His Cherished Love (Cuffs and Spurs Book 8)

by Anya Summers

  Spencer huffed. “All right, I will keep on hauling shit into this place and keep my eyes peeled.”

  “If she comes back, you need to distract her long enough so I can get out without her seeing me.”

  “Aye, aye, captain. Let’s get this done so we can protect her.” Spencer saluted rather tongue in cheek but his temper flashed in his black gaze. Spencer considered Rayna one of his people. And you didn’t fuck with Spencer’s people and get away with it.

  Jack hefted the bag of supplies and strode outside with the key to her place in hand. Spencer had had an extra made for him after he’d met with Agent Carson. Jack’s cell was in his pocket, just in case. It was the middle of the day so there shouldn’t be any neighbors out and about. But that didn’t mean he didn’t check. Jack quickly glanced up and down the street. At this time of day the lane was deserted. He was thankful for small miracles.

  The key slid soundlessly into the deadbolt. He unlocked the front door with a last look over his shoulder. Jack stepped inside, then closed and locked the deadbolt behind him. It would afford a small barrier, should Rayna return and Spencer miss it.

  Then he got to work. He installed tiny cameras in every room in the house but the bathrooms. He would leave her that measure of privacy. If he missed a perp heading through her bedroom into the master bathroom, that was on him. The tiny cameras were the size of a dime, and had night vision and detected motion in the room.

  The only place that gave him pause was her bedroom. What if she brought a date back here? He’d end up watching her have sex with another man in the giant, king-sized sleigh bed with its mound of pillows and jewel-toned bedding in a vibrant, emerald green. He envisioned what she looked like in the damn thing, all that hair of hers spread out over the pillows, her supple thighs spread and an expression of blissful anticipation etched over her face. Her scent, a subtle amber musk, clung to the sheets. And he was near her bed because he was installing one of the cameras inside the recessed lighting above her bed, slightly to the left. Although he wasn’t sure why it bothered him, the thought of her having sex with another man.

  She wasn’t his type.

  Moreover, if he allowed himself to think with his dick, he’d mess up and get her killed. While he installed the camera by her bed, he jostled the matching nightstand and the top drawer slid out an inch or so. Curious at the black handle he spied, he slid the drawer open. Inside was a loaded Sig Sauer nine mil.

  Seeing the firearm made Jack feel somewhat better. It meant she took her safety seriously. Wyoming was an open carry state, which meant she didn’t need any licenses for owning or carrying a concealed firearm. Considering how much of this state was open, mountainous country where you had bears and mountain lions to contend with, the majority of the population here owned a firearm of some type.

  Still, he felt better knowing she had some protection. The rest would be up to him.

  She was using the spare bedroom like an office, with a computer and printer on a mahogany desk with modern, sleek lines. There were a couple bookshelves stuffed with more books. The bookshelves made it easy to hide cameras.

  He had all the interior cameras installed within an hour.

  His arm was caterwauling like a bitch at the overuse, but he pushed through the pain. Jack liked her place, what she had done with it. It was homey and warm, even with the modern furniture. She liked bold colors and impressionist art—two things that should not have mixed well, but the way she decorated it blended seamlessly. He headed out back onto her cedar deck and installed a few cameras in various spots that would catch different angles. There was a family of white-tailed deer resting in the shade of a copse of trees. Even the wildlife thought it was too blasted hot to do anything.

  When he had the back covered with the cameras that would capture every angle, he walked through her place, out to the front patio. Mindful of neighbors spying him, he checked once more up and down the street and didn’t see a soul, although he couldn’t control anyone watching him through their windows. Not wasting time, he installed cameras from different angles in the overhang of her front porch and then another over the top of the front door, pointing toward the street. They were stationary cameras and only able to record what was in their field of vision. From his townhome, he had cameras set up monitoring the street in front, her driveway, and the open field that led down to forests in the rear.

  If Dominic Travino came within a hundred feet of Rayna, Jack would know it. If he invaded her home, Jack would know it. With the camera installation finished, Jack strode back inside and double checked that he hadn’t left anything behind. Then he grabbed his rather empty black duffel bag, walked back outside, and relocked her front door.

  The first two elements of his stakeout were in place. With another glance around the neighborhood, spying no one but Spencer using a dolly to cart boxes in, he trudged the short distance to what would be his place for the foreseeable future.

  “All done?”

  “Yep. I just need to run upstairs and check that the cameras are all working. Then I will be back down to finish up here.”

  Spencer gestured to the empty truck behind him. “Dude, take a look. This is the last load, unless you want to look for more crap to move.”

  Thank god, Jack thought, because his arm throbbed with blaring pain and he had given up pain killers other than ibuprofen. “Thanks for getting it done. I realize the heat is a bitch today. Let me double check that the cameras all work and then we can take the truck back. I’ll buy you lunch.”

  “As long as I’m home by supper, Meghan won’t get suspicious.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  Spencer wiped his brow with his forearm. “That I was helping you move. Since neither she nor the rest of our group can know the truth, they have to believe you actually moved in here as well.”

  Jack nodded. “Yeah, they do. Give me ten minutes and we can head out.”

  He strode inside and took the stairs up to the spare bedroom two at a time. With a few commands on the computer, he checked the signals from each of the cameras and ensured they were fully operational.

  By the time he loped back downstairs, Spencer had the truck closed up and ready to go. Jack followed behind the moving van in his truck.

  Once Jack returned to the townhome, he would begin implementing the rest of the plans he and Agent Carson had hammered out this week. Spencer had provided him with a copy of Rayna’s club work schedule. It was the diner that was going to prove problematic, but he had some ideas for that as well.

  Jack would catch that bastard and ensure Rayna survived.

  Chapter 4

  By the time Rayna left the diner, her feet ached. Summertime meant the streets of Jackson Hole were packed with tourists, who were the lifeblood of this town. The majority of restaurants on or near Main Street were stuffed to the gills with customers on a daily basis. The Grand Teton Diner was a favorite among families, which meant, she had run her bloody feet off. Although the tips today had been worth it. She could pay another bill with them, and maybe spring for a pedicure, to boot.

  Main Street in downtown Jackson Hole had a decidedly vintage Western, small town appearance, with many of the storefronts looking like archetypes from the fifties. Yet she was glad that her townhome lay outside of the main hub of town. It was roughly a twenty-minute drive between her place and the diner, depending on traffic. The smaller two-lane roads became mighty backed up with traffic volume on any given day with the number of tourists descending upon the town.

  Rayna pulled onto her street and immediately noticed that the moving truck was gone. In its place was a black Dodge Ram pickup. She tried to wrap her head around the fact that Detective Jackson Stone was her neighbor. It was a bit like nesting next to a bed of hungry mountain lions. They were powerful, sleek, and beautiful, but also deadly. Rayna didn’t care for the effect he had on her, the way her blood heated and she yearned to feel his strength beneath her fingertips.

  Her unit was one of the middl
e ones, second on the right in a four-building, side by side row of townhomes. The exterior had a rustic, Western flare with its hickory wood exterior. Each unit had its own attached one car garage and driveway.

  She pulled into her drive and spied the man of the hour. He stood at a black barbeque pit, the top open, wielding a set of metal tongs. He hadn’t changed and was still in the gray basketball shorts and black tank top with a pair of battered Nikes on his rather large feet. He had the sunglasses on, covering his eyes, and they reflected the sunlight as he turned his head her way.

  A single look from Jack and the air stalled in her bronchial tubes. He intimidated her with the way he studied her, and she hated that. It was the cop in him, the way he observed her. She knew that. It didn’t make it any easier though. Drumming up her courage, she gripped her purse and opened the car door. The delicious aroma of sizzling meat assailed her as she stepped out. Her mouth watered.

  Trying to act unaffected by him, trying to be neighborly, she nodded toward the grill. “Smells good.” See? She could make small talk with the best of them. It was what she did each shift at the diner and in some respects, at the club, as well.

  “Want one?” Jack asked.

  The wonderful aroma enticed her over to the grill, almost like the witch enticing Hansel and Gretel with sweets. Brats sizzled on the grate with the flame burning beneath them. It had been ages since she’d had a decent brat. Did that mean she had to invite him over? The heady aroma of the meat made her stomach growl. She didn’t want Jack in her space, but she was starving. Mayhap they didn’t have to eat in her place. He had a lawn chair set up nearby.

  “What do you want in exchange?”

  Jack glanced at her over the rim of his sunglasses, and the look he gave made her toes curl. “Some company. I’m still on medical leave and find I’m climbing the walls. I’m not used to this much inactivity.”

  She softened. Not everyone had ulterior motives, or were lying to her about who they were. Not everyone was her father—or her entire blasted family, for that matter—breaking the law with unrepentant glee.

  “Got another lawn chair?” She squinted up at him.

  The corners of his mouth twitched. “It just so happens that I do.”

  “Give me a minute to change and I will take you up on the offer,” she replied. There was nothing wrong with being a little neighborly and eating with him.

  “You might want to hurry. They’re almost done. And I tend to have a large appetite,” Jack said gruffly. His voice always made her think of peat smoke and aged whiskey straight from the wooden barrel.

  “Noted.” Rayna didn’t run to her front door. She wanted to, though. She sensed his eyes on her as she headed inside her place. She tossed her purse on the kitchen counter, then padded upstairs, stripping as she trudged into her bedroom. Now that she was committed, she wanted that brat for all she was worth. She donned a pair of jean shorts that were longer than the coochie cutters she had to wear at the club, and a tank top in a vibrant teal that made her think of the waters of Tahiti. She slipped on a pair of flip flops and strode back downstairs.

  She stopped in the kitchen and had grabbed paper plates, a bottle of ketchup, two beers, and a bag of chips when she spied the blue bow still in her hair. Balancing her goodies in one hand, she unclipped the bow and tossed it on the counter, her hair still held in place by the rubber band, before heading back outside with her loot. If she was going all in, she might as well dive into the deep end.

  She traipsed the short distance from her front porch to his driveway, where he had erected a second lawn chair.

  “Just in time. Did you bring the contents of your fridge?” he teased, studying her full armload.

  “If you don’t want a beer, I can take it back with me. I figure you’re supplying the meat, the least I can do is bring the beer and chips.”

  “Depends on the flavor. We talking barbeque, or salt and vinegar?”

  “Better. Sour cream and onion Kettle chips.”

  “You had me at sour cream. How many do you want?” he asked, taking the plates from her hand. There was a package of hot dog buns on a wooden shelf beside the grill.

  She placed the beers, bag of chips, and bottle of ketchup on the concrete between the two lawn chairs. “Two. I haven’t eaten since this morning.”

  He cocked a brow. “But you work at a diner.”

  “Tragic, isn’t it? This time of year, we’re so busy, we hardly get breaks, and to be honest, by the time I leave I want nothing to do with their food.” Not that the diner didn’t have great food, because it did. It was satisfying comfort food, replete with grease and carbs.

  Jack moved with utter confidence at the grill. Wielding his tongs with an adroit skill, he inserted two brats into waiting buns with ease before he handed her the plate. “I guess I can understand that.”

  Jack placed four buns on his plate and started putting brats inside each one. She scanned his body. Big man, big appetite.

  Rayna didn’t wait for him though. Her stomach growled in expectant delight. She sat in one of the chairs, added ketchup to her brats and a handful of chips. She lit into the first one and moaned as the flavor burst in her mouth. “These are really good.”

  Jack had stretched out in the chair beside her. He stilled his movements, holding a brat halfway to his mouth as he observed her. “Glad you approve.”

  There it was again, that lightning connection of energy that blazed between them. Unsettled by it, she did what she did best, ignored it and hoped it would vanish. She turned her attention back to the food. They ate companionably in silence for a few minutes. She ate both brats and she wasn’t sorry. Plus, two handfuls of chips. When her plate was empty, she leaned back in the chair and sighed at her full belly.

  “Those were awesome. I always forget how much I love grilled meat.” She took a swig of beer to wash everything down.

  “You don’t grill?” he asked and took another bite.

  She barked a laugh. “God, no. Unless you are looking for charred and inedible, with the possibility of burning the place to the ground, then yeah, sure I cook. Please. I burn water.”

  “No one can be that bad of a cook.”

  “Wanna bet? I even took one of Emily’s cooking classes a while back.” The horror of that experience had likely left Emily scarred for life.

  A small smile twitched at the corners of his sexy mouth. “I’m assuming it did not meet with success.”

  “Considering both Emily and Tibby have taken pity on me, letting me buy pre-made meals from them with promises to never, ever set foot in one of their classes or attempt to cook for myself again, you could say that.”

  “Ouch.” He chuckled. His laugh was deep and booming. It turned his normally stoic façade into a breathtaking one. The laugh lines around his mouth deepened, his smile widened, showing his white, straight teeth, and something inside her fluttered to life.

  A zinger of heat blasted her body. Rayna ignored the potent desire and shrugged. She wasn’t going to admit that she had grown up with a cook yet never learned the most basic fundamentals of cooking. She made coffee in a coffee maker, or tea, scrambled an egg when she was desperate, or made toast. She was skilled in the art of the microwave. But true cooking seemed to be beyond her capabilities. “Not everyone can compete in baking competitions.”

  “But what do you do for food if you can’t cook?” he asked, like he was stymied over the tidbit.

  “Besides Emily and Tibby taking pity on me, you mean, since I nearly burned down the lodge? Lucy’s Market has a great selection of pre-made meals that are easy; microwavable heat and eat. Why? Are you kitchen savvy?”

  Jack shrugged and winced, his mouth tightening. “I’m not half bad. I won’t burn down the place. Although grilling is my specialty.”

  “So, say I really had a hankering for a grilled New York strip steak, medium rare, and happened to pick up an extra one at Lucy’s Market, I might be able to interest you in cooking them?”

  He gri
nned. “Yeah, I could do that. If you’re offering.”

  “I do my grocery shopping on Thursdays and will pick up a few then. If it’s not too much trouble for you.”

  “I’ve got nothing more going on really.” Jack winced when he shifted in his seat.

  “Is your arm still bothering you that much?”

  “More than I would like,” he admitted.

  “Have you done any physical therapy or massage therapy on it?”

  “PT, yes. Garrett offered me a session at his spa, but—”

  “Too girly for you?” she teased and smirked. She tried to imagine the buff detective in the feminine rooms, with aromatherapy wafting in the air. Talk about two things that didn’t fit. Jack was a guy’s guy. There was nothing soft or feminine about him.

  He nodded in the affirmative and a small smile played around his lips. “Pretty much.”

  That little smile wreaked havoc on her good sense.

  “I could do it. I’m still a licensed massage therapist. And I have a massage table.” The words tumbled out of her mouth and she wanted to thunk her head against the wall. She didn’t want or need men in her space, especially a nosy cop. So why in all that was holy had she offered to massage Jack?

  It had to be a combination of all the lovely nitrates from the processed meat and his smile that rendered her common sense mute. It wasn’t because she liked him, or found him incredibly attractive, or wanted an excuse to get her hands on him.

  He studied her, brows raised, like he was surprised she was being this nice. “I would appreciate it, if you have the time. I know you’re busy working two jobs.”

  His voice flowed over her to coalesce in her midsection and she shivered. It was almost a hundred degrees out. Sweat slicked her back. She’d need to shower before her shift at the club that night. He made goosebumps stand at attention and her entire body quiver.

  “I didn’t mean today, but yeah, I can do it. Let me check my schedule and get back to you.” Because perhaps, if I’m really lucky, aliens will abduct me so I can avoid the offer I just made and he accepted. The problem was, she wasn’t that lucky. Not in a million years. In all fairness, the man had fed her tonight and was willing to grill steak for her, just because she asked. Giving him a massage, helping him when he was obviously in pain, was the right thing to do. They were semi-friends, or at least friendly with one another. She could keep it casual and professional.