Rider on Fire

by Sharon Sala

  “I am so sorry,” he said, as he pulled her sleeves away from the scrapes on her elbows. “I think I have some first aid stuff down here.”

  Sonora watched silently as he opened a small plastic box and then dug through the contents. Rainwater had plastered his shirt and jeans to his body. All it did was remind her of what he looked like nude, and that was a vision she didn’t need. Not when they were alone and, for the time being, trapped by the storm.

  Adam found a tube of antibiotic, but when he turned around, the look on her face stilled his intent. Every stitch of clothing she had on was soaked and molded to her body like a second layer of skin. When she lifted her arms above her head, then twisted her hair into a knot to wring out the excess water, he looked away. He didn’t want to think of the thrust of her breasts against the fabric or the outline of her nipples showing through the thin, wet shirt. He didn’t want her to feel trapped or threatened, but if she knew what he was thinking, she very likely would.

  She moved into the circle of light, then pointed at the ointment.

  “Did you find something?” she asked.

  Adam looked at her, then sighed. He’d found something all right. A woman capable of stealing his heart.

  “Yes, some antibiotic ointment. Would you let me put some on your elbows?”

  “Sure,” she said. “Maybe it will make them quit stinging.”

  “I’m so sorry you were hurt,” he said.

  Sonora snorted softly as she folded her arms to allow him better access to the scrapes. “Getting shot hurts. These are nothing.”

  Adam’s fingers stilled. He tried to form the words to what was running through his mind, but they just wouldn’t come out. It wasn’t until he’d put the ointment back into the first aid box that he got it said.

  “You’ve been shot?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Once in the leg, once in the shoulder.”

  He’d been a soldier. He’d seen men shot. He’d seen men die. But for some reason, the thought of this woman in that kind of danger made him sick.

  “Couldn’t you have picked a safer job?”

  “Of course, I could have. But I didn’t. What’s your excuse?”

  There was a challenge in her voice he hadn’t expected.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”

  The cellar door rattled on its hinges.

  Both of them flinched and then turned.

  “It’s holding,” Adam said.

  Sonora moved to the back of the cellar, then stood against the wall.

  “What if it doesn’t?”

  Adam sighed. He needed to keep his hands off of her, but he could hardly deny the fear he heard in her voice. He followed her to the wall, then stopped, giving her time to adjust to the invasion of her space.

  “Come here,” he said, and opened his arms.

  Sonora shivered. She wanted what he offered. But at what price? Still, when she walked into his arms, it felt right.

  “At least I’m not going to be getting you wet,” she said, as his arms enfolded her.

  “You’re shivering,” Adam said, as he cupped her head with one hand and settled the other on the small of her back.

  “So are you,” she said, and wrapped her arms around his waist.

  “That’s not cold. That’s a healthy physical reaction to a pretty woman.”

  She hid a smile. “You must be pretty hard up to be turned on by someone who looks like a wet rat.”

  “I’m not touching any part of that comment,” Adam said.

  Sonora shivered. “God … aren’t you cold?” she asked.

  But Adam didn’t answer. He was listening to something else.

  “Listen,” he said softly.

  Sonora tensed. “What? I don’t hear anything.”

  “Exactly,” Adam whispered.

  “Is it over?” Sonora asked.

  “I don’t know. Stay here. I’m going to take a look.”

  Sonora grabbed his arm. “Adam! Wait! What if it’s just a lull? You might get hurt!”

  He stopped, then cupped her face and kissed her. The combination of wet skin and the hot blood beneath it made Sonora’s knees go weak. When he finally pulled away, they were both breathing hard. He ran his thumb along the curve of her bottom lip as his eyes narrowed.

  “Be right back,” he promised.

  Sonora’s stomach knotted as he moved up the steps. When he put his shoulder against the heavy wooden door to push it up, she held her breath, watching as his head cleared the opening.

  “Adam?”

  “It’s okay,” he said. “The storm has passed.”

  She turned out the lantern, then followed him up the steps. Tree limbs were scattered all over the yard, but the house was still standing and except for slight hail damage, his truck was all right, too.

  Adam helped her out, then lowered the cellar door before moving toward the house.

  “Let’s go inside. I need to check windows,” Adam said.

  Sonora followed him into the house, then stopped just inside the door. He turned around.

  “I’ll get everything wet,” she said.

  He held out his arms. “And I won’t?”

  She shrugged.

  “Would you check the kitchen and laundry room while I take the back of the house?” Adam asked.

  “Sure,” she said, and after he aimed her in the right direction, they parted company.

  Sonora heard his footsteps as he moved down the hall and into the bedrooms. She took off her shoes and then headed for the kitchen, dripping water from her clothes as she went.

  The windows were closed, and none were broken, although the plants in his backyard had sadly been shredded. She walked out the back door and onto the porch for a better view and was met at the steps by a large cat.

  Sonora knelt as the cat came up to her and rubbed his head against her outstretched hand.

  “Hey kitty, are you all right?”

  Sensing a sympathetic hand, Charlie the cat butted his head against her leg.

  “Rowr.”

  Sonora smiled as she reached down and rubbed him, but when her hand came away bloody, she gasped. “Oh no! You’re hurt!”

  She picked him up and hurried back into the house with him, calling Adam’s name as she went.

  He came running. “What’s wrong?” Then he saw Charlie. “Hey, I see you met Charlie.”

  “He’s hurt,” Sonora said, and held out her hand.

  Adam saw the blood and frowned. “Hey, old fella … did you get caught in the storm?”

  “Rowrp.”

  “So, let’s see what’s happened to you,” he said, as he took the cat out of Sonora’s arms and carried him to a table by a window in the laundry room.

  Sonora followed anxiously.

  “His name is Charlie?”

  “Yeah,” Adam said, as he rolled the old cat onto his back. “Here it is,” he said, as he quickly spied the cut. “It’s not too deep, but it’s jagged. Probably got caught trying to get out of the storm.”

  “Can you fix him?”

  “Sure,” he said gently, as he rubbed a thumb under the cat’s chin, then scratched his head. “We’ll get him fixed up. There’s a blue box in that cabinet behind you. Hand it to me, will you?”

  Sonora found it quickly and laid it on the table beside the cat, then opened the lid.

  “Would you hold Charlie for me while I find what I need?”

  Sonora looked anxious.

  “Will he bite me?”

  “I don’t know. Let’s ask him,” Adam said.

  Sonora thought Adam was joking until he bent down and stared right into the cat’s face.

  “Charlie, this is my friend Sonora. She’s going to help me make you feel better, so no bites or scratches, okay?”

  Sonora started to grin, but when the cat looked up at her, as if assessing her worth, the smile died on her face.

  “Rrrrp.”

  “Okay then,” Adam said. “Good boy.” />
  “What?” Sonora asked.

  “You’re good to go. Oh … you might like to know that he loves to have his head scratched right behind his ears.”

  “I can’t believe this just happened,” she muttered, as she laid a hand on the big cat’s head, then gently began to stroke.

  Adam hid a smile. Poor Sonora. She had much to learn about the Indian way. Then he heard her crooning sweet words to his cat and sighed. First Charlie. Next it would be himself. It was only a matter of time before they both succumbed.

  CHAPTER 11

  The storm had passed just before sunset. Darkness came quickly, leaving the debris in the yard to be dealt with tomorrow. Sonora called Franklin to let him know they were okay.

  “Dad … it’s me.”

  Franklin’s joy bubbled over into a delighted chuckle.

  “What’s so funny?” Sonora asked.

  “I’m not laughing because anything’s funny. I just couldn’t hide my delight in hearing those words come out of your mouth.”

  “What words?”

  “Those ‘Dad, it’s me,’ words.”

  She grinned. “Oh. Yes.” Her smile faded slightly. “What’s really strange for me is that even though it’s only been a short time since we found each other, it all seems so natural.”

  “We share blood, Daughter.”

  Sonora bit the inside of her mouth, struggling with a sudden need to cry. She’d had a lot of moments like this lately, and was still unprepared for the feelings of vulnerability.

  “So, did the storm pass you by?” she asked.

  “Yes, I’m fine. How about you and Adam? Did his home suffer any damage?”

  “Some, but I’m not sure how much. I’ll let you ask him,” she said, and handed Adam the phone.

  Adam had changed out of his wet clothes earlier and had gone to get a towel to dry his hair when Sonora called Franklin. He came back into the kitchen in time to hear her side of the conversation.

  “What is it?” he asked, as he took the phone.

  “It’s Dad, wanting to know how much damage you had.”

  “Oh. Okay,” Adam said, then covered the phone so that Franklin couldn’t hear.

  “I laid out some dry clothes for you on my bed. They’ll be too big, but they will feel better than what you have on. Bring your own stuff back with you when you come and we’ll toss them in the dryer, okay?”

  She mouthed a thank you as she left the room.

  At that point, Adam turned his attention to the phone. “Franklin … are you all right?”

  “Yes. No damage here. Just a lot of water in the creek.”

  “We had a close call here. Part of the barn roof is gone but the house is still intact. Got a call from Mose and Sheila Roundtree. They said the road between their house and mine was blocked and probably wouldn’t be open until morning.”

  Startled by the news that she’d overheard, Sonora paused in the doorway and turned around, watching Adam’s face. As best she could tell, there was no deception in his voice, but if what he was saying was true, then the good news was she’d be staying overnight. The bad news was that she was secretly pleased.

  “Don’t try to take that old back road,” Franklin said. “It’s most likely under water.”

  “Yeah, I agree,” Adam said. “I was going to suggest Sonora stay here for the night, then when daylight comes, we’ll see where we are with the roads.”

  “Good,” Franklin said. “Have a good evening and tell Sonora I said good night and I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

  “All right. Take care,” Adam said, then hung up. When he turned around, Sonora was standing in the doorway—still in her wet clothes. “Is there something wrong with the clothes I laid out?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t seen them yet,” she said, then added, “I heard what you told Dad.”

  “Yes?”

  “I didn’t know the roads were blocked.”

  “Neither did I until I called Mose and Sheila to make sure they were okay. Sheila said there were about four big trees in the road that would have to be cut up and moved before we could pass.”

  “Oh.”

  “Franklin said to tell you good night and that he’d see us tomorrow,” he added.

  “So … I’m spending the night.”

  Adam grinned. Now he understood what was on her mind.

  “Yes, but through no fault of mine, so you can get that look off your face.”

  “What look?” Sonora said.

  “The one where you slit my throat as soon as I close my eyes tonight.”

  Sonora’s eyes narrowed as she eyed him up and down. “That’s not murder you see on my face … it’s lust.”

  At the same time Adam’s grin died, his belly knotted. “Damn, woman.”

  “What?” Sonora asked.

  “You don’t mince words, do you?”

  Sonora shrugged. “Waste of time.”

  “Yeah. Right,” Adam said, and then glanced at the clock.

  “Are you hungry?”

  Sonora thought about the next few hours and shivered. Eating seemed like a good idea but she wasn’t sure that she’d be able to swallow a bite.

  “Maybe,” she said. “But nothing difficult. Do you have stuff for sandwiches or some cans of soup?”

  “I have both.”

  “You do soup. I’ll make sandwiches,” she offered.

  “When do we get to the lust?” Adam asked.

  Sonora laughed out loud.

  Adam didn’t.

  She frowned. “You’re not serious.”

  “Why not? You were,” he said.

  “But—”

  Adam cupped her face with his hands. “Don’t go all female on me. You spoke your mind. I love that about you.”

  Sonora felt the air go out of her lungs. “You love …?”

  He sighed. “Ah, for Pete’s sake, Sonora. Don’t freak. Consider it a poor choice of words.”

  “What kind of soup do we have?”

  “I am so out of my element here,” Adam muttered, as he turned around and strode to the pantry. He turned on the light then stepped aside. “Get out of those wet clothes first before you make yourself sick. As for the pantry … feel free to investigate,” he said. “I’m going to feed Charlie.” Then he took a small can of cat food from a sack beneath the shelves and left her alone in the kitchen.

  Sonora stared at the soup cans as if her life depended on it, when in truth, all she could think about was Adam and the inevitability of sex. Still, the only decision she had to make at the moment was choosing what kind of soup they were going to have with their sandwiches.

  She started into the pantry, then remembered she’d been going to change, so she hurried out of the room.

  A short while later, Adam heard her banging around the pantry and gritted his teeth. He might not survive this woman, but he was falling under her spell. If he didn’t survive, it would be one hell of a way to die. Meanwhile, he had a cat to feed.

  Earlier, he’d padded a laundry basket with a handful of old towels to make a bed for the injured cat. He knelt down and pulled Charlie’s makeshift bed from under a table, then peered over the side.

  Charlie was looking up, somewhat the worse for wear.

  “Hey, Charlie,” Adam said, as he leaned over and rubbed the old cat’s head. “Feeling better now, aren’t you?”

  He could feel the lack of tension in the cat’s muscles, which told him that the pain the cat had been in earlier was easing. Obviously, his medicine was working.

  “How about some supper, fella?”

  “Meowp.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Adam said, and emptied the can of cat food onto a paper plate before setting it inside Charlie’s temporary bed.

  He sat, watching Charlie eat and listening to the sounds of a woman in his kitchen. After a while, he decided he couldn’t remember a time when he’d felt this peaceful.

  * * *

  Sonora cut the last sandwich into halves and then
laid it on the plate with the others. She hadn’t been able to find two cans of the same kind of soup, so she’d made potato soup on her own. It was being kept warm on the back burner while she finished the rest of their meal.

  The clothes he’d laid out for her to wear were definitely roomy, but they were warm and dry and she couldn’t ask for more. The sweatpants had a drawstring tie to help hold them up and the T-shirt he’d given her was soft from countless washings. He’d left her some socks as well, but she’d chosen to go barefoot instead, and was enjoying the cool surface of the vinyl flooring beneath her feet as she moved about the kitchen.

  She knew she’d pushed more of Adam’s buttons and wondered what it was about him that made her do that. Normally, she wasn’t a confrontational kind of woman, except on the job, but there was something about him that made her nervous.

  Maybe after they had sex and got it out of their systems, they wouldn’t be so focused on pretending they weren’t attracted to each other.

  As she finished setting the table, she kept thinking about Miguel Garcia—wondering where the DEA was with regards to his capture and wondering what her life would be like if they never did get him. She didn’t know what she thought about spending the rest of her life looking over her shoulder, or fearing what might happen to Franklin or Adam if Garcia knew how much they’d come to mean to her.

  She set the last of the cutlery by the bowls and plates then stepped back, eyeing the table to see if there was something she’d missed. Confident that everything was in place, she glanced toward the closed door to the laundry room. Surely Adam was through feeding his cat.

  She peered out a window into the darkness, absently hoping she hadn’t aggravated him to the point of wishing she wasn’t here. Still, he was the one who’d wanted her to go with him, and she wasn’t responsible for the weather. The way she looked at it, he was the reason she’d gone, so he didn’t have anything to complain about.

  Just as she turned back toward the sink, the door to the laundry room opened.

  “Something smells good,” Adam said.

  The fact that he seemed ready to call a truce made her smile.

  “It’s just potato soup,” she said. “I hope you like it.”

  His eyes widened in delight. “You made soup?”