The Rogue Hunter

by Lynsay Sands

Chapter Eight

 

  "I love food. "

  Sam chuckled at Bricker's words as she peered at the cart he was pushing across the parking lot toward their vehicles. It was stacked full of bagged groceries, as was the cart Mortimer was pushing. The men had acted like they hadn't eaten in days when they reached here, throwing everything and anything into their carts. She now saw why they'd insisted they'd need two large coolers of their own on top of the one Sam and her sisters had planned to bring, to store the perishable food for the hour-long ride back to the cottage. The men apparently had hearty appetites.

  "I can't believe you bought all this," Alex said. "How long are you guys staying anyway?"

  They exchanged a glance, and then Mortimer shrugged. "Awhile. How long are you staying?"

  "Two weeks," Jo answered, and then added, "So you'd better not drag your feet. "

  Sam narrowed her eyes, scowling at her sister's teasing grin. Slowing a bit, she dropped back to walk beside her and muttered, "I'm not riding back with Mortimer and Bricker. I rode here with them. You get to take a turn for the ride back. "

  "Oh, but-" Jo began in protest, but Sam held up a hand to silence her. She was not going to lose this argument. While the wet dream featuring Mortimer had been extremely exciting and made part of her want desperately to engage in a real affair with the man, the other part of her was realistic enough to know she didn't have a chance with him. He was simply out of her league. Of course, he was kind and concerned when he was around her, sticking close and constantly taking her arm to steady her, but Sam wasn't foolish enough to think that was a sign of attraction. The man was just a nice guy, a protective type who appreciated their inviting him and his friends to share their meal last night, and obviously was determined to look out for her like a kid sister as a thank-you.

  At least that's what she feared. Sam just couldn't believe that a man as drop-dead gorgeous as he would find her attractive. She'd decided to preserve her heart, not to mention her pride. The easiest way to do that was to avoid him as much as possible. That was why she'd suggested she and her sisters should take their own vehicle as well. Of course she'd used the excuse of needing the extra vehicle for space to accommodate the groceries and coolers. Much to her relief, Jo and Alex had agreed at once, and she thought she'd succeeded at neatly avoiding having to make the longer journey in the SUV with the men.

  At this point, Sam still wasn't sure how she'd ended up riding with Bricker and Mortimer. Well, she did but couldn't believe it had turned out so wrong. The problem came when they'd decided to do their shopping in Huntsville. It was a forty-five-minute drive away, but also a larger town with several grocery outlets, restaurants, and fun little tourist-type shops for them to wander through.

  That had been fine until Bricker had asked where Huntsville was and Alex had decided the easiest thing was for one of them to ride with the men and show them the way. Her sisters had voted Sam should be the one to ride with them, and here she was. She'd spent the majority of the ride desperately wishing herself anywhere else in the world but in that vehicle. Not that the men weren't perfectly charming and nice about it. In fact, they'd both made an effort to include her in all conversation during the journey.

  With Bricker driving, Mortimer had even turned sideways in his seat to include her. They'd been entertaining and funny and made her laugh several times on the way, and if it weren't for the fact that she'd found herself inhaling Mortimer's scent with every breath, unable to look away from him, her eyes traveling again and again from his beautiful silver-green eyes, to his soft but firm lips, to his hands, which in her dreams had given her so much pleasure, and then to the chest that had looked so strong and beautiful in moonlight. . . Well, the ride had been hell, and one she wasn't repeating for the forty-five minutes back.

  "I am not riding back with them," she said now, firmly.

  The glare she was gracing her little sister was brought to an abrupt end when a ringing started in her purse. "What's that?" Jo asked suspiciously. "You didn't bring your cell phone, did you? You were supposed to leave that at home. "

  Sam ignored her and reached into her purse to find her cell phone. Pulling it out, she read the name, mouth flattening when she saw it read Clarence Babcock, the senior of the senior partners and her boss. Sam briefly debated not answering. She was on vacation after all. The phone rang again, sounding strident to her sensitive ears. It might be important, Sam chastised herself. She should answer.

  "It's work, isn't it? Don't you dare answer that," Jo said grimly. "You deserve a holiday as much as the next person. Sam!" she snapped, and marched off after the others as Sam flipped her phone open and put it on her ear. She simply couldn't not answer. "Hello?" she said warily.

  "Oh, Samantha! Good, good, you took your phone with you. Listen, I hate to bother you on vacation, but we need a quick favor of you. It shouldn't take long. Just a few moments, I'm sure. It's the Latimers, you see. "

  Sam's eyes widened. The Latimers were the firm's biggest clients. They were also old friends of her boss, who happened to be their daughter's godfather. But they were in Europe at the moment, and she couldn't imagine what favor they would need of her.

  "Martin and Trisha Latimer are in Europe right now, but Cathy, their daughter, is up at their cottage in Minden and they can't seem to get ahold of her. They're a bit frantic so called me, and I said you were up that way and that I was sure it wouldn't be a problem for you to drop in on the girl and see she's all right and maybe tell her to give her parents a call so they stop worrying. It isn't, is it? A problem, I mean?"

  Sam stood completely still. She even held her breath. Minden was more than an hour away from where they were now, and more than two hours from the cabin, which meant more than four hours round trip just whatever amount of time it took to talk to Cathy Latimer. Part of Sam wanted to tell him to go to hell, that this was her vacation, that she worked eighty-hour weeks for the firm, that this was some very precious time off she dearly needed and she had no intention of haring off to check on some spoiled brat who couldn't be bothered to call her parents or even answer their calls. But then her more sensible side kicked in, reminding her that her hard work had taken her from an internship to junior partner in less than a year, something previously unheard of. If she just bit the bullet and kept her nose to the grindstone, in a couple of years she would make senior partner and then she wouldn't have to work so hard, and her life wouldn't be ruled by constant running and bowing and scraping and. . .

  "Of course it won't be a problem, sir. I'm afraid I'm in Huntsville right now, but we should be heading back to Magnetawan soon. Once we get there I can rent a car and drive to Minden. I should be there in. . . " She paused as if she hadn't already worked it out in her head and then said, "Let's see, it's almost an hour back to Magnetawan and then more than two hours to Minden from there. . . I should arrive there in a little more than three hours and will call you right after I talk to Cathy Latimer. Will that do?"

  There was a pause on the opposite end of the phone, and she knew the man was taking note of the length of the drive and the trouble involved to handle this "small favor. " Sam wasn't stupid. There was little use letting yourself be roped into these kinds of things if they didn't have a clue what they were asking of you. Her boss now knew exactly how much effort she would be expending on his behalf-on her vacation. "Thank you, Samantha," he said finally, sounding very solemn. "I appreciate this, and I'm sure the Latimers will too. I'll let them know how far out of your way you are having to go to help ease their minds. It will mean a lot to them. "

  "Not a problem, sir," Sam said simply, but wondered if making senior partner was really worth all this hassle. Did she even want to be senior partner? Pushing such doubts and uncertainties away, she said good-bye to her boss and signed off.

  "I didn't just hear you agree to do business on your vacation. "

  Sam grimaced at Alex's irritated tone and turned with a forced smile. "Actually, it
's not business. It's a favor for the Latimers. Their daughter's up at their cottage and they can't reach her. I'm just going to drive by and check on her. "

  "You're just going to drive to Minden to check on her?" she asked dryly, and Sam grimaced. She'd rather hoped Alex hadn't heard that part.

  "She's Mr. Babcock's goddaughter," Sam said, hoping that would ease some of her obvious anger. "And he's worried about her. "

  "Is Minden far?" Mortimer asked with a frown, drawing her attention to the fact that he, Bricker, and Jo had all returned with their carts to find out what was going on.

  "It's about an hour and twenty minutes from here," Alex informed him and then added, "But it's more than two hours from the cottage. She won't get back from doing this little favor until after nine-thirty, ten o'clock, if then. "

  Sam frowned at this prediction and glanced at her wristwatch, startled to see that it was already four-thirty. Where had the day gone, she wondered, and then realized that it had been after noon when she'd woken up and headed over to get the sausage and eggs for breakfast. Then they'd stopped for brunch, followed by another stop at Canadian Tire for Bricker to buy the two huge coolers he was sure he and Mortimer would need to transport their food back to the cottage. Only then had they finally come here to the grocery store.

  "We should get the groceries in the car," she said, trying to distract Alex from the subject. Her sisters were worried about her, about the hours she worked and the pressure she was under. It was part of the reason they'd planned this weeklong trip with her to open the cottage. It was supposed to force her to take a vacation. They'd talked her into booking the time off months ago, when she'd been delusional enough to think she'd be out from under by now.

  Sam grimaced at the thought. She'd been as deeply buried in work by the time the vacation had come around as she had been before and had actually considered canceling the vacation in favor of work. The very suggestion had spurred such upset and anger in her sisters that she'd quickly changed her mind.

  "I can take her. "

  Sam glanced at Mortimer with confusion. Had she heard him right? She wasn't sure. He wasn't looking at her. He was talking to her sisters.

  "We can load the groceries and ice into the coolers and-if you don't mind taking Bricker and the coolers back with you-I can take Sam to Minden in the SUV. It'll be faster this way. It'll cut at least two hours out of the trip. "

  Like magic, all the stiffness and anger in Alex and Jo seemed to evaporate.

  "Okay," they both agreed cheerfully, and then Alex said, "We'd best get these groceries in the coolers then. "

  Sam watched the quartet head for the cars and shook her head with bewilderment, wondering when she'd lost control of her life. Everyone seemed to be making decisions for her. She briefly considered refusing Mortimer's kind offer, but then realized she'd be cutting off her nose to spite her face. Accepting his offer would cut two hours off the journey. It also soothed Alex's temper.

  Mind you, it meant she'd have to spend three and a half hours or more trapped in a car with Mortimer. . . That was rather dismaying, Sam thought, and almost called out to them to decline the offer after all, but then Bricker turned and smiled at her and said, "Everything's fine. It will be all right. Relax and enjoy his company. "

  Sam nodded slowly. Bricker was right, everything would be fine, but she had to wonder how he kept talking to her without his mouth moving. Perhaps she needed to get her eyes checked, she thought a little fuzzily, and crossed to help move the men's two coolers to Alex's Matrix and then unload the groceries into them. It was done amazingly quickly, and then she found herself in the front passenger seat of the SUV doing up her seat belt.

  "Your sisters are worried about you," Mortimer commented as he started the engine.

  "Yes," Sam agreed on an unhappy little sigh. The truth was, sometimes she worried herself. Everyone she worked with worked hard and kept long hours, but she had no idea how they coped. The stress was starting to get to her.

  "They think you're ruining your health for this job," he added, sounding a tad unhappy himself.

  "It's a career, not a job. And I only have to work this way until I get a senior partnership. I can slow down and let junior people do the grunt work. "

  Mortimer nodded solemnly, but then asked, "Is it worth it?"

  Sam frowned. That was a question she often asked herself. She enjoyed the law, and for the most part, loved her job. Except for the long hours. And while she told herself that once she'd gotten a senior partnership, she could slow down and let juniors and interns do the work for her as her own boss did, she didn't know that she'd actually be able to. She'd be afraid they'd miss something and would simply double-check everything herself anyway. Sam had issues with control and knew it. Besides, having been there, she'd feel bad piling work on underlings like her own bosses did to her. Everyone deserved a life.

  Releasing her breath on a small sigh, Sam shook her head. "Let's talk about something else. "

  Mortimer was silent for a moment as he negotiated traffic, but then nodded. "All right. For now. "

  She blinked in surprise at the proviso, but he was already asking, "What do you want to talk about?"

  Sam hesitated, her mind seeking a safe subject to discuss, but none of them seemed safe, at least not to her. Every possible subject her mind was tossing up had to do with the man next to her, his life and his likes and dislikes. The worst was the recurring question, Did he like her? Did he find her at all attractive? Could he see himself having a fling with her? Would he please kiss her? Touch her? Make her body weep for him as it had in her dream?

  Definitely not safe subjects, Sam decided. Aware that Mortimer was glancing at her curiously, she cleared her throat and said, "I don't know. How do you like it up here so far?"

  "I like it," he said easily. "It's quiet and peaceful and surprisingly relaxing. "

  "I suppose it makes a big change from what you're used to in L. A. "

  "I don't spend much time in L. A. anymore," he said quietly.

  "Do you have a house there?" Sam asked curiously.

  "Bricker and I share an apartment, but considering how little time we spend there, we really shouldn't bother," he said wryly. "We stop in L. A. occasionally to visit family on holidays and so on, but mostly we're on the road. "

  "Oh yes, touring with the band and such," she murmured, considering what he'd said. Mortimer often referred to he and Bricker doing this, or he and Bricker doing that. She wouldn't have thought it odd since they were in a band together and therefore probably worked and played together. . . except that it was always he and Bricker and not he, Bricker, and Decker. The way he spoke made it sound almost like they were partners, she thought with a frown, and then her eyes widened with horror as she wondered if they were partners. A gay couple.

  Dear God, it would be just like her to be interested in a gay man. And it was more than possible, she realized with dismay. Sam already knew she was completely lacking in gaydar. One of the lawyers at the firm was apparently gay, but she hadn't had a clue until her secretary had commented on how handsome and nice he was and it being such a shame he was gay. Sam had spent the last year just thinking his life partner was a roommate and friend until that point.

  Now that the thought was in her head, Sam couldn't shake it. It hung there at the back of her mind like a bat waiting to unfurl itself and fly madly about inside her skull. Mortimer tried to start several conversations, but Sam had difficulty responding in more than one-word answers. He eventually gave up and left her to her thoughts.

  Sam was sorry he did because now she found herself examining every little thing he'd said and every moment she'd seen the men together. She was also feeling horrible about the hot dream she'd had. Despite the fact that he couldn't know about it, she felt as if she'd molested him in some way. Mental rape of her poor gay neighbor. Dear God!

  "Do you think they have a restaurant or coffee shop around here?" Mortimer ask
ed suddenly, drawing her from her unpleasant thoughts. "I could do with something to eat. "

  Sam glanced around to see that they had arrived in Minden. They were driving past a large Independent grocers. Frowning, she admitted, "I'm not sure. I've only been here once and that was with my parents when we were kids. I'm sure they must have something. "

  A restaurant stop was probably a good idea. She was a bit hungry herself and could use a washroom break. Sam glanced along the businesses spread out on the street and then gestured ahead on their right as she spotted a plaza on the corner with several shops in it.

  "There might be someplace there where we can stop. "

  "Good," Mortimer said with relief. "We can stretch our legs, grab a bite to eat, and look at the map to see where we have to go to find these Latimer people. Do you have the address?"

  Sam nodded. Her boss hadn't thought to give it to her, but she knew it. She'd spent the first three months of her internship on a case for the Latimers and was constantly couriering papers to them at the cottage. She had written the address down so often, she didn't think she'd ever forget it. "I'll find it on the map while we're eating. "

  Nodding, Mortimer turned into the plaza.

  They had their choice of a pizza joint or a small restaurant that served fish and chips and other simple foods. They chose the restaurant. Mortimer and Sam placed their orders at the counter and then each headed for the washrooms. Mortimer had already returned and found them a table by the time Sam reentered the dining area. He was peering down at the map book and didn't notice her arrival, so she took the opportunity to look him over as she approached, desperately seeking some sign of his sexual preference. Unfortunately, she didn't see anything that she recognized as either gay or nongay. The man wore the standard attire of jeans and a T-shirt; had short, kempt dirty-blond hair; and was clean-shaven. That didn't tell her anything, Sam thought, and then frowned as she noted that he was also very pale.

  Mortimer glanced up as she scooted into the opposite side of the booth, his eyebrows rising in question as he noted her frown. "What's up?"

  "You look pale," she said with worry. "Are you not feeling well?"

  Mortimer hesitated and then looked away with a shrug. "I'm fine. Food will help. "

  His answer made her wonder if he wasn't diabetic or suffering some other ailment that affected his system, but before she could ask, they were interrupted by the arrival of their food, and she decided to let the question go for now. It wasn't like Mortimer could answer with his mouth full, and the man kept his mouth full until every last scrap of food on his plate was gone. He and Bricker certainly had good appetites, Sam thought, and then frowned as she realized they were now paired in her head. She couldn't seem to think of one anymore without the other coming up in her thoughts. In her mind, she was already convinced she was lusting after a gay man.

  "Are you gay?" Sam hadn't meant to ask that, at least she wouldn't have done it so bluntly, but the words popped out before she could stop them. She then closed her eyes in dismay at her own behavior before opening them slowly to see Mortimer gaping at her with some dismay of his own. Whether it was because he wasn't gay or because she'd asked the question at all, she couldn't tell, and said apologetically, "I'm sorry. Really, terribly sorry. It's none of my business if you are, and I don't have any issue with homosexuality. I'm happy to be friends with you and Bricker. I-" Sam's apology ended on a gasp as he suddenly stood up, caught her hand, and used it to drag her from the booth.

  "Really, I didn't mean to offend you," Sam babbled as he tugged her across the restaurant and out the door. "It's all right if you are. I would just like to know, because. . . " She brought her words to a halt before she could blurt that she liked him, and then quickly said, "Because Jo seems to be a little interested in Bricker and I wouldn't want her to be hurt because-" Her words died abruptly on another gasp, this time because she'd stumbled on something in the parking lot and tripped.

  Mortimer immediately slowed, dropped her hand, and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her against his side for the last few feet to the SUV. He opened the passenger door and tried to hustle her into the vehicle, but Sam prevented it by putting a hand on the door and whirling to face him. "Please don't be angry, I just wanted to know. "

  She was silenced this time when his mouth came down on hers. Sam froze. As in her dream, this was no mere pecking or brushing of lips, this was a kiss; hungry, demanding, and all-consuming. Mortimer cupped the back of her head with one hand, holding her in place as he proved that he was definitely not gay. Well, unless her boyish figure misled him into thinking she was really a Sam and not a Samantha, she thought fuzzily, and then gave up that thought as his free hand moved to cover her breast through the cotton of her burgundy T-shirt.

  Sam moaned into his mouth and pressed closer against him as he kissed her. It was just like her dream, and her body responded accordingly, her nipples immediately coming to attention and her thighs squeezing together as heat began to throb between them. She felt the frame of the SUV door press into her back as he urged her backward, and then the hand at her head dropped away to clasp one cheek of her behind and urge her forward to grind against him. Sam found herself clutching at his shoulders as she desperately fought the urge to wrap her legs around his hips and urge him on. She hadn't completely lost her mind, however, and some part of her mind was telling her that he was just trying to prove the point that he was not gay. Sam tore her mouth away and turned her head to prevent his kissing her again as she gasped, "Okay. You aren't gay. You don't have to-"

  "I want to," he growled, urging himself against her so that she could feel just how much he wanted to as his mouth settled on her throat for want of her lips.

  "Oh," Sam breathed as his hardness pressed into her. He definitely wanted to, she acknowledged as his mouth burned a trail along the vein in her throat. And she wanted to too, desperately, but they were standing outside, for crying out loud, and it was still daylight out, and they were in plain view of anyone who cared to look.

  A point that was driven home when wolf whistles and catcalls reached her ears. Sam wasn't the only one to hear. Suddenly Mortimer was thrusting her away and turning her toward the SUV. "Get in. "

  Sam climbed dutifully inside, her eyes shooting out the windshield to find a trio of young men grinning and still calling out lewd suggestions as they moved to the door of the restaurant.

  "I forgot the map book inside; I'll be right back," Mortimer said, and then closed the door behind her and followed the men into the restaurant.

  Sam stared after him, marveling that he looked so calm and composed after that passionate embrace when she felt completely flummoxed. For several moments, she simply sat there enjoying the tingling radiating through her body, but then she began to worry. First she worried that there might be trouble in the restaurant with their trio of hecklers. She no sooner convinced herself that he was an intelligent, seemingly even-tempered guy and it would be fine, when she began to worry about his return. How was she supposed to act after the passionate embrace they'd just shared? Were they a couple now?

  That question made her groan inwardly. That she could even ask herself that after one kiss just proved that Alex's worries were founded. Despite Tom, she was definitely a virgin when it came to affairs, Sam acknowledged. A kiss did not mean they were a couple nowadays. Heck, even having sex didn't mean that anymore. People had one-night stands all the time, never for a minute imagining they were a couple. She really wasn't ready for this fling business. What was she doing? And what was taking Mortimer so long?

  Mortimer was relieved to see the map on the table where he'd left it. He retrieved the item, but didn't immediately head back out to the SUV. It wasn't the main reason he'd returned-it was just a handy excuse. The fact was, Mortimer had been seconds away from sinking his teeth into Sam's neck and feeding the hunger that was presently twisting his stomach when the catcalls and whistles had reminded him of where he was and what
he was doing.

  He hadn't kissed Sam with the intention of biting her. He'd kissed her because of her question as to his sexual orientation. It had first shocked him, and then he'd found himself a tad outraged that the woman he was lusting after was doubting his sexual preference. Then he worried that if she thought he was gay, she wouldn't be interested in him as he wanted her to be, and hoped she was.

  Somehow all of that had culminated in the he-man tactic of "showing" her where his interests lay. The kiss. He'd only meant it to be a quick, demonstrative caress, but the moment he'd tasted her on his lips, it had turned into more. And when she'd responded, his good intentions had flown out the window altogether. The woman was as much a powder keg out of their dreams as she was in. Her response had been eager and passionate, making him lose his head entirely. Mortimer had let his hands begin to wander, his mind filling with images of ripping her clothes off and making love to her against the SUV. But then she'd broken the kiss and turned her head away.

  When Mortimer had trailed his mouth down her neck and felt the vein pulsing with excitement there, his passion had briefly been waylaid by another hunger-his desperate need for blood. And he was feeling pretty desperate at the moment.

  Despite their best efforts, he and Bricker hadn't been able to completely avoid exposing themselves to sunlight today. While he'd worn jeans rather than the more comfortable shorts to help avoid as much exposure as possible, a long-sleeved shirt would have seemed odd on what was a hot summer day, so his arms, hands, and face had been exposed. And while they'd been safe enough from the damage of UV rays in the SUV, every stop they'd made that day had meant at least a short walk under the sun's punishing glare.

  All that, combined with his body's need to deal with the alcohol the night before and the tainted blood he'd consumed when he woke up at noon, had left him dehydrated and in serious need of blood. This was one of those emergencies when his people were allowed to feed "off the hoof" and bite mortals. But Mortimer wouldn't feed on Sam. He couldn't control her, so he couldn't erase the memory of his biting her afterward, and it was much too soon to reveal what he was to her and hope she could accept it without running screaming into the night.

  No, he couldn't bite Sam. He needed another donor. Mortimer's gaze slid around the restaurant, noting and discounting various customers before his gaze landed on the trio of laughing young men who had so rudely interrupted them outside. Mortimer considered each briefly, then chose the one who looked healthiest and slipped into his thoughts. Within seconds the lad was excusing himself and making his way to the men's room.

  Mortimer followed.