by Tarah Scott
“A ride, then dinner, Mr. Hunter,” she said, keeping her gaze fixed on the view.
“That's all I ask, Ms. Monahan,” he said, but she heard in his voice, that's all I'll need.
The canter turned into a gallop that brought them to the summit of the tallest hill they’d taken yet. They slowed and a poppy field came into view. Liz cried out. Wind rustled desert brush growing among the bright yellow flowers.
“It's beautiful,” she murmured.
“I thought you might like it,” Ben said.
She looked at him. “Thank you.”
He smiled and touched his hat. “Happy to oblige, ma'am.”
A tremor radiated through her. He's young, she reminded herself, too young to realize that the thrill of chasing an older woman would vanish once the conquering is done. And she was too old for a one-night stand—or a wild fling. May/December, her mind began, but she grimaced inwardly. The very idea made her feel every day her age.
“You want to walk for a bit?” Ben asked.
Liz returned her attention to the flowers and nodded. “I would love to.”
They rode to the bottom of the hill and dismounted.
“I haven't seen poppies in bloom like this in forever,” she said as they began to stroll among the flowers.
“Unless we have a particularly dry year, this spot tends to bloom well,” Ben replied.
“Have you photographed this spot?” she asked.
“As a matter of fact, I have.” She didn't miss the surprise in his voice. “My father told you?” he said.
“I saw the pictures over the fireplace. The mountain range isn't the Franklin Mountains, is it?”
“No.” He nodded toward the mountains in the distant north. “The Organ range.”
Liz bent and picked a poppy. “You're quite good.”
He smiled. “I consider that a real compliment, coming from you.”
“So why law enforcement over photography?” she asked.
“The world doesn't need another photographer.”
“But there is a shortage of good law enforcement officers?”
He laughed. “There's a shortage of law enforcement officers, period.”
“Your cousin isn't thrilled with your choice. How does your father feel?”
“About the same as R.W.”
“He seemed to be defending you,” she said. “He told R.W. to stay out of it.”
“Dad doesn't like to air dirty laundry.”
“Is that what your career choice is, dirty laundry?”
“No,” Ben replied. “That was unfair. He's a private man.”
“I can't blame him there,” she said.
“Neither can I.”
“It must be difficult for him knowing his son won't work the ranch.”
Ben gave her a sharp look. “You think he's right?”
She shook her head. “I didn't say that at all—and I wasn't thinking it, either,” Liz added when she saw the question in his eyes. “I'm a big believer in walking your own path. What I’m saying is, it might be easy for him to take your decision personally.”
“Maybe,” Ben said. “But he'll have to learn to live with it.”
“How many more years you think it'll take him?”
Ben laughed, a full rich sound. “My father isn't known for giving in. Could take a long time.”
“He's proud of you.”
Ben's head snapped in her direction. He studied her for a heartbeat. “That's an interesting observation and not one most people would agree with.”
“Your photographs are hanging over the mantle. Your accomplishments matter to him.”
Ben looked away. “He never minded me having a hobby.”
“He didn't hesitate to support you in letting me stay here.”
“Never let it be said that Brandon Hunter turned away a lady in distress.”
“Is he really that cold?” she asked.
“In a way,” Ben replied, “but it's not the whole truth. Any law abiding citizen would want to see Sanchez put out of business. You can make that happen.”
“I can help make that happen if Mr. Sanchez returns to the US. What are the chances he'll do that after what happened last night?”
“Sanchez getting caught in the US isn’t our only choice,” Ben said.
Liz put a hand on his arm and brought him to a halt. “If you chase him into Mexico and don't make it back what will I do then?”
Curiosity glinted in his eyes. “What would you want to do, Liz?”
“What I want is to not have your death on my conscience,” she answered. “Not to mention, Mr. Sanchez would still be alive.”
“Would you miss me?” he asked. “Even a little?”
The question caught her off guard. “I don’t want you getting killed.”
“I have no intention of getting myself killed.”
“We never do,” she replied.
He glanced at the ground. “Look, there's something you need to know.”
Her heart sped up. “Something's happened.”
“Dammit, Liz, you can't keep jumping one step ahead of me. I'm a man, I can't take it.”
“What is it?” she demanded.
He seemed to hesitate for a fraction of a second and her fear mounted.
“Everyone agrees that Sanchez is probably still in Juarez,” Ben said. “You and I are a problem he has to solve, and fast. It's being considered that if Sanchez believes you and I are returning to Mexico to face the charges—”
“What?” she blurted.
“Hear me out, Liz. It's not straight forward.”
“You think I should go back?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“What do you think?”
“I probably will go back.”
She drew a sharp breath. “You'll end up dead.”
“Not if we handle things right.”
Liz felt lightheaded. “Even if that maniac doesn't get you, you’ll never survive in a Mexican jail.”
His brows drew down. “You don’t think much of my ability to take care of myself.”
She stared. “You're insane. You'll probably end up dead, yet all you can do is defend your manhood.”
“You're cutting me to the quick here.”
Unexpected tears threatened to spill. “This isn't funny.”
He laughed, “Liz, honey, you have me all wrong.”
She shook her head, suddenly feeling a strange surge of hysteria. “I don't have you wrong at all.” A tear slid down her cheek and she was shocked to realize she was crying.
“Liz.” Ben dropped the reins and grasped her shoulders.
She blinked through the tears and resisted when he pulled her against his chest.
“Don’t cry, honey. It'll be okay.”
She wanted to stop crying, wanted to tell him he wasn't going back to Mexico while telling him to go to hell. Instead, she blubbered into his shirt.
“You can't stay in protective custody forever,” he said. “Although, if I’m the officer protecting you, that idea isn’t all bad.”
Liz could imagine his idea of 'protection' and felt certain she was getting a taste of it right now. She hadn't been wrong. His arms made her feel safe, and that only meant she wasn't safe at all.
“You're tying me in knots, Liz.”
“What?” she hiccupped.
“I'm going to break the rules,” he said. “Fraternizing with a witness is a big no-no.”
“I have no intention of allowing you to fraternize.” She intended to break free of his hold, but froze when he put a finger beneath her chin and tipped her face upward.
He wrapped his other arm around her waist. “You weren't supposed to be a witness.” He drew her so close she was forced to lean her head back in order to see his face.
Her mind muddled. “I-I didn't mean to be.”
A corner of his mouth twitched. “I think you couldn't help yourself.”
“Hey, wait a minute—”
“Birds of
a feather,” he murmured, and pushed her hat from her head. It hit the ground as his mouth reached hers.
Liz drew a breath, and caught the scent of…masculinity, as their lips touched. The tremor in her stomach exploded. Her knees weakened and she grasped his arms for support. Beneath her fingers, steely muscle strained against the fabric of his shirt. Ben slipped a thigh between her legs and her mind whirled at the pressure of his erection, hard and demanding, against her abdomen. She gasped and his tongue slipped past her lips. Her nipples responded by stiffening to hard peaks through the soft cup of her bra. He groaned and swept his tongue across hers. Her tongue thrust back before she realized the response. Ben's arm tightened around her waist.
A beat thrummed in her head in unison with the ache between her legs. Liz told herself to pull away, but her body didn't follow the command. She whimpered. He growled back. She slid a hand up his arm, around his neck, and fisted his hair. The thick, soft hair between her fingers was a strange aphrodisiac that turned her insides to jelly. His kiss grew fierce, then his mouth slid down her jaw and along her neck— He abruptly broke off and yanked her head against his chest. The gallop of his heart made her head spin.
“Another minute and I'd have to touch you,” he said in a hoarse voice that bled with desire.
Liz's mind snapped to attention. And she would have let him. She couldn’t remember having responded to a man with such intensity—or the last time a man had responded to her with such passion. Had to be his age. She'd simply forgotten how quickly men his age could respond to a woman. This, she realized with an unexpected panic, was dangerous territory.
Ben released her and for an instant she thought she would fall to her backside. Liz remained frozen as he bent and picked up her hat.
He placed the hat on her head, then gave her a lopsided smile. “In my defense, I have been waiting three days.” He grinned. “A lifetime when you want something.”
“What?”
“You don't think this attraction started last night?” He laughed. “When I met you at the photo shoot three days ago I decided I'd come after you once the job was over.”
“Come after me?” she repeated.
“Yep.”
Butterflies skimmed the insides of her stomach. “That's silly,” she said. “I would have left El Paso today.”
“I did say that Dallas isn't that far away,” he said.
Liz snorted. “Easy to say when I’m standing here.” She shook her head. “You're still fraternizing. You said you weren't supposed to do that.”
His gaze remained fixed on hers. “You said you wouldn't let me.”
“And I shouldn’t have—just as you shouldn't have—”
“Tempted you?” he finished the sentence.
“Caught me off guard,” she corrected.
Ben laughed. “Liz, I doubt you've ever been caught off guard.”
He was so wrong. He had caught her off guard last night at the party, then in Mexico…and here in a field of poppies. She'd lost her balance the moment she laid eyes on him at the gala. She had to get a grip on the situation—which meant getting a grip on herself.
“You're only proving my point, Ben.”
“How's that?” he said.
“Your youth is showing in your inability to remain professional.”
He laughed again, hard this time, and without rancor. “You tell yourself that, honey. Then show me a man of any age who would keep his hands off you.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Mr. Hunter, I won't deny I find you attractive.”
“You can't deny it,” he said.
“It's rude to keep interrupting.”
He canted his head. “You're right, Ms. Monahan. I apologize.”
Liz shook her head. “You can't expect me to take this seriously.”
He caught their horses' reins and handed her hers. “You will.”
Chapter Seventeen
They reached within sight of the ranch when Ben's phone rang. At least whoever called had the good timing to wait until after he had filled Liz in on what he knew about the plan to return to Mexico. He hadn't liked the shock on her face when he described the charges against them in Juarez had been bumped up to accessory to murder, but he hadn't been surprised. She would be a fool not to take the situation seriously, and Liz Monahan was no fool.
She'd recovered enough to say she wasn't agreeing to anything the FBI proposed until she'd spoken with her lawyer. That was smart, but Ben suspected her insistence had as much to do with wanting to learn how bad things really were as showing good sense. Liz thought that if she didn't go back, maybe that would stop him from going. He didn’t have that option. And he didn't want her anywhere near Mexico.
The only reason he hadn't sent her packing out of El Paso was because he didn't know anyone he trusted to watch her. Even the Rangers in Dallas weren’t able to keep tabs on her 24/7. He had to tuck her away somewhere safe, and the ranch was the safest place. A few days was all he needed to get to Mexico and catch Sanchez. But it wasn’t that simple, was it? Liz was right. Even from prison the human traffics dealer could order a hit on them. Anger rocketed through Ben. The only way Liz would be safe was if Sanchez died.
“Ben.”
Liz's sharp tone yanked him from his thoughts.
“Aren't you going to answer your phone?”
The phone gave another shrill ring. “Got lost in thought,” he said.
She gave him a penetrating look that said she knew exactly what he'd been thinking.
Ben pulled the phone from his jeans pocket. “You'd think they knew I just came within range.”
“It's tough being popular,” she said in a dry tone.
He looked at the display and didn't recognize the number. Only close friends, family, and work had his cell number. Ben flipped open the phone. “Hello?”
“Good evening, Mr. Hunter,” came Mrs. Remmey's greeting.
Ben heard the strain in her voice and pulled his horse to a stop. “Sanchez contacted you, didn’t he?” Ben caught the startled glance Liz sent his way.
“Yes,” Mrs. Remmey answered.
“May I ask where you're calling from? I don't recognize this number.”
“My husband’s downtown office.”
Ben nodded toward the ranch and mouthed ‘Go’ to Liz. She shook her head and he gave her a narrow-eyed warning that said ‘do as I say.’ She only raised her brows.
“I see,” he said into the phone. “Very secure, I take it, and maybe not monitored by the FBI?” When Ben filed his report, he let the Remmey’s know the FBI would be contacting them about their granddaughter—and Sanchez.
“Certainly more secure and private than the phone in our home,” she replied.
“What did Sanchez say?” Ben asked.
“He wants to know where Ms. Monahan is staying. As arranged, we gave him the name of the hotel. He knew she visited me earlier today.”
So Sanchez had someone watching the Remmey’s as Ben suspected he would. “Mrs. Remmey, is it possible he has a mole on your staff?”
“I would like to say no, but we both know that's not realistic.”
“Is there anyone in particular you would suspect?” Ben asked.
“There are those I can say with certainty would not, but I suspect no one. Yet, everyone has a price.”
“I'm very sorry,” Ben said.
“Don't be sorry, Mr. Hunter. Just get my granddaughter back.” Before he could say that was exactly what he intended to do, she added, “He wants to know who you are. He made a point of mentioning that you were on the news today.”
So the video hadn't yet given Sanchez Ben's identity. “Do you think he's fishing or does he have some way of knowing that you colluded with me?” Ben asked.
“He knows you’re a law enforcement officer, but Francis believes he doesn’t know what agency you’re with. He demanded to know who referred you to us. Our quick plan last night did not prepare us for this.”
Ben’s gut twisted. The Feds were right
. He’d screwed up this operation, but good.
“So Francis improvised,” she said.
Ben startled and his horse shifted in reaction. Ben tightened his hold on the reins.
“Francis said his contact was Mr. Soto, and explained that he used Mr. Soto to buy drugs for clients. Francis told Mr. Sanchez that he hadn’t wanted to admit to the association, so made up the story about a government contact.”
Ben recalled Sanchez’s belief that Francis Remmey was hiding a connection with Soto. “Mrs. Remmey, you couldn’t have done any better if we’d planned it.”
“I certainly hope you’re right because he threatened to kill Christina after—” her voice broke “—after he passed her around to his men.”
Anger whipped through Ben. Sanchez would make good on his threat, even if the Remmeys complied with every demand he made. Men like Sanchez didn’t give second chances, even for honest mistakes.
“He let us speak with her.”
Ben jarred. Had he heard correctly? “You spoke with her?”
“Yes… Mr. Hunter, she’s so frightened. The men, they look at her and…she’s only fifteen,” Larissa ended in a whisper.
Ben jumped when warm fingers touched his fist. He swung his gaze up to Liz’s face. She gave his hand a squeeze, then released him, and his mind centered back to Mrs. Remmey. “Sanchez made sure she was good and scared by the time she talked to you,” he said
“I believe so.”
“But no one has hurt her yet?” he asked.
“No.”
“Mrs. Remmey, your granddaughter is alive and well. As long as she’s with Sanchez and he needs you, she’ll not be harmed or sold. Keep that in mind.”
“Yes,” Larissa said as if just understanding. “If he’s with Christina, that means he’s probably not in El Paso. But that only makes finding her harder.”
“No,” Ben corrected. “Knowing she’s near Sanchez is better than having no idea where she is at all. This is a step forward. I assume the FBI knows everything you told me?”
“Yes, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. This is their job and they’re good at it.” If Masters and Braxton weren’t in charge of the kidnapping, that is, and Ben was sure they weren’t.
