by D'Ann Lindun
Making love would be incredible.
But not now; that kind of diversion could get them both killed.
A tree branch breaking startled him, and he jerked upright. Laramie froze in his arms. “What is it?” she whispered.
“I don’t know.” Derrick breathed a sigh of relief when Turbo and the two Aussies bounded into sight. “Just the dogs.”
In his arms, Laramie relaxed a fraction. She motioned the trio down, and they dropped by her side with tongues lolling, sides heaving. Derrick felt a little better having them nearby. He watched Turbo, but the dog closed his eyes, falling asleep.
But Derrick refused to relax. He was all that stood between Laramie and certain death. If he lost her, he didn’t know what he would do. In a few short days, he had fallen hard. The realization rocked him. Somewhere this woman had chased away Cheryl’s ghost, leaving his heart filled with fierce protectiveness, and more importantly, love.
A love he didn’t plan to lose.
When dark came he’d stash Laramie somewhere safe, and then he’d go hunting.
After Lawrence had been taken care of would she still want him? Laramie knew her brother was a crazed lunatic, but could she still love the man who brought him down? Derrick hoped so, because he wasn’t giving in until he stood over Lawrence, looked him in the eye, and shot him straight through the heart.
• • •
Laramie refused to think about Ramona. First Julie, now another beautiful woman her brother destroyed. Derrick planned to go after Lawrence. No way would she let him do it. She’d hold a gun on him to stop him if she had to. She’d let Julie down. And now, Ramona’s death felt like her fault, too.
If something happened to Derrick it would send her over the edge.
She opened her mouth to say so when the tree bark just above their heads exploded.
The dogs erupted into shrill barks, Derrick cursed and a rolled her over, covering her body with his. For a minute, she lay still, secure that he would protect her. The reality hit. “Derrick, that was a gunshot! We’ve got to get out of here.”
“Lay still. Don’t make yourself a target.” He motioned to the dogs, and they moved several feet away and flopped down.
For a few moments, Laramie and Derrick clung together, their hearts pounding in rhythm. Then he said, “I’m going to shift to my left. There’s a log a couple of feet away that I want to get up against. When I move that way, come with me. Stay low and move fast.”
“Okay.” She had never felt more vulnerable in her life than when he rolled off her. Wriggling like a snake, he slid across the two or three feet separating them from the log.
He held out his hand. “Come on. Take my hand. Now.”
She grabbed hold, and he dragged her across the damp earth to him. Wrapping his arms around her, he placed her body against the tree with his back to the forest. He whispered. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
“If we stand, Lawrence will shoot us.”
Derrick lifted his head. “There’s a bunch of downed timber a few feet ahead. When I give you the signal, you scoot over there as fast as you can. Don’t stop until you get under cover. Once you’re there, you stay there until I come get you. Understand?”
“What are you going to do?” She curled her hands around his biceps. “Derrick, please — ”
His lips covered hers. Too shocked to react, she lay frozen as he kissed her. He lifted his mouth. “Nothing’s going to happen to either one of us. Now, go.” Before she could protest, he leaped up and shouted, “I’m right here, Lawrence. Come get me.”
The ground at Laramie’s feet erupted into a volcano of dirt as a bullet slammed near them.
She scrambled for cover, too frightened to look back.
Forcing her body under the tangled mass of trees, she lay still, gasping for air. She couldn’t twist her head around to see where Derrick went. Zeke, whining, burrowed his way under the shelter from Laramie’s right. She spotted Zephyr right behind him. When the dogs reached her, she grabbed hold of Zeke’s paw, and he licked her face. Zephyr, too, whined behind him, and Laramie shushed her with a slight hand motion.
Where was Turbo? Had he gone with Derrick? She tried to bend her head, but couldn’t get it turned around to look behind her. Her breathing sounded like a rushing stream, loud and gurgling in her own ears. Lawrence could track her just by listening. She tried to close her mouth, to breathe only through her nose.
Gunfire blasted a few feet to her right, and she cried out before she clamped a hand over her mouth. The dogs yelped, and Laramie dug her fingers into Zeke’s fur. She closed her eyes and prayed Derrick was okay. Where was he? Safe? Or had Lawrence gunned him down?
Another shot echoed through the forest, this one further down the mountain. Derrick was leading Lawrence away from her. Everything in her told her to go after both of them, to help Derrick. But he had told her to stay until he came for her. He was putting his life on the line for her; she owed it to him to do as he asked.
No matter how hard.
• • •
Derrick looked over his shoulder to make sure Laramie was hidden. He lunged to his left, darting through trees, using their trunks for cover. Blasts from a high-powered rifle followed him, shattering the silence and tearing chunks out of the trees. Spurred on by a combination of fear and anger, he tore through the forest like a maniac. He’d run all the way to Cliffside if he could move Lawrence away from Laramie.
Adrenaline pushed him until his lungs burned, and forced to stop, he grabbed a thin aspen for support. The forest seemed to be holding its breath. No birds sang, no chipmunks chattered. He looked around, but from his vantage point. all he could see was trees. Lawrence had to be close.
Drawing as much thin mountain air as possible into his screaming lungs, he moved. Turbo followed in Derrick’s footsteps, silent as a shadow. Together, they wound their way down the steep, rocky slope. The gunfire had stopped, and Derrick worried about it. Had Lawrence gone back toward Laramie?
Finding a large pine tree, he went behind it. “Hey, Lawrence! Over here! Come and get me.” Turbo barked, too.
They were rewarded by a shower of pinecones when a bullet tore through the tree branches above their heads. Derrick hunched down and ran, moving like a linebacker, zigzagging through the forest. Shots rattled off, barely missing him. Either Lawrence was the worst shot ever or he was playing with Derrick.
He feared the latter.
After several minutes, he realized the gunfire had ceased. A shudder ran down his sweat-soaked back when he thought of what Lawrence would do to Laramie if he found her. With another push, forged ahead on shaking legs.
The trees thinned, opening up to a large meadow.
Several cows and calves grazed peacefully. Were they some of the same ones the group saw earlier? Derrick stood in the shadows at the edge of the field and searched until he spotted a white-faced calf he recognized. Yes, the same herd.
Were the horses close behind? Or had they gone down to the truck and trailer?
He’d bet on the second choice. Taking care to stay out of the sun, he slipped through the trees. Every half second he expected gunfire and winced in anticipation. But Lawrence had stopped shooting, and Derrick worried about it. Was Lawrence lurking, stalking him from behind? Or had he turned around, going after Laramie?
If he had a rifle, Derrick would turn around, and then Lawrence would see who’d run.
The thought pushed him on.
He broke through a wall of chokecherry bushes and spotted the trucks and trailers. With a careful look around, he took a deep breath and stepped into the open. For a moment, he froze. At his heels, Turbo stood alert, as if he, too, waited for gunfire. Nothing. Only silence.
Stepping lightly, Derrick hurried toward the vehicles.
Laramie’s two horses and Ramona’s mare stood on the far side of the trailers, grazing. Laramie’s saddle had turned under the palomino’s belly, but Derrick didn’t take time to adjust it. He jerked his truck door op
en and jumped inside. Derrick grabbed his cell and dialed 911. “There’s been a shooting on the Cold Canyon trail. A woman is dead.”
After giving a few more details, he hung up and dialed Brendan. The patrolman didn’t answer, but Derrick left a message on voicemail about what had happened, then snapped the phone shut.
Hurrying, Derrick turned Ramona’s mare loose, straightened the palomino’s saddle and packed both his and Laramie’s saddlebags with ammunition and food. Making sure both rifles were loaded, he stuck Laramie’s in his scabbard, and holding his own weapon, mounted the black mare.
Whistling to Turbo, he loped up the trail, leading the second horse behind.
Slowing, he angled into the trees. On high alert for gunshots, he hurried as fast as he dared without killing the horses. The sun had begun its descent into the western sky, making the forest floor black and moody. Shooting with accuracy would be difficult. But Derrick couldn’t count on the time of day to keep Lawrence from gunning him down.
Reaching the meadow where Ramona’s body lay, he skirted her and hurried toward Laramie’s hiding spot.
Halting the horses, he stepped down and half ran to the copse of downed trees where he’d left Laramie. Kneeling, he called, “Laramie? It’s me. Come out.”
Turbo whined.
A breeze rustled the aspen leaves.
No response.
He knelt down and struggled to see through the thick branches.
Nothing.
Laramie had vanished.
Chapter Seventeen
“Derrick?” Laramie forced herself to speak. If she made a mistake and it was Lawrence out there, she’d be a cooked goose.
“Where are you?”
“Over here.” Relief flooded her. Derrick. She shoved some brush out of the way and climbed out of a small cave. As she’d been lying under the downed timber, she’d noticed a dark spot in the cliff’s base and realized it was a cave. She’d hidden herself inside, feeling safer there. Her Aussies followed faithfully behind as she emerged. She rushed into Derrick’s arms. “Are you okay?”
He held her tight. “Yes. You?”
“Just scared for you.”
“I’m fine.”
She leaned back and peered into his eyes. “And Lawrence?”
“I don’t know where he is, but I called 911. The posse should be on the way.”
“What do we do until they show up?” She looked around. “He could be anywhere.”
“Is that cave big enough for two?”
“If we squeeze.” A ripple ran through her at the thought of being that close to Derrick.
He moved the horses into a copse of pines and tied them. Although not perfectly hidden, they wouldn’t be easy to spot by the casual eye. He then followed Laramie to her hidden cave and knelt. Shoving aside the oak brush, he climbed inside and pulled her after him. After a minute of organizing themselves, they lay facing each other, their bodies meshed together; the dogs at their feet. With the brush pulled back over the entrance, complete darkness surrounded them. Their noses close to the opening, the musty cave smell didn’t overwhelm them. “Tight in here,” he muttered. “But safe.”
“Uh-huh.” Laramie didn’t fear Lawrence hidden like this, but being this close to Derrick was dangerous. Her whole body tingled with awareness. Her breasts crushed against his chest, her hips melded to his own. And his insistent erection pressed against her belly.
He wanted her.
Making love would be so easy, just slip her hands down his denim shirt, to his jeans, unzip them … Laramie shook off the idea with difficulty. She had dragged this man into a hellish situation; one he never would have been in if it not for her brother. Once they were free of Lawrence he could go back to his normal life.
Life for her would be far from normal from now on. She had no right to ask Derrick to keep sacrificing for her. And she knew if they made love she would only want more. Maybe even something permanent.
Not likely.
Derrick might desire her now, but when he had a chance to clear his head, to be back in his real life, things would be different. He’d soon regret ever getting involved. She had to keep her heart safe.
She inched away, so a fraction of space lay between them.
“What’s wrong?” His warm breath swirled over her ear, and she clenched her thighs together.
“Just a pebble under my hip,” she lied. She wished he would stop talking, the deep rumble of his voice near her ear sending little sparks of awareness straight between her legs.
He lifted his head and listened.
When she would have questioned him, he shook his head. He slipped to his stomach, crowding her against the rock wall. Her shirt rode up and the cool rock against her bare skin raised goose bump on her skin. That or terror.
Something rustled the bushes outside.
Derrick lifted the rifle. With the oak brush in front of the entrance, they couldn’t see anything but branches and leaves, but if Lawrence came bursting through Derrick could shoot him.
Laramie curled her fingers into his shirt.
Her breaths came in short, fast pants she was certain could be heard a mile away. One of the dogs whined, and she touched it with her toe.
Whatever was outside moved away.
“Just a deer.” Derrick placed the rifle back where it was, within easy reach. He took her clenched hands in his, unlocking them from his shirt. “When the posse shows, I’m going to send you with them. I want you to go to Denver to stay with your mom.” He tightened his hold on her hands. “I’m going after your brother.”
“No, please. Let the authorities take care of it.”
“I’ve run long enough. I’m not running anymore.”
She wanted to argue, to plead, but part of her recognized his need. She, too, wanted to make Lawrence fear her, to make him beg for forgiveness. But didn’t that make her just like him? Maybe even worse, because she didn’t have illegal drugs coursing through her system.
She closed her eyes. “Just come back.”
“You can count on it.” He kissed her cheek.
“I am.”
She could feel his smile as his lips covered hers. But the kiss quickly turned from a comforting gesture to something far more as his tongue delighted hers. Fear fled and desire took its place. Every touch of his tongue to hers sent a wave crashing through her until she trembled from head to toe.
Somewhere along the way, he let go of her hands, and she curled them around his neck. His hair felt warm and slick as a new foal’s coat, and she tugged on a strand.
When he rocked his slim hips against hers, she didn’t pull back. His erection pressing against her stomach sent a wave of moisture pooling between her legs. All arguments why they shouldn’t do this meant nothing right now. All that mattered was being close, being safe. When his hand cupped her breast, it swelled in response, nipple hardening.
She reached down and tugged the hem of her T-shirt up, baring her stomach, then her bra. Impossible to lift it over her head, crammed between the cave wall and Derrick, she left the material bunched under her arms. But that didn’t stop him from slipping two fingers under the edge of her plain cotton bra and capturing her nipple. It became her turn to moan when he rolled it between his fingers.
Her hands fumbled with his zipper, but managed to get it open only an inch or so. Frustrated, impatient, Laramie gladly let him take over and open his own jeans. The minute his zipper went down, she reached for him.
A horse neighed.
Another answered from lower on the mountain.
“Damn,” Derrick muttered. “I think the posse has arrived.”
Laramie pulled her clothing into place, more disappointed than she’d ever admit that they’d been interrupted again. Cold, hard reality splashed over her. Nothing had changed. The intrusion was a blessing in disguise.
Derrick arranged his clothes and slid out of the cave. The sun had fallen behind the peaks, only a few dim rays still reaching over. “Stay here, and I’ll mak
e sure the coast is clear. As soon as I’m sure it’s safe, I’ll come get you. Keep your rifle in reach.”
• • •
Derrick hurried toward the meadow where they’d left Ramona’s body.
Several men and women on horseback gathered at the far end of the grassy field, and he emerged from the trees to meet them. As he approached, one of them rode forward. Derrick breathed a sigh of relief. Brendan. The patrolman dismounted and the men shook hands. “Sounds like more trouble’s come your way,” the cop commented.
“Lawrence Porter murdered Ramona Quintana.” Derrick pointed. “Her body’s over there. I need to get Laramie. I’ll be right back to answer any questions.”
He wound his way through the trees, and his pulse jumped when he didn’t immediately didn’t spot Laramie. He called to her, and she crawled through the oak brush.
“Are the cops here?”
“Yeah.”
“Thank God.”
“They want to talk to us.” He took her hand, gathered their horses, and went to the meadow.
Several officers approached them, but Derrick recognized only Brendan, who held out two bottles of water. “Start at the beginning and tell us everything.”
Derrick looked at Laramie. “I didn’t see the shooting, but Laramie did.”
She started slow, describing how the two women had circled the cattle, focused on the herd. She had been a few feet from Ramona when the shot rang out. At first, it hadn’t registered what happened, but when Ramona’s horse bucked her off Laramie knew they’d been shot at. She hadn’t seen anyone, but the gunfire had seemed to come from the peaks to their left.
Derrick watched a police officer draw a chalk line around Ramona’s body, and another took notes. This shouldn’t have happened. If the local cops had done their jobs in the beginning, neither woman would have lost their life. Now that Ramona Quintana lay dead as stone, they suddenly became attentive. Where had that attention been when Julie needed help?
His mind wandered further as the group of men and women scurried around. Where had Lawrence gone? Derrick would bet money he wasn’t far. In fact, he was probably watching the proceedings.
