Searing Need

by Tracey Devlyn

  And I was a champ at outrunning my brothers’ wrath.

  She pumped more energy into her limbs, praying her lungs wouldn’t fail her. There, thirty feet ahead, she recognized a three-stemmed redbud that had one of the stems pointing toward the ground. She’d passed the unusual tree about an hour ago. It was amazing how much more ground she could cover when running for her life.

  Calm, observe, breathe. Calm, observe, breathe.

  She kept the mantra ticking in her head until the crush of underbrush behind her receded.

  Following her mental map, she zigzagged through the forest until the trees opened into a short grass meadow of little bluestem, rattlesnake master, blazing star, and wild bergamot. Lungs burning and legs quivering, she flew across the open area, feeling more exposed than ever. Soon a glass dome appeared. The greenhouse didn’t quell her anxiety. In fact, she considered running the extra half mile to the research center.

  But the center might be filled with school kids and families. She couldn’t lead these idiots into the midst of such innocents. The greenhouse would protect her long enough for Maggie to arrive.

  When she reached the door, she cast another assessing look over her shoulder. The meadow behind her was empty. Had she lost them? Somehow she didn’t think so.

  Shouldering her way into the greenhouse, she slammed the door shut and locked it. She leaned against the fragile barrier and counted one thundering heartbeat, then two, three, four, five, before giving her knees permission to buckle. Closing her eyes, she slid down and waited, her harsh breaths filling the humid air.

  “What’s going on?”

  Her eyes snapped open to find Coen standing before her, watering can in one hand and dead leaves in the other.

  Through rasping breaths, she said, “Three poachers… chasing me… angry.”

  The can and weeds dropped to the ground, and he stormed to her side.

  “Are you okay?”

  The gentle note in his voice made her eyes prick and her throat close. She managed a nod without disgracing herself.

  He lifted her to her feet. “Lock the door after me.”

  His command snapped the relief from her bones. “What? You can’t go out there. It would be three against one.”

  Ignoring her warning, he palmed a knife he’d retrieved from a hidden sheath at his ankle.

  “Coen, no. There are three of them.”

  “Lock the door, Riley, and call 911.”

  She squeezed into the space between him and the door. “I approached them when I shouldn’t have.” She shifted her attention over his shoulder, seeing nothing but her humiliation. “My anger provoked them.”

  With one finger to her chin, he brought her gaze back to his. In a firm but not unkind voice, he said, “Good men wouldn’t have been chasing you.” He nudged her out of the way. “Lock, call, now.”

  “Coen, no—”

  He slammed the door in her face.

  She opened it and found him standing in her path, arms crossed.

  “At least let me go with you.”

  “No.”

  “What if something happens to you out there?”

  “Nothing’s going to happen to me.”

  “If I go—”

  “You’ll be a distraction,” he said.

  She frowned. “I’m not going to do anything stupid.”

  “My attention will be split between you and them.” He pointed into the greenhouse. “Do I need to say it again?”

  She stepped back, closed—or more like slammed—the door, and snicked the lock into place. Withdrawing her phone, she tapped 911 and relayed what happened to the dispatcher. She didn’t bother putting her phone away once the call ended.

  Sure enough, thirty seconds later, her phone rang.

  “Did they hurt you?” a dead-calm female voice asked.

  Steady, rock-solid Maggie Kingston. Big sister and sheriff of Haywood County.

  “No, just scared the crap out of me.” She prowled along the long row of windows from one end of the building to the other, her attention outside, seeking one glimpse of Coen’s dark head and wide shoulders. She found no trace of him.

  How had he disappeared when she’d looked away for only a moment?

  “Anyone with you?” Emergency sirens blared in the background.

  “Not right now. Coen’s searching for the poachers.”

  “Who’s Coen?”

  “Reid’s friend.”

  “What’s he doing there?”

  “Long story.”

  “I want to hear it. I’m passing through the research center’s parking lot now. Be there in two minutes.”

  The line went silent, and a mixture of dread and relief clenched her chest.

  Stupid. She’d been so stupid to approach those poachers in the middle of the forest. Their destruction of the ginseng patch had hit a raw nerve. They either didn’t know or didn’t care how their actions would upset an entire ecosystem.

  Maybe the effect wouldn’t be felt today or tomorrow or even next year. But hunting anything to extinction had a cost. All living organisms were interconnected. Take one link out of a chain—one plant, one animal, one insect, one microbe—and everything else starts to falter.

  Rather than call Maggie, she’d confronted the poachers like an idiot, and that decision had now put Coen in danger.

  Maggie’s cruiser pulled into view, and she rushed out. She didn’t run to her sister like a nine-year-old who’d lost her puppy, though she did walk straight into her sister’s waiting arms.

  Smoothing a hand over her hair, Maggie whispered, “Tell me everything.”

  Riley stepped back, slipping on her scientist’s cap before sharing her story. She told Maggie of the uprooted Panax, of her fury, and of her challenge. She described the three men, their weapons, their intent. By the time she spoke of her flight and Coen’s response, she’d angled her body toward the tree line, searching.

  “He’s a sergeant in the Army and here on leave,” she said. “He’s in Steele Ridge to get away from the horrors of war and conflict, and I’ve thrown him into the center of the very thing he’s trying to escape.”

  Two more police vehicles joined Maggie’s.

  “We’ll find him, don’t worry.”

  In what shape? He might be physically unharmed, but mentally?

  Two figures emerged from the tree line. One sported a bloodied nose and rumpled clothes, the other appeared to be untouched.

  Coen shoved one of her would-be assailants into the open meadow. Not Cruel Eyes. The prisoner carried too much weight around the middle to be the leader. That left either Right or Left Flank. From this distance, she couldn’t be sure which one.

  Her feet began moving. In some part of her mind, she heard Maggie grumble out a command. But she dismissed her surroundings, including her beloved big sister.

  Undeterred, she strode to Coen as if compelled by an invisible hand at her back. She analyzed his posture, his stride and, when she was close enough, the directness of his gaze. He appeared whole, uninjured—and was assessing her with the same frankness she’d leveled on him.

  “Is this one of the guys who chased you?” he asked.

  The prisoner angled his face away. But she’d seen enough of him on her approach to know that Coen had captured Right Flank.

  “Yes.”

  “Where are your friends?” Coen asked the poacher.

  “Don’t have any friends.”

  He gave the guy a shake. “How about I help jog your memory.”

  “We’ll take it from here,” Maggie said, stepping around her. “Blaine, take him to the station.”

  So focused on Coen, Riley hadn’t heard her sister or the deputy trailing in her wake.

  Deputy Blaine grabbed Right Flank’s arm and hauled him off.

  “You must be Coen,” Maggie said.

  Riley waved a hand in her sister’s direction. “This is Maggie Kingston. My sister and county sheriff.”

  Coen held out a hand. “Nice to m
eet you, Sheriff.”

  “Ditto. And thanks for protecting my little sister.” Maggie clasped his hand. “But, for future reference, I don’t advise chasing a group of pissed-off men into the woods. Nine times out of ten it won’t end well.”

  “Let’s hope then,” Coen said, “that this is the one and only time.”

  Maggie turned to Riley. “How did the two of you meet?”

  While surveying, I came across him standing in front of his tent, naked and glorious.

  Somehow she didn’t think even her big sis would appreciate the story.

  Coen raised a brow in her direction, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

  “Our paths crossed while I was conducting flora surveys.” She gave him a nefarious smile as she said, “Coen’s helping me in the greenhouse now.”

  “That’s generous of you,” Maggie said.

  “Yes,” Coen said, amusement gone. “It is.”

  Maggie’s lips twitched, a sure sign he’d passed the sister-sheriff sniff test. “You should come with Riley to our parents’ house for dinner tonight. They always make more than we can eat.”

  Coen’s wary gaze met Riley’s, and she felt a pinch of disappointment at his response.

  Before he could deliver his regrets, she said, “Coen’s here for some peace and quiet—exactly the opposite of what he’d get at one of our family meals.” She gave her sister a conspiratorial grin. “Besides, he’d off-balance our delicate testosterone-to-estrogen ratio.”

  Maggie glanced between them, then shrugged. “Suit yourself, but Dad’s making his famous meatballs, and I heard Mom’s perfected her bread pudding recipe. Again.” She squeezed Riley’s hand. “See you tonight, kiddo.”

  “Yes.”

  Both women turned to Coen.

  Maggie smiled.

  Riley stared. “‘Yes’ what?”

  “I accept. Your sister’s invitation.” Something warm and challenging and nameless entered his gaze. “Unless you have an objection.”

  Riley wasn’t sure how she felt about Coen eating at her parents’ table. But denying him a home-cooked meal after he’d helped her was out of the question.

  “Why would I?” she asked. “Cash and Shep would enjoy seeing you again.”

  The skin below his left eye twitched, like a suppressed flinch against a painful blow.

  “It’s settled then,” Maggie said. “I’ll see you both tonight.”

  Before Maggie could turn away, Coen asked, “Do you know anyone who drives a silver Audi A4?”

  “No, why?”

  “Coen,” Riley growled, “don’t.”

  Maggie’s voice turned dangerous. “What is it?”

  “Nothing,” she said, sending Coen a warning glance.

  “Quiet, Ry.”

  “You’re not the boss—”

  “Last night.” Coen interrupted. “I noticed a guy sitting in his vehicle, staring into Triple B.”

  Riley crossed her arms, refusing to look at either of them.

  “That’s not unusual,” Maggie said. “The parking downtown is limited. He might have been waiting on someone who was shopping a block away and had nothing better to do than watch the goings-on in the bar.”

  “When I approached, he nearly ran me over in his rush to leave.”

  Riley peeked at her sister.

  In true Maggie form, she displayed no outward emotion, though Riley caught the slight narrowing of her sister’s eyes. Never a good sign.

  “I moved to where the car had been parked,” Coen continued, “and noticed Riley was in his direct line of sight.”

  “Where were you sitting?” Maggie asked her.

  “Not at our usual table in the back of the bar. We grabbed a seat near the front window so that I could hear the music better.”

  Maggie turned to Coen. “Got a description?”

  “No. He kept his face hidden.”

  “License plate?”

  Coen rattled off the number.

  “Fast thinking,” Maggie said. “I’ll get it checked out and fill you in tonight. See y’all then.” Before she turned to leave, Maggie gave her one of those sisterly stay-out-of-trouble looks.

  Gritting her teeth, Riley’s attention swept from her sister’s retreating back to Coen’s expressionless face. “Didn’t we just have a conversation about this?”

  “About what?” he asked, all Mr. Innocent.

  “About your penchant for discussing my safety with others. Maggie has enough to worry about without adding me and a phantom stalker onto her plate.”

  “She might have been able to identify the driver as a Steele Ridge resident.”

  “But she didn’t. Now she’s going to spend hours tracking down a lame online dater creep.”

  “Lame online dater creep?”

  “Impossible.” She threw her hands into the air. “You’re as impossible as my brothers.” She poked the air between them. “Just wait. Maggie will prove me right.”

  “I hope so. Until then, don’t wander off by yourself.”

  “I don’t wander anywhere.”

  His hard expression didn’t give an inch.

  Neither did hers.

  “Should I meet you in the parking lot at six?” she asked, changing the subject after a short stare-off.

  His penetrating gaze slid over her features, lingering on her mouth before slowly tracking up to her eyes. He nodded once, then strode away. Into the forest.

  She dug the heels of her boots into the earth, anchoring her, stopping her from following. When she finally willed herself to turn away, she struggled to breathe around the heavy weight bearing down on her chest.

  What if he was right?

  29

  Coen paused at the edge of the parking lot to take in the storm that was Riley Kingston.

  She was perched on the front bumper of her Wrangler, her long, jean-clad legs extended to brace her position. Her unembellished toenails peeked out the top of a pair of strappy, sandstone-colored sandals.

  A coral, scooped-neck top hugged curves normally hidden beneath layers of protective clothing. Her rich, chestnut hair hung free in soft waves around her shoulders.

  Everything about her seemed softer, as if she’d used a giant file to smooth out the rough edges. For him? Or was this the real Riley?

  Did he captivate her in the same way she captivated him?

  No matter what intelligence the sheriff found—or didn’t find—Coen had no doubt about Audi Guy’s dishonorable interest in Riley. The only thing he couldn’t pinpoint was how far the guy was willing to go. Was he benevolent and just couldn’t muster up the courage to ask out a pretty woman? Or did he intend something much darker? His instincts leaned toward the latter option.

  One of Riley’s legs bent, and her knee began to bounce at ninety miles an hour. If she’d been a goddess, she would’ve shaken the parking lot with her impatience, her need to be on the move.

  A grin curled one corner of his mouth.

  As if sensing his scrutiny, she lifted her bent head and turned in his direction. Her knee stopped. Was she still mad at him?

  Not knowing if this dinner was celebratory or casual, he’d erred on the side of caution and wore his best outfit. Which wasn’t saying much.

  Dark, barely worn jeans, button-down shirt, and cowboy boots. Boring but not overdressed, considering her attire.

  Standing, she shoved her phone into her back pocket and approached. Her clothing wasn’t the only thing she’d altered about her appearance.

  Smoky eyes and rosy lips enhanced an already beautiful face. His attention lingered on her mouth, imagined its softness. Would she taste of fresh mint or a summer breeze?

  When he remained unmoving, her trek across the parking lot stalled.

  “Your clothes suggest you’re still coming,” she said. “But your expression indicates something different.” She gave him a knowing smile. “Maggie is difficult to say no to. If you’d like to back out, no one will be offended.”

  Her offer hit like a p
unch to the head. He wiped his face clean of emotion, disconcerted that he’d let down his guard at all.

  “Pass up a free meal?” He shook his head as he strode toward her. “Not even I’m that much of a recluse.”

  “Good,” she said, leading the way back to her vehicle. “With you there to distract my brothers, I can eat in peace.”

  “Maybe I need to rethink this.”

  “Too late.”

  When he followed her to the driver’s side, she pointed to the passenger seat. “You’re over there.”

  “I was going to get your door.”

  She lifted a brow. “Why?”

  “Because that’s what guys do.”

  “When they’re dating the girl.” She pointed to the opposite side of the vehicle again. “We’re not even friends yet.”

  He set his jaw and hopped into the passenger seat. She was right. He’d followed her, acting on years of his father demanding that he get the door for his mama and sister.

  Longing clenched his chest at the thought of his family. God, he missed them. If his sister had lived, would he have been an uncle by now?

  Wrapped in their own musings, they drove away, blanketed in silence. He’d grown accustomed to not talking, to living with his own thoughts. But the scent of oranges wafted to his side of the vehicle, and an undercurrent of awareness took root. Something tangible and hot filled the air inside the Jeep.

  Searching for a distraction, he considered question after question, but each one sounded like senseless small talk to his mind’s ear. The silence lengthened. Buckling, he spit out the next stupid thought that came to mind.

  “I wasn’t sure how to dress.”

  She slid him a glance before shifting into fifth gear. “You look great. We’re a casual bunch.”

  “Who will be there?” He noticed his fingers curling into fists and forced them open.

  “Dad and Mom, Maggie and Jayson, Shep and Puck, Cash and Emmy, you, me.”

  He didn’t miss the fact that she didn’t say “you and me.” Why the omission bugged him was better left unanalyzed.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked. “I wasn’t kidding when I said you’ll get no peace and quiet at this gathering. My parents can be slightly unpredictable.”

  “I don’t mind unpredictable.” His gaze dipped down to her lips. “Keeps things interesting.”