“Vaguely, but I’ll find it. You don’t want to meet here in town?”
Becca shrugged. “The Eagle’s Nest has great sweet rolls. I don’t get them often enough.”
Okay, something was really going on here.
“Okay. Is eleven good for you?”
“Yes. Yes, it is. And thanks.” Relief washed over Becca’s face, but then she glanced at Scot. “And, um, can you come alone?”
Okay, so this wasn’t a social get together. She curved her lips in what she hoped was a warm smile.
“Scot and I do everything together.” She winked. “You know how it is. “
Becca glanced again at the man lounging in the booth. “Uh, well, sure. Okay. See you then.”
And she was gone, rushing as if she’d stayed too long at their booth.
Jenna looked at Scot. “That was weird.”
He leaned forward and took her hand again, lifting it to dust a kiss on her knuckles. She knew it was playacting, but she couldn’t decide if she was glad he was getting into the spirit of it or not. What she did know was that it sent little unfamiliar charges of electricity through her. She looked up at him and was shocked to see heat in his eyes, intense for a long moment, then gone. She wondered for a brief moment which would be more dangerous, following through with this charade or calling Grey and telling him to have his friend take Scot off her case.
“Just playing my role,” he told her in a low voice. And just that fast, the heat died out. “Let’s get out of here. I want you to tell me about Becca, but not where anyone can overhear us.” He signaled for the check, shaking his head when she reached for her wallet. “Boyfriend always pays, remember? Hank will just add it to the tab.”
She waited until they were in the pickup before asking, “What tab? I don’t even know how much I’m paying for this. Grey was very vague.”
Scot shrugged. “Not my area of responsibility. I just do what I’m told. Anyway, I got the feeling Hank is doing this as a favor for Grey Holden.”
“Then how do you get reimbursed?”
He gave a rough chuckle. “I just turn in the receipts. Where Hank gets the money is his problem. And don’t get twisted up about,” he added when she started to object. “He and Grey will work it out. They can both afford it, believe me. And who pays for meals is the least of the problems here.”
“I just—” She just hated taking things from people. Letting people do things for her. She’d made a habit from the day she left the ranch to do it all herself.
“I’d much rather talk about other things. For example, I wonder how many more people around here have read either of your books? So far, the two people you’ve spoken to have both read them.”
“That is a very interesting question.” She scrunched her forehead in a frown. “I wouldn’t have thought anyone around here did.”
”Grey told Hank this started because you got an anonymous email telling you about girls who had been raped, reported it and then were murdered. Do you think she’s the one who sent the email? She was doing her best to be friendly, but she acted like she had a tick crawling up her back.”
“So you noticed it, too?”
“Hard not to. Besides, I’m trained to look for things like that. We analyze every single thing about the enemy.”
Jenna blew out a breath. “It’s entirely possible. Anyone who saw her tonight talking to me could just think she’s saying hello to an old friend. I don’t think it was her, although I could be wrong. I mean, did she act like someone who’d been raped by this guy? Besides, if she was, she’d still be too terrified to say anything.”
“Maybe enough time has gone by that she’s pushed it to the back of her mind,” he suggested. “She’s married now, with a couple of kids. Maybe she figures this is her chance to get this guy. Or maybe she’s the one who sent you the email.”
“But would she approach me out in the open like that?” Jenna sighed and leaned back in her seat. “I don’t know, but I’m very interested in what she wants to talk to me about. Let’s find out if she has even a tiny clue who this guy is.”
“Let’s just be extra careful,” he warned. “You’re really flying blind here. You don’t know who’s representing the enemy and digging for information.”
Jenna rubbed her temples, the leading edge of a headache just beginning to show. “I hear you.”
“You still think he’s a friend of your stepfather’s?”
“I do. There’s no other reason he’d have been at the party that night. And if that’s true, you can bet he has the same sense of privilege.”
“I think you’re right that he lives in the area,” Scot told her. “If it was a visitor of some kind, and the sheriff knows how to investigate, his visits coinciding with the deaths would raise a big red flag.”
Jenna shrugged. “It seems most likely. It gives him plenty of time to choose the girls. A visitor would have to be picking one by chance, and that doesn’t always work out so well.”
“What about the man who attacked you? Do you think he was a visitor?”
“No, and I can’t tell you why except at the time it was a feeling I had. I was sure he knew who I was, had maybe even been watching me for a while. For a long time after that, I studied every man who came to the ranch house or we ran into in town.”
“I’m happy to help any way I can, just as long as you remember my first priority is keeping you safe. Anyway, we’re home, and I think maybe you could use a little nightcap to settle your nerves.”
“I don’t know.” She climbed out of the vehicle and headed toward the porch. “I’ve never been much of a drinker.”
“I get that. I hardly drink myself.”
“For me, it brings back bad memories.”
“Then let’s just think of it as a liquid sleeping pill, only better tasting. And you need to be able to tuck those memories away, at least for tonight.” He was right behind her and opening the door before she even had her keys out. She felt the heat of him against her body, the pure masculinity of him.
“You’re probably right about needing a drink, but,” she pointed out, “we don’t have any liquor.”
He chuckled. “The people who rent out these cabins like to provide for their guests, I guess. There’s a small collection of mini bottles in one of the cupboards. Hope none of their guests are alcoholics.”
She giggled at the thought. “Me, too. Okay, let’s see what they’ve got.” After looking at what was available, she chose a mini bottle of Jack Daniel’s. “Might as well go for the good stuff. At least I know it will help me sleep.”
She filled a short glass with ice cubes and poured the whiskey over them then took a slow sip. The tension in her body began to ease at once.
Scot studied her. “Good idea?”
“Uh huh. But I think I’ll take it upstairs and finish it. Maybe I can roll over, then, and sleep without dreaming.”
“Hope it works.” He gave her that same weird look again. “Go ahead and do whatever you need to. I’m going out on the porch for a while.”
“But it’s getting cold out there,” she protested.
“I kind of like the cold. Spent a lot of months in heat over a hundred degrees, so this is refreshing. If I get too cold, I’ll come in.”
Jenna wondered what was really bothering him. Did he have nightmares about his tours of duty as a SEAL? Was he a loner because he found it easier to keep people at bay?
Quit overthinking, she told herself. Go get ready for bed.
She grabbed her pajamas and toiletries kit from the loft and brought everything down to the bathroom where she changed, brushed her teeth, and did whatever else she needed to. Then she climbed the stairs again and crawled into bed, where she slowly sipped the rest of the Jack Daniel’s. When the glass was empty, she burrowed into the big pillows, pulled the quilt up to her shoulders, closed her eyes, and fell into what she hoped would be a dreamless sleep.
Chapter 4
Fucking damn.
He sat in the
cab of his pickup, looking down from the rugged road that wound into this part of the mountains, hidden from view as he stared at the cabin through binoculars. Of all the asshole rotten luck. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could have done to prevent this. Not without exposing himself, anyway.
He’d hope the information about her coming back here to do a story was someone’s imagination. But no. Hell, no. She’d shown up wearing her investigative reporter/author personality, and now she was about to dig into history—too many years of it—and cause him a lot of trouble.
He’d been so sure he’d scared her off all those years ago. She’d trembled beneath him when he’d held her down on the bed, too frightened to scream when at last he moved his hand from her mouth. In the rough whisper that disguised his voice he’d told her exactly what he would do to her if she ever breathed a word of this to anyone. Not that they’d believe her. After all, he was a man of power and position, and she was just a snotty little brat.
Then he’d whispered every single thing he was going to do to her, how he was going to penetrate her, take her virginity, fill her tight little passage with his cock. When he thrust inside her, and she choked on her screams, he got hotter than a pistol and came so hard his body shook.
His mouth twisted in an evil smile at the memory. He lusted after snotty little brats. Even the slightly older ones appealed to him, as long as they weren’t that old. But the virgins were the best. They got him harder than any others. Too bad they were getting more and more difficult to find. What was wrong with them that they were having sex younger and younger these days?
But that wasn’t his problem at the moment. No, his biggest challenge was what to do about Jenna Fucking Donovan. He’d have to get rid of her. No question there. But he had to do it in a way that looked like an accident, one that no one would question. Once she was gone, things would return to normal. And he’d make fucking damn sure that the tasty little tidbits knew if they didn’t keep their mouths shut they’d be dead meat like the others he’d disposed of. So what if they couldn’t identify him? Too many reports and there’d be no shutting the door on them.
From now on, he’d bury the bodies so well they’d never be found. And then he’d remind fresh meat that it could happen to them if they ever opened their mouths. He should have hidden the bodies to begin with, but he’d thought he was sending a message. Apparently not.
The rush he got from these young girls was beyond anything he’d ever imagined. His cock was hard as a post the moment he grabbed them and threw them down. It was always more arousing, more exciting, when he did it at something like a party at Roger Holland’s sprawling mansion of a ranch house. All that power, that he was part of, and none of them knew what he was doing, hidden in one of the rooms.
Certainly, his wife was unaware. As long as he was attentive to her, she’d never suspect a thing. Her needs and desires had diminished as she’d gotten older, so now he had the best of both worlds—a wife that required very little servicing and a smorgasbord of young flesh for the ravishing.
Sitting here thinking about it all made his cock swell so much it hurt, and his balls ached. He unzipped his fly, pushed the fabric of his slacks to the side, and took himself in hand. Leaning against the back of the seat, he closed his eyes, called up the image of the last piece of young meat he’d had, and stroked himself hard and fast. As aroused as he was, it didn’t take him long before the familiar tingle crawled up his spine, his muscles tightened, and he exploded all over his hand. His shaft pulsed again and again, with spasm after spasm, until he had emptied himself.
He sat there in the dark for a long time, spent, catching his breath, holding his now soft dick, waiting for his breathing to slow down.
Finally, he cleaned himself up with his handkerchief, tucked his now limp shaft back into his pants, and let out a long breath. Then he looked out the window and down at the cabin in question. In the moonlight, he could make out the figure of the guy Jenna was with sitting on a bench on the porch, leaned back, feet up on the rail. Who the fuck was this guy, and how much trouble would he be?
Okay, tomorrow he’d check into everything. Find out—very carefully—how much Jenna knew and what her plans were, and who the man was. Definitely who the man was and how much trouble he could cause. After that he could figure out what his next steps would be. He needed to shut this down now, and do it in a way that would not generate even more questions. No girls had come forward since the last body was discovered, and that was two years ago. Things were nice and quiet. Settled down.
Putting his vehicle in gear he turned and headed back down the mountain.
* * *
Nights were often difficult for Scot. Even after two years, scenes and images he’d never forget played over and over in his brain. He’d learned to sleep in short stints, just long enough to recharge his batteries but not so long that the images he wanted to shut out had their turn in his mind.
He’d sat out on the porch until the moon reached its zenith in the sky, listening to the night noises and enjoying the solitude. Although there were other cabins around, they had been placed so each one seemed to be by itself. That was good. He was okay with people but better off without them.
When his watch showed midnight, he went back inside, ready to crawl into bed for a few hours. He had just stripped down to the sweats he slept in when he heard a noise from the loft. He wasn’t sure if he was just hearing something, so he waited a moment. Then he heard it again. A thunk, as if Jenna had fallen out of bed. Then he heard her talking, but there was no one up there for her to talk to.
There wasn’t another soul in the cabin. He could attest to that. Should he just leave her alone? She might not welcome his intrusion into whatever nightmare she was having. They were, after all, strangers. But when she screamed, a soft but tortured sound, he knew he couldn’t leave it alone.
He took the stairs to the loft two at a time. The lamps were off, but moonlight shafted in through the window, giving him enough light to see what was happening. Clad in pajama pants and a T-shirt four times too big for her, Jenna was on the floor, curled up in a ball, head tucked into her arms, and crying softly.
Something pierced his heart. He was overcome with the unfamiliar sensation of wanting to wrap his arms around her and wasn’t sure what to do. Comforting people wasn’t high on his personal-skills list, but the sounds she was making slapped at his heart. And the way she curled into a ball as if protecting herself. Damn! Although Hank had given him just the bare details of the rape all those years ago, he was sure none of them could truly imagine the brutality of the attack on a young girl.
While he stood there wondering if he should touch her or not, a low keening sound issued from her mouth, a sound so tortured it cut right into him.
Okay, Nolan, suck it up. Pretend she’s one of the victims you helped in the sandbox.
He wasn’t much good at this but right now he didn’t have a choice. He couldn’t just walk away and leave her like this. He crouched down beside her and with a gentle touch, pressed a hand to her shoulder.
She jerked and cried out.
“Ssh, ssh, ssh,” he soothed. “It’s me, Jenna. Scot. I’m not him. You’re safe with me.”
She rolled to her knees and began flailing at him, pounding her fists on his chest and crying, “No, no, no. Please, no.”
Damn.
He sat down on the floor next to her, gritted his teeth, and grabbed her arms. Although she fought him, he pulled her body against his chest and held her until she stopped struggling, stroking her back.
“It’s me. Scot,” he repeated. “Hush, now. You’re safe.”
He rocked her against him, arms wrapped around her, crooning softly until he felt the tension ease from her body. It was then he realized with a start how intimately he was holding her. Her breasts were soft against the hard wall of his chest, her nicely rounded ass resting on one of his hard thighs.
His thigh wasn’t the only thing hard, either. Not with this warm, soft b
ody bearing the scent of some kind of flowers nestled in his arms. Well, fuck all. Why was it that the first woman who made him think he might have found what he was looking for had to have a big keep away sign on her because she was a client? His protectee? Between unlocking his battered heart and making his libido explode, he was in big trouble here.
Damn it, she was going through her own emotional crisis. She didn’t need him complicating things. But hell. Holding her tight to his body, arms wrapped around her, her face soft as it pressed the stubble of his chin—for a long moment, he could forget he was a bodyguard, forget everything except he wanted her, pure and simple. And not just for a roll in the hay, like other women he’d been with in the past two years.
Didn’t that just fuck all.
Her sobs had slowed to almost nothing by now, but still she sat curled into him, hands touching his bare chest, the silk of her hair tickling his chin. If only he had an ice cube to drop on his over-eager cock that had chosen absolutely the wrong time to come out and play. Using every bit of his mental discipline, he just sat and rocked her while her sobs slowed, diminished, then stopped altogether.
She looked up at him, eyes not quite focused as if she wasn’t sure where she was. When she realized he was holding her, she pushed as hard as she could and scuttled away from him. Her heart pounded like a jackhammer.
“Scot?”
He saw the naked fear in her eyes and released her at once. Based on what he’d learned from Hank, he was pretty sure what her nightmare had been about. And his hands on her weren’t going to make her feel safe at all. Quite the contrary.
“In the flesh.” He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile.
“W-what? What’s happening?” She wrapped her arms around herself, and a visible shudder ran through her body. “Oh my god. What did I do?”
He spoke to her in a low, nonthreatening tone of voice. “I, uh, heard you cry out then there was a thump. I came up to see if you were okay. Looked like you fell out of bed and were trying to hide from something.” He paused. “Or someone.”
Guarding Jenna: Brotherhood Protectors World Page 5
