King's Ransom

by Sharon Sala

  “King?” she began, but was never allowed to finish.

  Jesse’s voice startled King. It brought him back to reality with a painful jolt.

  “Hellfire,” he muttered. “I completely forgot why I was looking for you.”

  He rolled off the bed with one motion, and stood silently, holding out his hand for her to join him.

  Jesse blinked in confusion, and then reached upward. King gently pulled her from his bed.

  “What?” she asked, trying to make sense of the mixed signals she was receiving from King. Then she couldn’t mask the shudder as he spoke.

  “The sheriff is here with the tape, Jesse. He needs for you to take a look at the suspect. Come on, honey. They’re waiting for us in the den.”

  “Just give me a minute,” she mumbled, and started toward her room. “Oh,” she added, trying to blink away the tears in her eyes. “You didn’t have to break the news to me so gently, King.” Jesse had deciphered his actions as nothing more than gentle consideration. “I’m not going to fall apart again. I promise.”

  King stood in stunned silence and let Jesse walk away. He felt unable to move or speak. He didn’t know whether to be glad or sorry that she’d misinterpreted what had just happened on his bed. Finally, all he could do was curse himself roundly and hurry to the waiting group in the den.

  CHAPTER 6

  Night sounds kept teasing at Jesse’s concentration as she fought the sheet twisted around her legs. She’d spent every moment since her head touched the pillow trying uselessly to block out the image of the man on the videotape. Her mental state upon entering the den had not been the best, thanks to what had—or had not—transpired between her and King. She watched the first few frames of the video without actually seeing anything.

  Suddenly the man in question had turned and the camera caught him full face. Jesse gasped loudly and took a few steps backward in shocked recognition.

  “It’s him,” she cried, and turned around wildly in the partially darkened room, half expecting him to materialize.

  King had been carefully watching her face for signs of recognition. He knew the moment Jesse connected with the image before her. He saw her panic and caught her backward progress before hysteria had time to set in.

  Jesse was frantic. Her frightened blue eyes brimmed with unshed tears as she grabbed King by the forearms, trying to shake him into believing her.

  “King! It’s him. I know it! That’s the man who tried to kill me!”

  “Are you certain, Jesse?” the sheriff asked. “You couldn’t possibly be mistaken?”

  “No!” she shouted, and shrugged out of King’s protective grasp. “I saw that man as ‘up close and personal’ as I’ve ever seen anyone in my life.” Then her voice lost it’s sarcasm and the adrenaline in her system began to subside. “You don’t quickly forget the man who tries to kill you, Sheriff. You’ve got to tell Captain Shockey. They’ve got to find him! Find him quick! Then I’ll be safe. Then he won’t hurt me…or anyone else again.”

  She sank limply onto the arm of an easy chair and buried her face in her hands. “Turn off the tape. I can’t look anymore.”

  “I’ll make the call from here,” the sheriff said, gesturing toward the phone on King’s desk.

  In a matter of minutes, after passing on Jesse’s confirmation to the St. Louis police department, the sheriff also discovered they already had a name and address for the man in the video. They had simply been waiting for Jesse’s verification before getting a search and arrest warrant. The phone call was short, the news something of a relief. Finally a name and a face had been added to the case.

  “Wiley Lynch,” Jesse muttered. “A man named Wiley Lynch tried to kill me.” She turned away from her stance by the window and asked poignantly of no one in particular, “Why?”

  Maggie looked away, unable to find words to help Jesse.

  King started toward her but was stopped by a look from Jesse as she quickly turned away, unwilling to see the pity on their faces. She stumbled from the den.

  Jesse heard the sheriff leave and heard Maggie and King’s hushed voices. She knew they were talking about her, and quietly slipped out the back door. She’d had enough turmoil for one day. She had let herself believe that King actually felt something for her. Then, after discovering he was only trying to break the news of the sheriff’s arrival as gently as possible, her world had fallen the rest of the way in on top of her. The sight of the man who’d tried to kill her was the final touch to an otherwise horrendous day.

  She sought solace in Turner’s company and actually found herself enjoying the evening chores that she helped him finish. He didn’t know what had just transpired, and treated her as if everything in her life was back to normal. It was just what she needed. King and Maggie hovered too much, although she knew it was done out of love. There was only so much sheltering possible. Part of this nightmare was for Jesse alone.

  Getting through the awkward silences during dinner wore her out. Jesse quickly excused herself and left King and Maggie to themselves. She didn’t want any help and she didn’t want to talk to King. Finally she’d given up trying to outwait the sunrise and gone to bed. But sleep wouldn’t come.

  Jesse kicked the sheet from her legs in frustration and sat straight up in bed. She leaned over, turned on the table lamp, and ran her fingers roughly through her hair. She couldn’t sleep and she wasn’t seeking solace in King’s arms, or in his bed, again. There was only so much she could endure, and the limit was imminent.

  In a matter of seconds, she’d slipped out of her night shirt, into a pair of old gym shorts, and a tattered midriff-length T-shirt. She had to get some air. Maybe then her mind would slow down and let her get some rest. Jesse started toward the door and then stopped. She walked back to her closet and pulled out a pair of canvas deck shoes.

  “Not at night, Jesse girl,” she said to herself, unwilling to chance stepping on a scorpion or a snake, both common Oklahoma nightcrawlers.

  She walked quickly and quietly through the house, sure of her direction and destination because of years and years of past residence, and because Maggie never re-arranged furniture.

  The screen door squeaked just a bit as Jesse slipped outside the back door. She stood on the porch, inspecting the moonlit yard and shadows for things that didn’t belong there. Satisfied that all was as it should be, she stepped off the porch and sighed in satisfaction as a faint, but steady breeze lifted the hair from her neck.

  King awoke, sudden and swift, and lay silently for several seconds, trying to determine what, if anything, had called him from his tangled dreams. He listened, half expecting to hear sounds coming from Jesse’s room. And then, when another faint but familiar sound filtered into his room, he hit the floor running, grabbing pants and boots in succession.

  Jesse’s room was empty. He pulled on his jeans and boots, stopping only long enough to stomp first one boot and then the other on sockless feet. He recognized the sound he’d heard. It was the squeaky hinge on the back door. Where in hell was she going?

  Jesse had been so withdrawn since the sheriff’s arrival it was beginning to worry him. He feared that the stress she kept suffering would cause another flashback, or some other kind of set-back. He didn’t know how to help her. She wouldn’t talk and she wouldn’t let him touch her.

  But he feared it wasn’t all due to the arrival of the tape. King also feared that his waking her and then actually crawling into bed with her had either frightened or repulsed her. He didn’t know whether to say anything or just let it pass. If he made too much of the incident, it might embarrass Jesse further. The trouble was, King didn’t quite know what to make of his actions either. He’d been more surprised than Jesse when he’d found himself on top of her. No wonder she wouldn’t look him in the eye. He didn’t know what she was thinking or feeling, but in some vague way he felt he’d let her down.

  He hurried out the door and just caught a glimpse of her shirt before she disappeared around the curve
in the driveway leading to the barns. He sighed with relief as he saw the direction she’d taken and knew where she was going. Now, he thought as he followed closely behind, what in hell am I going to say to her when I get there?

  The barn was dark, light coming only from the doorways and the huge open window in the loft where hay was loaded and stored. The smells were comforting and familiar to Jesse. She leaned her head back against the wall and let old memories assail her. The faint but unmistakable scent of dry manure was nearly undetectable because of the fresher, aromatic bales of prairie hay, sacks of sweet feed for the horses, and the tang of well-oiled leather. Jesse knew exactly where she was, even with her eyes closed. She’s spent the better portion of her life on the Double M with Andrew, then with King and the horses. A horse nickered softly, and Jesse smiled, knowing it probably sensed her presence. But it wasn’t the stalls she was concerned with tonight. Tonight she wanted back a better, happier time in her life, and she knew where to find it. Up, above the earthen floor of the barn was a place—her place—and she needed desperately to find it—for the peace of mind it might still offer.

  Jesse walked slowly but surely in the dim shadows towards the steps fastened firmly up the back wall of the barn leading to the loft. She knew that if there was a good breeze, it would come through that big opening above the ground floor where the bales of hay lay stacked like a grass castle. She grasped the steps firmly, wincing slightly as her hands closed over the rough wooden planks. Hand over hand she climbed, carefully placing her feet in firm positions as she advanced upward until her head poked through the opening in the loft floor. She paused, looked around in satisfaction, and pulled herself the rest of the way through the opening.

  It was just as she remembered, a private world of hay, moonlight, and dreams that danced across the handhewn planks on the floor. Jesse took several tentative steps forward and then turned in delight in the center of a moonbeam as if it was a spotlight and she a soloist on a stage. She’d done it as a child and become lost in the fantasy, but tonight the fantasy wouldn’t come. Jesse sighed and felt a deepening sadness as she watched the motes of dust she’d disturbed with her little dance settle back in place on the loft floor. Maybe it didn’t work after you grew up. Maybe it didn’t was because you had to believe in dreams. It hurt too much when dreams die, and today Jesse had felt the last of her dreams of a life with King helplessly disappear. The pain was more than she could bear. She sank limply to the floor.

  “What am I going to do?” Jesse whispered aloud, and then let the pain engulf her.

  King heard her moving around on the floor above and stepped aside just as a tiny shower of dust and bits of hay filtered down through the cracks of the floor. He knew what a special place the old hayloft had been to Jesse in the past, and suspected she had run to it now as a place of refuge. He debated about the wiseness of disturbing her and started to leave, allowing her the much needed time for solace. It was the muffled sobs spilling into the silence of the night that stopped his exit. He couldn’t make himself leave her like this. Quietly he climbed up the steps and was standing in the shadows of the loft before Jesse knew he was present.

  Sobs shook her fragile shoulders as she sat curled in upon herself. A cloud passed over the face of the moon, then cleared, bathing Jesse in a translucent glow so bright she seemed to be carved from marble. King watched, worried and confused. This sadness was not fear. It was despair.

  A sudden thought struck him dumb and kept his feet stationary as he admitted to himself that he was the only other thing that could have possibly upset her today. At last, he knew he was going to have to face Jesse and make her talk to him as they should have talked long ago. He spoke her name.

  The sound of his voice above and behind her made Jesse jump to her feet in shock.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked angrily.

  “Please, Jesse,” he pleaded, and started toward her with outstretched hands. “Don’t cry, honey. Talk to me. Whatever it is, you know I’ll help. Is it something I’ve done? If it is, just tell me now! I can’t stand to hear you cry.”

  “Stop right there!” she ordered, quickly wiping away tear tracks with the palms of her hands. “I don’t want you here.” Her voice shook. She could barely speak above a whisper as she continued. “You can’t take away all my problems, King. You can’t change what has happened to me, and you can’t solve everything that goes wrong in my life. Besides,” she accused, “where were you for the last three years? I took care of myself, by myself. Where were you King? Where were you?”

  Her accusation hit him full force, and left him standing speechless and oddly ashamed. Then, he took a deep breath and threw the accusation back in her face.

  “Where was I, Jesse? Right where you left me, girl. And you tell me this…and you tell me now,” he said with a husky growl. “Why did you leave the Double M, Jesse Rose? Why did you leave me?”

  His question staggered her, and she turned quickly away, unwilling for him to see her shock, afraid he would read the truth in her eyes. She stumbled toward the stacked bales of hay and started to climb… upward…anywhere…just as long as she didn’t have to face King with answers she wasn’t prepared to give.

  “No, you don’t, girl,” he growled, grabbing both her ankles before she could climb another bale. “Get down before you fall and hurt yourself.”

  Jesse stopped and turned slowly, knowing full well that King wouldn’t loosen the firm grip he had on her legs. And so they stood, silently assessing each other’s mood and determination.

  “You’re hurting my leg,” Jesse finally said, and watched the pupils in his eyes darken and dilate with emotion. She knew he was angry at her. It wasn’t often that he was met with the kind of resistance that Jesse kept throwing at him.

  But it wasn’t anger that Jesse saw in King’s eyes. It was passion, the likes of which he’d never experienced. The feel of her skin beneath his hands was skyrocketing through his brain. He knew that her skin would be even softer in secret places.

  He looked up at her tear-streaked face, and then down at his hands wrapped securely around her delicate ankles and shuddered, struggling with the urge to let both hands roam up the long, delicate curves of her calves, feel the little indentations he knew were behind her knees, and test the softness of the skin on her thighs. He couldn’t get his mind off the thought of what lay above and beyond, and only steel-rimmed determination kept him from following his dreams. The sound of Jesse’s voice drew him back, and he frowned at the disgruntled tone of her voice.

  “Are you going to keep me here all night?” Jesse muttered, and struggled futilely with the iron grip he had on her legs.

  I’d like to keep you here forever. King blinked, and wondered if he’d just said the thought aloud. He decided he had not, because Jesse seemed still to be waiting for an answer.

  “Come here,” he growled, and narrowed his eyes, daring her to move farther away. He slowly released his hold on her legs and held up his hands. She still had to descent from the stacked hay and King grasped her firmly under her arms and lifted her down.

  Jesse leaned forward, knowing that he would catch her, and let him take the full brunt of her weight. She felt the sides of her breasts brush against his outstretched hands, watched his jaw clinch and the planes of his face harden as the muscles tightened beneath his skin. Jesse felt breath leave her body as he pulled her down against his bare chest. Every angle, every bulge, every heartbeat was magnified, as her body slid slowly down his entire length. His feet were planted firmly, using the strength of his heavily muscled legs to brace them both. Jesse slid right down to the space between.

  She couldn’t resist the urge to test the feel of the muscles encasing the heart she heard beating against her cheek, and let her hand lightly caress the breadth of his chest before she drew her hand away, letting her sense of smell and sight continue to touch King in a way she dared not.

  She saw a line of moisture beginning to form in the cleft in the middle of
his chest before it gained in strength and became droplets that would slide toward his flat muscled stomach, past the brass buttons on the waist of his Levi’s and beyond to…

  She shuddered, then inhaled, trying to regain her composure, and was inundated by the scents of soap, a woodsy, pine fresh scent from his shampoo, the ever-present smell of good leather, and the other, more undefinable scent of King, the man. She felt his heartbeat, the pulse racing beneath her fingertips, and knew he was feeling something, if only anger. She wanted to look at him…hoping…praying that she would see more in his eyes than she felt under his skin. But she resisted the urge and didn’t move.

  King forgot to breathe. When he did, it came out in a low groan as she slid slowly, slowly against every yearning, aching muscle in his body. When she put out her hand and touched the heartbeat beneath his chest, every muscle in his body tightened at once. He felt like a piece of coiled steel and knew it would take only the slightest touch from Jesse before he came unwound. She looked so soft and fragile, but King knew the strength and power in her. She would be a match for any man. He felt her hesitate and begin to pull away. The sensation was actually painful.

  “No,” he whispered before he thought, and slid his hands around her waist.

  “What?” Jesse asked, her heart beginning to pound louder and louder in her ears. She knew if she said more it would be too much. Then he would know what she’d spent years trying to hide. She couldn’t endure his rebuff. She wanted to love him—not this…and not in anger. “No what?” she insisted.

  “Don’t go.” It came out somewhere between an order and a plea.

  “Why?” she persisted, her heart racing with every breath she took, her body trembling beneath the possessive touch of his hands. “What brotherly advice could you possibly have for me at this time of night, King McCandless?”