by Rebecca York
After a few moments of silence, she asked in a voice that broke in the middle of the sentence, “What are we doing?”
“Giving in to temptation. But only so far.”
“Why only so far?”
His hand moved from her breast, up the slender column of her neck to her cheek. “You know, I’d hate for us to get killed because I’d gotten so wound up in what we were doing that the guy with the truck came sneaking back and I didn’t even know he was here.”
She sighed, just a little sigh, but the sound tore at him.
Before he thought about what he was doing, he reached for her and did what he’d been fantasizing about. Pulling her up, he settled her so that her body was draped intimately on top of his.
Even with the layers of clothing between them, they both reacted to the potency of the position.
It felt good. Sinfully good.
He wanted to cup his hands around her head, bring her mouth to his for a long, deep kiss. But if he did, he knew he’d drive every other thought from his mind. And it would be unforgivable not to keep her safe—since he was the one who had dragged her along on his Texas quest.
Silently she lowered her head and pressed her cheek against his shoulder.
As his hands soothed across her back, he wondered if he’d ever wanted a woman as much as he wanted Hannah.
She stirred against him.
“Better lie still, darlin’,” he cautioned.
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll stop being able to stand guard. And there’s no point in telling me you don’t care about that, because it’s non-negotiable.”
She made a small sound and shifted off him, coming down heavily on the sheet beside him, her breath jagged, and he was instantly angry with himself. He’d been hot and needy—and he’d deliberately gotten her into the same state.
Well, there was surely something he could do about that. Rolling to his side, he leaned over and found her mouth in the dark, his lips and tongue playing games with hers while his hands found the front of her T-shirt. He cupped her breasts through the fabric, reveling in her response.
Silently, without asking permission, he pushed the fabric up, caressing her now through the thin barrier of her bra, teasing her until she was moaning and straining upward against his fingers.
His head spun. He wanted her naked. He wanted to see her. See the look of arousal that he knew had altered her features. And see the arousal of her body—the tight peaks crowning her breasts, the flush of her skin. More than anything, he wished they were in a comfortable bed, with soft lamplight to illuminate her face.
He stroked his lips over her cheek, found her ear, and nibbled at the tender flesh, drawing a sound of pleasure from deep in her throat.
But when he started to drag her bra out of the way, she stopped him with her hand.
“Luke, you said you wouldn’t…give up on guard duty, so where are we going with this?” she managed to say between gulping breaths of air.
He went very still. “What do you mean where are we going? Where do you think we’re going?”
She reached up to touch his face, stroking her fingers across his cheek. “I think you’re planning something…chivalrous.”
There was no point in denying his intentions. “Is that so bad?”
Her answer came back fast and low. “You’re thinking about my relationship with Gary. You’re thinking I need an outlet for my tension, so you’re providing some…stimulation.”
His response to that bit of nonsense was explosive. “Hell! You’ve got that part figured dead wrong.”
“Then what’s going on?”
He didn’t want to explain his motives, yet he couldn’t leave her with the wrong assumption she’d made. “Okay, here’s how it was,” he growled. “I was lying here burning up with wanting you. Then you woke up, and I couldn’t keep my hands off you. I figured the best way to make amends was to…do the right thing by you.”
For long moments she said nothing, and he wondered how the confession had come across. Then she reached down to knit her fingers with his.
They lay together in the darkness, their linked hands the only point of contact.
“You wanted me?” she asked.
“Wasn’t that pretty obvious?” It was still obvious, but he didn’t think it would be smart to prove the point.
“And in the morning you’re going to pretend none of this happened.” It was a statement, not a question.
“That’s a good plan.”
For long moments she didn’t answer. Then she cleared her throat. “As long as we’ve agreed that we’re going to forget about this conversation in the morning, we might as well discuss your other big reason for backing off. You don’t trust me. Although that really shouldn’t stop you from taking what I’m offering you. You can just consider it a pleasurable experience—then walk away when you’re ready.”
Was that what he wanted to do? He didn’t honestly know. He’d hired her because of some deeply buried longing that he hadn’t been man enough to acknowledge. Then, after the raid at the town house, he’d compensated by swinging completely in the opposite direction.
Instead of examining his motives out loud, he said, “I’m not in a position to trust anything or anyone. Not until I figure out where I got that suitcase full of money—and who has it in for me in Pritchard, Texas. So consider it a favor that I’m not putting any demands on you.”
She made a sound of protest, although he knew she had to be smart enough to understand what he was saying.
“I’m on your side,” she murmured.
He longed to believe her. And even if he couldn’t, he wanted to gather her close, press her body to his once more. But he knew starting up again was a bad idea. So he rolled to his side, his back to her, hoping he was giving her a chance to get back to sleep.
DALLAS SEDGWICK HAD always thought of himself as a fair man—within the boundaries of behavior he’d learned from childhood. Which was why Chad Crosby was still alive. It wasn’t Crosby’s fault that the raiding party had gotten to Baltimore a few minutes too late.
So Dallas had contained the impulse to strike out. In fact, he was giving his assistant the chance to make things right—the chance within the next few days to find the man using the name Luke Pritchard.
Crosby didn’t know he had a deadline, of course. He need never know—unless he failed again. Then he’d understand the price for inefficiency.
Meanwhile, they had come up with a piece of very interesting information. Pritchard had a traveling companion. An attractive young woman.
Was she working with him? Or was she some kind of hostage? Either way, she could make it easier to find their quarry, since two made for an easier target than a solitary gunman. Hopefully, she’d also make it easier to handle the man when they caught up with him, since he might not want to see his lady friend tortured and murdered.
HANNAH LAY beside Luke, wanting to reach out and touch him, convince him that he was wrong about himself—and about her.
But she knew that at least one of the things he’d said was right. They were in a dangerous situation and somebody had to worry about the guy with the truck.
Still, it was impossible to ignore the feelings he’d generated, or the things he’d said. He’d told her he wanted her and that it was his fault both of them were lying here hot and needy.
She longed to do something about that. But she wasn’t planning to make things worse for either of them. So she forced herself to ignore the sensation of blood rushing hotly in her veins and pooling in certain areas of her body.
Somehow, she drifted into an uneasy sleep. She woke abruptly some time later to see gray light filtering in through the cracks in the boards that covered the window. Luke was crouched over her, the gun in his hand, and for a startled moment she had no idea what was going on.
God, had he come to the conclusion that she was the enemy?
Her body tensed. Then she heard a far-off rattling noise and realized it was
his early-warning system—the cutlery clanging against the bottle he’d hung from the doorknob.
“Stay here,” he ordered, springing up and whirling toward the door.
Before she could protest he had disappeared into the next room. In the dim light she moved toward the boxes he’d left on the floor and found the tire iron. Wishing he’d obtained two firearms instead of one, she wrapped her fist around the cold metal, straining her ears, listening for sounds of a scuffle from the front of the house. She heard nothing, but she couldn’t just wait here. What if something had happened to Luke? What if he needed her help?
Glancing at her watch, she saw that it wasn’t quite seven in the morning. Cautiously, she tiptoed out of the den and into the living room, staying close to the wall, the tire iron held at the ready.
A shaft of light pierced the darkness, and she stopped. Then she realized it was coming from the window where Luke had loosened the boards last night. The window was raised and the boards were gone.
Again she hesitated. But she’d already come this far, so she moved along the wall, then cautiously peered out.
A truck was parked down by the barn, and she immediately felt a shiver of reaction—until she realized it wasn’t the same vehicle. The one last night had been light-colored. This one was dark.
She saw no one outside. As quietly as possible, she slipped her leg through the window, easing her body over the sill, then sliding to the ground where she stood blinking in the watery morning sunlight.
Holding her weapon in front of her, she moved along the outside wall, toward the back of the house.
When she saw a man’s broad back and dark hair, she hefted her weapon, then realized it was Luke—and that he was holding his gun on another man who stood with arms raised, his fingertips trembling.
“Please, Señor Somerville, don’t shoot me!”
“Give me a reason why not.”
The harsh words made Hannah realize she’d created a dangerous situation. If Luke heard her and whirled around, that would give the other guy a chance to take him.
“Luke, I’m behind you,” she called out, moving forward when she knew he’d gotten the message.
The other guy was small and wiry, with a dark complexion and eyes as dark as Luke’s. He wore a T-shirt, jeans, boots and a straw cowboy hat. He stood with his hands raised, flicking his eyes to her, then back to the gun Luke had leveled at his belly.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Juanita sent me,” he answered in thickly accented English. Apparently Spanish was his native language.
“Oh, yeah,” Luke retorted. “Well, Juanita doesn’t know we’re here.”
“Last night she told me you would be at the Yucca Motel in Boylton,” the man said. “I went there early, and they said you never showed up. So I figured you might have come to the ranch.”
“How convenient,” Luke answered.
“Can I put my hands down, señor?”
“Convince me I can trust you.”
The man was struggling to project sincerity, Hannah thought as she watched his face. She’d seen that look on collars she’d apprehended. It meant that they desperately wanted you to know they were telling the truth—but it was no guarantee that they actually were. Because Honest John could turn around and knife you in the back if you weren’t careful.
“Juanita is my cousin,” the man continued. “She said you were asking for information.”
“And your name is…?”
“Diego Cortez.”
“You and a million other guys,” Luke muttered.
“You want to know who saw you in the desert. And where.”
“And you know?”
“Maybe it wasn’t you,” the man hedged.
“Where was this alleged sighting?”
“Just this side of Big Bend. In the mountains.”
“Be a tad more specific.”
“Off the West River Road. Near Buenos Aires.”
“And who was it that saw me?”
“Men from town. Men who remember you.”
“You got some names?”
The man shook his head. “Sorry, señor.”
Hannah wondered if Luke knew the location Cortez had mentioned, but she kept the question locked inside her because she didn’t want to give the other guy any more information. Realizing she still held the tire iron like a club, she lowered her arm so that the weapon dangled by her leg.
“The West Road near Buenos Aires covers a lot of territory,” Luke said. “It’s wide-open country.”
“I came prepared,” Diego was saying. “I have drawn a map to show the place for you.”
“What am I going to find there?”
The man shrugged. “I don’t know. You are the one who said you wanted to go there.”
When Luke nodded, Diego continued, “The map is in my pocket. If I reach in my pocket, do not shoot me.”
“Go ahead,” Luke told him, although he didn’t lower his own weapon.
Carefully Cortez slid his hand into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. It was a section of a printed map, with additional lines drawn on it. Extending his hand, he gave the paper to Luke.
“I can take the gun,” Hannah said, moving up beside him.
“No, that’s okay.”
Luke engaged the safety, then slipped the weapon into the waistband of his jeans.
She saw Diego’s shoulders relax.
Luke bent to the map, studying the markings, then he looked up. “You have any idea about what’s going on out there?”
Diego shrugged. “I stay out of other people’s business. It’s safer.”
“But you came looking for us.”
“Because Juanita asked me to speak to you.”
Luke nodded. “We also need a favor. A ride back into town.”
“I can do that. Yes. I saw your truck was damaged.”
“Somebody followed us out to the ranch yesterday afternoon and made sure that we couldn’t leave.”
“You know who did it?”
“I’ll find out,” Luke answered, his mouth hardening. Instructing Diego to wait outside, he led Hannah back into the house.
“You trust that guy?” she asked once they were alone.
“Only so far. He could be leading us on a wild-goose chase—or into an ambush.”
“What would be his motivation?”
“I wish I knew.”
Hannah shared his frustration but didn’t see any point in voicing her concern.
Quickly they gathered up their supplies and luggage and left the house. When they rejoined Diego, he was already waiting behind the wheel of his truck.
The vehicle had a king cab. Luke climbed in the back, leaving the front passenger seat for Hannah, who kept her eyes peeled for the truck that had tried to run her down the afternoon before.
“We might as well keep our motel reservation in Boylton,” Luke said as they came to a desert crossroads. “Unless they gave the room away.”
“It was still vacant when I went looking for you this morning,” Diego answered.
“So how did you say you were related to Juanita?” Luke asked, his voice thickening to a slow, friendly drawl as they headed away from the ranch.
Diego launched into a long explanation of complicated relationships that left Hannah’s head spinning.
When the man had finished, Luke had other friendly questions—about Diego’s family and what he did for a living. By the time they reached the outskirts of Boylton, you would never have known that an hour earlier, Luke had been holding a gun on the other man.
He got the key from the office, promising to vacate by 11:00 a.m. checkout time or pay for an extra day. Then he asked Diego, “Is there somewhere in town where I can rent a truck or an SUV?”
“If you mean a rental company, no. But I can introduce you around. If you can pay, someone will lend you his truck,” Diego offered.
“Appreciate it.”
They agreed that Hannah
would get cleaned up while Luke went to take care of the transportation.
She was towel-drying her hair when he came back looking annoyed.
“Problems?” she asked.
“I think we’ve got an SUV, but it belongs to a guy named Manuel who doesn’t have a phone. Diego is driving out there. He’ll come back with Manuel to give him a ride.”
“That’s our only option?”
“I could beat the bushes on my own. But I don’t know how far I’d get.”
“You think he’s stalling us?” she asked.
“I wish I knew.” Luke grabbed clean clothing and headed into the bathroom. Then they had a Western breakfast of steak and eggs at the coffee shop next door to the motel. But it was obvious Luke’s mind was more on their transportation than on the meal because he kept glancing out the window every few seconds.
HANNAH WAS WATCHING Luke restlessly pacing back and forth in front of the motel-room window when a green SUV pulled into the parking area.
The man with the truck apparently spoke little English, so the negotiations were conducted mostly in Spanish. Still, Hannah was pretty sure Luke had paid an exorbitant price to use the vehicle for a couple of days.
After the men left, he went to pick up a few more supplies, and when he returned, they loaded their belongings into the cargo area. The gun went into the door pocket—within easy reach—along with several spare magazines.
The temperature had been fairly cool early in the morning. Now it was nearly eleven and Hannah could feel the heat building. She was grateful for the air-conditioning as they headed southwest into a landscape that was much like the day before, only the vegetation was lower and more sparse as the flat land gave way to hillier country with craggy reddish-brown mountains in the background. Above them, the sky was incredibly blue and streaked with a few wispy clouds.
Luke consulted the map Diego had given him, turning off the two-lane highway onto a gravel road.
Within ten minutes, they had left all signs of civilization behind, and Hannah knew that this was country where getting lost or having your car break down might mean dying of thirst.
As they bounced across a wide stretch of dry riverbed, she slanted Luke a considering look. “Do you remember this area?”
