time, she kissed him, softly at first, then more purposefully.

  “We need to—”

  “Shut up and kiss me, Elam.”

  He needed no second bidding. He took her lips with a hunger and ferocity that matched her own. And when it became clear that she was answering him move for move, his arms swept around her waist, pulling her even more tightly against him.

  Passion tinged with relief raged over them both as his tongue swept into her mouth. Sensation took her by storm as their legs wove intimately together and his hand cupped her buttocks, grinding her to his arousal.

  Her own hands swept over his back, then lower, tunneling beneath his belt as far as she could reach, digging into the tight muscles of his butt, wishing that she had more access.

  “I should take you to a hospital just so I could get some time alone with you,” he gasped against her lips.

  P.D. laughed. “I could almost, almost, go for that.”

  Elam lifted his head. He was breathing hard and he made no effort to hide the fact. “When I couldn’t find you, I was scared shitless,” he admitted.

  She frowned. “Why? We weren’t apart all that long.”

  “You’re always so … in control, so …” He rested his forehead against hers. “I just knew something was wrong.”

  She allowed herself a small smile. “I would have crawled down eventually.”

  “Don’t talk like that.” He kissed her again, fiercely. Then he backed up, pulling her toward the horse. “Let’s see if they have a medic who can take a look at you.”

  “Elam,” she protested as he lifted her into the saddle. “That really isn’t necessary.”

  “Yes, it is,” he growled, swinging up beside her.

  “But the plants. I only found six.”

  “To hell with the plants.”

  “Elam—”

  He silenced her with a kiss to the curve of her neck. “Just … do it for me. All right? Then I promise to find the rest of the damned samples.”

  She sighed. “All right.”

  *

  IN the end, a call for a “medic” resulted in three ambulances, a paramedics’ vehicle, a fire truck, and several EMTs in shiny pickups with flashing headlights—all of them arriving at the Colby house in less than fifteen minutes.

  Under normal circumstances, P.D. would have been mortified that a call for help had resulted in the arrival of half the volunteer services of the county. But with Elam hovering over her, and one of the men congratulating P.D. on “livening up an otherwise slow evening,” she decided that she wasn’t going to worry about the fuss she’d caused. It was more important that she be cleared for “active duty” so that she and Elam could continue the game.

  To her surprise, it was Jace who ambled toward her, carrying a medical case.

  “So what has my lunkhead of a brother done to you?” he asked as he knelt in front of her and pulled a stethoscope from around his neck.

  “What are you doing here?” P.D. asked.

  “I’ve been volunteering my time today as part of the Games. I was just about to go off duty when I got the call. So far, all I’ve seen is heatstroke and mosquito bites, so this should shake things up.” He listened to her heart, front and back, then wrapped a blood pressure cuff around her upper arm. “I thought I told Elam to take care of you. He doesn’t seem to be doing a very good job.”

  Elam scowled at his younger brother, but didn’t speak since Jace was observing his watch and slowly releasing the pressure.

  “Looks good,” Jace said as he wrote down her vitals on a chart. Even P.D. could see her blood pressure was only slightly elevated.

  Jace took a penlight from his pocket and said, “Look straight at me.” He flashed the light in her eyes. “Look up.”

  P.D. followed his instructions to the letter, feeling an itching need to get going. While they’d been dallying with the medical teams, one of the groups had already checked off their plants and another was racing toward the woman in yellow.

  “What’s your name?”

  She jerked her attention back to Jace.

  “What? You know my name.”

  “Just answer the questions, please.”

  “Prairie Dawn Raines.”

  “The month?”

  “June.”

  “And are your intentions toward my brother honorable or dishonorable?”

  “Jace,” Elam growled in warning.

  Jace winked at P.D. “His reaction time seems normal.” Jace ripped open a packet of antiseptic cloths and began wiping the scratches and abrasions. “This might sting.”

  P.D. hissed and Elam immediately bristled. But before he could say anything, Jace said, “Don’t you have something better to do?”<
br />
  When Elam would have barked at his brother, P.D. grasped his hand and squeezed. “Go see if the samples we gave them were okay, then get whatever else we need so we can get out of here as soon as they’re done.”

  “Sounds like a good idea,” Jace said soothingly. Then, glancing up from his work, he offered, “She’s fine, Elam. No sign of concussion. You’ll want to keep your eye on her for the next twenty-four hours. If you see anything out of the ordinary, you can call us back again. But I’d say she’ll just be stiff and sore for a day or two.” He tucked the soiled wipe into a waste bag in his kit, then reached for a clean one. “This is going to take a while, so go finish up what you need to do. By the time you get back, I should be done.”

  Elam remained where he was until P.D. squeezed his hand again.

  “Please? I’d like to get out of here.” They were losing time and daylight, but that was only part of her concern. Whoever had pushed her could still be in the area.

  And it was that last confession, that she didn’t want to linger in a place where someone had purposely brought her harm, that finally convinced him. Jamming his hat on his head, he leaned down to plant a swift kiss on her lips, then strode away.

  Jace waited until his brother was out of range before allowing a slow smile to split his features.

  “So that’s the way the wind blows,” he murmured.

  P.D. damned the slow heat that spread into her cheeks.

  “Do you mind?”

  Jace shook his head. “Nope. I’d say it’s about time he got involved with someone.” Jace’s smile widened to a grin. “And I can’t think of a nicer person for him to choose.”

  Her embarrassment turned to shyness, causing Jace to laugh.

  “Why, P.D… . I do believe I’ve finally rendered you speechless.”

  FOURTEEN

  ELAM came racing back just as the last of the EMT vehicles crawled down the lane. Slapping the cuttings into the volunteer’s hand, he didn’t even pause in his stride before heading toward P.D., who waited in the late-evening shadows of the old house’s portico.

  “And?” he asked peremptorily.

  “I’m fine. Bumps, bruises, cuts. Nothing that won’t heal within a few days.”

  “What about the head?”

  He sat down on the narrow front steps next to her, lifting away the ice bag she’d been given to counteract the swelling.

  “It’s fine, but I was warned it might turn several shades of purple by dark.”

  There was a gauze patch covering the deeper cut, so Elam couldn’t examine it himself. But since Jace had been the one to take care of P.D., he was satisfied. “Did you tell them you were pushed?”

  She looked away, then shook her head. “No.”

  Elam opened his mouth to chide her, but held himself in check when she fiddled with the edge of the ice pack.

  “Why not?”

  “It sounds stupid and paranoid and …” She shrugged. “I just want to get out of here. I don’t want to spend the next hour or two answering questions.”

  Elam instinctively wanted to raise holy hell about the whole situation, but he reined in his natural reactions.

  With Annabel, he’d been prone to White Knight Syndrome—rushing in to save the day, overcoming obstacles in a way that he considered best, but never really listening to what Annabel wanted. It was one of the few things they’d argued about. Annabel would spend the time he was overseas asserting her own independence, only to have him arrive home to “fix” everything without even asking. In doing so, he’d unconsciously undermined her decisions and made her feel helpless.

  P.D. was asking him to let her make up her own mind. She wanted him to trust her decisions. And even though he might want to surrender to his Inner Caveman and drag her to safety, he couldn’t do that to her.

  “Okay,” he said slowly. “But if anything else happens, we report it.”

  She grinned and threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you.”

  When she would have backed away, he held her tightly, just for a few more seconds. He needed to feel her heart thud against his own to drown out the last of his misgivings. Sweet Holy Heaven Above. What would he have done if she’d been seriously hurt?

  “All checked off.”

  Elam was forced to let go of P.D. when the woman in yellow approached. “Here’s your next set of instructions. Good luck to both of you.”

  P.D. reached for the envelope and ripped it open, withdrawing a hand-drawn map with a compass rose at the bottom of the page.

  “It looks like we’re supposed to go to … Mirror Lake.”

  “What? Mirror Lake is in the Uintahs up by Monte Cristo State Park. That’s at least a hundred miles from here.” Elam took the paper and laughed. “Looking Glass Lake. That’s the name of the fishpond by Henry Grover’s summer cabin.” He stood and took P.D.’s hand, pulling her from the stoop. “Come on. We can get there in twenty, thirty minutes.”

  Elam paused to touch the brim of his hat as they passed the volunteer—who was again struggling to tame her voluminous skirts so that she could sit in her shaded camp chair. “Thanks for your help.”

  She waved. “My pleasure. You two be safe, y’hear?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Elam helped P.D. into the buggy, and made sure the second horse was tied securely to the back. Then, he climbed in beside her and slapped the reins.

  “Hi-yahh!”

  The buggy jolted forward and he headed toward the lane that the emergency crews had taken. Once he reached the main highway, he turned west, keeping as far onto the shoulder as he could.

  Now and again, Elam would hear a car coming from behind, but thankfully, the other drivers knew enough to slow down and give them as much space as possible so that the horses wouldn’t be spooked. Nevertheless, he kept a tight rein on the mare in the traces until its skittishness disappeared along with each vehicle.

  “Where’d you learn to drive a buggy?”

  He grinned. “The annual Founder’s Day Parade.” He glanced at P.D., then back at the road. “You’ve seen how it works. Anyone who is anyone in the community is in the parade—at least that’s what we thought when we were kids. Grandpa Taggart had an old wagon in one of the barns and my brothers and I would decorate it each year and hitch it to a team of his prized mules. Then we’d volunteer to carry one of the town dignitaries in the back. I think I was about twelve the first year.”

  “An early display of civic pride?”

  “Not really. Jace and I figured that there’d be big bags of taffy being thrown to the spectators. If we drove the wagon, we were sure we could snag the leftovers.”

  “Did it work?”

  He winced. “Yep. We had a grocery sack filled with candy that first year—and I bet we ate most of it in one day. I still can’t face a piece of taffy.”

  P.D. laughed—and shit, he loved the way she looked when she did that. Her eyes sparkled like clear blue water on a summer’s day. And her face … the joy in her expression was contagious.

  His gaze dropped to her lips as he felt a slow burn begin in the pit of his stomach.

  “You are so beautiful,” he murmured.

  She looked away in embarrassment. “You keep saying that.”

  “Because it’s true.”

  “That’s not what I see in the mirror every morning.”

  Was she kidding him? Even with the scrapes and cuts and mottled patches of purple beginning to form on her face and arms, she was the most beautiful woman he’d seen in years.

  “Maybe you need a new mirror.”

  “Maybe I just need you around more to make me believe it.” She flushed as soon as the words left her lips. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

  He leaned forward to stop whatever she’d been about to say with his lips. When they parted again, he murmured, “Maybe you’re right.”

  The approach of another car forced him to return his attention to the road. Dusk was falling and the vehicles had turned on their headlights. The h
orse grew more skittish as a set of glowing orbs approached from the opposite direction. And Elam soothingly called out, “Easy, girl. Nothing to worry about.”

  The highway suddenly dropped into a steep hill as the road swept down toward the winding path of the Bear River. The water was high with fresh runoff as the heat of summer melted the snowpack on the mountains. The sound of hooves against asphalt was soon drowned out by the rush of water.

  It took all of Elam’s concentration to keep the buggy in control down the slope, but finally, they reached the bridge spanning the water. With each minute that passed, the traffic grew heavier—probably due to the Movie in the Park being offered in town that evening—and Elam had to maintain a firm grip on the reins. But soon, they were heading up the opposite slope, their speed dropping to a slow walk as the mare struggled to surmount the steep incline. Once they were at the top, Elam allowed the animal to maintain an easy pace so that it could catch its breath.

  “Are you sure you’re headed to the right place?” P.D. asked.

  “Pretty sure. Henry Grover was a good friend of my dad’s. We used to meet at his cabin every Fourth of July for a picnic.”

  Elam glanced behind him, saw a pause in the line of cars, and moved into the road, then the turning lane. As soon as possible, he urged the horse onto a quieter street headed south. Here, houses with huge trees crowded in between the pastures and fields of corn and grain. But the horse appeared more comfortable on the shadow-dappled lane.

  “Is there any more water?” P.D. asked, twisting to reach for the saddlebags.

  “There should be a few more bottles. They might be warm. I didn’t think to restock our supply while we were at the Colby place.”

  P.D. opened the flap, then grew very still.

  “What’s wrong?” Elam asked when she didn’t immediately retrieve the bottles.

  After a beat of silence, P.D. murmured, “You stole some sandwiches and chips.”

  From her grave tone, a person would have thought she’d just discovered that Elam had spirited away the Holy Grail.

  “Well, yeah,” he replied, his own tone rife with an implied “duh.” “I wasn’t about to eat beans and jerky if I could filch something else.”