He’d had everything with Lacey, except trust. His faith and trust in his wife crumbled at the first hint she was cheating on him. He shouldn’t have listened to Jared Davis. Danger scowled, his thoughts skittering to and fro. He was missing something here. Something important. Regardless, the truth was he should have trusted Lacey. The failure was his. She’d been a good wife, a wonderful mother, great in bed, but he’d been neck deep with distrust.
His suspicions escalated when Jared pressed a pair of Lacey’s panties into his hands and told him what a great fuck she was. Damn it! Why had he listened? Believed? But God, he’d known the silky underwear belonged to his wife.
Burning rage had blasted him until he was filled with the reckless need for revenge. Stupid. Stupid. He still wondered how Jared got his hands on Lacey’s personal belongings, but he no longer believed the other man had screwed his wife. But how had Jared known about the butterfly tattoo on Lacey’s right hipbone? The man had intimate knowledge about his wife, things he shouldn’t have known.
Danger frowned. He’d gone a little crazy with jealousy. He’d wanted to hurt Lacey the way she’d hurt him, but he’d never once considered that Smitt Davis would do the things to her he’d done. He hadn’t wanted that. God, he hadn’t—
Why did her memory always come back to haunt him? They were divorced, both married to other people, but he didn’t think he’d ever forget the way he’d hurt her. Or the fact he’d been with Karen when Smitt attacked Lacey and murdered Joseph and Anna. If only he’d been there for them. Wrinkling his brows, he wondered if he’d ever be able to lay the guilt aside.
Danger opened the barn door and entered the dim interior. Winter cast dark shadows and made everything gloomy, but at least the snow had stopped for now. But more was in the forecast and would start again within hours.
Moving down the center aisle, he made his way to Calla’s stall. The spirited mare snorted her welcome. “Hey, sweetheart, you didn’t think I’d forget you, did you? How ‘bout some oats? You hungry?” He always fed Calla first. Somehow, in his own warped imagination, it made him feel closer to Lacey, in some way connected to her through the sweet-tempered mare.
Danger filled the trough and moved on to the next mare’s stall. He stilled at once, frozen as he stared numbly over the stall door. “Oh, God. Oh, Jesus.” He whipped around, searching the deeper shadows of the barn, but nothing stirred. Quickly, he checked the remaining stalls, but none of the other mares had been touched. All the others still lived, all, except for Cookie. “That fucking sonofabitch! Why, you bastard?”
It took him a moment to realize there was a note lying on the butchered mare. Yeah, Smitt was a great one for notes. Shuddering, Danger grabbed the paper and read.
Get her back. Bring Lacey darling home, or I kill sweet Calla next…or your pregnant wife. Maybe both. Get her back. She belongs to me.
“You sick, twisted fuck,” Danger shouted, but there was no one to hear but him. Smitt Davis had done a number on the little mare. He’d done his evil work and left. God, when would the man be satisfied? Would he ever be satisfied?
Danger jerked the cell phone from its leather holder at his waist and punched in a number. He hated calling anyone this early, but shit, Rafe needed to know Smitt Davis was still alive. And the serial killer wasn’t finished with any of them.
Chapter Seventeen
It is the law of nature that woman should be held under the dominance of man.
~Confucius
Somewhere in Ohio
Motor Lodge Motel
February 17, Tuesday
Six hours and forty-five minutes after the assassination…
Hunching his shoulders a little deeper inside the sheepskin coat, Duel was relieved that the all-night clerk at the seedy looking motel was more concerned with getting back to the porn movie he was absorbed in, than paying much attention to him as he slapped down his driver’s license and signed in. “I want the room for a couple of days.”
“Pay in advance,” the lanky clerk with the zit-covered face replied. He thrust fingers through his stringy blond hair and shoved a form across the counter for Duel to fill out. All the while, his gaze shifted to the twenty-one inch television screen to his right. “No drugs, man. No fights. Fuck all you want, as many as you want, no extra charge.”
“Thanks,” Duel said, sarcasm etching his words. “I don’t think I need your permission for that.”
“Right.” For the first time the clerk squinted through the thick lenses of his Buddy Holly framed glasses and tried to get an eyeful of the redhead in Duel’s car parked underneath the motel canopy. “Gotcha a beauty waiting in your car to diddle?”
The clerk’s crude leer set Duel’s already short-fused temper on edge. He narrowed his eyes. “If there’s one thing I detest, boy, it’s a nosy, nasty-minded motel clerk barely old enough to wipe his nose.” He tucked his license back in his wallet and shoved it in his right hip pocket. “Keep your eyes where they belong, which is on that crap you’re watching.”
The clerk, Timmy his name tag announced in bold black letters, turned red and bobbed his head like a goose with a broken neck. But moron that he was, he grinned, pleased when Duel dropped two one hundred dollar bills on the desk.
“I’m twenty-two, mister, old enough for a lot of things, if you get my meaning.”
“You wanna live to reach twenty-three, shut your trap while you’re still ahead and listen very carefully to me.” Duel placed two more hundred dollar bills in front of the clerk. “The extra is to keep your mouth shut,” he said. “If anyone asks questions, you’ll be sure and tell them nothing. Plus, you’ll ignore whatever takes place in my room.”
The clerk nodded. “No problem. I never saw you. And short of murder, mister, I don’t give a fuck what you do in that room, but if you decide you’re interested in a trio, hell, my dick’s always up for a little action. I go both ways, if you get my drift.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Duel picked up the key card. “No calls. Understand? I don’t care if the person says it’s my dying mother or the President of the United States. No calls. You never saw me. I was never here.”
“And you didn’t have a hot woman with you?” He snickered. “Must be some rich man’s horny wife. You planning to fuck her good and proper?”
Duel grabbed the clerk by the front of his shirt and dragged him halfway across the counter. “Listen, you snot-nosed little shit, you say one more thing in reference to that lady in my car, and I’ll drag your skinny bones the rest of the way across this counter and pound some sense into that thick skull of yours. I’ll put a case of whoop-ass on you, you won’t forget. What I do or don’t do with the lady is none of your fucking business. Got it?”
The clerk swallowed hard. “Sure, mister, I was just funnin’, didn’t mean anything by it. I swear I didn’t realize she was your wife. I thought she was some whore—”
Duel shoved the boy away. “She isn’t some whore. You’ve said enough.” He eyed the droplets of blood on the counter, and swore viciously. “I’m not much into fun, boy.” He snatched a tissue from a box perched near his elbow and swiped the dark stains off the counter. “You didn’t see that.” He slapped another hundred on the desktop.
The clerk’s eyes widened behind the thick-lenses. “I–I see you ain’t bleedin’, but, mister, I–I got a first aid kit under here. It’s got everything you might need, you know…in case you should have a little accident shaving and start bleeding?” He grabbed the kit and slid it to Duel. “Take it. No charge.”
Duel took the kit and bit back a moan. “You’re smarter than you look, kid,” he said forcing a grin. Jesus, where did people like this moron come from?
“Which part did I get right?”
“Remember what that extra money is for, and don’t worry about what I’m doing.”
As soon as Duel was out of sight of the clerk, he heaved a deep sigh. Much more of that character’s company and he’d ram a fist so hard against the clerk’s jaw, he’d
break it. Damn freaky weasel. Labeling him a slime ball was giving the disgusting creep way too much credit.
He slid inside the car, shoved the first aid kit at Flayme, and turned the key. “I see you’re still here all nice and comfy.”
“Ass!” Flayme’s nostrils flared. She eyed the tin box. “A first aid kit?”
“Compliments of that creepy little bastard. I started bleeding on his counter.”
“Oh. You don’t think he’ll call the cops?”
“Nope. I paid him enough to keep his trap shut. Besides, he doesn’t want the cops here anymore than we do.”
“I don’t mind if the cops pop in. I have nothing to hide,” she chirped. “You, on the other hand, have a lot.”
Duel shot her a jaundiced look. “You better pray they don’t show up. I’m in no mood for lengthy explanations. Why didn’t you try to run away?”
Anger sizzled in the fierce blue depths of her eyes. She jiggled her wrist, jerking on the metal bracelet. “I’m handcuffed to the arm rest. Where would I run to?”
“Oh. I forgot about them.”
“Sure you did,” she cracked.
He smothered a groan, and drove the short distance to their room. “Believe it or not, it isn’t my goal in life to make you miserable.”
“Hah! Couldn’t prove it by me.”
Duel killed the engine and choking back another moan, shoved open the car door and made his way to the passenger side. Wrenching open the door, he leaned in, unlocked the cuffs and stepped back. “I did forget about the cuffs.”
“Uh-huh,” she replied, a sour look on her face.
“Get out.”
“That’s all right.” Her tone dripped with saccharine. “I’m comfortable here.”
“I’ll be more comfy if you’re with me.” Capturing her upper arm, he dragged her out of the car and marched her to the door of their room.
“Ouch! My foot. Let go of me!” She jerked free of his hold. “I’m quite capable of walking on my own without you frog-marching me around. My foot hurts. The glass is still in it, you know.”
“Not my fault you cut your foot. You shouldn’t have run from me.” Duel fiddled with the uncooperative lock and tried to ignore her as she squirmed from one bare foot to the other. It was a useless endeavor. The woman rubbed him the wrong way no matter what she did. “Hopping about like that? I doubt it’s going to do much to warm your feet and you’re only pushing the glass deeper in your foot.”
“Did it ever occur to your criminal mind I might get frost bit and lose my toes or catch pneumonia and die? And isn’t kidnapping a federal offense, especially since you’ve taken me across state lines?”
“You nearly killed me, doll baby. Right this minute, I’m in more danger of dying than you are. And I didn’t kidnap you. I took you into protective custody. Big difference.”
“Not from where I’m watching.” Her lips tightened with an icy smile. “There’s no difference at all, if you want my opinion.”
“I don’t. And if you jab that sliver of glass in very deep, I won’t be able to get it out for you. So stop hopping about.”
“I’m not hopping. God, you make me sound like a flippin’ rabbit!”
“I was thinking more in the line of a frog,” Duel mumbled under his breath.
“Funny. Hah-hah. See? This is me laughing.” She bared her teeth in a big grimace.
Duel felt like snarling and snapping at the red-haired witch. Goose bumps raced up his spine, and it had nothing to do with the cold or the fact snow was blowing up his ass. Swear to God, she looked just like a Cheshire cat standing there, all cool and frosty with that cadaver grin, and at the same time, she looked hot as a flame with her mane of fiery-red hair tumbling about her shoulders.
Desire slammed into his gut. It burned a path straight to his groin and left a dull ache. God, how could he want her? She was stubborn to a fault and sassy. She fought like a tigress against odds that’d scare the hell out of anyone else.
How could you not want her, a little voice whispered.
Because, he shouted silently, the woman is pure evil.
He was cursed. He knew it. She enjoyed needling him. “Sheath your claws, tigress. The next round we fight, I promise you, I’ll win, and I won’t need a knife to do it.”
“Ya think? Is it my fault you can’t handle me?” she chirped, batting her lashes.
“Downright proud of yourself, too,” he said, feeling crankier by the minute. Duel jiggled the lock. “Open already,” he yelled, irritation eating away at him.
“Tsk, tsk. A little frustrated, are we?” she asked, laughter in her voice.
Duel snarled, but didn’t reply. He couldn’t recall ever having had such a lousy-ass day or night, unless he counted the day his brother Jace got shot and flying that damn helicopter, racing to reach the hospital at Havre in time with his brother’s life ebbing away with each minute it took to reach their destination.
And it all depended on him getting it right.
But then there was also the night he and Wild learned Dianna’s plane went down. His heart had nearly stopped. With all the stress and worry about his brother and sister, God knew he hadn’t felt normal since. His temper and patience were utterly threadbare.
The way he felt now, his entire body ached. And this woman, swear to God she thrived on making him miserable. She drove him mad with her unpredictable temper, her sweet looking mouth, firm breasts and nice ass.
Damn if it all didn’t belong to Mac. Life sucked!
Duel turned sideways and settled his gaze on her. Exhaustion swamped him to the point he felt as though he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. He swayed, dead tired on his feet. Having his hands full with this smirking she-cat, a damn beautiful cat, to be sure, but nonetheless, trouble he didn’t want or need was enough to drive any sane man mad.
For God’s sake, he liked his life just the way it was. Here she’d sailed blithely into it from out of nowhere, upsetting his thinking, twisting his mind and body into knots, and wounding his ego with a butcher knife!
He didn’t want or need a female rocking his world. He was perfectly content with his life the way it was—sort of. Damn if he didn’t have a bad feeling this woman could rattle the cage of a cranky lion and walk away unscathed. She’d change his entire life and turn it around. He didn’t know if he was ready for his life to be turned upside down.
Duel squared his shoulders. What was he? A wuss? He’d never let anything beat him. He wasn’t about to start now with this woman. Yeah, he knew how to play games. Hell, he was good at it. The lady was no innocent. A player, she knew how to toy with men. She knew the rules going in. He cleared his throat. “I didn’t say I couldn’t handle you, lady. Given time, and under different circumstances, I think I might deal with you to our mutual satisfaction.” He didn’t want or need, huh? No. No, he accepted he needed. Every man had needs. Hell, he was no different. If Mac cared so damn much for this woman, then where the hell was he when she needed him? Crap! He was not going to make excuses just so he could fuck this woman and do it with a clear conscience. Apparently she wasn’t available, except maybe to Neil. But from the way she was looking at him, she damn well wanted it. So why not? He cupped one side of her face.
“Yeah, give me a little time to bounce back on my feet, and I’ll be happy to scratch your itch.”
Her eyes widened. She gave him the same close scrutiny he’d just given her. He suddenly realized she was a tit-for-tat girl. “How much time?” she asked. She licked her lips, a provocative habit he’d noticed she had. Her tiny pink tongue left a tempting sheen of moisture behind.
Duel couldn’t think of anything he’d rather do at the moment than lick the dewy moisture off her mouth. “What?”
He frowned. What the hell had she just said? Too engrossed in her sexy mouth, and the things he’d like to do to it, he’d missed whatever it was she said. She fidgeted. Damn woman was worse than a cat on a hot brick. She was never still.
“I-uh, mean
, hah! I think not. I’m not some mare for you to break, cowboy.”
“How ‘bout just…one…little…ride?” he said suggestively. He lifted a brow. That sexy tongue stroked her lips again. God, she was driving him crazy. He thought she knew it, too! Heat shot to his groin. He nearly dropped to his knees. Fuck! Was the little witch determined to kill him?
Her gaze jerked from his mouth and settled on his crotch for an infinitesimal second, then flittered away. Color flared across her face. She tilted her head and gave him a steely-eyed glare. “Tempting, but no, so put your spurs away, cowboy. You’ll be a very old and useless man before that ever happens.”
“Baby, there’s old, and then there’s old. I don’t plan to ever be useless. When my dick gives out, I have a tongue and teeth, and I just adore adult stores, don’t you? Bet your lovely ass I can think of some toys I’d love to have on hand when I tame you. I definitely intend to wear my spurs when breaking a beautiful, high-spirited mare.”
Color blossomed across her cheeks. “Adult stores?” She moistened her lips again.
Duel bit back a groan. “What is it with you and that tempting pink tongue?”
“What?” She blinked. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
“Uh-huh. Well, keep it up, I’ll be up…and I won’t be responsible for my actions.”
She snorted. “As if you’re able—”
He laughed. “Baby, I may be down, but I’m not dead…yet.”
Her breasts rose and fell in agitation. “Yeah, well don’t get your hopes up.” Her gaze returned to his crotch. “Or anything else. This mare had no desire to be rode, by you or any other…cowboy who thinks he’s a stud.”
Damn, she had nice boobs. Duel tilted his head, eyeing the distinct outline of her breasts. He’d always been a breast man. Of course, he had nothing against thighs, especially when they were wrapped around his hips.
Playing For Keeps (Montana Men) Page 20
