by Christa Wick
Taking her hand, he laced his fingers through hers and kissed the center knuckle. “I know you have a new supervisor and all, Ash, but you need to go easy on your leg.”
She nodded, but the rest of her face, from the knitted brows to the squiggle of her mouth, disagreed with a stubborn vehemence. If she got sidelined, the investigation was over. Thomas didn’t have the authority to do it on his own and Moske refused to believe there was anything going on or, even if something was happening, the potential issue was “too small” to waste resources over.
“Did you know,” she asked, pulling a few statistics from memory, “that, ounce for ounce, a bear’s gallbladder is worth more than six times the value of cocaine.”
She paused so the number could sink in, then continued. “A pound of bile flakes is worth more than sixty thousand dollars. Six of eight known bear species are threatened with extinction because of the demand.”
“Didn’t know that,” Walker said, then tapped the lightbox with her x-rays still showing. “I know this, though.”
“When you catch the person a poacher is selling to, then you find the money launderers,” she persisted. “You get that hub under your thumb, you get more poachers and other bad actors. Drug dealers, drug labs.”
“I get it,” he said. “You are exactly like Deacon that way. This is important to you.”
He rubbed her arm, kissed the back of her hand again.
“But you’re important to me, Ash.”
She closed her eyes, lips quivering. She wasn’t accustomed to anyone wanting to take care of her. An only child who had come late in life for her parents, she had grown up in a house of busy professionals with heavy responsibilities outside the family.
When she was three, her father built a special cabinet in the kitchen, no taller than she was. Her parents filled it with plastic bowls and cups, silverware, Tupperware containers with her favorite cereals, bread, peanut butter and the like. The bottom shelf of the refrigerator was all hers, the milk and juice poured by her parents from big containers into ones her little hands could handle. By the time she entered kindergarten, she was trusted with making her own eggs and toast.
She didn’t know how to let someone boss her around, no matter how well-intentioned the attempt.
Pulling her hand away from his, she covered her face again.
A sigh escaped Walker, but he didn’t get up and leave.
“So what did you find out today?”
Ashley risked a peek at his handsome face. She scanned for any sign that he was faking his interest but it appeared sincere.
“The packs cut from the trees were moved by five guys down a stream from inside the park to just outside the perimeter of Joyce Franco’s campgrounds while it was dark out. They used a raft up until the rapids, then carried the packs from there.”
His head bobbed, the gears visibly cranking inside his skull to process the information. “How do you know that?”
“From a trail cam photo of them carrying the packs onto her property and by finding the raft abandoned and weighed down right before the start of the rapids.”
He pointed at her ankle. “Did you slip at the rapids?”
Her hand bounced off the mattress. “Yeah.”
She knew she should have let Thomas walk across. But there was a good chance either one of them could have gotten hurt. He was only an intern, his career not even begun, and his medical benefits if he did get hurt were far sketchier. She couldn’t let him do it, so she had ordered, strenuously at one point, for him to stay on shore after she spotted a flash of yellow weighed down in the middle of the water.
Walker cocked an unexpected grin, his green eyes dancing. He captured her arm before she could deny him, his fingers curling around her bicep.
“Depending on whose body you need help burying, I promise to help you bury it,” he joked. “And whatever help you need with this case, I’ll give it. But you have to get that cast, Ash. You won’t be able to work without it.”
“Moske will tie me to a desk—”
“Then you solve this from the desk. You need questions asked around town, I’ll do the asking. As much as I hate to say it, I’ve got as good a chance as getting an answer as any lawman does. Probably better.”
She chewed at the inside of her lip. Walker was right. She couldn’t do the fieldwork, at least not for the next few days. There were even odds she would puke or pass out when the technician put the cast on and adjusted it.
“Okay,” she relented. “I’ll do everything I can from the desk and have you do what’s safe and legal if you’re willing.”
Smiling, he released her arm and stood up from the chair. He brushed the hair from Ashley’s face then kissed the spot right between her brows.
“So, what’s next?” she asked. “Other than waiting for the technician to get in here and do her job.”
“Next,” he grinned, kissing her again. “I take you home.”
Chapter Sixteen
Whatever he had meant by “home,” the only choice was Ashley’s apartment in Billings. The Jeep couldn’t stay at the clinic and Thomas wasn’t authorized to drive it without a supervising agent. Which meant Ashley had to ride all the way to Billings with the cast on her leg.
Walker followed in his truck. By the time they reached the parking lot for the federal building, Ashley was sweating bullets. Surprising Walker, she agreed to fill her prescription for painkillers, but only wanted a third of the count dispensed. He dropped her at home, made sure she was settled in bed, then went to the pharmacy to collect the pills.
Guessing her cupboard was as bereft of food as her apartment was of furniture, he picked up some basics at the pharmacy while he waited on the prescription then grabbed a pizza.
Balancing the bags and the pizza box, he pulled the spare key she had given him and slid it into the lock. Part of him sang at his possession of the key. He didn’t think Ashley allowed very many people into her world—was certain she didn’t. But here he was with the key to her place and permitted to run a few errands for her while she was vulnerable.
“Just me,” he announced, entering the apartment. Placing everything on the counter, he grabbed a glass from the strainer along the sink and filled it with orange juice then shook a pill free from the bottle.
“They’ll fill the other twenty when you need it,” he said, coming into her bedroom. He handed Ashley the juice, followed by the pill. “You can have up to three of these a day.”
The look on her face told Walker he’d be lucky if she consented to even one a day.
He shrugged after she swallowed the pill.
“Fine with me. The longer you’re laid up,” he teased, “the longer I get to play nurse.”
She lifted her brows, the first trace of a smile since he’d found her at the hospital pushing at the corners of her mouth. Lightning flashed in the gray gaze, the speculation stamped across her face sending a bolt of white-hot heat straight through him.
Swallowing hard, he pointed toward the kitchen. “I grabbed some food from the pharmacy shelves and a pizza on the way back.”
“I’m starving,” Ashley admitted. She bit at her lip for a second then released it. “Pretty bad that the first meal you’re eating in my place is a world away from your mother’s cooking.”
“Mama made sure all her kids were handy in the kitchen. You like to cook?”
She wiggled her hand. “It’s more a utilitarian thing. I’ve been cooking for myself since I was five.”
He frowned. His mother had started her kids early, too. By three they were experts at cracking eggs and running the beater. At six, they could handle small knives, chop salads and such. But she kept them away from the oven and stovetop until they were eight.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Ash.” Bending down, he kissed her cheek then took the glass from her. “I’ll top this off and grab us some slices.”
Stopping at the counter, he lifted a second glass from the strainer and filled both. Searching for plates, he op
ened a cupboard to find it stuffed with books. Classics comprised most of the fiction and poetry, the Bronte sisters, Thomas Hardy, Robert Browning, Houseman, Emily Dickinson, Solzhenitsyn, Dostoyevsky. A lot of people kept books like these on their shelves so guests would think they’d read them and be impressed. That the books were in the cupboard suggested to Walker that Ashley had actually poured through the pages.
Shaking his head, he closed the door and opened the next one to find her stash of non-fiction, all of it work related in one way or another.
“Door number three,” he joked under his breath. “Eureka.”
He pulled down two plates, loaded pizza onto both then rolled the little kitchen trolley that probably came with the apartment over and put the glasses and plates on it.
“Your books are a little depressing,” he teased, pushing the tray up to the nightstand. “Where is all the chick porn?”
“I’m pretty sure it’s in Siobhan’s closet,” she shot back.
Launching into a coughing fit, he dropped the slice of pizza he had just taken a bite from.
“You’re right,” he wheezed when he could breathe again.
Grinning, she bit into her slice. Her eyes rolled back with pleasure. “Didn’t realize it, but I’m starving.”
“Body needs fuel to heal,” he offered, carefully taking a seat on the opposite side of the bed.
“You tell your boss yet?”
Ashley scrunched her face. “He ordered me to take tomorrow off. Said he would tell me then if he wanted me out longer. Needed a longer look at the doctor’s slip first.”
“Thomas get anything back on the driver’s license or plate?”
“Plate belongs to a completely different RV,” she answered. “The driver’s license was for a Michael Abbot. The man and the driver’s license number exist, but our guy is not really Michael Abbot. The real one is in jail. What do you know about Joyce Franco?”
“Heard of her,” he answered. “Wasn’t local before she married Karl about two years before he died. Inherited the place, kept it up as well as he ever did, which was never saying much.”
His head danced around on his shoulders as he thought through the question. “Karl was a good decade older than her, more like fifteen years.”
He finished with a lift of his shoulders. “Franco family always kept to itself outside of running the business. Joyce is no different.”
Walker took another bite, chewed and swallowed.
“You have a picture of the driver’s license?”
Mumbling around her food, Ashley reached for her phone. She swiped through to the photos Joyce had sent.
“Don’t know him,” he said after studying the man for half a minute. “Could he be related to the real license holder?”
She took the phone back, swiped through again and showed him a picture of a markedly different man. The only similarities were same neighborhood for height and coloring.
“Maybe send Gamble a copy?”
“Already did,” she answered, eyeing his slice of pizza.
“Let me go grab us some more,” he laughed. Returning a minute later, he handed her a freshly loaded plate. “Still plenty in the box. Got anything more on the case?”
“Moske agreed to send the raft to the lab for fingerprinting, but it’s a long shot since it was submerged in the water since Friday morning. As bad as the details are from the trail cam, I don’t see any skin on their hands, so they probably had gloves on, although they could have packed the bundles barehanded.”
He made a little “gimme” motion because his mouth was too full to talk. She found the trail cam pic on her phone and showed him.
“Gamble has this one, too,” she confirmed.
He pointed at the man carrying two packs. “That is a really big guy. He’s even bigger than Kostya and Barrett. Not many men are, even around these parts. And he’s hairy as a bear, this one.”
“I asked Gamble to see if the local businesses could check their cameras.”
He started frowning before Ashley finished her sentence.
“Yeah, Gamble laughed when I said that. Apparently the businesses around here don’t bother with cameras.”
“We don’t get much trouble in these parts,” Walker answered. “You think, though, with the fake ID and money laundering and everything, that these guys used any local business other than the campgrounds? They seem to be keep a pretty low profile.”
Putting her plate on the tray, Ashley shook her head. Her eyelids grew heavy and her words slowed into fuzzy syllables as the painkiller kicked in.
“No, but sometimes it’s the line of inquiry that doesn’t seem worth following that ties everything together.”
Walker put his pizza aside, walked around to Ashley’s side of the mattress and rolled the cart out of the way.
“You should get ready for bed,” he cautioned. “Where are your night clothes?”
A racy grin sped across her face. He closed his eyes for a second, enjoying the image her expression suggested. He thoroughly agreed that the best way to sleep was with nothing on. But he planned on staying the night, so that wouldn’t work for either of them.
He had already looked around the room. There wasn’t a dresser. But there was a closet. He slid the door open and looked inside.
“Baby girl, you really need some furniture.”
He thumbed through the t-shirts folded on the shelf then selected the longest of them. It only had a few extra inches, but it would fall past the curve of Ashley’s shapely bottom.
Turning around, Walker showed her what he had selected. She nodded with sleepy approval.
“Not a baby,” she said as he stepped up to the bed.
“My baby, Ash.”
Her fingers fumbled with the buttons on her shirt. Getting on his knees, he dusted her hands aside. She leaned into the help he offered, her lips brushing his ear, her breath soft and warm against his neck.
Fingers trembling, he unthreaded the last button then pushed the fabric past her shoulders and down her arms, revealing a dainty lace bra constraining the heavy breasts. Hot air vibrated his lips as he breathed out.
He slid the bra straps off her arms but made sure the cups stayed in place. Next he pulled the t-shirt over her head and down her torso. When her chest was covered, he reached under the t-shirt at the back and unhooked the bra, stripping it away as a fire built low in his gut.
“Moment of truth,” he said, his voice as shaky as his hands. “Have to take the cast off long enough to remove the pants.”
She cocked a brow at him, her eyelids fighting to stay separated.
“Okay with that, Ash?”
She rubbed at her face, pushed the hair back.
“Best to have them off,” she agreed.
Reaching for the cast, he stopped before touching it. It made more sense if he got the healthy leg out first and the pants down by the cast before he messed with it.
“This is killing me, you know?” He meant it as a tease, but it didn’t sound that way. The tone was pure confession. He’d fantasized about just this—without the cast—the very first night he met Ashley.
She looked at him, her sleepy gaze filled with understanding.
He unzipped the pants, grabbed the waistband on each side of her hips and slowly peeled downward. White panties with a lace trim rewarded his efforts. Heart punching the back of his sternum, he eased the fabric lower, her thighs slowly revealed.
Getting down to her knees, he touched the right leg.
“Can you lift this out?”
She tried but the painkiller was pretty strong—especially after the day behind her. Walker helped, his hands on her smooth right calf and the back of her thigh, so much blood filling his head that the room started to spin.
With the right leg out, he exhaled. Using his most delicate touch, he unfastened the boot and gingerly worked the fabric down the rest of the leg, over the ankle and onto the floor.
“We should ice it now that the boot is off.”
Gaze jumping between Ashley’s trusting, beautiful face and the luscious body he wanted to hold and stroke, Walker backed out of the room and returned to the kitchen.
He pulled two frozen ice packs from the refrigerator. He had picked up several re-usable ones at the pharmacy plus the chemical kind that were instantly cold but only good for one use. He put the re-usable ones in the freezer and returned to the bedroom.
He didn’t expect any different, but Ashley remained as he had left her. The t-shirt didn’t cover as low as he thought, giving him an inviting view of pale, rounded thighs disappearing into lace panties. Further up Ashley’s body, the thin material tinted where it reached the erect nipples.
The sight of her took his breath away all over again. Knees banging together, he made it to the closet and grabbed a couple more t-shirts to use as a barrier between the ice packs and her skin. Slowly and oh-so-carefully, he placed the packs then crawled onto the bed next to her.
With his head by Ashley’s, Walker stroked her cheek until she fell asleep. He waited, staring at her relaxed features, until the time for icing expired. Fastening the boot, he kept checking her face for any sign of discomfort.
Finished, he pulled the blanket over Ashley. His finger traced the line of her mouth and then he kissed her.
“My baby,” he repeated before returning to the front room, where he spent the night sleeping in the recliner.
Chapter Seventeen
“Desk and outreach only,” Moske bellowed as he repeated his command. “And you can kiss your intern goodbye. I’m sending Crane up to Kalispell where they actually need help.”
Teeth sinking into a pencil so she wouldn’t bellow back, Ashley waited until the man ran out of steam.
“In fact, I’ve got just the outreach job for you coming up,” he yelled, the sound of him furiously striking at his keyboard audible over his warbling baritone. “There’s some Pioneer Women’s thing…I’ll email you the details. You’ll need to find a historical outfit. At least the dress will hide your cast. Your appearance was already an embarrassment.”