by D'Ann Lindun
Jake Breton woke up alone, his heart pounding.
For a minute, he couldn’t breathe. He was afraid he’d been left for dead. His heartbeat slowed as he looked around. Not a dark, stench-filled alley. He wasn’t lying in a pool of his own blood, just undressed and in a warm, soft bed. A quilt lay under him, and he absently stroked the worn material. Not St. Francis Hospital. No strong antiseptic smells, no beeps from machines. And no hovering nuns.
His breathing eased back to normal.
He turned his head. The skin on his neck cried in protest.
Just a lone dresser and plain, log walls. The floors were hardwood, polished until they gleamed. A long runner that matched the quilt lay by the bed. Nice place. Bare, though. Nothing like his apartment back in Phoenix with its leather couches and modern art.
He shifted a fraction of an inch, and when his blistered arm slid across the quilted fabric, a moan slipped from his throat. How far had he walked? Miles. Why the hell had somebody trashed his camp? Nobody up here had any way to know he was FBI.
After setting camp early this morning, he’d hiked out to the place where Bureau of Land Management agents Stevenson and Wright had been shot in cold blood. When he came back late in the afternoon, he’d found his tent torn down and his supplies strewn about. At first, he thought a bear might’ve done the damage. But when he saw his slashed tires, he knew it had been a human attack. Worst of all, the culprits poured all his water on the ground. With no cell service in the forest, he’d had no choice but to walk for help.
Damn it, anyway.
He rubbed the puckered scar on his shoulder.
If Jake called his boss in Phoenix and told him he’d been taken by surprise, he might as well hang up his badge now. He’d screwed up a simple arrest. The first job he’d been trusted with since the shooting.
He thought about the woman who picked him up from the middle of the road when he was almost unconscious. Her long brown hair looked like a burning fire as she bent over him silhouetted in the dying sun. He remembered the way her breasts pressed into his back when she helped him into her truck.
Too bad he hadn’t been awake when she undressed him.
He closed his eyes at the wave of regret that flooded him. He couldn’t get close to her. Making a mistake like that before had nearly cost him his career, his life.
A light tap sounded on the door and his rescuer stuck her head in. “Are you awake? Hungry?”
Jake shook his head, wincing. “Not much.”
“I have Jell-O salad and a slice of watermelon. It might cool you down a bit.” She stepped inside, and now that he felt a little more human, he studied her as she placed the food on the dresser. All leg in worn Levi’s, long walnut-brown hair, hazel eyes. A knockout in a plain white T-shirt and figure hugging jeans.
She placed a gentle hand on his forehead. He closed his eyes, liking the way her palm soothed his feverish skin. Her unique scent mixed leather and something flowery. A nice combination.
“I think your temperature is going down, but I’ll get a thermometer just to make sure. Be back in a jiffy.” She shut the door behind her.
When she returned, she held a tray with a glass of iced tea and a bottle of aspirin. She brushed his forehead with her soft palm again. “I couldn’t find the thermometer, but I think you’re better. A lukewarm shower would do you a lot of good.”
His temperature shot straight back up when she touched him.
“I still think you need a doctor,” she said.
“It’s not as bad as it looks.”
She handed him a washcloth and turned to the food on the dresser.
He took the cloth from her, glancing to see if she wore a wedding ring. She didn’t. A bare ring finger didn’t mean anything though. “Thanks again. For everything. You didn’t mention your last name.”
She hesitated. “Does it matter?”
“Just curious.” He hoped he sounded casual. “You saved my life after all. I’d like to know whom I’m in debt to.”
She turned toward him and lifted her chin defiantly. “My name is Castaña Castillo.”
Martin’s sister?
Jake hoped his amazement didn’t show. Was she as radical as her brother? If so, she most likely would’ve run him over in the road instead of picking him up and taking him home like a stray animal. If she knew he was here to find and arrest Martin for the murder of two BLM agents, she’d probably throw him out on his sunburned ear.
“You haven’t told me your last name either,” she reminded him.
He spit out the first name that came to mind. “Brown.”
Did disbelief flicker in her eyes? “Nice to meet you, Jake Brown. So, you were camping?”
“Yeah, for a few days. I went fishing, and when I came back, my camp had been trashed
and my truck tires slashed.”
“That’s terrible.” Something unreadable flashed across her face and he studied her, trying to figure her out. She had helped him. How close was she to her brother’s activities? Close enough to cover up a double homicide?
“Yeah, who would’ve thought I’d get mugged in the forest,” he said. “I need to get hold of Triple A and have them get my truck.” How the hell was he going to accomplish his arrest? Call his boss in Phoenix and tell him he’d screwed up again? Send a posse. Jake Breton was incapable of accomplishing the easiest task. This was his only chance to redeem himself, and he’d already messed up.
“You’re in no condition to travel tonight. I’ll take you into town in the morning because I need to see the sheriff myself.” She studied him for a minute. “I don’t think you’re going to try anything. But, just so you know, there’s no silver to steal. And I’m not alone. Mar — my brother’s girlfriend is here.”
Jake put a big spoonful of cold watermelon into his mouth to hide his surprise. Martin’s girlfriend? Why hadn’t he realized there might be a woman in Castillo’s life? Had the sun addled his brain? In all the reports he’d read there was very little mention of the Castillo women. Apparently, the women hadn’t joined in the family crimes. Was the sister a good enough actress she didn’t know her brother was wanted for shooting two BLM men? Or that when the local sheriff came to take Martin in for questioning, he went missing? “So, where’s your brother?”
“Not a clue.” Her full lips trembled and she pinched them together. Jake’s cynical heart softened a fraction as he watched her obvious distress. “Someone — his girlfriend, I think — called and said Martin’s horses were going hungry. There’s no way he’d neglect his animals. He loves them more than anything. So I came running.”
“What does this girlfriend say?”
She frowned. “I don’t know. I can’t get anything out of her.”
Jake set down his spoon, appetite gone. His free hand went to his shoulder like a ship to a beacon. She sounded so sincere Jake wanted to believe her. But he’d been fooled before. A pretty face and big, soft eyes could go a long ways toward tricking a man.
He’d not make the mistake of trusting too easily ever again.
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Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
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