by Cara Adams
“I don’t understand. Couldn’t you do it just as well sitting at a desk and doing computer searches?” asked Damien.
“Another woman is trying to work that way. It’s very hard though because the entire point of the employment is that these are cemeteries not listed with the Cemetery Trust. Besides, I couldn’t afford to keep paying for my apartment, and right now, I don’t need to.”
Hunter stopped the truck, and Jaz realized they were now higher up with a view out over miles of desert. It wasn’t as though they were up a mountain. Not even on top of a hill. But they were maybe twenty feet higher than most of the desert around them. Jaz looked out on the rolling brown land with touches of green here and there, some low, scrubby bushes, rocks in red, brown, ocher, orange, and beige, and every now and then a flash of color.
“Are the yellows there flowers?” she asked.
“That’s right. This is one of the few places you’ll see wildflowers. The water table isn’t as far below the surface here as it is in a lot of places.”
Jaz nodded, understanding now why there were a few trees around as well. Although tree was likely not the correct word. They were mostly low to the ground and scrubby. Bushes maybe.
* * * *
Hunter was pleased with how the morning was going. Jaz had been punctual, always an important point for him. He hated waiting endlessly for anyone who was late. She’d been ready to talk to them and seemed to genuinely like their land. All of those were massive points in her favor. He wasn’t sure how they could help her find some cemeteries, but he hoped like hell the Junctionville one wasn’t on the Cemetery Trust list.
He took off again, turning slightly north now. At this time of year, all the desert around here was safe to drive on. The land around Junctionville was rocky, not sandy. Well, it had some sand as well, but the rock was quite close to the surface, and there was a shovel and several desert mats in the bed of the truck if they did get bogged down. With two of them to dig and push, and Jaz to steer, it’d be no problem if they hit trouble, but that wasn’t in his plans.
Just like he always carried twenty gallons of water in the truck. He didn’t expect to need that either, but it was there just in case.
“Hunter, I understand your family has lived in Junctionville for many years. What about you, Damien?”
“The Halls have been here even longer than the Wishrams. My father’s father was born here. They talked about moving into town when I started school, but I was happy catching the bus with Hunter and his brothers. My parents were sure that Forest would look after me if I needed help. He always was a bossy little boy.”
“Still is,” grunted Hunter. All five of the Wishram men had distinct dominating tendencies. There was even a dungeon in the basement of the family home, although it had seldom been used. There wasn’t a BDSM club in either of the two closest towns, but every once in a very long while, they’d traveled into Las Vegas where pretty much everything was available.
He’d managed to learn a lot about BDSM on those few trips. Information he hoped one day to use with his woman.
He supposed he could be termed a Dom in waiting. He’d had the lessons and learned the skills, but he’d never had a sub of his own. The most important thing was to find a woman. After that they could work on him being a Dom and her being a sub, but also including Damien. That might take a bit of figuring out to keep everything fair and equitable. However, step one was to win their woman, and they were working on that right now.
He drove down out of the higher, rockier land onto the flatter area, remaining very alert to watch for sand, but the soil remained the same. He reached the track exactly where he’d expected to, maybe two miles from the cemetery.
“This was the original Junctionville. This track we’re on now meets up with one going north-south in a couple of miles. There was a general store at the crossroads back in the old days. Then, maybe a hundred years ago, the road went through where our store is now, and that became the new Junctionville,” he said.
“My grandfather used to call it ‘New Junctionville.’ He never adjusted to the change,” said Damien.
Hunter grinned. “I remember that.”
“Our house is about halfway between the two, so I used to ride my bike to the store to catch the school bus until I was old enough to drive a car.”
Hunter shook his head. “Your momma would have thrown a conniption if she’d known you didn’t follow the track, though.”
“But you didn’t either,” said Jaz.
“Well, no. No one around here does. It’s much easier just to use a compass.”
Hunter could see her mouth opening to ask the obvious question. “GPS doesn’t work in the desert where there aren’t roads.”
“Of course. I should have known that.”
He slowed down and then stopped outside the old store. It had been derelict even when he was a child, but the dry desert air had preserved the woodwork quite well, and although ramshackle, it was still quite recognizable.
After he’d given her a few minutes to stare at it, he drove on to the cemetery. “If you like, we can walk back and look at it properly later, but I’d rather leave the car at the cemetery so Phideaux knows where he’s supposed to be. I don’t plan on chasing him again today.”
After he’d said it, he hoped he didn’t sound harsh. After all, he did have a shovel in the truck if they needed to kill a rattler. But he hoped the huge mutt had learned his lesson. He didn’t think Phideaux was stupid at all.
Instead of looking cross, Jaz just grinned. “Phideaux knows all about cemeteries. It’s what we’ve been doing for months now. Don’t you, buddy?”
She turned around to the dog and petted him as Hunter slowed the truck again and stopped outside the cemetery. It was even more neglected than he remembered it, but no one lived nearby anymore. They hadn’t for years. And besides, likely that suited her. The more neglected it was, the more likely she’d get paid for finding it.
* * * *
Damien slid out of his seat and helped Jaz down. She gripped the dog’s head and said to him, “Cemetery, buddy. Time to work.”
The dog gave a sharp bark, and she let him go, dragging her backpack off the backseat and slinging it over her shoulder.
Damien was surprised to see Phideaux walking by her heel like the most obedient dog in Nevada.
Well. He really does understand.
Damien stayed back and watched Jaz do her job. She pulled a tiny camera out of the backpack and took a whole passel of pictures of the cemetery from every angle, and then she took close-up pictures of some of the headstones. Next she took out a notepad and pen and wrote down some of the names and dates from the headstones. Once she started writing, Phideaux left her side and began sniffing the grass and exploring the cemetery himself. Damien glanced at Hunter, who was leaning against his truck, and Hunter winked.
“I guess we can move now,” Damien said softly, not wanting to disturb her.
Damien hadn’t been here in quite a few years. It wasn’t a spooky kind of place at all, just a symbol of a very small community that no longer existed. Some of the original settlers had kept cattle, but there’d been so little for them to eat they had to walk a lot to find enough feed, so they tended to be stringy and didn’t make good, tender beef.
There were very few cattle around here anymore, and none had bothered to eat the grasses or small bushes among the cemetery plots.
He read a few headstones himself, recognizing the names of families still in the area. His own grandfather was buried in town, not here, though. Damien stopped and began looking more carefully. One family that had several graves here was a werewolf clan. Damien spread his legs apart, balanced his weight evenly on his feet, crossed his arms, and bent his head in thought.
Would that be a way forward for him and Hunter to keep in contact with Jasmine? By following up werewolf cemeteries? These days, whether or not a family went to church was a matter of free choice, even in a small town. But back in the olden
days, the social life of a community tended to be centered around the church. The priest was the one with the time and facilities to organize social events. Often, the only meeting place in a tiny town was the church hall.
But many werewolf packs formed their own community. They had their own social events as a pack and likely even had their own community gathering places. So wouldn’t it be logical that they would have their own cemeteries as well?
Would they want their cemeteries listed by the Cemetery Trust? Werewolves were better than many people at remembering their family history, but with so few female wolves being born, many werewolf clans were now part human. Likely some of them might be interested in tracing their family history.
Well, it was just a thought. But he’d mention it to Hunter, and Hunter could speak to the Alpha if he thought it might be something they could tell Jaz about. It wasn’t Damien’s place to get involved in werewolf business. Well, not until he and Hunter mated their woman anyway.
And the more he learned about Jaz, the more he wanted her to be that woman.
Jaz spent an hour looking around the area carefully and making notes, and then she sat on one of the unmarked graves, patting the rough soil gently, and said, “No disrespect intended, but I need to write my report now. If your descendents want to know about you, I need to send this location to the Cemetery Trust, okay?”
Jaz seemed to have forgotten that he and Hunter were there with her. Even Phideaux was entertaining himself, wandering around the area and chewing the occasional twig or stalk of grass. He was very well behaved and didn’t leave the immediate area of the cemetery at all. Clearly he and Jaz had a routine established, and he followed it obediently.
She wrote some more in her notebook and then seemed to be tidying up her report. She crossed things out, grumbled, counted words, and finally pulled out her cell phone and sent a text message and some photographs. Then she put everything away in the backpack again, left it on the grave where she’d been sitting, and took out the ball.
“Phideaux, I’m finished. We can play now.”
The dog ran across to her, tail wagging madly and barking loudly.
“He’s been very well behaved. He deserves some fun now,” said Hunter.
Jaz threw the ball to the dog and then laughed. “And you’ve both been great, too. Thank you for not interrupting me. This place looks really good. I sure hope it’s not on the list.”
“When will you find out?” asked Damien.
Jaz took the ball from Phideaux and threw it again. Damien noticed that she had a good strong throw. The dog had to run to catch the ball.
“I don’t even know what day it is, and I’ve switched off my cell phone again. But it’s usually the next business day. Stacey, the administrator, is in the office every day, and she usually checks it for me quite quickly because she knows I won’t move on somewhere else until I hear back from her in case she asks me more questions.”
“You need to stay until tomorrow to get your car fixed, anyway,” said Hunter.
Damien hoped she could convince her to stick around a lot longer than that. “Does Stacey often ask you questions?”
“Sometimes the old maps list different place names. You said this was the original Junctionville and the current Junctionville was originally known as New Junctionville. But sometimes place names change totally over time and she can’t pinpoint the location. I say something like ten miles past somewhere on the road to somewhere else, and that doesn’t help her at all because the names have completely changed. But this should be okay. Anyway, I’m here tomorrow as well if I need to come back. What day is it today anyway?”
Damien laughed. The gas station was open seven days a week so days didn’t mean much to them either.
Hunter pulled out his cell phone. “It’s Friday, March tenth. Why did you turn off your phone after sending the message? Don’t you need to wait for confirmation it’s been received?”
“Oh, that’s just habit. After months of traveling all the time, I keep it switched off unless I need it to conserve the battery. Phideaux and I often camp out, and it might be three or four days before I’m somewhere I can recharge it.”
Damien nodded. He hadn’t even thought of that. Camping sounded like a lot of fun, and she’d made her life seem like an endless vacation, but there was a definite downside as well, like not having constant access to electricity and a private bathroom. Even to do laundry she’d need to stay in a campground or a town for a couple of days.
She really was a glass-half full kind of person, and he liked that.
They played with Phideaux for a while until they were all exhausted and dropped down on some rocks for a rest.
Hunter went back to the truck and collected a bottle of water. Jaz took out Phideaux’s water bowl, which Hunter filled, and she pulled a small plastic cup out of her backpack for herself. He and Hunter drank straight from the bottle, and he felt a little embarrassed doing so, even though it was what they always did.
“Okay, Jaz, what would you like to do now?” Hunter asked her.
Damien knew what he’d like to do, and it involved taking off all their clothes. But he guessed that probably wasn’t what she’d say unfortunately.
Chapter Three
Jaz had loved spending time with these men. Tomorrow her car would be fixed, and she’d be off on her travels again. Tonight at supper she had to remember to make a concerted effort to ask all the Wishram men for any information about other old cemeteries. But at the moment, she hoped this one would be a winner and pay her way for the next couple of weeks. And now it was time for fun.
Fun. Hell yes she was ready for fun. Just spending time with two such amazing men was exciting. Yet they were so thoughtful and patient with her. Most people wouldn’t have been nearly so good about waiting while she worked at the cemetery. Hell, most wouldn’t have bothered to show her around the desert either.
Sitting in the truck tucked between two hot, hard bodies had given her all sorts of naughty thoughts about them both. It’d been way too long since she’d spent time with such handsome men. Too long? Make that never before with two men like these ones.
Likely sex was out of the question. Even here in the middle of nowhere, someone might come past and interrupt them.
Besides, she wasn’t interested in being bitten on the ass by a scorpion or something similar. But some holding and kissing would be really nice. They were both such delightfully polite and incredibly handsome men. She couldn’t let such a wonderful opportunity to get up close and personal with them go to waste. Well, they might say no, but if she didn’t ask, she’d never know.
She stepped up closer to them both and said, “I really ought to thank you both for bringing me here. I think this cemetery has genuine potential.”
Hunter was staring at her, his black eyes sparkling and his lips slightly parted. Damn, he looked totally edible. Better than any candy she’d ever seen. She rested her belly against his, put her arms around his neck, and pulled his head down and kissed him.
Jaz didn’t want to seem rude or grabby or promiscuous. She was no kind of sexy beast or nymphomaniac, but a kiss was altogether something else. She explored his lips, and he let her hold his head still. He was much bigger and stronger than her and could easily have stopped her if he’d wanted to. Instead, he rested his hands on her waist and let her take the lead.
She pressed her lips more firmly to Hunter’s and rubbed her tongue along the seam of his mouth.
Like a predator, he swooped, sucking her tongue into his mouth and moving one hand to hold her ass. His cock was a hard line against her belly, and she rubbed over him. It’d been much too long since she’d kissed anyone, much less felt such an aroused cock against her body.
Jaz leaned into the kiss farther, thrusting her tongue back into his mouth. She let go of his head in favor of gripping his shoulders so she could concentrate on all the amazing sensations of his kisses. As if she’d pressed a button switching him into high-speed mode, he grip
ped her ass with both hands now and fucked her mouth with his tongue, driving her need higher and higher. Her panties were damp, her nipples hard little points, and her breath completely exhausted when she leaned back from him.
“Wow. Now that’s what I call a kiss,” he said.
Damien tapped her on the shoulder. “You haven’t said thank you to me yet.”
She turned around, ready to apologize, but he was grinning. “Maybe I was saving the best until last.”
“Honey, I can make that true for you.” He pulled her against his body, and once again, she had the pleasure of feeling a long, stiff cock digging into her belly. Hmm. A little lower down would be even better, but she wasn’t planning to complain.
Damien’s hair and eyes were brown, compared to Hunter’s black, and Damien was an inch or two taller than Hunter, but apart from that, there was little difference to choose between them. Both were muscular, strong, and tanned, and Damien held her just as capably as Hunter had done. His lips possessed hers equally as thoroughly as Hunter’s had done.
Damien’s tongue roved through every inch of her mouth, stroking and gliding over the insides of her cheeks, the roof of her mouth, and around and behind her teeth until her legs were limp with lust and she had to hold tight to his shoulders to prevent herself from melting into a puddle at his feet. A puddle of lust, not from the heat. Likely it was one hundred degrees out here in the desert, but right now, it was a whole lot hotter than that in the arms of these men. Five-alarm-fire hot.
Hunter’s body pressed behind her. “I don’t feel adequately thanked yet.” His hot breath teased the back of her neck.
“You don’t?” she whispered.
“Nope.”
Big tough hands pushed her T-shirt up and scraped slowly over her skin. Damien reached for her shirt and pulled it over her head while Hunter unsnapped her bra and pushed the straps down her arms.
