Two Cowboys in Her Crosshairs [Hellfire Ranch] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Jennifer August

  Hud wavered for a long, silent moment. “Damn skippy you’ll tell me later.”

  “Tell you what?” Olivia asked.

  “Not important. What else aren’t you saying?”

  She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth—the same way she always did when her quick brain was madly thinking and sifting through information.

  “No bullshit, Olivia. Shag was my friend. Where’s the connection that brought you here?”

  “All right, Jake, I’m going to trust you.”

  He flinched at the reluctance in her voice. Not that he blamed her. Trusting him had not only gotten her heart broken, but it cost her an eye. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he rasped in a weary attempt to joke.

  Her responding smile was strained at best. She dug into her purse and pulled out a wrinkled envelope. The outside was black with what he assumed to be fingerprint powder. With a stretch, she tossed it to the table between them. “That’s part of what he sent.”

  Jake quickly read through the short missive and immediately understood why she’d come to the ranch. Shag pretty much drew her a map to his ranch.

  “What’s he talking about showing me?”

  “It’s a statue. About this high.” Her elegant fingers showed a distance of about six inches. “It seems to be the figure of a standing woman. Unfortunately it’s been smashed into bits, and several pieces are obviously missing.”

  Sweat broke out on the back of his neck. “Do you have it here?”

  “In my SUV.”

  “Want to get it?”

  She hesitated, and again he saw the contemplation in her eyes. She still wasn’t totally sure of him. Jake was surprised by the amount of pain he felt knowing she didn’t trust him.

  “Okay.”

  She rose and strode from the room. The front door closed behind her seconds later.

  “Livvie?” Hudson said immediately.

  Jake waved a hand. “It’s nothing. Just a name.”

  “Bullshit, Jake. You love that damn horse. Hell, when she caught West Nile and Dr. Marsalis suggested you put her down, you nearly had a conniption fit. I had to hide the guns for a week so you didn’t go after Doc.”

  An embarrassed flush crawled over Jake’s cheeks, burning him from the inside out. “She’s a good horse. Why kill her when she’s fixable?”

  Hudson’s eyes flickered to the front of the ranch house. “Is Olivia fixable? What’s the story with her?”

  The embarrassment faded, and regret slipped in. “There’s no story. She was part of the Hellfire Battalion. She was with us the day of the ambush. Hell, if it hadn’t been for her, we probably all would have died.”

  “What do you mean? And why the hell didn’t you tell me about her?” Hurt sounded in his old friend’s voice.

  Jake rose and shoved his hands deep in the front pockets of his jeans. He stared down at the dusty and scuffed tips of his brown cowboy boots. They needed a polish. He should really take care of that. Letting equipment go to pot was not the way a marine did things.

  It wasn’t the way Jake did things.

  Hudson poked him in the back, and Jake spun, dropping into a crouch.

  Hud’s palms immediately rose and flattened against the air. “Whoa, whoa. Damn, you haven’t done that in months. She’s got you riled up.”

  “It’s not just her,” Jake admitted as he rose. He exhaled sharply and tried to quell the gallop in his chest. “I can’t believe Shag is dead.”

  Sorrow shone in Hudson’s face, and he clapped Jake on the shoulder. “Me either. I’m sorry, man. He was a helluva guy.”

  “Yeah, he was.” Jake frowned and looked toward the front of the house again. “What’s taking her so long?”

  He started to head that way, but Hudson stilled him. “You didn’t tell me how she saved your ass.”

  Jake heard the unspoken and in his voice. Hudson wanted to know why Jake never mentioned Olivia—Livvie—in all the times he talked about his tour and the events leading up to the ambush. Jake didn’t really have a good answer himself. He shrugged, and Hud’s hand fell away. “She’s a sniper.” He paused and grimaced. “Was a sniper. She held those insurgent bastards off long enough for us to get to safety.”

  “Was?”

  Another bout of tearing pain ripped through Jake. “Yeah,” he rasped. “She saved us but lost her left eye. Got hit by a shrapnel grenade.”

  “Jesus,” Hudson whispered.

  Jake nodded. “She was lying up on that ridge, totally unprotected and bleeding. I couldn’t leave her there, so I headed up to get her. I wasn’t in time. We got shelled by the grenades.” He wiped his forehead, surprised when his palm came away damp. “Boone or Tag took out whoever shot them off, but it was too late. She’d been hit in the face.”

  “There’s where those scars came from.”

  “Yeah.” He looked to the door then headed for it. Olivia had been gone too long. With the news of Shag’s death, nothing felt safe, not even his own ranch.

  He stepped out onto the wooden, covered porch. His booted foot froze in midair then he slowly, softly set it down.

  Olivia was sitting in one of Grandma’s old wooden rockers. Across from her in the matching chair was Sheriff Taggart Cain. His hat rested on his lap, and a wide, easy smile played across his handsome face.

  He was laughing at something Olivia was saying and shaking his head. Sunbeams filtered in through the slatted roof and bathed the sheriff in a golden glow that made his tan and muscled physique even more prominent. Olivia’s hand rested on his forearm. Her short, polished nails curved lightly onto his skin, and Tag covered them with his palm.

  Jake wanted to shoot him.

  “What do you want?” he snapped as he bulldozed forward, neatly breaking up their too-damn-cozy tête-à-tête.

  Olivia gasped and jerked her hand away then glowered at him. “Jeez, Jake, where are your manners? I didn’t know Tag lived down here, too. We were just catching up.”

  “Don’t need a mama, darlin’, already got one.” Jake lifted his chin at the sheriff. “So?”

  Taggart rolled his eyes and held out his hand. “Afternoon, Jake. Heard you had a visitor.” He tipped his head in Olivia’s direction. “Just checking in and making sure everything was all right.”

  Jake unclenched his fist and blew out a stream of shame-tinged annoyance. He was being an ass. Tag’s arrival shouldn’t have surprised him. As sheriff he took everyone’s safety to heart. He’d even managed to tone down his anger issues. Mostly.

  Jake shook Tag’s proffered hand and managed a grin. “Yeah, sorry.”

  Jake’s gaze snapped to Olivia. “Did you tell him about—?”

  “No,” she interrupted. “I didn’t tell him.”

  Behind Tag’s back she shook her head wildly and drew her fingers over her throat.

  Hudson chuckled and eased forward. He, too, shook the sheriff’s hand. “Damn, Tag, you get uglier each time I see you. What the hell is Betty doing to your hair? Looks like you got the beach-boy look going.”

  Tag shoved a hand through his hair and glared. “Up yours, Hud. I wouldn’t let that woman near my hair without a court order and a fifth of whisky.”

  Olivia scooted around him and sidled closer to Jake. She trailed her hand along his arm then slid down and laced their fingers together. He stiffened but managed to keep his face calm.

  “I was just telling Tag here how I had the wild urge to come by and see you.”

  Tag nodded. “I can’t believe you finally got in touch with her, Jake. And hell, you didn’t even tell me. You know I’ve been trying, too.” The sheriff reprimanded her with a glare. “Why wouldn’t you let us see you, Olivia? After Colonel Reed told us you were on the mend, we tried to get in contact, but nothing.”

  Her palm was clammy, and she trembled in his grip. Jake realized the sharpshooter wasn’t nearly as calm as she pretended to be.

  “Sorry about that, Tag, but I was in a dark place.” Her swallow was audible, and when she spoke
again, her voice was heavy with sorrow. “I had lost everything. Didn’t know who or what I was anymore. I shouldn’t have cut y’all out, but I had to preserve my sanity.”

  Tag nodded. “Yeah, I understand. Being around Jake would make anyone crazy.” His gaze drifted down to their joined hands, and when he flicked a brow at Jake, resignation was written all over his face. “But I see you’re over that now.”

  Another flutter of her pulse and her fingers spasmed. “Yeah,” she whispered. “I’m trying, at any rate.”

  Tag picked up his hat off the colorful tile table Grandpa had built in the sixties. It was orange, blue, gold, and hideous. Jake had spent many happy years speeding his toy cars and action figures over its grouted surface. Besides, the round table fit perfectly on the porch and was more waterproof than anything they sold these days. He would no sooner part with the table than his horse.

  Jake’s lips twitched, and he looked down at Olivia’s dark hair and delicate shell-ear. Small gold studs were the only ornamentation she wore.

  She tipped her head. “Tag, you said you heard Jake had a visitor. Where’d you hear that from?”

  “Several people called in to report you.”

  Her hand flew to her chest. “Report me?” she said. “What for?”

  Tag winked. “It’s a small town, Olivia. A beautiful woman in a flashy car asking questions about one of our more elusive residents had everyone in a twenty-mile radius talking about you within minutes.”

  “It’s true, that really happens here,” Hudson said. “It’s worse than flippin’ Mayberry.”

  “But I only asked a couple of people for directions,” she said in protest. “The stuffy Brit at the motel refused and said my best chance was at The Wired Bean.” She cast a sidelong glance up at him and Jake’s breath caught at the laughing sparkle emanating from her brown eyes. “Took me three cups of coffee and six muffins to wrangle the information from the barista.”

  Jake laughed and the sound was echoed by the other two men.

  “Did you eat all six muffins?” Hudson asked. Admiration rang in his voice.

  “No,” she said. “But I did take them back to the motel. At least there was a fridge in the room that could hold them.”

  “I’m surprised Whitcombe let you in with them,” Tag said. “He has strict rules.”

  She looked between the three men, confusion on her face, and they laughed again.

  “Who’s Whitcombe?”

  “The stuffy Brit. He owns the motel.”

  “Yeah,” Hudson said. “He thinks The Calico Queen is the damn Ritz-Carlton or something instead of a fleabag dump on the dustiest road in town.”

  “Well, it suits me just fine,” Olivia said. “It’s got running water, a clean bed, and a great sense of history. Heck, they still use real metal keys. No key cards for that place.” She grinned, and Jake’s heart kicked up. “I could use an Internet connection, but I don’t think the party line would handle it. I didn’t even know they still had those things.”

  Tag shook his head. “Yeah, he loves that old party line. The man is a gossip of the highest order. Be careful, though. Every time a receiver is picked up in a room, it signals the switchboard. He’s been known to listen in on conversations.”

  Hudson laughed. “He’s training his staff to do the same thing. Sadie told me that when Arte Kushing was pitching an idea to some advertising guy staying at the hotel, Myron Jones listened in then went around blabbing all the details. Arte was ticked and the deal dried up.”

  Tag grinned. “I’m sure it had nothing to do with lack of privacy. Arte has some very strange ideas. Remember the time he invented that portable cat-washing machine?”

  Olivia’s jaw dropped. “A what?”

  “Cat-washing machine. He saw a large version online somewhere and decided he would downsize the idea to make it available to more people. His words, not mine. He used a foot bath, a plastic litter box that he cut down the middle and hinged, and a rubber hose. Needless to say it did not work out.”

  “Gosh, I wonder why not?” Olivia laughed as she looked at Jake.

  Jake squeezed her fingers. He really wanted to get back to the topic of the statue and Shag’s death, but he didn’t know why she was so intent on keeping silent in front of Tag. Hell, the guy had been in the sand trenches with them. He’d survived the ambush because of her, too, albeit with a few more scars and a severe anger-management problem.

  “Well, Sheriff, I’m sure you have other duties to attend,” Jake said. “We still on for Wednesday?”

  Tag settled his hat on his head then whipped his fingers along the brim in a mocking flourish. “I’m always ready to take your money, Jake. Wade will be back in town then, too. I’ll bring him.” He looked at Olivia. “Wade’s my best friend. You’d like him. He’s a teacher and a wicked hacker. I mean computer expert.”

  “I look forward to meeting him,” she said.

  Tag nodded. “I take it I’m being dismissed?”

  Hudson lightly punched him in the shoulder. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your truck and you can tell me all about that cute deputy over in Kerr county. I hear she’s got a sweet little ass and a mouth that won’t quit.”

  Tag laughed. “Deputy Carson would eat you for lunch, Hudson. She’s meaner than a rattler.”

  Jake and Olivia remained silent until Tag was settled in the cab of his truck.

  “Why’d you keep mum about the statue and Shag? He’s a damn good lawman,” Jake said. “You can trust him. He was with us in Afghanistan, remember?”

  Olivia swiped her full lips with her tongue, and Jake’s train of thought dropped off the edge of a cliff.

  “I’m operating under the fewer people who know, the better.” Her brown gaze flicked to the truck, and he saw the war waging in her eyes. “I hadn’t intended to include Hudson, but it seems he’s already been filled in.”

  “He’s been my best friend forever,” Jake said. “He was the only one I could talk to.” A strange sense of vulnerability swept over him. “My parents would have understood, but they would have smothered me, too.”

  She nodded, and her fingers touched her chest just below her neck. “Yeah, that I understand,” she said. “Mine went completely nuts. Took me over a year to get back out on my own.”

  Her voice throbbed. Jake moved to stand directly in front of her. He tipped her chin up with his thumb and searched her haunted brown eyes. “Something else is going on.”

  Fear slithered through her expression. “I think so.”

  “You think? You’re not sure?”

  “No. That’s part of why I’m here. I need more answers.” Her chin quivered in his fingers, and she clasped his arm. “I need to know why Shag was killed. I need to know what connection that statue has to our unit and the ambush. I’m positive they’re connected, but I just don’t know how.”

  The agony in her expression tore at his heart.

  Jake framed her face and stroked the silken curve of her cheek. She trembled, and her lips parted. Jake’s gaze dropped to her full mouth and the urge to taste her was as strong as the scent of wisteria in the spring air.

  He searched her eyes and found them wide and cautious.

  He lowered his head. She didn’t stop him.

  She didn’t utter a word of denial.

  “Olivia,” he whispered, and his mouth covered hers.

  A blinding sense of familiarity and absolute rightness slammed into him. She tasted as sweet as Texas Tea, and her lips were softer than the down on a baby chick. She moved beneath him, pressing her mouth to his. She mewled in demand, and her fingers inched up over his neck and speared into his hair. She pressed down and opened her mouth.

  Jake couldn’t have resisted her invitation if an angry bull charged him. With long, slow strokes, he traced the outer edge of her mouth then dipped inside. Her tongue met his in a tangle of heat and moisture that sent his blood pressure reeling and his cock throbbing.

  He wanted to plunge deep inside her body as he had t
he last night they’d been together. He needed to feel her warmth and life wrapped around him. Wanted to prove to both of them he was still alive.

  Jake pulled his mouth away with a harsh, rasping gasp of air.

  “Jake?” she whispered and caressed his face.

  He pulled back, her touch burning him.

  She let her hand drop to her side and stepped away. Her arms wrapped around her midriff, and she stared at the truck. “They were watching,” she said. Her tone was flat and unemotional.

  He tried to pull himself together and found it nearly impossible. The primal urge to haul her back into his arms was strong.

  But he couldn’t do that.

  They had too much history and too many secrets.

  The sheriff lifted his hand in a jaunty salute and gunned the engine as Hudson stepped back.

  “Hud’ll give you a ration of shit if you let him,” Jake said.

  She nodded, and when she looked at him again, her face was expressionless. “He would have fit right in.”

  Jake nodded. “Yeah, he would have. Except he’s a damned pacifist. If not for the whole cowboy angle, you would think he’s a hippie.”

  She didn’t smile, but he thought he saw a softening in her features. He extended his hand, thought better of touching her and dropped it back to his side. “I was out of line,” he said. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

  Olivia’s face was more relaxed now. “Someday, you’ll have to explain why not.”

  Someday.

  Hudson’s boots rang on the bottom step as he ambled onto the porch with a grin as wide as the Brazos River. “Having fun, kids?”

  Jake shoved him. “Shut up.”

  Hudson looked at Olivia and his eyes tightened just a fraction. “Tag enjoyed the show. Said it was like old times. Didn’t realize you two were that close.”

  Her skin flushed deep, rosy red like wine from a Hill Country vineyard. “Knock it off, Hudson, you’re embarrassing her.”

  “Sorry, ma’am,” he drawled. “That was not my intent.”

  She laughed, and her blush faded. “I’m afraid my eyes are already brown, cowboy, so no use throwing that bullshit around for my benefit.”

  Hudson grinned widely. “You’ve got spunk. I like that.”