Maverick Christmas

by Joanna Wayne

  He was the sheriff. He should have turned Chrysie in to the Houston Police Department himself. Now here he was ready to do anything necessary to keep her from turning herself in.

  Chrysie put her hand on his arm. “I appreciate what you’ve done, Josh, but I’ve made my decision.”

  And he’d made his. He wrapped his fingers around her arms and held her at arm’s length, facing him. “I can’t let you do this, Chrysie—or should I call you Cassandra now?”

  “No, the name change would only confuse Jenny and Mandy more.”

  She tried to walk away from him. His grip tightened. “Listen to me. I know damn well that the buddies I talked with didn’t do anything to alert the killers that you were here. But someone did. And the only other person it could have been was Detective Hernandez or someone he told that I’d called.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You surely don’t think the men who killed Jonathan and shot Cougar were cops?”

  “I don’t know what to think, but I can assure you stranger things have happened. Wearing a badge doesn’t guarantee morality.”

  She shuddered, and he pulled her into his arms and buried his face in her sweet-smelling hair.

  “They know I’m here,” she whispered. “They’ll come back.”

  “Let them. We won’t be anywhere around.” He lifted her chin so that he could look into her eyes. Her fear was right there, transparent, heart-wrenching. “As soon as the storm is over, we’re flying to New Orleans,” he assured her. “I’ve already talked to my brother, Logan. He and his wife will take you and all four of the children and make sure you stay safe.”

  “Did you tell him—”

  Josh interrupted her with a finger to her lips. “I told Logan everything. I’m entrusting him with the safety of you and the children. I owed him the truth.”

  “But the police know I’m with you. If they are behind this, they may check out your family if I don’t show up in Houston and they don’t find me here.”

  “You’re starting to think like a cop.”

  “That’s a sickening thought.”

  “Not necessarily. Most of us toe the line. We may waver occasionally, but we don’t jump sides.”

  “What if the killers go to your brother?”

  “He’s chartering a plane and planning a secret vacation until this thing is settled and the thugs are behind bars. And don’t worry—on the off chance the killers should find him, he’ll have enough body guards to ensure everyone’s safety, the way I should have ensured yours.”

  “I have some money,” she said, “but I don’t know if I have enough to cover all of that.”

  “Money isn’t an issue.” Funny thing about money. It never meant a thing to him until he needed it. He tugged her to the bed, dropped down to the edge and pulled her down beside him. “Now that you’re about to be tossed into the McCain clan, there are probably a few things I should tell you about myself—and my family.”

  EVERY MUSCLE IN Chrysie’s body ached from the wild ride on the snowmobile. The fear was so real it permeated her very being. Her head was so stopped up she could barely breathe in spite of the nose spray she’d been overdosing on all evening, and her throat felt as if it had been scratched with a rusty nail.

  All that, and still she listened with rapt attention as Josh described his life as the oldest and very rebellious son of one of the richest men in New Orleans.

  “Dad and I never agreed on anything,” Josh said. “He was all about money and power. I was convinced he was pompous and greedy and I wanted no part of the life he had planned for me.”

  “What did you want to be?”

  “A cop, right from the first time I caught an old Dirty Harry movie on TV.”

  “And he protested?”

  “Oh, he did more than protest. He paid off the right people and saw to it that I failed my physical though I was in great shape. He thought that would push me into the family business.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Flunked out of college and got in with the wrong crowd. I hung out in bars, partied with young coeds, generally made a mess of my life in the guise of punishing him.”

  “How did your mother feel about that?”

  “It just about killed her. I hate that now, but then I was too into my own self-destruction to care much about anybody else. I’m not trying to condone my actions. I’m just telling you the way it was. It kind of explains me, I guess.”

  Josh McCain had been an enigma since the moment they’d met. This didn’t explain him, but it helped her see his fierce determination to go at this his way and his willingness to take a chance on her instead of turning her in immediately.

  “I saw men younger than me lose their life to drugs,” Josh continued. “And the dealers were never satisfied. They kept going after younger and younger kids, getting them hooked, ruining their lives. I’d finally had enough. I went to the narcs and told them I’d deliver the biggest dealers in the area to them as long as we did it on my terms.”

  “You squealed on drug dealers?”

  “I went further than that. I helped set up the sting.”

  “I can’t believe the dealers let you live.”

  “They didn’t. I was killed by police fire in the shoot-out that accompanied the operation. I was pronounced dead, and Josh McCain was buried in a closed casket.”

  No wonder he’d picked up on her being on the run so quickly. He’d been on the run himself, right down to the alias. But he hadn’t had two children with him at the time. Apparently they’d come later. And he had a brother he could count on. “Your family must have known you weren’t really dead.”

  “Not then. Fake grief is too easy to see through, and I couldn’t take a chance that they’d give me away. It was tough not telling Logan or Mom, but I think I got some kind of sick satisfaction for having my father think I was dead. I’m not happy about those feelings, but the enmity between us had run too deep.”

  “Did you go into witness protection?”

  “I was offered protective custody. I turned them down, figured I’d do better on my own. So I ended up here in Montana as Josh Morgan. I worked for a while, then used some of the money I’d managed to smuggle out with me and bought this ranch.”

  “Where do Danny and Davy fit into all of this?”

  “That’s another story, a long story, for a better day. In fact, I should let my brother’s wife tell you about them. Rachel and Logan are the reason they’re alive and with me today. Believe me when I say you and our four children could not be in better hands than theirs.”

  She’d love to know the rest of the story, but her mind was teeming now with all the things that had happened today and all she’d heard tonight. It was a marvel that she’d ended up in Aohkii, a miracle that she’d tangled with Josh over a Christmas tree.

  But neither that nor his own troubled past adequately explained the attraction that had simmered between them from the very first.

  “You need to get some rest,” Josh said. “We’ll have to leave the second the storm breaks and the roads are cleared, but don’t worry about packing. Just throw the necessities together, and Logan can arrange to have whatever you need delivered.”

  “Just like the lives of the rich and famous.”

  “Sort of, but you’ll never get that feeling with Rachel and Logan.”

  He stood and walked to the door. She followed him. Might as well level with him now. “I appreciate your offer of protection for the girls, but I won’t be going to your brother’s with them.”

  Irritation flashed in his dark eyes. “Did you hear anything I said about Detective Hernandez?”

  “I heard.” She leaned against the door frame. “I’m not turning myself in to the police. I’m going with you. I know Jonathan better than anyone. If you’re investigating his murder, I should be there to help.”

  “No way.”

  “Sorry, Sheriff, you may be as stubborn as any Louisiana or Montana man who ever ate a crawfish or branded a cow. But I�
�m a Texan and a woman. This is one argument you are not going to win.”

  She expected him to storm away, but he lingered, and what she saw in his eyes sent a surge of passion through her that was so consuming she grew dizzy in its wake.

  Josh took her in his arms, and once their lips met, there was no holding back. He kissed her over and over, coming up for breath only to find her lips again.

  When he finally pulled away, she sank back against the door frame, too weak to stand on her own.

  “I’d better go,” he said, “while I still can.”

  She knew she should let him walk away. She was tired and achy. He had to be exhausted, as well. Only she would climb into a soft, warm bed—his bed—while he would crawl into a bag on a cold floor in a room that still reeked of smoke.

  “Wait.”

  He turned and looked back at her, and her pulse took a traitorous leap. “You should sleep in a full-size bed tonight.”

  His brow arched questioningly. “There’s only one.”

  “I know, but it’s big enough for two.”

  He shook his head. “You may be a stubborn woman, Chrysie Atwater, but I’m a man. If I crawl between the sheets with you, I’ll do more than sleep.”

  She didn’t say a word, just opened the door wide and ushered him back inside.

  IT HAD BEEN OVER three years since Chrysie had been with a man. She’d have expected it to be awkward after so long a time, but her body was hot with desire as he crawled into bed beside her.

  Josh stretched out next to her and let his fingers tangle in the short locks of hair that hugged her right cheek. “I love all those little golden curls.”

  “So you have a weakness for blondes, do you?”

  “I do now.”

  “Have you slept with lots of women?”

  “I don’t count.” He kissed her lips, then let his mouth wander to the tip of her nose and her forehead. “Is that what we’re doing, Chrysie? Sleeping together?”

  “What else would you call this?”

  “Making love with a woman who’s turned my life upside down.”

  He smiled, and it went all through her, warming places that she’d barely known existed before him. “I don’t understand it,” she said. “I’ve worked on building barriers around me and my girls for three years, thought they were invincible, and you just slipped right through as if they were made of whipped cream.”

  “It’s the jeans and boots,” he teased. “Women can’t resist a cowboy.”

  “I’m from Texas. I’ve resisted plenty of cowboys, the urban and the authentic.”

  “Chemistry happens. Maybe we’re meant to be.” He kissed her again, then fit his arm around her shoulders and rolled her closer. “I’m crazy about you, Chrysie. You, your girls, the way you hold everything together no matter how much trouble batters you around.”

  “It’s an act,” she said. “I’m scared most of the time.”

  “I know, but you don’t let the fear win, and that turns me on, too.” He kissed her again. “How long do we have to talk?”

  “Are you just talking to appease me?”

  “I love to talk to you, just not right now.” He pulled her so close she felt his erection against her thighs. She trembled and fit herself so closely against his body it would have been difficult to pass a feather between them.

  He reached beneath her nightshirt and fumbled with the buttons. She started to help him but decided against it. She wanted this to last, ached to savor every moment of the first time with Josh McCain. Life was too uncertain to let even a moment of pleasure go to waste.

  She slipped her hands between his legs and tucked them inside his briefs as he undid the last button and pushed the nightshirt from her shoulders. He moaned and took her right nipple in his mouth, sucking and massaging it with his tongue, turning her on to the point that she felt a trickle of hot moisture between her thighs.

  “Are you ready?” he whispered, his breath hot on her already burning flesh.

  “Yes. Oh, yes.”

  He wiggled out of his briefs, finally naked beside her. She stared, unable to look away as her hunger for him swelled out of control. He was magnificent. All of him. Strong chest dotted with a generous sprinkling of dark hairs. Flat, hard stomach. Strong, tanned, manly thighs. And an erection like none she’d ever seen.

  Josh took her hands in his and guided her fingers over her most private parts. They explored her body hand in hand, both their fingers slipping inside her, touching and feeling and discovering every erogenous nerve. This was new for her, incredibly hot, powerfully seductive.

  She came in his hand, but that didn’t lessen the surge of desire when he fit her fingers around the long, hard length of him. She guided him into her, then moaned from the thrill of it as he pushed and throbbed deep inside her.

  It happened too fast then, white-hot desire surging through her until she felt her pounding heart might break right through the walls of her chest. She heard his short, quick gasps for breath and felt the blood rushing through his shaft and then they exploded together. One quick, powerful lunge and it was all over.

  And yet it wasn’t. She was changed in ways she didn’t understand. All she knew was that this was far more than two people reaching out to each other in a storm of danger.

  Maybe not love. She still wasn’t sure what that meant. But theirs was a connection that defied all odds, and that was enough for her. At least it was enough for now.

  That was the last thought she remembered before exhaustion took hold and she fell asleep in Josh’s arms.

  MAC BUCKLEY refilled his glass, pouring the cheap liquor to the rim. He was drunk. Who gave a dog’s behind? There was nothing to do anyway but sit out the storm in this sorry, freezing motel that had lost power hours ago.

  Sean was still sober. That was his problem, except that Sean kept making it Mac’s by wanting to talk about the way they’d screwed up today.

  Sean was playing with the flashlight now, shining it around the room, trying to find scurrying cockroaches and squash their guts all over the dingy carpet. Every now and then the beam swiped over Sean’s face, giving his ugly mug an eerie glow that made him look like a zombie from a freak show.

  “She’ll be mad as hell,” Sean said.

  “We’re up here in a blizzard. What does she expect?”

  “She don’t expect us to go shooting a man for no cause, the way you did.”

  Mac downed about a third of his drink. “I had cause. He had a gun on his hip.”

  “Yeah, well, we may find ourselves with a bullet in the back if we don’t take out Cassandra Harwell soon.”

  “She’d’a been dead long ago if it was up to me.”

  “Nothing’s up to you. You’re paid to do a job, that’s all.”

  Mac finished his drink and poured another. He didn’t see what Sean or the boss woman was all steamed about. Cassandra had been running around free for three years. What difference could one more day make?

  His cell phone rang, startling him so that he spilled half his drink down the front of his shirt. Mac yanked the handkerchief from his back pocket and started dabbing at his shirt. Sean grabbed for the phone.

  It was the boss. No one else made Sean sweat bullets the way he was doing right now. Mac staggered to the bed and fell across it.

  “You better lay off that booze,” Sean said when he’d broken the connection. “We got a job to do first thing in the morning.”

  “There’s a friggin’ blizzard. Did you tell her that?”

  “She knows. Says it will be over by morning. And we got to act fast.”

  “What’s the hurry?”

  “Cassandra contacted the Houston police tonight. She’s flying there tomorrow and turning herself in, only we got to make sure that she never catches that plane.”

  Mac’s head rolled off the pillow. Good thing it was tomorrow he was supposed to pull the trigger, ’cause tonight he was dead drunk.

  CHRYSIE WOKE THE next morning to sun streaming throug
h the frosted windows, an ear-splitting racket—and an empty bed. She rolled onto the pillow Josh had slept on, buried her nose it and tried to pick up his scent.

  Instead she coughed, releasing what felt like a ton of germs into the bed. The cold that had been coming on last night was now full-blown. She sniffed and tried to pull some air into her stopped-up nostrils while she gingerly slid her legs over the side of the bed.

  Her muscles protested even that bit of movement. Riding a bucking snowmobile had taken its toll. So had sex, but the ache between her thighs was a much easier pain to bear. She slid her feet into her furlined slippers and pulled on her warm flannel robe.

  She was still tying it when the door opened behind her and Josh walked it. He was already dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt and had his black parka slung over his shoulder.

  “You’re awake. Good.”

  “How could I not be awake with all that racket outside the window?”

  “That’s my neighbor. Skaggs’s roads are always the first ones cleared after a storm. When he finishes plowing his, he hits mine. We tease him, tell him he’d rather plow than screw—sorry, Montana guy talk.”

  “So I gathered.” No morning kiss. She wondered if he was going to pretend last night never happened or if he just had other things on his mind. She turned to check the time, but the crumpled edge of the blanket blocked her view. “What time is it?”

  “Eight-thirty.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Nope. You had a rough time of it yesterday. I figured you needed the sleep.”

  “But the children need breakfast and…”

  “I gave them cereal. They’re fine and way ahead of you. They’re dressed and ready to go catch a plane.”

  Chrysie placed her fingers on her suddenly throbbing temples. When Josh made up his mind to do something, he wasted no time. “Surely the main roads haven’t been cleared yet.”

  “No, but they will be soon.”