by BJ Wane
“Who’s winning this match?” he asked them as he came up the steps.
“Girl’s a damn good player, and devious. Challenges me then blackmails me into accepting.” Leland glared at Leslie, but there was a twinkle in his eyes Kurt hadn’t seen in way too long.
Leslie shrugged, her bland expression unconcerned with the accusation or his father’s peevish tone. “You don’t have to accept. Cory offered to play with me.”
“I don’t pay him to play chess.”
“No, you pay him to drive you into therapy and help you get stronger here at home,” she returned, jumping a pawn and snatching up one of Leland’s men.
“I’m going, aren’t I?”
“Not without arguing,” she shot back.
“I owe you for getting him there twice this week, regardless of his reluctance,” Kurt stated, enjoying their banter. Not many people stood up to his dad. “You’ll have to pause this match. Leslie and I have a date for target practice.”
She whipped her head up. “We do?”
He loved the skepticism in her eyes. “I told you I would teach you to defend yourself while you’re here. You’ve recovered enough to spend an hour or two on your feet.” He held out his hand to her as he looked at Leland. “Dad, do you need me to get the door for you?”
Leland’s gaze flicked toward the cemetery then quickly away again. “No, I’ll sit out here for a while.”
Leslie reached for Kurt’s hand, wondering if she was the only one who noticed the flashes of guilt Leland portrayed whenever he eyed his son approaching him. And then Kurt’s firm, calloused grip closed around her hand, diverting her attention to the immediate frisson of pleasure that simple touch radiated up her arm, making her question whether this was a good idea. The struggle to keep her longing for him and his sexual control at bay these past few days was more difficult than she’d imagined. The threat, her new surroundings and his nearness coupled by those probing, dark-eyed gazes kept her tense and always on guard with coping with all three. As he pulled her up, the peek she got at his expression from under his hat gave her pause. She knew that intent, determined look very well.
“Where are we going?” she asked as he led her across the lawn, the cool breeze more noticeable away from the protection of the house.
“We have a target range well away from the livestock and cowhands but I want to take a few minutes to show you around the grounds, even though I don’t want you wandering around without me.” He pointed to the nearest ranch building. “We board our personal mounts in this first stable along with the Thoroughbreds we breed and sell.”
Like the house, the stable sported walls of half brick and half white painted siding with black trim. The building was massive with wide double doors opened to reveal rows of neatly kept stalls. The heads of several regal equines hung out window openings along the outside as they walked by.
“I’ve seen them in the pasture. They’re beautiful to watch.” And much bigger this close up, she mused, reaching up to rub a hand over the soft muzzle of a dark sable mare.
“That’s Annie. She’s too spirited for you. Tomorrow, if you’re up to it, I’ll take you up with me on Atlas and give you a riding lesson in the pasture.” Kurt shifted and pressed one hand against her butt, prodding her forward.
Leslie tried to ignore the distracting goosebumps his touch produced but that proved impossible as he squeezed one cheek before resting that hand on her hip and halting to introduce her to the three cowhands coming their way. Flicking him an annoyed scowl, she held out her hand to the young men who looked to be in their early twenties and greeted her with polite ‘Nice to meet you, ma’ams’ before getting back to their chores.
“Everyone is so polite,” she stated, fighting back a grin as she watched Kurt’s employees swaggering strides they all seemed to have in common.
“A combination of good upbringing and wanting to earn brownie points with the boss.” Pointing to a much smaller barn, Kurt started that way, saying, “Over here we house the livestock in need of special attention or veterinary care.”
A loud neigh resonated from the corral in between the two structures, snagging Leslie’s attention. An angry looking horse that needed to put on weight tossed his head with a snort as he pranced back and forth along the rail, eyes glued toward them. “What does he want?” she asked, looking up at Kurt.
Dipping into his pocket, he pulled out a sugar cube and nudged her toward the paddock. “A treat. I rescued him from the dog food factory and have been using bribes to gain his trust. I became his best friend when he got his first taste of sugar. Stay back, he’ll bite if you give him a chance.”
Bemused, she watched as Kurt held his hand out, palm flat and the mustang nipped the cube without checking it out first, his large eyes glaring at her with mistrust. “I don’t know a thing about horses, but can’t understand how anyone can allow one to get into this condition. Even I know their ribs aren’t supposed to be so pronounced.”
“Seeing an animal so neglected tries the patience of conscientious ranchers and livestock owners. Unfortunately, we see it all too often. This guy,” Kurt managed to pat the horse’s rump as he trotted away, “doesn’t trust me enough to saddle him yet, but he will. I haven’t failed with a reluctant partner yet.” He cast her a pointed look before dipping his head to nip the tender skin along the curve of her neck, the slight sting ricocheting down her body.
Exasperated as much with him and his teasing touches as with herself for responding, she glared at him as he pulled back and nudged her toward the small barn again. “You agreed to set aside our physical relationship while I’m here.”
“No, I didn’t. I agreed we wouldn’t sleep together,” he replied smoothly, reminding her Doms didn’t always play fair, or nice.
Before she could retort to that ridiculous excuse, he hauled her against him and covered her mouth in a carnal kiss that sent a flow of bubbling heat from her lips to her toes. Just as she leaned into him, telling herself it couldn’t hurt to succumb to this pleasure one time, he broke away, snatched her hand and started walking again. Leslie glared daggers at his broad back, resisting the urge to deliver a kick to that fine ass as she ran her tongue over her throbbing lip. They wound their way around two more outbuildings, both as large as the first, and she met several more employees. Each time they moved away from the introductions, Kurt would prod her along with teasing pinches to her backside, hard enough her jeans were no barrier to the resulting throb.
Swearing under her breath, Leslie wrenched her hand from his. “Not funny, Kurt,” she griped before looking over his shoulder and gasping at the large moose staring at them from the edge of the woods. “Oh, wow, that thing is huge.”
Kurt pulled the pistol from his waistband, his gaze turning sharp as he eyed the animal. “Stand still a minute. Odds are he’ll keep on going unless provoked.”
“You wouldn’t shoot it, would you?” Between his size and antlers spreading out several feet from his head, the moose was a daunting sight, but also magnificent. She hated to think of him getting hurt, or worse.
“I will if he charges, but like I said,” he nodded toward the lumbering animal turning back into the trees, “they usually don’t stick around.” Grabbing her hand again, he pointed in the opposite direction of where the moose had gone. “Come on. Fun time is over since the day is getting away from us. I want to get a little practice in before the sun starts to go down.”
A five-minute walk brought them to a small open field divided by a small island range draped with Ponderosa pines. At the base of the ridge sat stacks of hay bales with painted circular targets on the front. Leslie shivered as Kurt settled her in front of him, not sure if the goosebumps racing across her skin were from the chill in the air or the press of all those hard muscles against her softer frame.
“Cold?” he whispered in her ear before warming her by sinking his teeth onto her earlobe.
“A little. Aren’t you?” She cursed the breathless catch in her voice. Dam
n it, she wasn’t a simpering teen with her first boy, or even a newbie sub with her first Dom. She was supposed to be put out with him, wasn’t she?
“No. Just remembering when I had you at the club is enough to keep me warm. Did I ever mention how much I like those little whimpers you make when I’m tormenting you?”
Why hadn’t she realized how devious he could be, she bemoaned as those scenes popped into her head? “No, and I don’t appreciate you bringing it up now.”
“Then it’s time to get serious.” He placed her right hand around the butt of the pistol and her left below it, the smooth wood handle of the weapon in her hand creating a sense of anxiety out of the blue. Shaking it off, she concentrated on his instructions. “You’ll do better with a double grip for now. A pistol has a kick to it, but nothing like a rifle. I took the bullets out, so don’t worry about it being loaded.”
“Is this necessary? I’m uncomfortable with this thing.” And with you being so close. Was that the reason for her sudden nerves about the gun, the twitchy anxiety that wasn’t there when she’d first seen it tucked into his waistband?
“Yes, and you’ll get used to it. I learned to shoot before I started school. When I was around five, I witnessed a puma attack on one of our hands and saw how fast and accurately my dad reacted.”
“Was he okay, your employee?” She shuddered, remembering the sudden splatter of blood as a bullet entered Alessandro’s head and the nausea that unforgettable scene conjured up for months afterward.
“Yes. A few stitches and he was back to work thanks to Dad’s excellent marksmanship. Now, pay attention.”
Leslie tried but between Kurt’s nearness and the memory of walking into that fateful scene, it was difficult. With his help, she took aim and pulled the trigger several times, breathing a sigh of relief the easier it got with each empty click. And then her unease returned as he loaded the gun with bullets. She quaked inside as she took aim, not understanding why until she squeezed the trigger and the loud rapport thrust her back to that day almost four years ago, and the horrible murder she’d walked in on.
Alarm bells went off as Leslie stiffened against Kurt and her face bleached to snow white. Her slight body trembled under his hands and against his chest, her calm, steady breathing turning to desperate pants, her eyes going blank with fear. Snatching the gun from her hands, he tossed it on the ground, grabbed her shoulders and gave her a small shake, worry and anger gripping his throat.
“Leslie!” he snapped. “Look at me.” It took another shake before her eyes cleared enough to recognize him, the soft whimper spilling from her bloodless lips cutting him to the quick. “I’m here, baby. No one can hurt you. No one can get to you, I promise.” She sank against him, still shaking but with a return of color to her cheeks. Relief loosened the knot in his belly as he pulled her close. “There you go.”
Kurt held her for several minutes, doing nothing but rub soothing strokes up and down her back, waiting for her breathing to calm until she lifted her head. He wasn’t surprised to see a return of wariness reflected on her face.
“I’m sorry.” Leslie pulled back, averting her gaze. “I don’t know what came over me.”
“Yes, you do.” He refused to let her revert to shutting him out. They’d come too far to start taking steps backward. Bending, he picked up the pistol and returned it to his waistband before latching onto her elbow and starting back to the house. “Can you talk about it now the secret about your placement in witness protection is out?”
She hesitated and then capitulated with a sigh that got to Kurt on several levels. “I guess there’s no reason to keep quiet, is there?” Her eyes traveled around the pasture. “It’s so quiet out here, so peaceful. That was the first thing I noticed about Montana. Such a vast difference from Reno.”
“That’s where you’re from?” Keeping his steps short and slow to give her time to gather her thoughts, he watched her face closely for signs of duress.
She nodded, still not looking at him. “Yes, born and raised. I loved shopping at a corner Italian market, a small quaint, family owned grocery you don’t find in big cities anymore. Alessandro Carmichael always greeted me by name and tossed a handful of gran gelees citrus fruit candies into my bag at checkout.” The aching fondness in Leslie’s voice and devastation reflected in her now clear eyes threatened to tear a hole in Kurt’s gut “They’re orange and lemon flavored soft Italian candies that I used to crave.” She released a wistful sigh before wiping all expression off her face. “I haven’t had one since I saw two spoiled rich teens put a gun to his head for no other reason than drug-addled kicks.”
Now it was his turn to shake inside in both fear for her and fury over everything she’d lost. He couldn’t imagine the shock and trauma of witnessing such a thing. “Jesus, sweetheart, no wonder you freaked out at the sound of a gunshot. What happened? Did they get off and threaten you?”
“No, they just died in a prison fight. It’s their father who threatened me after I testified and who we suspect is behind the attempted hit on me now. My liaison in the program informed me of a breach into their protected files not long ago. They’re working on connecting all the dots.”
The house came into view and he paused, turning her to look at him. “You don’t trust they’ll find proof to arrest this guy?”
“No, since they haven’t done so in the last four years,” she returned in a clipped tone, resignation on her face.
“Then it’s a good thing you have me, isn’t it?” Because he sure as hell wouldn’t let anything happen to her. Kurt hadn’t needed a mule to kick him in the head to force him to admit sometime within the last two weeks, his feelings had taken a dive off the deep end. Love left him no choice but to keep Leslie glued to his side for the next forty years or so.
Chapter 11
“Can I help you?” Alan strolled towards the man who appeared uncomfortable walking the hall of an elementary school after dismissal. With the exception of a few teachers and the office staff, the classrooms and halls stood empty.
“I hope so,” he replied with a rueful smile. “I’m trying to find an old friend from college, Leslie Collins. I’ve been unable to get hold of her by phone to let her know I was coming through this way and she hasn’t been home the two times I stopped by her place. The last time we spoke, which I admit has been awhile, she mentioned teaching here. I was hoping to catch her before I have to head out.”
“Sorry.” Alan shrugged. “She surprised everyone by taking a sudden leave of absence a few days ago for a family emergency.” Even though Leslie had politely turned down his date invitations, he couldn’t suppress his disappointment when she’d left without a word. He knew little to nothing about her other than she was an excellent teacher, the kids adored her and her smile always stirred up a warm, pleasant sensation inside him. The regret etched on the man’s face mirrored his own when he realized her smile wouldn’t brighten his days for an unknown time period.
“That’s too bad. I hadn’t heard that and I have to leave first thing in the morning.”
It would be a shame if Leslie missed seeing an old friend and Alan could think of only one other person who might have more information to help him. “She’s been seeing a man named Kurt Wilcox, a local rancher and large property owner. If you can find a way to get hold of him, he might know where she’s at.” As soon as he’d seen the possessiveness stamped on Wilcox’s face that afternoon in the parking lot, Alan had accepted he didn’t stand a chance with her. It didn’t matter she hadn’t appeared happy with whatever they were discussing; her body language spoke volumes in the way she leaned toward the other man, the flush on her face and look in her eyes she’d never bestowed upon him.
“Hey, thanks.” He held out his hand to Alan, an expression of gratitude erasing the letdown on his face.
“Good luck.”
As soon as Clayton Mahoney returned to his motel room, he opened his laptop and looked up the Wilcox Ranch, somehow not surprised to find its location wit
hin a few miles of where he’d ambushed his mark’s car. His client’s rage over his failure to take her out a few days ago had blistered his ear through the phone. Normally he would walk away from a job when the customer came across as unhinged, but the extra one hundred thousand he’d dangled in front of him on top of the quarter million already promised was too tempting to turn down.
Before calling in with this latest information, Clayton scouted out the ranch where he suspected the Collins woman was hiding out. After discovering the risk of breaking through the tight security at the front gates, he returned the next day to check out the perimeters of the seemingly never-ending acreage. It took him hours of non-conspicuous driving where he spotted rifle-toting men on horseback, driving trucks or riding ATVs, depending on the terrain they were patrolling, to conclude this wouldn’t be an easy feat. Executing the job on a horse was out since he’d never ridden, and the trucks driven by the employees were all etched with the ranch logo, eliminating that option once he breached the security. But an ATV he could handle, and when he picked up a hat and covered his lower face with a bandana as he’d seen some do to keep the dust out of their mouths, anyone spotting him wouldn’t know he was trespassing. Not until he’d completed the contract and was long gone, he hoped.
Picking up his phone, Clayton wasted no time relaying his news as soon as his employer answered. “I have a location where I suspect she’s hiding. I’ll need time to stake it out and verify while I research the best way to break through the security.”
“Make it fast, damn it. I want the bitch gone,” he barked without a hint of gratitude for Clayton’s progress.
