by Sharon Sala
“Just tell her, King,” Maggie ordered, as she moved about the kitchen, putting away the day’s purchases. “She’s tougher than you give her credit for. And, when you go,” she added, pulling a small, white stack from her purse, “give her this.”
King took the sack and started toward Jesse’s bedroom. He was more than halfway there before it dawned on him that he was delivering a prescription. His first thought was that Jesse was sick and hadn’t told him. But the flat, round shape inside the sack could only mean one thing. Feelings went off inside him like a four-alarm fire. He’d seen those packets inside more than one woman’s purse. Birth control pills! Why is the thought so upsetting to me? he wondered. He knew it was modern, wise, accepted. But he didn’t like the idea of Jesse needing to be protected. That meant being exposed to the possibilities of pregnancy, and that meant a man involved with Jesse in a manner that made his blood pressure rise. By the time he got to her room and walked through the open door, he’d worked himself into a silent rage.
Jesse heard footsteps, knew they were King’s, and sighed miserably, as she lay face down on her bed, as near naked as possible yet still retaining a measure of decency. There wasn’t an inch of skin anywhere on her body that had escaped sunburn, and she was in no mood for a lecture about her methods of saving horses.
“Maggie said to give this to you,” he growled, and slammed the sack on the pillow beside her face.
Jesse took one look at the sack and smiled to herself in spite of her misery.
“Thank you very much,” she said in an off-hand manner.
“I don’t even know you, do I, Jess?” King muttered, trying to ignore all the bare skin in plain view. There wasn’t much to the bath towel, nor much left to the imagination. Keeping Jesse covered was proving to be vital to King’s sanity.
“You never paid any attention to me before, or you’d know I’ve taken these since I was seventeen. They correct a very miserable medical problem that’s none of your business,” Jesse said sharply. She groped toward the nightstand for her sunburn lotion. “If you want to know about my current medical history, smart ass, try rubbing some of this aloe vera gel on my back. My sunburn is killing me.”
King turned as red as Jesse’s back and was glad she couldn’t see his face. He yanked the tube of lotion from her hands and sat down on the side of the bed, trying to ignore Jesse’s body. He was more disturbed by what was not visible than by all the bare skin he could see, and hesitated momentarily before he unscrewed the cap on the tube of lotion. The gel was a cool, clear green as King squeezed it into the palm of his hand. But it quickly liquified into a clear film on Jesse’s hot skin.
“Oooh,” Jesse sighed with relief, as the aloe quickly took away the miserable burning sensation. “That feels wonderful,” she mumbled into her pillow. King smiled to himself and continued to apply the gel with long, gentle strokes.
“I should have remembered. You have a great set of hands,” Jesse teased, and grinned into her pillow as she felt his hands instantly cease movement on her body.
King practically vaulted from the bed, slapping the plastic tube back on the nightstand within Jesse’s reach.
“Damn you, Jesse,” he muttered. “One of these days you’ll push me a little too far.”
King was furious with himself as well as with Jesse. He let her bait him and then fell neatly into every pothole of the conversation with his usual lack of grace.
It had been difficult enough having to touch her in such an intimate manner, knowing full well that he wasn’t going to do a thing about it. It didn’t do his blood pressure any good to know Jesse was as aware of it as he was.
“I need to talk to you,” he said, pacing the floor by her bed, nervously trying to sort out his thoughts.
“Look,” Jesse began. “I’m sorry I took a chance you didn’t approve…”
“No,” he interrupted. “It’s not about that. It’s about the phone call I got when you left to go riding.” Then he couldn’t stop from adding, “And decided to play Annie Oakley instead.”
“What about the phone call?” she questioned, not liking the turn of conversation, or King’s tone of voice. She carefully turned to face him. The bath towel slipped and she pulled it quickly back in place as she turned, then winced as the bedclothes collided with her tender skin.
“For God’s sake!” King whispered, watching in horror as the towel covered even less of her front. He grabbed a soft, cotton robe from her closet, then practically threw it at her. “You’re going to have to suffer for a few minutes. I’ve had just about all I can take from you today, Jesse Rose.”
His words were short and clipped, his voice gruff, and Jesse knew he meant it. She grabbed at the robe and shrugged into the arms, belting it loosely around her while King stood with his back to her bed.
“You can turn around now,” she said, and tried not to grin. The look on his face took the laughter out of her voice.
“Shockey called,” King blurted out, unable to find any easy way to say this. “They found Lynch’s house. But he’d already gone.”
“Great,” she muttered. Frustration and disappointment overwhelmed her. She combed her hands through her hair in short jerky movements. She’d been counting on his arrest. She was so tired of being afraid.
“That’s not all they found,” King said, and then squatted down beside Jesse’s bed, needing eye contact to finish his message. “Honey…they also found a ransom note.”
Her shock was obvious; her reaction extreme. She bounded from her bed as if trying to escape from the implications that went with King’s announcement.
“Ransom? Why in God’s name would someone try to kidnap me? I don’t have any family. I don’t have money like that…do I?”
She sounded so little…and so lost. King sighed, wanting to assure her, yet knowing that the rest of what he had to say was only going to make matters worse.
“No, baby,” he said. His voice became even huskier as emotion thickened his speech. “I don’t think they expected you to come up with the half million.”
Jesse’s mouth flew open, and she sank back on the edge of the bed with a stunned expression on her face.
“Half a million…dollars?” she asked, her eyes wide with shock. “They are crazy. I don’t have anything like that.”
Jesse watched King pace before the window, jam his hands in his pockets and then turn to face her, an almost defiant expression on his face.
“I don’t think you were the target, Jesse. I think I was. You were just the victim.”
Jesse heard the pain in his voice and saw the guilt on his face. She realized with startling clarity that he was probably correct. But she wouldn’t allow the guilt he stood ready to accept.
“None of this is your fault. No more than it’s anyone’s fault to be a victim of any crime. Greed is what’s at fault, King. Not you. And not me.”
King let out a slow, uneasy breath. Gratitude for her understanding made him feel a bit easier, yet he was uncertain if Jesse had grasped the full implication of the news. He walked over to the bed and sat down beside her. He separated her hands from their tight wad in her lap and lifted first one and then the other up to the light. They were very nearly well. All that remained was the tiny network of red lines that faded more with each passing day.
“You know what this means now, don’t you?”
Jesse looked up at the expression of concern on his face and something…some other undefinable look that he kept trying to hide. She restrained from touching him, letting her eyes caress him instead.
His dark hair lay in tousled abandon. There was a piece of grass stuck in the collar of his shirt, and Jesse watched his dark eyes follow her every movement.
“Yes,” she finally answered, then slowly pulled her hands away. “It means this is not over. That they could try again.”
She couldn’t disguise the tremble in her voice, nor the tears that sprang to her eyes. She also knew that she might not be as lucky if a next time ever
came. She wanted to cry. It wasn’t fair, and it was no one’s fault.
“I think I want to be alone now,” she whispered, refusing to look at the hurt and rejection she knew was on his face.
“I’ll leave you for now, Jesse Rose,” King whispered as he leaned over and brushed the top of her head with his lips. “But you’ll never be alone. Not as long as I’m alive. Remember that.”
She let the tears spill over and the sadness come as King left her room. Was this nightmare ever going to end?
* * *
Lynch was gone all right. The man slammed the phone down with a furious jerk and began to pack. Lynch had disappeared from the house. He was not in the city. He was gone from the state. His sources were good; the information solid. He had a terrible, sinking feeling that he knew where Lynch was headed.
He looked at himself in the dresser mirror, saw the peeling paint and the crack on the wall behind him, but couldn’t look at the face staring back in accusation. How had he let this happen? It had gotten out of hand so quickly. All he’d wanted was what was due him. No one was to have gotten hurt. He knew he was on a downhill road, and the only thing waiting for him at the bottom was disaster…unless…unless he could find Wiley Lynch soon.
He grabbed his suitcase and headed for the door. Now there was only one place left for him to go. He had to go back, to the beginning.
* * *
“Thanks for coming,” Duncan said, as he greeted King. “Come in, please. I’ve just returned from a short trip. The place is messy.”
King frowned as he followed his uncle into the room. He hated these visits. He was always ill at ease around Duncan. And the only time he received an invitation to visit was when Duncan was short of money.
He watched with a forced lack of expression as Duncan sauntered over to a wet bar opposite the living room window and poured himself a drink. He shook his head, refusing Duncan’s offer to pour him a glass.
Duncan shrugged and downed the shot of whiskey neat, fortifying himself for what lay ahead. He walked toward the window of his Tulsa high-rise apartment and looked over the skyline of the metropolis.
The apartment was the epitome of good living and as usual, way beyond Duncan’s means. But he liked to live fast and high, and this was the best way to go.
“How much do you want?” King drawled, anxious to get the meeting over with.
Duncan turned his head sharply and swallowed the angry retort that bubbled into his mouth. He supposed he deserved that.
“I don’t want any money. I want to know how Jesse’s doing.”
Duncan’s refusal of money left King speechless. That was a first! He narrowed his eyes and a muscle in his jaw clinched and jerked before he answered.
“She’s fine. Recovering from a sunburn. Maggie said she told you about the ransom note.” King watched a strange, dark look come and go on Duncan’s face.
“Yes, she told me,” Duncan answered, and then turned his back to King as he continued. “You’ve got to be careful. He may try again.”
King watched Duncan’s strange, evasive behavior, and felt a sense of confusion at everything going on around him. He’d had just about all of the odd little answers and hints he was going to take. He took a deep breath and threw his suspicions out into the room between them.
“Duncan, why is Jesse afraid of you? What’s between you? She told me you visited her in St. Louis,” King accused. “What the hell did you do to her?”
“Do? I didn’t do anything. And of course I visited her. Just because she moved didn’t mean she died.”
Duncan was smooth. His manner was cool. He didn’t know what Jesse had told King, but he doubted she’d said much. Knowing his nephew as he did, if she’d told the whole story, he would have been greeted with a punch in the nose. King was so single-minded about everything.
Duncan had learned long ago to persuade, not provoke. Still, he’d never been able to achieve the measure of success that seemed to fall into King’s lap. He failed to see that King worked long and hard to earn the respect and rewards that Duncan felt were his due by virtue of birth alone. They were so alike, and yet so different.
Duncan cast a sly, sideways glance at King’s stiff, defensive attitude and couldn’t resist a final dig.
“Didn’t you ever visit Jesse? She was very lonesome.”
King looked long and hard at his uncle’s bland expression. He didn’t believe anything that came out of his mouth.
“I asked you a question,” King whispered. “What happened in St. Louis? Why is Jesse afraid of you?”
Duncan glanced quickly at King, and saw him waiting for an answer with an expression on his face that made Duncan very nervous.
“She has nothing to be afraid of,” he said quietly, and walked toward King. “Not from me…not anymore.”
“What do you mean…anymore?” King asked with a husky growl, and took a step forward.
Duncan waved him angrily away, his voice rising to a shout.
“The person Jesse needs to fear is still out there. We have to make certain he doesn’t get close to her again. What are you doing to protect her?” Duncan’s voice was hard. His demeanor startled King. He answered with no reservations.
“She’s never alone,” he said. “The men have seen the video of Lynch. They have the police sketch posted in the bunk house, but Jesse doesn’t know it. And I don’t want her to. Please don’t say anything. I don’t want her to feel like she’s under guard.”
Duncan nodded and walked toward his front door, carrying the refilled glass of whiskey in his hand.
“Well, King, thanks for coming. I just couldn’t help worrying, and I felt uncomfortable talking about it in front of Jesse. If there is anything I can do to help, don’t hesitate to ask. I will do anything you need.” Then a strange, sad expression filled his eyes and he took a big gulp of whiskey. “I can do anything except come up with the half million.”
King tried to hide his surprise. This odd visit was coming to a very unusual end.
Duncan slapped him jovially on the back as he left.
“Catch you on the offer of a loan some other time, nephew. I’m never going to be this noble again.”
The two men stared silently at each other for what seemed an eternity, each looking at a mirror image of the other and at…what might have been.
Finally King held out his hand and caught Duncan off guard. Duncan gulped hard, swallowed a big knot of misery he’d been carrying around forever, and muttered as he and King shook hands, “See you around, boy…and take good care of Jesse.”
The door shut in King’s face and left him standing in the apartment hallway, feeling as if Duncan’s farewell had been final.
* * *
King couldn’t sleep. His conversation with Duncan kept replaying in his mind. He’d suspected something had happened between Jesse and Duncan. Now, he was convinced of it. Why wouldn’t Jesse talk to him? She used to talk to him constantly about everything. The niggling truth answered his own questions. She used to talk to him, but he suspected he rarely listened. He hadn’t listened. He hadn’t noticed Jesse changing and growing. He’d let her grow up and away, and never realized what he’d had until it was gone. Then he hadn’t known how to get it…or her…back.
“King?” Jesse’s soft voice startled him. He turned over in bed. She was silhouetted in the doorway of his bedroom.
“What is it, honey?” he asked softly, but suspected he already knew the answer.
“I can’t sleep,” she whispered. “My sunburn hurts and I can’t get Lynch’s face to go away.”
The catch in her voice was his undoing.
“You want to stay here for a while? The bed is big. I won’t bump your sunburn, but I can’t promise not to snore.”
Jesse tried to stifle a sob. King’s attempt to lighten her mood only made it worse.
King was out of bed in an instant. Sunburn or not, he needed to hold her, satisfy himself that she was here and safe. Twice today he had realized how c
lose he’d come to losing Jesse. It was only this morning, but it seemed a lifetime ago, that Tariq had come tearing down the hill toward home with an empty saddle. He couldn’t forget the complete and sudden sense of loss that had encompassed him. Then, after his visit to Duncan, he’d realized how far away he’d let her slide without even realizing it. He didn’t know how he was going to do it, but he wanted Jesse back.
“Come here, honey,” he whispered, carefully hugging her against his bare chest.
He felt every curve and pulse point of Jesse against his skin and through the lightweight fabric of his pajama bottoms.
A fierce surge of desire, so intense it made his legs shake, swept over him. He stepped away, aware that if he remained too close, Jesse would also feel his need. He knew he couldn’t get back in his bed with Jesse ever again and not make love to her. There was no nobility left in him, no more restraint.
“Lie down, Jess,” he growled in a husky whisper. “I’ll go get your sunburn stuff. Maybe that will help a little. I can’t do anything about Lynch except promise you with my life that he won’t get close to you again.”
“Okay,” Jesse agreed, and reluctantly let him go. Sunburn or not, she’d felt his body harden and knew he felt something for her, if only lust by proximity. Then she felt ashamed. She was actually beginning to consider taking him on any terms that he’d offer.
King sat in an overstuffed arm chair by his bedroom window and watched Jesse sleep. The sunburn was making her restless, but at least she was getting some rest. King knew there was none for him. Not while Jesse lay on his bed alone. He ached with the need to curl around her, hold her against him all through the night, then make love as the first rays of sunshine came through his windows.
He wanted to watch the look of pleasure come in her eyes as he gave her all he had to give. But he didn’t move…and he watched alone as the first ray of sunshine appeared, heralding another dry, hot day.