Cutter's Law

by Judith Rochelle

  If he thought telling Amber's story to Donna would buy him some sympathy he was singing to the wrong choir.

  "She's playing you, Morgan. And you're such a straight arrow you fell for it. Toss her ass out in the street where it belongs."

  Tate Donovan walked up and handed Donna some money. “I'd love to stay and listen to this fascinating conversation, but I have work to do. Better figure out what you're doing, Cutter, because I've got my for sure.” He grinned, clapped his hat on his head and walked out whistling.

  "If he so much as smiles at Allison he won't be doing much whistling,” Morgan growled. “Anyway, what would she want with a footloose guy like Donovan?"

  Donna leaned on her elbows and studied him. “I'd say he's got a pretty good leg up if you don't straighten things out, Mister Chief of Police. I don't care if Amber's got the Russian Mafia after her, she doesn't need to be in your house.” She straightened up. “Unless, of course, I've got this all wrong and this thing with Allison's just something to pass the time of day."

  Morgan glared. “It is definitely not just something to while away my time.” He ground his teeth. If he kept doing this he'd have no teeth left. “I made a big mistake with Amber, and that's hard for me to admit. But Allison's the real thing."

  "Then do what you have to do."

  Morgan fiddled with his keys. “What I have to do is make Allison see I couldn't live with myself if Amber was killed because of me."

  Derek Young came out from the kitchen. “Morgan, you don't even know if she really is in danger. She could just be pulling some scam for reasons of her own."

  "I've got someone checking into that right now. Listen, the reason I came by was to make sure Allie went to the ranch and not back to the city. And if you think she'll talk to me."

  "She's at the ranch,” Donna told him. “Whether or not she'll talk to you is anyone's guess. She's so hot right now you could fry eggs on her."

  Morgan sighed and slid off the stool. “Well, I have to try. Wish me luck."

  "Good luck,” Donna called after him as he walked out the door. “You'll need it."

  He climbed into the big Expedition and slammed the door. Bad enough that Amber was in his house and Allison had walked out. Now he had Tate Donovan sniffing around her like a stallion in heat. On top of that a dead body, his house had been broken into and two strangers—something unfamiliar in this tiny West Texas town—were prowling his territory.

  What next?

  Chapter Sixteen

  Luis sat on one of the double beds in the motel room and looked at the two men who sat nervously on the other. “This is a very small town. Everyone knows everyone else. A stranger is suspicious to begin with. But where do you suppose a stranger could go and not have people wonder about him?"

  They both shrugged.

  "Does this place have a restaurant?"

  They nodded in unison.

  "And does it not make sense that in a town this size, everyone would go there to eat? To gossip? To discuss the day's business?"

  Again the nods.

  "So if you went there and someone was curious about you, could you not say you were driving to San Antonio from El Paso and stopped to eat? Right?"

  Now the two men simply stared at him.

  "You mean, just go right in there and sit down?” Jorge asked at last. “Not try to hide ourselves?"

  Luis let out his breath along with a string of curses. “Where can you possibly hide in this town? You've already made so many mistakes we can't afford another one. First you failed to make sure the woman was actually here before you dumped her partner's body. You can't send a warning to someone who isn't around to receive it. Comprende?"

  "We had word she was on her way here,” Alex protested.

  "Then you make matters worse by breaking into the house of the chief of police, and putting him on alert. Are you with me so far?"

  Again they nodded in tandem.

  "Well, there's no help for it now.” Luis pulled a thin cigarillo from a pack in his shirt pocket, lit it and drew on it. He blew a thin stream of smoke into the air. “We have to confirm she's here, and in his house so we can make a plan. I don't think she'd run around in plain site, no matter how much she thinks we can't find her here, and you can't just sit in front of Morgan Cutter's house and wait to see if Amber appears."

  "We could ring the doorbell.” Jorge had a hopeful look on his face.

  "Estupido." Luis wanted to smash the man's face. “And do what, stick a gun in the woman's face with the entire neighborhood watching? No. We must scout this out and make a plan. That's why a restaurant makes such a good listening post. Or a bar. That would be even better. Yes, a local bar that draws everyone. How many can there be in a town that size? And people talk more when they're drinking. Come on. We can't waste time."

  "Si, Senor Luis,” they chorused.

  "All right. Let's take a little drive to Flyspeck or Noplace or whatever the hell the town is called."

  * * * *

  "Rider coming.” Rusty Danforth, the ranch hand John Howell had sent out with Allison, reined in his horse and stopped.

  Allison pulled up Bluebonnet and turned slightly in her saddle. She hung onto the pommel for balance, still feeling her way in this riding business. She lifted her hand to the brim of her hat, shading her eyes. “One of the other men?"

  Rusty shook his head. “Nope. Looks like the chief to me."

  Allison's heart thudded. Morgan Cutter was the last person she wanted to see right now, but there didn't seem to be anyplace she could get away from him. She sat waiting for him to reach them, forcing herself to take deep breaths and wondering if he had gotten rid of Amber so soon.

  The big bay stallion pulled up and Morgan nodded at the ranch hand. “Rusty.” He dipped his head. “Everything okay out here?"

  "Yeah, Chief, sure is. I was just riding the fence line and keeping Miss Moore company on her ride."

  "Good. She isn't familiar with the land this far out. Thanks. I'll take it from here."

  "Oh, I don't think...” Allison began, but Rusty was already urging his horse forward.

  "See you later.” And he was off cantering back toward the barn.

  "I'd say that was pretty presumptuous of you, Chief Morgan.” Allison tried to keep her voice as cool as possible.

  "I wanted to talk to you.” One corner of his mouth turned up. “Nobody wants to argue with the chief of police."

  "I thought I asked you to give me a couple of days to think about things."

  "I've already wasted too much of my life. I don't plan on wasting any more."

  "Did you come to tell me Amber's out of the house?"

  Morgan leaned over and grabbed her horse's bridle. “I don't intend to have a conversation with you on horseback."

  Allison tried to move away but Morgan's grip on the bridle held the horse in place. Her heart was clattering against her ribs and butterflies were doing the tango in her stomach. Lord, just being near this man made her weak, and that wasn't good. Not with things the way they were. “That's too bad, because that's where we are."

  "Come on. I have a place I want to show you.” He urged his horse into a trot, leading hers along beside him. “And don't fiddle with the reins, you'll give Bluebonnet a headache."

  "You're giving me a headache.” She bounced in the saddle, unfamiliar with the horse's gait. “Morgan, I don't want to do this."

  "You will."

  And then she couldn't speak, as he moved the horses into a slow canter and she could only hang on for dear life. About the time she was ready to scream for mercy, they crested a hill and emerged into a glade where a small cabin nestled among the trees. Morgan pulled the horses up, swung down from his saddle and in a smooth move lifted Allison from hers.

  "What is this place and why are we here?"

  "It's an old line shack that was here when Ryan bought the property. He fixed it up and the hands use it when they're out riding the line and want a place to get inside from the sun or t
he cold.” He took her hand and started to lead her inside.

  "Wait just a minute.” She tugged back on his hand and tried to plant her feet. “You got me all the way out here, but I'm not going inside any cabin with you."

  Because I know what will happen if I do. We can hardly be in the same room together without sexual tension exploding.

  In response he swept her up in his arms, ignoring her protests and kicking legs, strode inside, kicking the door shut behind him.

  "Let me down, right now.” Allison pounded her fists against his chest. “Let go, Morgan. Right now. Oh!"

  This last because his mouth came crushing down on hers, hot and sweet and tasting faintly of coffee. His lips molded to hers and when their pressure forced her to open her own, his tongue swept in with a silky glide, tasting and swirling. He held her tightly against him, giving her no room to maneuver while his mouth seduced hers and his tongue sent shivers through her body. He kissed her like a drowning man who never expected to draw another breath.

  When he finally lifted his head, she struggled for breath. She wanted to pull away, to make him put her down, but she wanted the touch and taste of him more. When she opened her eyes she saw his blue ones blazing into hers, his gaze holding her prisoner. Her heart stuttered and her pulses throbbed, the nearness of him overwhelming her.

  "Morgan, I..."

  "Not now. Later."

  She was powerless to object to anything, her brain turned to mush from the heat flooding through her. He set her down on the floor, his mouth fused to hers again, and his hands made quick work of her clothing. His fingers whispered against her skin, sliding against her as fabric fell away, touching and caressing until every inch of her skin felt as if it were on fire. She felt the roughened calluses on his hands as they moved over her, like tiny bristles calling each nerve to life. When he pulled her back against him, the friction of his clothing against her naked flesh sent her senses reeling. There was something totally erotic about being nude while he was still fully dressed. When he sat down in the big arm chair, draping her across his lap, she couldn't find the will to move.

  "Don't turn away from me, Allison. You want me as much as I want you. Please.” There was no mistaking the desperation in his voice. One hand gently nudged her thighs apart and stroked upward through damp curls into her cleft. “Yes. My God, you feel so good."

  She lay with her legs draped across his, her thighs parted, as he stroked through soft, trimmed curls to the damp lips with the tips of his fingers then slowly slid one into her slick channel. The moment she felt his touch inside her inner muscles clamped down on him. When his thumb moved to the tip of her clitoris, already swollen and hungry for his touch, the circular motions he made sent heat through her blood like liquid fire. Soft little moans escaped her lips.

  "That's good, isn't, sweetheart?” His voice was pleading. “Come on, let yourself feel."

  "Mm,” was all she could say, wanting more. More of his hand, more of his touch, more of what he was doing.

  She turned her face into his chest, inhaling the scent of spice and leather and horseflesh, and male. All male. When a second finger found its way into her, then a third, she pushed her hips against him, wanting even more of his intrusion, wanting the familiar stroking. Her breasts rubbed against the fabric of his shirt, the friction stiffening and hardening her sensitized nipples and shooting arrows of need straight to her womb.

  He took her mouth again and his tongue insistently explored, tracing patterns on the soft inner flesh, while his hand continued its relentless assault on her nub. He teased and tantalized it, flicking it, massaging it, inflaming the raw need that consumed her. Over and over, on and on, always holding that elusive feeling of completion just out of reach, until she was almost mindless with wanting.

  When his fingers left her wetness and his hand moved away she moaned in protest. “Morgan?” She was lost in a fog of sensuality.

  He lifted her up in both arms, and his breath was warm against her ear as he licked the outline with the tip of his tongue. “"Morgan?” She was lost in a fog somewhere.

  "Ssh, it's all right. Allison, I have to be inside you. Now."

  Then somehow she was lying on a bed and Morgan was there, his hot, naked body against hers, his mouth moving over her, suckling at her nipples, nipping the soft undersides of her breasts, his hands stroking her skin.

  He moved over her, murmuring, “Let me in, sweetheart,” as he levered himself between her thighs. When his hot shaft slid into her wet heat, her hips arched automatically to meet him, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He filled her, stretching her, and the feeling was so familiar and fulfilling she felt as if she'd come home. When he began the long, slow dance, stroking his shaft in and out of her clasping vaginal vault, she danced with him step for step. Her inner muscles clenched around him, a heated coil tightening within her.

  "More.” She was desperate, locking her ankles and trying to pull him deeper into her.

  Her body shook with frustration as he held her just beyond completion. Then he reached between them and opened her to the friction of his sliding motion. She felt the coil unwind, unwind, unwind—and snap, as he thrust hard one final time, taking them both over the edge together. She shook in his arms, the spasms rippling through her body, her tight, wet sheath clenching around him like a glove. He held her tightly as the climax shattered both of them, until at last her breathing began to slow.

  Morgan rolled to his back, taking her with him, his softening flesh still buried deep within her, his breath coming in huge, rasping sounds. His fingers wove through her hair, holding her head in place. She collapsed on his chest, feeling his heartbeat vibrate unevenly against her cheek and his abdomen move against her as he sucked in air.

  As her body recovered from its intense sensual bettering, sanity returned, and Allison pushed herself up. Slowly she let Morgan's shaft slide out of her, then rolled off the bed and began searching for her clothes.

  "Allison, come back here."

  She hopped on one foot as she struggled with her jeans. “No. I want to leave."

  "I won't let you."

  Her jaw dropped. “You won't let met? Is this more of Cutter's Law?"

  He was next to her in a flash, his hands biting into her arms with the force of his grip. “I won't let you go until we talk."

  "Talk?” She let her jeans drop and looked at him, tears of anger in her eyes. “Is Amber still at your house?” When he didn't say anything, she said, “I thought so. Then we have nothing to talk about."

  "Allie, are you just going to throw away what we've got? Walk away from it like nothing happened?"

  "What we've got?” She bit her lip. “It's like I told you back at your house. We have sex, Morgan. That's all. Just sex. You can't build a relationship on that."

  "We have more than sex, damn it, and you know it.” He kissed her roughly. “That's not sex. What we did is called making love, so don't diminish it."

  "What do you call it when we can't keep our hands off each other? When two minutes after we're alone together we're naked and in bed?"

  "I call it wonderful. And you know damn well we have a lot more going for us."

  She wrenched herself out of his grasp. “We have nothing as long as you let a woman who lied to you and nearly destroyed you emotionally play you for a fool again.” She yanked on her jeans. “So someone wants to kill her. You think I care? Let her go find some other sucker to take her in. Then have your house fumigated."

  "Allison.” Morgan reached out to her again, his hands on her shoulders. He didn't seem to care that he was standing there completely naked. “I'm asking you to trust me on this. Please."

  She pushed his hands away and pulled on her blouse. “Trust you? When you let me walk out with Amber sitting there so smug and self-satisfied? I could have killed her myself.” She brushed her hair out of her eyes and tucked it behind her ears. “I don't believe one word of her pathetic little tale, but for some reason you do. So settle it Morgan.
One way or the other. And don't think you can keep seducing me until this is taken care of."

  She stuffed her feet into her boots and stomped out of the cabin, leaving Morgan standing there, nude, the expression on his face a cross between anger, aggravation, and unhappiness. Clumsily boosting herself into Bluebonnet's saddle, she pressed her heels to the mare's flanks, hoping she didn't kill herself before she got back to the ranch.

  * * * *

  By the time Morgan got back to the police station, he was ready to kill Amber himself. He was a man who prided himself on his control, and now he was barely holding onto the raging maniac inside him. He stomped past Marcy who lifted an eyebrow but made no comment. Jace Murdock looked up from his telephone conversation, his eyes widening. The two patrolmen doing their end of shift paperwork simply stared, open-mouthed. They weren't used to seeing their chief with his clothes rumpled and his Stetson askew.

  He stormed past the main area into his office and slammed the door. Throwing his hat on top of the filing cabinet he sat behind his desk and dropped his head into his hands. Somehow his marvelous plan to seduce Allison and bring her to her senses had backfired. Oh, the sex was great. She was right about that. And it was more than sex. He was right about that. But he hadn't convinced her to cut him any slack here.

  He knew she was right. He had no business keeping Amber at the house, not after the way she'd treated him. And certainly not with the sketchy suspicious story she'd told him. But damn it! He had his own personal code of ethics and it didn't involve throwing even the vilest person to the wolves. Why couldn't Allison see that?

  He went to the door, opened it and stuck his head out. “Jace.” He roared the name like an angry lion.

  "Coming, Chief.” Jace hastily gathered the folders on his desk.

  Morgan sat back down behind his desk and scowled at his sergeant. “I hope to hell you've got something to tell me."