by D'Ann Lindun
Sure, he’d undressed her after he dragged her off the cliff, and he knew she was built, but keeping her alive had been his first priority, not checking out her assets.
His crotch tightened, and just when he could have lost himself in fantasizing about taking her in his arms, she turned his direction. Focused on the blanket she’d left on the bank, she didn’t notice him staring at her like some horny teenager.
Reality slammed him to the present.
The only thing he needed to worry about was getting them both out of this mess alive. Turning away, he bent to pick up a stick. He had no business thinking about Laramie. He didn’t need the trouble a woman could bring. Especially one who had thrown herself over a cliff. She brought more drama to his life than he cared to deal with.
“Get her home, and get over it,” he said aloud. “You don’t need another go-round with some nut job.”
Since his high school days, Derrick had been a pretty decent roper. For fun, he liked to go to small rodeos to enter the calf roping competitions. Just over a year ago, he’d won the event at the San Juan county fair. The jackpot hadn’t been much, a few hundred bucks, but enough that he felt damn good about himself. To celebrate, he and a buddy dropped in at the local bar to have a few beers.
When a cute little blonde wearing a belt buckle almost as big as she was asked him to dance, he set his beer aside and took her in his arms. Like a fool, he fell headfirst into the pool of her big blue eyes and innocent smile. Her name was Cheryl Huffman, and she followed the rodeo circuit, barrel racing. Along with her brother, who rode saddle broncs, they made enough to feed her horse and keep gas in their ancient RV. Cheryl claimed she hated the lifestyle. All she wanted was to settle down and have a family.
Her pretty face blinded him, and Derrick fell for her fast and hard.
Too fast.
Overwhelmed by her beauty and her neediness, he proposed, certain he’d found the woman of his dreams. Someone to help him shoulder the burdens of his life. Proud of the improvements he’d made on the ranch he inherited from his grandfather, Derrick couldn’t wait to bring his bride home. To his surprise, her brother moved in, too. Glad for the extra help, Derrick managed to scrape up enough money to pay his new brother-in-law.
Unused to the ranching lifestyle, Cheryl and Tad slept until noon, rarely lifted a hand, and all too often brought home their hard-partying buddies to trash his house. Derrick tolerated it until he couldn’t take any more and threw Tad out. He figured Cheryl might be a better wife if her brother were out of the picture.
He had been shocked when she packed her stuff and left a few days later.
He’d been more shocked when she cleaned out his bank account.
The final blow came when he found out Tad wasn’t her brother, but her husband. And partner in crime. Together, the two of them had cooked up the scheme to take Derrick’s money and his land.
Damn, he’d been dumb. He wouldn’t be so foolish twice.
He gathered enough wood for a small fire and laid it in a ring he made from stones. With all the smoke in the air, he didn’t want to add to it, but he craved a hot meal. Laramie might appreciate the fire, too. Although the afternoon was warm, nights in the wilderness were another thing altogether.
The thought of snuggling with her brought his hard-on back.
Just when he managed to get his mind off her delectable curves, she approached wrapped in the blanket. Her wet hair, slicked back from her face, showed off cinnamon-colored freckles and clear, bright eyes. Her bare shoulders and the enticing mounds barely covered below invited his gaze. He forced himself to rummage in the grub boxes, pretending to hunt for something.
“I took a shower,” she explained unnecessarily. The blanket slipped down one breast, before she pulled the material back up.
“I see.” Damn! Was she trying to tease him? All she had to do was look close, and she could see how much he wanted to ease her down in the grass and bury his body in hers. Struggling for control, he asked, “Feel better?”
“Much.” Settling herself on a rock near the fire, she began to comb her hair with her fingers. “You could use one yourself.”
He could use a cold shower all right, but not to remove grime. “Maybe I will.”
“It’s awfully cold.”
The colder the better. If he stuck his penis in a refrigerator, it might be icy enough to take down his erection. “You hungry?”
“I am,” she admitted.
“That’s a good sign.” He pulled a pan big enough to cover his lap out of the grub box. “Over supper maybe you can tell me how you ended up at the bottom of the cliff.”
Chapter Six
Laramie pulled the blanket tighter against the sudden chill that raced across her skin. Talking about Lawrence and what he’d done topped the things she least wanted to do. Derrick already said he knew and liked her brother. Would he believe her? That Lawrence had turned into a paranoid murderer? “Why do we have to discuss it?” she countered.
He placed a large skillet on the fire, his attention riveted on something inside one of the grub boxes. “I’d just like to hear what happened.”
She closed her eyes, the horror too much to bear. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.”
Pulling out a can of soup, cheese, and a package of rolls, he spread everything out on a flat rock, then searched for a can opener. Mixing the soup with a bottle of water in the skillet, he said stiffly, “Your call.”
“Thanks.” She stood and the blanket’s edge caught under her toes. Before she could catch it, the material slipped, baring her breasts. With a gasp, she gave the offending material a yank. Afraid Derrick had seen the whole show, she shot him a covert glance.
Like a deer in headlights, he stared at her chest.
Her nipples responded to the hunger in his eyes, spiking into taut little points, pushing against the blanket. A rush of longing weakened her knees and for the briefest of moments, she froze, unable to react. Then she yanked the blanket up tight against her chin. “I need to get my clothes,” she muttered, anxious to get away.
Turning his gaze to the soup, he nodded. “Good plan.”
Laramie hurried away as fast as her bare feet could carry her. Not overly modest by nature, she wasn’t an exhibitionist either. Derrick probably believed she’d flashed him to distract him from questioning her about Lawrence. Lust had flared in his eyes; he would make love to her if she wanted him. The idea held unexpected appeal, but she didn’t go to bed with men with whom she didn’t have a serious relationship.
She had enough emotional baggage to deal with without adding the fallout from a loveless affair to the mix. Once they got out of this mess, they would go their separate ways and never see one another again. Derrick had taken care of her because he was a decent human being. What else could he do? Abandon her?
Lawrence had.
She could tell Derrick didn’t completely trust her. Why? A thought stopped her in her tracks. Did he think what happened to her was somehow her own fault? Did he believe she and Julie jumped? He must think he’d found himself trapped in a life or death situation with an unstable woman. A woman who might start screaming or tearing her hair out. No wonder he wanted answers.
Laramie pulled on her damp clothes and felt more like herself again. The high mountain air left them dry and smelling much better, although the faint scent of smoke lingered in the fabric. Or maybe smoke had been in her nose so long she wouldn’t ever be able to get it out again. Her muscles felt a little stiff, but okay. Using her fingers for a comb, she managed to get most of the tangles out of her hair, then twisted it into a French braid using a piece of tough snake grass for a rubber band.
With a deep breath, she turned to face Derrick and his questions.
• • •
Derrick couldn’t believe he’d been caught staring at Laramie’s breasts like some horny teenager. He hadn’t been so obvious since the seventh grade when he and some buddies tried to get a peek into the girls locker room on
a dare from some upperclassmen. He couldn’t deny Laramie had a great chest, almost as good as her incredible ass, but he had no business thinking about her in any way but with concern. She’d been through a lot, and the last thing she could deal with was him lusting after her.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted her coming toward him wearing his shirt, arms wrapped around her middle. Striving for casual, he poured soup into a plastic bowl and added a spoon. “You hungry?”
“Starving.” She took the bowl from him and sat on the ground cross-legged. “Smells great.”
“Just canned soup,” he said, “but filling.” He handed her the package of rolls and the cheese. “Help yourself.”
“Thanks.” She took it from him without making eye contact.
Turbo whined from where he sat at the base of a nearby tree. “Does he have something to eat?” Laramie asked.
Derrick nodded. “I brought him canned chow.”
“I haven’t had a chance to ask what his name is.”
She bit off a piece of roll, and Derrick couldn’t help but notice her perfect white teeth and full lips. Was she a good kisser? He loved kissing. Missed it. He needed to get off this mountain and get a date pronto.
“Turbo.” Derrick smiled affectionately at his loyal heeler. “He’s always been full of steam.”
Laramie smiled, too. “I had two Australian shepherds, Zephyr and Zeke.” Her eyes clouded. “My poor babies.”
“What happened to them?”
She set the bowl aside. “I think my brother — ” her voice broke “ — killed them.”
She had to be kidding. Who would hurt an innocent dog? “Why would he do that?”
“He’s crazy.” She played with a piece of grass near her boot. “From drugs.”
“What kind of drugs?”
She shrugged. “Cocaine, maybe other stuff. I don’t know for sure.”
“He took dope, which made him do something to your dogs?” Derrick gestured toward her bowl. “Better eat, keep up your strength.”
Picking up the bowl, she sipped unenthusiastically. Setting the bowl aside, she met his eyes for the first time. “My brother is a policeman. A sheriff, to be exact. Last year he was shot in the line of duty, and a doctor gave him prescription drugs. He became addicted. When the prescriptions ran out, he began buying from street dealers. He’s become a full-blown addict.”
“Why would he hurt your dogs?” Food forgotten, Derrick leaned against a log.
“Because when he took Julie and me, they tried to protect us — ” She fought for control. “And he said he took care of them.”
Derrick wondered what he’d do if someone hurt Turbo. Probably something illegal. “Asshole.”
“It gets worse. Julie, my sister-in-law, was leaving him. She was expecting a baby — ” She cleared the clog in her throat. “But she lost it … all because my brother beat her up when she tried to stop him from using.”
“Hell.” Derrick couldn’t fathom anyone doing such a thing. His experience with drugs was non-existent. He didn’t know anyone who drank more than a few beers or an occasional mixed drink.
“When Julie threatened to leave him, he killed her. And he tried to kill me, too, by throwing me off a mountain.”
Derrick stared at her in disbelief. “Your own brother threw you over the cliff?”
She nodded and rubbed an arm over her eyes. “Yes.”
“Didn’t he think someone would figure it out?” Maybe the fall had knocked her senseless.
“I don’t know. When Lawrence uses, he goes crazy.”
Jolted by the name, Derrick asked, “Did you say Lawrence?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Lawrence Porter? The sheriff from Cliffside?” He couldn’t believe his ears. She had to be making this whole thing up. “So Lawrence Porter is your brother?”
“That’s right.”
“Lady, I don’t know kind of game you’re playing, but there’s nobody straighter than Sheriff Porter. He’s no more a drug addict than I am.” Derrick shook his head in disgust. If it hadn’t been for Sheriff Porter tracking down Cheryl and her brother and arresting them, he’d still be tangled up with the cheating duo. Derrick could still remember how appalled Porter had been by Cheryl and Tad’s actions and how determined he’d been to bring them to justice. Sheriff Porter had gone beyond to help him when the Santa Anita’s cops’ hands seemed tied. And hadn’t Laramie denied the connection when he’d first asked her about it?
Derrick owed this guy a lot, and he wasn’t about to turn on him.
• • •
Without a word, Laramie stood and walked away. Her legs trembled so hard she could barely make them work, but she had to get away from Derrick before she said something horrible to him. Although the hurt made her chest ache, she wasn’t really surprised. Derrick already had said he found Lawrence to be a great guy. Most people did if they hadn’t seen the truth firsthand. And most hadn’t, including his own officers. Like most users, Lawrence was a master of deceit.
Then why did it hurt so much that Derrick didn’t believe her?
Because his opinion mattered.
The realization made her stumble. Finding a fallen log, she sat on it lost in thought. The truth was it all came down to her word against Lawrence’s. If Derrick didn’t believe her, who would? Not the cops, that’s for sure. Julie’s murderer would go unpunished, and Laramie would have to live in fear all her life. Going home wasn’t an option. Lawrence could show up any time to finish what he started.
She shivered and pulled Derrick’s shirt closer. His scent clung to it — a mix of the man’s skin, subtle cologne and a woodsy aroma. Sad they couldn’t be friends, and maybe more, her jumbled emotions refused to settle down.
The horses moved close and the paint came up to her, searching for a treat. She stroked his silky nose and looked into his soft brown eyes. She ran his hand down his back. She missed her job, fixing horse’s sore backs. Would she get back to it? She checked both geldings, and they seemed fine.
“This is such a nightmare. What am I going to do?” she asked Apache. “Telling Mom and Dad will kill them. And how will I plan Julie’s funeral without a body?”
The horse moved away a few feet and began grazing.
Sitting here sulking wouldn’t help matters. She had to try to make the best of things until she could get home. Once there, she would figure out what move to make. Maybe the FBI would listen to her story. With a sigh, she rose and made her way back to camp.
Derrick had cleaned up, the skillet and dishes stored in a neat pile. She didn’t see him, but his duffle bag rested on the sleeping bag. Maybe he decided to shower in the falls. She turned her attention to the surrounding cliffs. From this vantage point, she couldn’t see any flames, but the smoke seemed darker and thicker. If the firefighters had learned of the fire, there should be helicopters dumping water on the flames. They hadn’t heard any type of aircraft, so it seemed unlikely anyone spotted the fire yet.
The animals seemed calm enough. No birds sang, and if any squirrels or chipmunks made the valley home, they had gone into hiding. How long would they be stuck here? Already the cattle made a sizable dent in the grass, but enough was still there for a few more days. How much food had Derrick brought with him? She checked the stash. A few cans of chili, soup, stew. Crackers, the leftover cheese, and rolls. A package of bacon. Six cans of dog food. Powdered orange drink. Plenty for a few more days. The second pile held dishes, dishtowels, matches.
Restless, Laramie rose.
Maybe a walk would do her good.
As she walked, she tried to focus on good thoughts. But her mind refused to let go of the past two days. Repeatedly, her thoughts turned toward Julie. A clump of delicate lavender columbines reminded her of Julie’s favorite flower, delphiniums. At her wedding, she placed massive vases of them at the altar and at each pew in the church. Laramie knew Julie would love to have the purple flowers at her funeral. Laramie picked one of the flowers and carried it with
her, absently stroking the velvet petals.
What music would Julie like at her service? Her mother’s funeral had featured classical hymns. Laramie and Julie both loved country music. Vince Gill’s Go Rest High on the Mountain, a particular favorite. One appropriate for a memorial service.
Thinking of the lyrics made Laramie’s eyes well up, and her throat felt too raw to swallow. How many more tears could she shed? A great many, she feared. Life without Julie would be impossibly dreary.
They’d been inseparable since first grade. When Julie and Lawrence first got together, they seemed a match made in heaven, madly in love. Laramie never could have guessed her brother would end both his wife and baby’s lives.
Guilt weighed heavy on Laramie’s heart, and her steps came slow.
Moving along the edge of the herd, she took care not to scare the cows. Although she figured most people wouldn’t find them beautiful, she did. With gleaming black coats and large, liquid eyes, they glowed with good health. Derrick obviously took excellent care of his animals. The way he talked to Turbo and his horses charmed her. She often spoke to her own dogs in a similar manner. Or she had.
Maybe she could escape reality by sleeping for a few hours.
Making her way back to camp, she found Derrick stretched out across the sleeping bag. He lay on his back, arm over his eyes. His chest rose and fell in slow, easy rhythm.
Careful not to wake him, she lay beside him and pulled an edge of the blankets over her head to block out the smoke and dim light.
A few minutes later Derrick tugged the covers off her face. “Laramie, get up now. There’s something you need to see.”
Blinking against the light, she asked, “What is it?”
“Look.” He pointed to the cliff’s rim.
Laramie followed his worried gaze. The row of trees standing there earlier was now engulfed in flames. A thick, black furl of smoke rose toward the heavens. As they watched, the skeletal remains of one tipped, hanging over their valley. She didn’t need to be told if it fell, the valley would become a deathtrap.
