by Jane Jamison
Her phone beeped, signaling a text message. Although she would’ve preferred to leave her phone at home, she recognized its value as a safety precaution. If only she could get her best friend, Blue Taggert, to stop texting her.
She checked the phone, saw Blue’s cheerful face, and knew he’d sent her another sexy photo. Not of himself, of course, since Blue was most definitely not interested in impressing any woman with his fit body. He was only interested in finding Mr. Right. One Mr. Right for himself and another one for Kendra.
The photo of the hard body model made her take not only a first and second look but a third, too. She spoke out loud as she texted back. “They just don’t make guys like that in real life.”
“They do, too. I met him last night. You should’ve been with me instead of playing wilderness woman.”
She could’ve written Blue’s text herself. “I’m living the good life. Come and join me.”
The emoticon he sent was one of a round happy face snorting its derision. “Not on your life.”
“Coward.” She added a dancing kitty and a jk to let him know she was joking.
“Met Tarzan yet?”
“Tarzan = fiction. & in Africa.” Blue wouldn’t give up. Not until she was involved with at least one hunky man. “I’d choose Cheeta over him any day.”
She laughed when he texted her a pic of himself, feigning pretended shock. As much as she loved texting with her friend, she wanted alone time more. “G2G. L8ter.”
“K. Do everything I would do.”
Which meant she could do almost anything. She pushed her phone into her back pocket.
What would it be like to have a muscular, strong man who didn’t have a problem with her being a strong woman? She’d been called stubborn often enough, mostly when she didn’t see eye to eye with a man. Yet, as far as she was concerned, if a man couldn’t respect her mind as much as her body, then what good was he? Wasn’t that the whole point behind falling in love? That each person accepted the other one with all their flaws, physical and emotional? If a man didn’t love her the way she was, then screw him.
And yet, as much as she’d stick to her ideas, she couldn’t help but wish for a man.
Just one man? Is that too much to ask for?
Maybe two?
Yeah. As if that’ll ever happen.
But hopes and dreams were hard to crush. What would it be like to have more than one man?
Urgh. What’s the point of thinking about this? Why waste my time?
She sighed, determined to keep thoughts of men away even with Blue sending her hunky photos. She delved into her bag and found her camera. As an amateur photographer, she enjoyed taking shots of beautiful places. Texas might not be everyone’s idea of nature at its best, but to her, every remote location had its own kind of allure. With her camera in hand, she pulled on her backpack filled with water and other supplies and started hiking.
Nature was the only thing she could count on. Men? They were too risky.
* * * *
Wash couldn’t shake the feeling that Rusk knew more than he was saying. He didn’t like the feeling that his partner was holding information back. Partners were supposed to tell each other everything they knew about a case. Hell, they weren’t merely partners. They were best friends. They even shared a home. Although he didn’t own part of the ranch or the house, he still considered the place his as much as Rusk did. His friend had offered to sell, even give him half, but he’d always refused. He didn’t need his name on a piece of paper to know he had as much stake in Crooked Oak Ranch as Rusk did.
They’d even talked about sharing a woman. Why was Rusk willing to plan a future together, but not tell him everything he knew about a case? Still, he trusted his partner.
“I still say Zan’s wrong.” Wash had held back as long as he could, keeping quiet in the ride to the ranch. They’d packed up their sleeping bags and camping gear and then headed out on their search. They’d gone over a map of the area together and had decided that the best place for the convicts to lay low while camping out would be close to Buffalo Springs Creek.
“About letting the word out about the escapees?”
“Yeah. That and having more agents on this. I get it about wanting to find them with the stolen money, and to keep civilians from getting in the way, but why not put more agents on the case? We’re the best, but two men doesn’t seem like enough manpower.”
“It’s Zan’s decision. What’s up? Are you afraid you can’t handle the job?” joked Rusk.
He could give as good as he got. “Come on, man. You know I can. And I’m sure you’ll do your best to keep up with me.”
Rusk laughed as he led the way into the small clearing. Most of the land west of Lubbock was bare and flatter than a pancake, but there were places, especially near the creek, that had more trees and slope to the land. “Let’s set up camp here.”
“What aren’t you telling me, Rusk?” Normally his friend was a straight shooter, answering questions directly. What was it about this case that had him clamming up?
“Nothing. I’m following orders is all. Why?” Rusk looked at him dead-on, as though daring him to keep questioning him.
Sometimes it was better to come at a problem sideways instead of head-on. He decided this was one of those times. “Fuck it. Never mind.”
“Whatever.” Rusk went to work setting up the camp. “We’ll have to keep the fire out tonight, but I brought propane lanterns we can use in the tent.”
“Sounds good,” answered Wash, even as his mind spiraled with questions.
Since coming to live with Rusk, he’d noticed things about his friend that were different. He’d let them slide, not wanting to cause a problem. After all, everyone had a few quirks. Even when he’d seen his friend coming back to the house barefoot in the early morning hours, he’d left it alone. Did Rusk have a girlfriend he didn’t want Wash to know about? Maybe a boyfriend? If so, Rusk was bi-sexual because they’d shared enough women to know he liked being with the ladies. He just didn’t understand why Rusk would keep it a secret.
Wash wouldn’t have judged his friend if he’d admitted to being bi-sexual. Or gay. Or hell, anything else. Being bi-racial had taught him what intolerance felt like. It hadn’t been as bad in Detroit, but living in Texas, he’d come across a lot more intolerant people. Being Caucasian was the best thing to be in Texas. Being as obviously bi-racial as he was meant hearing all kinds of stupid shit from ignorant folks. After catching the brunt of racism most of his life, he’d learned to look past not only the color of another person but to treat them with respect. No matter what.
Understanding, however, didn’t mean that he didn’t wonder about the other strange things about his friend. The first time he’d seen his friend’s eyes flash with bits of amber he’d figured he’d had one too many beers and had imagined it. But then he’d seen it a few more times. Each time he had, Rusk had either been turned on or pissed off. Not good times to ask him anything.
Then there were the growls. He’d awakened Rusk one morning, hard and fast. Rusk had sat up, his eyes blazing with amber and his lips drawn back in what could only have been called a snarl. But those things had been nothing compared to the growl rumbling out of Rusk. Wash had heard that kind of sound once before when he’d gotten up close and personal with a mountain lion. At the time, if they hadn’t been called in on an emergency, he might’ve insisted Rusk explain. As it was, the moment had passed and he’d had to let it go. He hadn’t heard Rusk growl since.
Besides, whatever was going on with his best friend and partner was his business. Still, it stung for Rusk not to trust him enough to let him in on it.
Being old pros at setting up a camp, they were done before Wash had time to stop wondering. “How about we check things out?”
Rusk picked up his rifle and tucked his Glock into his side holster. “Gotta keep a low profile around here. It’s not like there’s many places to hide.”
“As far as anyone else is concerned,
we’re just another couple of hunters camping out.”
“Damn straight.” Rusk pulled his cowboy hat on his head. “Maybe we should’ve brought horses. We could’ve covered more ground.”
“Probably, but horses are even harder to hide than we are.” Wash had become as good a rider as Rusk, but he still preferred to be in a pickup or on his own two feet. Rusk, too, had admitted to preferring to walk, saying he trusted his own animal more than another one. It was just another one of those times when Wash had wondered exactly what his friend had meant.
They took off, keeping side by side, their gazes sliding back and forth over the horizon. As open as the land was, a man could wind up stepping on top of a snake or in a face-to-face confrontation with a coyote or cougar. Coming up on a convict the same way would be even worse.
By unspoken agreement, they stopped talking. Wash walked carefully, watching for any snakes or other predators that might be lurking under foot. Rusk moved more gracefully than he did, as though he’d been born to the land. At times, the way Rusk moved, picking up his feet and putting them down carefully, reminded Wash of a house cat he’d had as a child.
He forced his mind away from his partner. Hell, if he didn’t stop, he’d start thinking he was physically attracted to Rusk. They liked to share their women, but their “swords” had never crossed, and he wasn’t about to let it start happening now. No offense to homosexuals, but he just wasn’t into guys.
“Hey, check it out.”
Wash came up short, suddenly aware that he’d let his mind wander again and hadn’t been paying enough attention to his surroundings. They’d made it down to the creek where he’d expected to see anything from water moccasins to deer drinking from the cool pool. If they’d gotten lucky, they might’ve found the convicts along with the cash.
Luck, however, was a tricky thing.
They’d gotten lucky, but not in the way he’d hoped.
“Who the hell is that?” he muttered, not really asking.
The woman was drop-dead smokin’ hot. She was taller than the average woman, putting her at around five feet, eight inches in height. Her red hair curled around her face and played around her shoulders. He didn’t know much about women’s hair color, but he would’ve bet her color didn’t come from any bottle. It was just too rich with a red that only nature could produce. She bent over, fiddling with something in a backpack and giving them a great view of her apple-round bottom. Although not anywhere near plump, her toned body was still curvy with enough meat for a man to get a good grip.
All at once, he needed to see her eyes. “Come on.”
Chapter Two
Kendra sensed them before she turned around and saw them. Her breath hitched in her throat. She felt her pulse pick up speed. A ringing in her ears accompanied a moment of dizziness.
The two men stared at her as she stared back. If the taller one, the man with the softest yet most intense brown eyes she’d ever seen hadn’t spoken, they might’ve stayed that way for several more minutes.
“Hey there.”
His voice stabbed its way inside her, whipping around to pull at her gut. When had a voice ever sounded so sexy? She barely managed to answer. “Hi.”
They were alike and yet so different. The tall one with the great voice wasn’t as handsome as the other one, yet he had an essence about him that drew her in and held her in an invisible grasp. He was lean, yet his narrow waist, highlighted by a silver buckle, led the way to wide shoulders. The shade of his hat shadowed half of his face, and although most of his hair was hidden under the hat, she saw enough to know his hair was a thick brown she’d love to run her fingers through. His expression was serene, as though he was comfortable and in his element. He was dressed like his friend in worn jeans, scuffed boots, and a simple cotton shirt rolled up to his elbows. A rifle lay cradled in his arm.
She shifted her attention to the other man. He was of mixed races, giving his skin a creamy, unblemished look she envied. His jaw was square, and his cheekbones high, turning what might have been an average face into a spectacular one. She had no doubt he had dozens of women dropping at his feet, begging him to take them into his bed. His black hair was longer than his friend’s and curled around the nape of his neck. He stood, feet apart, like the other man. Although he, too, exuded confidence, he didn’t seem as comfortable as his friend. His brilliant, startling ocean-blue eyes sparkled with curiosity. If an artist had been asked to blend a better color scheme for a human, he would’ve failed.
“Name’s Wash Timberton, and this is my friend Rusk Fortran.”
“I’m Kendra Johnson.”
She wasn’t sure she’d spoken loud enough for them to hear. Wash narrowed his eyes and leaned forward as though straining to hear.
Rusk, however, widened his smile. “Kendra Johnson, it’s good to meet you.” His gaze slipped from hers and skimmed her campground. “Are you alone?”
His question should’ve put her on quick alert. She was good at listening to her instincts, and while her head was telling her the question didn’t sound right, her body was telling her everything was perfect. “Yes. Why?”
“You don’t have a man around?” asked Wash.
“No, I don’t. I’m very used to being on my own.” The men glanced at each other, concern dominating their expressions. She smiled, trying to put them at ease. “It’s okay. I teach survival techniques, so I know what I’m doing. Besides, it’s not like I’m out in the middle of the jungle by my little ole lonesome. I have a phone, and my car’s not too far away.” She’d left it parked off the side of the road and hiked to the creek.
“Still, a woman by herself?” Rusk shook his head slowly. “You’re just asking for trouble. You need to pack up and head on home.”
How many times had a man tried to tell her what to do? She’d learned to not take it the wrong way. At least, not unless he pushed her. “Rusk, I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine. Are you two okay?”
She adopted a worried expression to match theirs. She could play the game, too.
“It’s not the same.” Wash checked around them. Was he looking for someone?
“Trust me. I know what I’m doing.” Something about the way they kept glancing at each other was beginning to wear on her nerves. “Is there a reason I need to be careful? More than usual, I mean?”
She was certain Wash was about to tell her when Rusk stepped ahead of his friend, effectively cutting him off. “No. Other than all the things in the wild that wouldn’t think twice about hurting a pretty woman like you.”
He thinks I’m pretty. Or is he only flattering me so I’ll do what he wants?
“Again, I know what I’m doing.”
She should’ve been even more irritated than she was. And yet, the closer Rusk came, the more she wanted to convince him that she was fine. Fine and ready to do the horizontal dance with him. The pull, the incredibly strong attraction she felt toward Rusk, extended to Wash, too, as though the three of them had gotten trapped in a cocoon of sexual awareness.
I want to fuck both of them.
The thought hit her hard and fast, making her waver on her feet.
“Are you okay?” asked Rusk.
Yes. No. “I’m fine.”
“Look, Kendra, I just don’t want to see you hurt.”
What wasn’t Wash telling her? “Is there a reason you’re afraid for my safety? Is anything going on that I should know about?”
“Wash,” warned Rusk.
She studied Rusk who pretended ignorance. “That would be a yes. Tell me.”
“It’s just not safe for a woman to be all alone out in the middle of nowhere.”
How could she want to slap Rusk and fuck him all at the same time? Then again, maybe slapping him while fucking him would be fun. “I think we’re going to have to agree to disagree.”
She moved closer. Part of her was aware of what she was doing and protested, her mind telling her she was acting crazy. Another part of her, the part that had been locked up f
or so many years, pushed her to do whatever her body wanted to do.
“We’ll help you pack up your camp and carry your gear back to your car.”
She moved even closer. “No thanks. I’d never take a couple of strangers to my car. That wouldn’t be safe, now would it?”
They were turned on. She could see it in their eyes. She could see it in the clench of their jaws. She could even feel the sexual tension rolling off their bodies.
“Look, Kendra. I can see you’re not the type who likes taking orders from men, but you need to trust us on this.”
Wash was telling her to go, but his gaze sliding up and down her body, taking in every inch of her in, was saying the exact opposite. Rusk was just as blatant in his appraisal of her. Amber bits flared in the chocolate of his eyes, drawing her to him more.
Heat flared in her, heat she’d never experience. Want wasn’t a strong enough emotion to describe how she felt. Yearning, craving, passion all came up short.
They were like the air she needed to breathe. They were the ground she walked on and the sky she prayed to every night. They were all she’d ever need.
She knew it with a certainty stronger than anything she’d ever believed.
Their chests rose and fell faster as they planted their feet and studied her. Were they planning on fighting her? Of forcing her to leave whether she liked it or not? Or was it a different kind of fight they had planned? A sexual fight where they’d all come out winners? She hoped so.
“I’m not going anywhere, guys. You may as well get over it.”
“Damn it, woman. Listen to reason.”
She grinned, almost laughing. “Woman? Really, Wash? Is that what you call all of us? Or do you call us girls? How about gals? Or bitches? Do you really think I’m going to obey you if you order me around like some caveman?”
“Kendra, stop.”
Rusk’s voice was so low, yet so powerful, that she had no choice but to give him all her attention. “Stop what?”
