by Leslie Kelly
“You got it,” she said on a long, deep groan. Then she gasped, buried her face in his throat and together they rode out their deep, shattering orgasms.
CHAPTER 7
ONCE AGAIN, Scarlett was having the loveliest dream.
This time, though, she was conscious enough to acknowledge it wasn’t a dream. She really was lying naked in an incredibly comfortable bed, rubbing her bare skin against the silky sheets.
The only thing she had to think about for a moment was whether she’d imagined the incredible lovemaking that had taken up a good bit of the afternoon or not.
The warm, hard body in the bed beside her said not.
“Mmm,” she groaned, without opening her eyes. Reality had been so much better than anything she’d ever dreamed about. Hunter had given her more physical pleasure than she had known it was possible to experience. Twice.
She tucked in closer to him, wanting more of the intimacy that seemed so natural between them, and which she’d never felt before. He might have been a stranger to her a short time ago, but physically, she already somehow felt connected to him.
It wasn’t just the amazing sex. The draw went deeper than chemistry. The soft whispers and quiet conversation they’d shared between bouts of lovemaking still warmed her. Maybe it was because of how safe she felt with him, how much she enjoyed teasing him into one of those rare smiles. Maybe because he wouldn’t let her get away with too much and she wouldn’t let him glower his way out of anything.
They had something. Something nice. Something she wanted more of.
More sex would be good, too. God, she was a glutton. Dying of orgasm, wouldn’t that read well in her obit? Yet as far as deaths went, it would have to be pretty high up on the list of best ways to go.
Lifting a bare thigh, she slid it over his legs. But instead of warm male skin, she felt rough fabric. He’d apparently gotten up and got dressed at some point, then came back to bed. She’d been so exhausted, she’d fallen into a deep sleep and hadn’t even noticed. “Why did you bother?” She ran a hand lazily down his chest. “I’m just going to rip your clothes off again.”
Repeating that as boldly as possible, she moved her hand down to cover the crotch of his jeans, cupping the massive bulge there. Oh, yeah. Their sex drives were definitely compatible.
“You might have to carry me out of here the way you carried me in,” she said as she caressed and toyed with him. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to bring my legs together after today.”
He chuckled, the sound making his chest rumble a little.
Yawning, she murmured, “What time is it?” She no longer felt warmth from the streaks of sunlight that had been pouring around the edges of that heavy window blanket earlier. And even without opening her eyes, she could tell the room was dark.
Or maybe that was because her face was buried in the neck of her sexy Cajun lover.
Mmm. Wanting to taste him again, she pressed her mouth to the hollow of his strong throat, feeling the rhythmic beat of his pulse against her lips. The scrape of his grizzled jaw against her skin made her shiver, just as it had when it had so deliciously brushed against her inner thighs a little while ago.
Now, though, it felt particularly rough, as if his five-o’clock-shadow had just struck midnight. She might go home reddened and sore. Well, actually, she already knew she was going home wonderfully sore, for different—delightful—reasons.
“You need a shave.”
Rubbing her cheek against his jaw, she realized something. He wasn’t grizzled. He was almost bearded. And unless he was some kind of Chia Pet who sprouted when water was poured on him, she had no idea how that could have happened in a few hours.
Her heart skipped a beat and her breath turned to a solid lump in the middle of her throat. She tried to swallow it down, willing her rising panic away, without any luck.
What if this isn’t Hunter?
You’re crazy.
But what if she wasn’t crazy?
Finding some deep well of courage, she slowly lifted her eyelids. She first noticed the swarthiness of his skin, the roughness of the thick shirt covering his enormous shoulders. Hunter was a big guy, but she didn’t remember his shoulders being twice as wide as her own.
Tilting her head back a little more, she spied that beard. Not golden, as she’d expect Hunter’s to be. Instead, it was dark, almost black.
Oh, God. She was in serious trouble.
Inch by inch, her gaze moved up, taking in the strong nose, the slashing cheekbones, the thick, almost jet-black hair hanging in disarray around his shoulders.
And the blazing brownish-black eyes staring down at her.
“You,” she whispered.
It was the man she’d seen in the woods. The killer. Though now, up close, he looked just like a dark, swarthy man. Not…anything else. But that was still frightening enough to stop her heart.
Scarlett was wrapped around a psycho murderer. Not only that, she had a handful of his most male part, which was hard enough to tell her exactly how he’d reacted to their encounter.
She jerked and threw herself backward. “Don’t touch me.”
“You were doing all the touching,” he said, his voice husky. Not melodic like Hunter’s, more gruff. “Not that I minded.”
Scarlett felt her face redden, wondering why the guy hadn’t pulled out his ax or something. Or just killed her in her sleep.
Inching back, she reached the edge of the bed and slid off it, falling onto the floor. Scrabbling for the blanket, she tugged it down to cover herself. “He’ll kill you.”
“No he won’t.”
The man’s calm confidence confused her. He didn’t sound the least bit concerned. And suddenly, her fear for Hunter was even greater than her fear for herself. Where was he? How could this stranger be so sure he wasn’t in danger.
Oh, God. What if he’d already done something to Hunter?
Staying low, she began to scoot along the floor toward the door. But she hadn’t gone far when his big, booted feet came off the bed and landed on the blanket, trapping her.
Earlier, she’d told Hunter she wouldn’t run bare-assed through the woods. Now, faced with the alternative, the idea wasn’t without merit.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
“What do you want?” she whispered, edging a little further—as far as she could go without losing the blanket completely.
“I just want to talk.”
Her eyes widened. “You want to talk to me?”
“Hell, no, if I had the time, talking would be the last thing I’d want to do with you.” His eyes narrowed as he raked a thorough stare over her, from the top of her tousled head down to her bare thighs, no longer covered by the blanket. The heat in those eyes left no doubt about what he meant.
Part of her wondered why he hadn’t just done it—taken advantage of her while she was asleep and naked beside him in the bed. She wouldn’t have even realized it, not at first anyway.
The thought that she could so easily have been raped made a long shudder roll through her body.
“I want to talk to him.”
The shudder passed as she sighed in relief. Wanting to talk to Hunter meant this crazy guy hadn’t killed him already. “He’s not going to be much in the mood for talking if he comes back here and finds you attacking me.”
He put his hands up, palms out. “I haven’t laid a finger on you. Your hands and mouth were doing all the traveling.”
Her jaw stiffened in angry embarrassment.
“Don’t worry, Red,” he whispered, his eyes glittering in the semi-darkness. “I won’t tell him.”
“My hair’s not red.”
Those dark, knowing eyes dropped to her bare shoulders. “Your skin is. You two have been having quite a time today.”
“Pig.”
“Wrong species.”
She glared. “You better get out of here. He drove to town to get the cops. They’ll be here any minute.”
To her surpri
se, he began to laugh. Softly at first, then louder, as if she’d genuinely amused him. Bastard.
Sick of sitting at his feet staring up at the man like some helpless harem girl, she tugged at the blanket. He stepped off it, allowing her to rise to her feet. She tucked the blanket around herself, then lifted her chin in defiance. “I mean it. Go. I think I hear a siren.”
“You have no idea where you are, do you?”
“Of course I do. I’m in a cabin in Louisiana, and we’re only a few miles from the closest police station.” She wasn’t sure there was a police presence in the small town where Granny lived, but hopefully he didn’t know that.
A smile appeared on that mouth again. “You really don’t know. He brought you over and didn’t tell you.”
“Over where?” she snapped, feeling left out of a big joke.
He rubbed a hand on his lean jaw. He had big hands. Dark and strong-looking, with more hair at the knuckle than she was used to seeing. “I don’t quite know how to say it.”
“Now would be good.”
“You’re not in Louisiana. You’re far, far away from there.”
She glared. “Forget it. I don’t want to hear your lies.”
“Not lies, Red. You’re in a place that doesn’t exist on any map. I guess the only way to say it is, uh, my brother brought you over the rainbow.”
She didn’t know which shocked her more. The idea that this man was crazy enough to think they’d flown here over some rainbow. Or his claim that he was Hunter’s brother.
Then she remembered the smile, and wondered. Could the killer Hunter Thibodeaux was chasing be his own sibling? There was a hint of a resemblance…it could it be possible.
But as for the rest? Well, it only confirmed one thing. She was trapped with a complete madman.
* * *
HUNTER HEARD voices as he returned, carrying the bucket of spring water to resupply the cabin. He’d pictured coming back and warming it up so Scarlett could have another bath while he went out hunting tonight.
He’d never imagined coming back to find Lucas with the innocent woman Hunter had dragged into their private struggle.
Moving quietly, he put the pail down, tugging his weapon from its holster on his hip, thankful he wasn’t stupid enough to have left without it. He did not want bullets flying. Not just because Scarlett could get hurt, but because, deep down, he didn’t know if he had it in him to kill his half-brother.
You didn’t come here to kill him. You came to arrest him.
Only Lucas wouldn’t let himself be arrested easily.
He considered his options, finally realizing the pair inside stood close to the door, meaning they were not close to the window. He crept toward it silently, knowing Lucas would sense him if he made the slightest sound. Reaching the square opening, he pushed the lower corner of the blanket in.
And found himself face-to-face with his brother.
“You should have just come in the front door,” Lucas said. “I smelled you five minutes ago.”
“Hunter!” Scarlett rushed toward the window, stumbling a little on the long blanket wrapped around her naked body.
“If you touched her, I’ll kill you,” he growled as he climbed inside. He reached for Scarlett and pulled her behind him, blocking her with his body.
“I didn’t touch her. We were just having a conversation.”
His fingers still wrapped around the grip of his 9 mm, Hunter peered through the near-darkness, trying to see what kind of weapon Lucas was holding. He wouldn’t come in here unarmed. The man was far too good for that.
“I have something for you.”
Hunter waited. When Lucas reached into a knapsack on the table, he snapped, “Keep your hands where I can see them.”
“If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it as you climbed into the window, little brother.”
“You know I have to take you back.”
“I don’t think so.”
“You might have felt justified, but you killed two men.”
“Again. I don’t think so.” Lucas pulled a thick sheaf of papers from the knapsack and stepped closer, appearing unconcerned about the gun in Hunter’s hand. Nor did he seem angry. “I didn’t kill them. They deserved it, but I didn’t do it. See for yourself.”
Hunter reached out and took the pages. Not certain what he was looking at right away, he soon realized they were black-and-white snapshots, like those taken from a surveillance camera. And visible in the frame was Colin Frakes, his former partner.
“It was taken by a liquor-store camera an hour before Frakes was killed,” Lucas said. “Look in the upper left corner.”
He did. And stiffened in shock at the sight of another familiar face. “Harry Stafford?” Stafford was one of the other detectives…the one Lucas had not caught up with during his deadly spree last month. The one who was still alive out there somewhere.
Not understanding, he looked up at his half-brother. “But he was living in Arizona, nowhere near Frakes. They split up once they knew you were after them. I figured he went deep into hiding when he realized you’d tracked down the others.”
“Wrong. Stafford killed Frakes.”
Hunter waited for the rest.
“Look at the next shots—red-light cams a block from the second victim’s apartment, taken within twenty minutes of his murder. See who was there?”
Hunter flipped the pages and saw exactly what Lucas had told him he would, including a time-stamp from the police camera. Harry Stafford had indeed been close to each man just before their deaths. “Why?”
“I don’t know. Nobody to testify against him? He had to have known one of us would catch up with him sooner or later.”
One of us. “You didn’t kill them,” he muttered.
Lucas shook his head once, his eyes never shifting, visibly resolute and certain. “Can’t say I wouldn’t have, if I’d gotten there first,” he said, sounding cavalier. “But I didn’t set out to. I wanted to bring them back here. I know what kind of easy justice system you’ve got over there. No way was I going to let them sit in jail for a few decades getting fat.” His voice shook and his body tensed as he added, “Not after what they did.”
Then, as if they’d said everything that needed saying, Lucas reached for the knapsack and hoisted it over his shoulder.
But Hunter wasn’t quite finished. There was one more thing to say. “I don’t know how they found their way here,” he said, hoping his brother heard the genuine sorrow he made no effort to hide. “But if it was my fault—if I was somehow responsible for putting them in the path of your sister—I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”
Lucas stared at him for a moment, then replied, “It wasn’t. Frakes has been dealing on this side for years. Long before you paid your first visit.”
Relief washed over Hunter. He closed his eyes for a moment, nodding and sending up a prayer of thanks. “I’m glad.” Then, his voice still quiet, he added, “I’m sorry about Ciara.”
Lucas nodded once, slowly, then walked to the door. Opening it, he peered outside, up at the sky. The full moonlight washed over him, and from a few feet away, Hunter saw the way he swayed forward, welcoming it. His brother’s features looked longer, coarser and when he turned to look at Hunter one more time, Lucas’s teeth glittered in the darkness. There was absolutely no denying his genetics, not now, not in this place when he was bathed in the moonlight that revealed all.
Beside him, Hunter heard Scarlett gasp. He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed.
“I’m going after Stafford,” Lucas said.
Hunter expected nothing less. “Try to take him alive. Because you’re right. Shooting him won’t be good enough. He does deserve the kind of justice he’ll get over here.”
Old-fashioned justice. An eye-for-an-eye justice. His half-brother’s entire family would settle for nothing less.
Lucas cast a quick glance at Scarlett, who still watched, her stunned eyes wide. “You should probably get her out of here.
It’s growing season. You don’t want to be stuck here for this next month.” A small smile that looked more predatory than amused widened his mouth, and in the low light, his eyes gleamed. “Nice to meet you, Red. You make him tell you the truth, you hear? Because you sure aren’t in Kansas anymore.”
And then, without another word, Hunter’s brother turned his face back toward the moon and slipped out into the night.
CHAPTER 8
SHE WAS DREAMING again. She had to be. Because no way had the man she sensed she could truly fall for just told her the crazy story still ringing in her ears. No way. No how.
“It’s the tea,” Scarlett snapped, “you drugged me. This has all been a hallucination.” Chewing on her lip, she eyed him from behind half-lowered lashes. “But the sex was real, wasn’t it?”
He smiled as he finished cutting down the oversized, flat leather sandals he’d found for her. After he’d dumped that load of BS on her, he’d gone to work on the shoes, telling her she needed time to “absorb” it all.
She could have paper towels in place of skin and never absorb that nonsense.
“Everything I’ve said is true.”
“Bullshit. I don’t believe in fairy tales.”
“They’re not fairy tales here. They’re history. I’d prove it to you if we weren’t short on time.”
More bullshit. This story about there being another world existing alongside theirs…pure fabrication. She didn’t believe in fantasies. Or in crazy stories about alternative universes where fiction had actually happened and mystical creatures actually lived. She wasn’t buying one single bit of it.
“I didn’t believe it at first either. My mother told me on her deathbed about stumbling over here, and I thought she’d lost her mind. Until I came and saw the truth for myself.”
She smirked and rolled her eyes.
He continued, undeterred, his voice never wavering despite the crazy words coming out of his mouth. “I don’t think she’d have told me at all if she hadn’t been calling out Lucas’s name. I asked who he was and she told me the whole story.” He looked down to work on the second shoe. “She was in love with Lucas’s father, but she was never happy here. She wanted to go back to her other life, wanted him to come with her. But he hated it there as much as she hated it here and refused.”
