Lover in the Rough

by Elizabeth Lowell

  A series of long, deep breaths helped slow her pulse to a more reasonable rate. Her body responded by falling into the poised readiness that immediately preceded her workouts. There were no uneven bars waiting to test her this time, no “horse,” no balance beam, but the ingrained discipline of gymnastics asserted itself, calming her.

  Five minutes.

  Reba watched the mine entrance in the rearview mirror, forcing herself not to think of anything but the seconds ticking away in her head, time sliced into small, unmoving segments.

  Eight minutes.

  Nothing moved at the China Queen’s entrance. The hole looked very black against the jumble of granite boulders that were strewn halfway across the steep ridge. The thought occurred to her that it might be interesting to climb the boulders, jumping from one to the other like a child playing hopscotch. . . .

  Where was Chance? Was he hurt?

  Reba refused to follow that line of thought. She took another slow breath and looked at her watch. Ten minutes, fifty-three seconds.

  Eleven.

  As she looked up from her watch she saw a dusty four-wheel-drive van with oversized off-road tires crawl around the shoulder of the mountain, coming right for her. The van skidded to a stop just a few feet from the Toyota’s front bumper, blocking off the narrow road. She slammed her fist on the Toyota’s horn three times, hard and fast, hoping Chance would hear and understand that the odds had just changed. Then she yanked the key out of the ignition and ran for the boulder pile, ignoring the two men piling out of the van, yelling at her to stop.

  The first boulder was nearly four feet high. She gained the top of it in a single clean leap, as though mounting a balance beam. There was an instant’s pause while her trained eye assessed distances and angles, then she leaped again, changing direction as she moved, as quick and sure as a cat. Before the men following her reached the bottom of the boulders, she was thirty yards up the hill and increasing her lead with every clean movement of her body.

  A few instants after she dropped out of sight into a hole between boulders, she heard the alien thunder of a shotgun, the chilling sound of another shell being pumped into place and Chance’s voice.

  “That’s the only warning you get,” he said, his tone flat, final. “You two in the rocks. Get over here. Now.”

  Reba eased closer to the ring of huge rocks that concealed her from the men below. By peering through a narrow opening between two boulders, she had a clear view down to the mine entrance below. She expected to see Chance and the two men who had chased her. What she saw was Chance and five men. The three closest to Chance had their hands behind their necks, fingers interlaced. One of the men was bleeding from a cut lip. Another looked as though he had been shoved head first into a gravel pile. The third one limped.

  The two men who had run after Reba were slowly covering the fifteen feet that separated them from their friends, forcing Chance to divide his attention among the five men. The men from the mine looked at each other and silently shifted their positions, spreading out. Suddenly the man who was limping turned and dove to the ground, flailing wildly with his arms and legs, trying to knock Chance’s feet out from under him. At the same instant, the other two men from the mine jumped Chance.

  Chance kicked the man on the ground with stunning force, taking him out of the fight between one second and the next. The shotgun barrel flashed in the sun as Chance slammed the weapon into the second attacker. The man folded over and fell limply, all fight gone. Chance pivoted and lashed out in a high karate kick that sent the third attacker flying backwards into the dirt, unconscious before he hit the ground. Instantly Chance spun to face the remaining two men, shotgun poised, ready.

  Chance’s speed was as shocking as his deadly skill. The two men who had chased Reba froze in place. Chance took a quick look, saw the empty Toyota and glided toward the two men with a predatory grace that was as chilling as his voice.

  “Where is she?” asked Chance, watching both men equally.

  “Who?” said one of the men.

  Chance flattened him with a casual openhanded blow. As the man sprawled onto his back, Chance put the shotgun’s cold muzzle against the man’s throat.

  “Where is my woman?” asked Chance quietly, his finger taking up slack on the trigger as he spoke.

  “Chrissake!” choked the man. “Last time I saw her she was halfway to Mexico! Might as well try to run down a damned deer!”

  Chance stepped back and swung the shotgun to cover both men again. “Reba!” he shouted, never looking away from the men. “Can you hear me?”

  “Yes,” answered Reba from her hiding place deep within the rocks.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “No,” she said, trying to be as calm as Chance was. Even so, her voice sounded like it belonged to someone else, tight and harsh. “I’m fine. They never got close to me.”

  Some of the deadly tension went out of Chance. “Stay where you are until I tell you to come down.”

  The man Chance had hit with the shotgun groaned and started to get to his feet.

  Chance looked over at him. “Stay there.”

  The man rolled onto his side and hunched over, his diaphragm still knotted by the blow from Chance’s shotgun barrel.

  “On your face, legs spread,” said Chance curtly to the only man who was still standing. Quickly Chance went over the two men from the van, searching for weapons. He found a rusty pocket knife, a wad of money and a roll of nickels. He stuffed it all back into the men’s pockets. “Don’t move.”

  The pickup was only a few feet away. Chance opened the cab door, slid in and checked for weapons without looking away from the five men stretched out on the ground. He found a sawed-off shotgun under the front seat and a pistol in the glove compartment. The van yielded another shotgun and the keys to the ignition. Chance put the extra weapons in the Toyota and walked back to the two men who had chased Reba.

  “Get up.”

  The men scrambled to their feet.

  “Throw that trash in the back of the truck,” said Chance, gesturing with his thumb toward the three men.

  When they were finished, Chance threw the Jeep keys at one of the men. “Get in the Jeep and sit.”

  The man got in the Jeep and sat.

  Chance fired the van keys toward the remaining man. “Come back any time you feel lucky,” drawled Chance.

  The man tried to meet Chance’s eyes, then gave up and scrambled for the van.

  Chance watched as the van backed around the curve and up the slope away from the mine. The Jeep inched around the Toyota, following the van. When Chance could no longer hear either engine, he put the shotgun’s safety on, went to the base of the boulders, and called to Reba.

  “You can come down now.”

  Reba leaned against the boulders that had concealed her. “I can’t,” she said, her voice trembling so much that the words were almost impossible to understand.

  “What?” Chance swore and came up the boulders with the speed and power of a big cat. “Where are you!”

  “Here,” she said, trying to steady herself on a rough granite boulder.

  Chance couldn’t see Reba until he stood on top of the ragged ring of boulders that surrounded her. He dropped down beside her, his face grim, his expression haunted. “I should have killed those bastards,” he said harshly, grabbing her as her knees gave way, “but you said you weren’t hurt—”

  “I’m not,” she said, laughing brokenly. “Just scared!”

  His arms closed around her, supporting her. He held her and murmured words of comfort against her hair.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, after a moment, her voice breaking. “I feel like such a fool.”

  “You warned me, grabbed the keys, and ran to the best cover around,” he said, rubbing his fingers through her hair, seeking the warm scalp beneath. “There’s nothing foolish about that.”

  “But I’m shaking so hard I can’t even stand up!”

  “Enough adrenaline will
do that to you every time,” said Chance, tilting her chin up and smiling gently at her. “You didn’t let down until the crisis was past. That’s all that matters, chaton.”

  “You’re so damned c-calm,” Reba said, trying to take a steady breath.

  “I’ve had more practice at this sort of thing.”

  She remembered his speed and deadly skill, three men down in a few seconds and Chance standing, shotgun ready, waiting for the other two men to move. With a deep sigh she stopped fighting her reaction and leaned against Chance. His arms cradled her in a strong, supportive hug. Even when he felt the last of her trembling fade he didn’t release her, simply stood with his eyes closed and his face buried in the honey fragrance of her hair.

  “I’m all right now,” she said finally, stirring in his arms as her strength returned.

  “Sure?” he said against her ear.

  She shivered, but not from fear. His moustache was like a silk brush on her sensitive skin. “Yes.”

  “You’re still shaking.” Chance looked down into her wide, cinnamon eyes. “Do you want me to take you back to the city?”

  “Will—will those men be back?”

  “It’s possible, but not bloody likely. I’m more trouble to them than the China Queen is worth.”

  “Were they digging for tourmaline?”

  “No. They were using the mine as a stash.”

  Reba blinked. “Drugs?”

  “Acapulco Gold,” he said dryly. “High-class grass.”

  “In the Queen?” asked Reba, her voice rising. “Then they’ll be back!”

  “Doubt it. Someone poured gasoline on their Gold and burned it to hell and gone.”

  “Who?”

  He hesitated. “They didn’t say.” Before she could ask any other questions, Chance kissed her, savoring her lips as though they were a rare wine. “Do you want to go back?” he asked in a husky voice.

  “I want to see the Queen,” said Reba, telling half the truth. The other half was as simple and powerful as the man holding her. She didn’t want to leave him.

  Chance looked up at the sky. Thick gold light slanted down. “No Queen tonight. As soon as the last of the adrenaline wears off, you’ll be dead on your feet for a while. I want to have camp set up by then.” After a last, quick kiss, he released her. He picked up the shotgun, ejected the shell from the firing chamber and reset the safety. “Here,” he said, handing her the shotgun.

  She made a sound of protest.

  “Looks like it’s back to the city after all,” he said quietly.

  Reba took a deep breath and accepted the shotgun with obvious reluctance. The weapon was unreasonably heavy, despite the fact that it balanced easily in her hands.

  “Keep the barrel pointed at the ground,” Chance said, then turned and sprang up to the top of the nearest boulder. He smiled down at the woman standing inside the small, ragged circle surrounded by boulders like a cinnamon diamond set among baroque pearls. “Chaton,” he said softly. “Have I told you how beautiful you are?”

  Her breath caught as she smiled up at him, knowing she wasn’t beautiful but fiercely glad he thought she was.

  “Hand me the shotgun,” he said, watching her with eyes that were more green than silver, a smile transforming the hard lines of his face.

  She stood on tiptoe and handed him the gun, careful to keep the barrel pointed away from both of them.

  “You did that like a pro,” he said approvingly. He propped the gun in a crevice. “Hold onto my wrists,” he said, clamping his hands around her wrists as an example. “Walk up the rock as I lift. Ready?”

  “Yes.”

  Chance took Reba’s weight with an ease that startled her. She barely had time to take two flying steps up the face of the rock before she was held securely in his arms again. He looked over her head at the boulder field falling broken and jumbled all the way down to the China Queen’s black mouth.

  “How the hell did you get up here so fast?” he asked, measuring the height of the boulders at the base of the hill.

  “One step at a time,” she said wryly.

  “Some steps. Those are big rocks, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  “Oh, I did,” she assured him. “But most of them aren’t much higher than my balance beam at home.”

  “Balance beam?”

  “As in gymnastics,” she said helpfully.

  Chance raised one black eyebrow. “No wonder you feel so good,” he said, running his hands over Reba’s arms and back with a sensual approval that made her breath stop. He laughed softly. “I’d like to see you on the balance beam some day. In fact, there’s a lot of ways I’d like to see you.”

  “I don’t think I’ll ask for a list,” she said, smiling slightly.

  “Afraid of being shocked?” he asked, half teasing and more than a little serious. Before she could answer he picked up the shotgun, leaped lightly onto another boulder and turned, waiting for her to follow.

  Reba’s legs were still a bit wobbly, but it was only a short jump. As she landed, Chance braced her with his free hand.

  “Okay?” he asked, sensing her uncertainty.

  “I’d rather have wings.”

  “One set of wings coming right up. Wait here.”

  Chance went down the rocks with a lithe power that Reba envied. He propped the shotgun against a boulder and came back to where Reba waited. He guided her back down, choosing the easiest route, never letting go of her and yet somehow managing not to get in her way. She found that her legs got stronger as she worked her way down the boulder heap.

  “Last one,” said Chance.

  He landed lightly on the ground and turned to hold out his arms to Reba. He swung her off the top of the boulder, then drew her slowly to his chest. She saw his smiling lips come closer, his shoulders dark and powerful against the sky, and then his warmth surrounded her, filling her world. Her hands slid up his arms until she could bury her fingers in his thick black hair.

  “You’re not afraid anymore?” he asked, kissing her cheek and eyes and forehead, quick touches that made her fingers tighten in his hair.

  “No,” she whispered. “Not when you hold me.”

  He chuckled softly, a sound more like a rough-edged purr than laughter. “Then I’ll just have to keep holding you, won’t I?”

  Reba’s arms tightened momentarily. She smiled up at him almost shyly. In the aftermath of fear she was unsure of herself, wholly vulnerable, totally responsive to his least touch. She felt sixteen again, her heart racing when her secret boyfriend walked her to English class and handed over her books with a smile.

  “If you look at me like that much longer,” said Chance in a husky voice, “I’m going to take advantage of your unraveled nerves and make love to you.”

  Reba looked away from his silver-green eyes. “I—Chance, I didn’t promise that—”

  He kissed her forehead and released her. “I know. You brought a prospector to see your mine, not a lover to warm your silky little body.” He smiled crookedly. “Don’t worry. I won’t chase you into the rocks, even though you’d very much enjoy being caught by me. We both would.”

  She stared at him, fascinated by the sensual promise burning in his eyes. She wanted to explore that promise, yet she was afraid. It was that simple, and that unnerving. He was a man who came and went through people’s lives, never staying long. A man who prospected the wild places of the world alone. If she gave herself to him he would break her heart. Her mind knew that, but her emotions reached out to him with a hunger that frightened her. She was vulnerable, and he was the Tiger God, carved in stone, invulnerable.

  Silently she watched as he unloaded the Toyota and set up camp with an economy of motion that made her feel as though she had three left feet. She was amazed at what Chance accomplished in a short time. Within minutes, camp was all but complete. Firewood was stacked neatly, a metal grill was balanced across the circle of rocks that contained the fire, and the fire itself was dancing cheerfully beneath the grate.
Supplies had been brought out of the Toyota and put near the fire. Sleeping bags were stacked to one side, waiting to be unrolled.

  “It’s not going to rain,” said Chance, coming up behind her so silently that she gasped, “but I’ll set up a pup tent for you if you like.”

  “Are you using one?”

  He smiled slightly and shook his head. “More trouble than they’re worth, unless the weather is bad.”

  “No tent for me,” she said, looking up at the cloudless sky.

  The sun had gone behind the rugged hills. Shadows flowed out of the land, creating a false twilight that would last until the sun fell silently into the distant sea, taking color and light, leaving shades of darkness behind.

  Chance appeared at Reba’s side again, holding the shotgun. He unloaded the magazine, checked the chamber to make sure it was empty, then closed the gun and handed it to her. After a brief hesitation, she took it. Under his calm directions she put the safety on and off, worked the pump that would load shells into the firing chamber, opened and closed the gun to check that the chamber was empty and squeezed the trigger.

  “Don’t try to hold it at your shoulder when you shoot,” Chance said, showing her how to brace the shotgun alongside her hip. “With a barrel this short, accuracy isn’t possible. Self-defense is, though. If you use this, be close to your target. Hold the gun along your hip and squeeze the trigger. Good.”

  He made her go through the motions until she became more comfortable with the shotgun. Then he loaded the magazine again, set the safety and propped the gun against a carton of food. “If you grab the shotgun and you’re not sure whether there’s a round in place, just work the pump. It’s better to waste a shell and be sure than pull the trigger and have nothing happen. Sometimes you don’t get a second chance.”

  Chance turned away and resumed laying out supplies for dinner. He set out plates on a ground cloth. Next to them he put sturdy cups, forks and knives so sharp that their cutting edges glittered.

  “Can I do something?” Reba asked finally, watching him choose a place for their sleeping bags.