Hope Echoes

by Shannon Curtis

  ‘First he wants to be a brother. Then he’s kissing me,’ she muttered to herself. ‘And what do I do about Scott?’ She gestured with her hand in the general direction of where she’d seen her station manager last. ‘Do I actually think Mac would be interested in anything with me? Is this serious for him, or am I just another age-appropriate chick in convenient proximity? If we did anything, are we talking about a proper relationship, or just a bit of fun?’ She hesitated, hands on her hips. ‘Oh, and I bet that would be a lot of fun…’ She shook her head and continued to stride over the rise and down toward the house. ‘And how would that affect our relationship? I mean, if this—whatever this is,’ she said, making a big circular gesture with both hands, ‘dies, how do we face each other after? How do we talk to each other? Gawd, what would Jamie think?’

  Mac watched her stomp away. She was literally stomping, little puffs of dust erupting with each footfall. He scratched his head, and turned to look at the empty passenger seat next to him, and then back at the woman who now seemed to be having a conversation with herself, complete with hand gestures.

  He sat for a moment, stunned. What the hell happened? One minute they were locking lips, the next she was trudging her way across the Western Plains to get away from him. Admittedly, that wasn’t the usual reaction to one of his kisses.

  He winced. He’d done it again. Kissed Jac. Jac Buchanan. And it had felt so natural, and so damn good… and too damn short. What was it about Jac that one minute he could be arguing with her, and the next he wanted to kiss her? No other woman had that effect on him, and frankly, it wasn’t something he enjoyed.

  Okay, he enjoyed the kisses. A lot. He shook his head. Too much. He just—he didn’t know what the hell he was doing. Not with Jac. Any other woman, and he knew how things worked, knew what he had to do, knew to set the expectations, knew when to put a brake on if things were getting a little heavy. With Jac—well, he was operating blind. One thing he did know was she wasn’t the kind of girl to hang out with for a good time, and then walk away from.

  Not that it wouldn’t be a good time with Jac… he was sure it would be a darn good time. He closed his eyes. And there he went again. She wasn’t a casual booty-call kind of girl, and with his job, that was pretty much what he looked for. No strings. No responsibilities. No commitment. His job could be all-consuming. Long hours, some really crappy situations… and there was always the risk of being injured or killed in the line of duty with his work. ‘No strings’ was as much for him as the woman he was actively not involved with.

  And Jac—Jac had strings that could choke the life out of him. Their families were so closely entwined. Hell, his parents were her honorary aunt and uncle. Jamie was his best friend. And Jac was too sweet. After the things he’d seen, he felt old and jaded next to her optimism and innocence. He wasn’t relationship material, and if he kept kissing Jac, he’d want more. And then, at some point, he’d disappoint her, or hurt her, and he didn’t want to do that to Jac. Not to mention how it would affect the bonds between the Buchanans and the Hudsons.

  Anything with Jac had to be avoided at all costs. He put her car into gear, and then pulled back onto the track. He had to focus on the job. Find the guys behind the meth labs, shut down the whole operation, and move on with his next investigation. Then he would avoid Jac, and put all temptation behind him.

  That was the plan. Focus on work, not the woman.

  His lips firmed. She’d defended her friends and family. He should have expected that. While her loyalty was commendable—it was equally attractive and annoying, how fiercely she defended those close to her—it could get her into trouble. Focusing on his job didn’t void his vow to protect her, though. He’d tried to tell her, but he still didn’t think she understood. Whoever was helping Jayden Terrance and his cronies set up drug labs at Bulls’ Run had an intimate knowledge of the land. That meant someone close to Jac was involved. Someone she trusted. Focus on the case. That was the plan.

  His chin lowered as the car topped the rise, and he could see Jac stalking up the steps of the back veranda. He would keep an eye on her, make sure she was safe.

  Damn, he’d stuck to the plan, what, two seconds? He was so screwed.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jac bounced over a rut, then drove up over the tiny rise at the edge of the track, getting some air between her motorbike’s tyres and the ground, before thudding back down to make contact with the dirt once again.

  ‘Yah! Yah!’ she called out, causing the cows to change direction. She leaned to the right, letting the rear tyre kick out so she changed direction on a dime, then headed toward that one cow that seemed to think she could go against the traffic of the rest of the herd.

  She whistled, and Ray raced around, barking, and the cow reluctantly altered direction.

  The sounds of the other hands she’d hired for the round-up brought a grin to her face. Bikes, trucks, whistles, barking and the occasional swear word peppered the air. This was a soundtrack she’d grown up with, and it was always fun doing a round-up.

  It was also handy for distracting her from her almost obsessive thoughts about a certain dark-haired detective.

  It had been four days since the discovery of the meth lab in Brandy. They’d been told they could continue the normal day-to-day operations of the station, but the mine was still a crime scene. There was a large-scale deconstruction operation going on as they removed all of the stock and paraphernalia. Mac had been out at the site, but had dropped in at the house each day—or so Marion had told her. Jac had been out, busy with catching up on the tasks she’d set aside to go meth-lab hunting with Mac.

  But now they’d found it, and things were being cleaned up. She’d started to relax. The police could sift through her records, could search her house, but she wasn’t worried because she and the Bulls’ Run family had done nothing wrong.

  Take that, Mac Hudson. She planted one foot on the ground, spinning the wheel on the ground so that red dirt sprayed everywhere, and gunned the motor as the bike sprang off at a different angle.

  She still couldn’t believe he thought one of the others was involved with this drug business. She whistled again, signalling to Ray to turn and run around the bank of the herd, getting them to shift toward the gate of the pen.

  Once they got them contained, she and the hands would tag them and check them over for general health. An EPA representative would be out to do some tests, and once they got the results they’d be able to organise transport to market—provided the test results came back negative for contamination. She hoped that would be the case. They couldn’t afford to lose so much stock, or the income they could provide to the station. This whole thing was keeping her awake at night—along with thoughts of Mac. Okay, maybe horny little fantasies, too, but the stress of dealing with the consequences of the meth labs at Bulls’ Run was enough to keep a narcoleptic awake.

  She revved her motor, using the louder noise to help move the cattle in the direction she wanted. She grinned as the cows herded through the gate, and nodded when Steve, an Indigenous teen, waved at her, click-counters in hand. Leila Mayne had mentioned the young man needed a job, and Jac needed the help, so it had been perfect timing. For the last two days the teen had arrived on time, followed instructions, shown an interest in the work, and shown a good sense of humour—all things she’d told Leila at the end of each day when the woman rang to get a report on her charge. Her lips tightened. Jac still hadn’t spoken with Hayden. He’d tried to call her, but she wouldn’t, couldn’t talk to him just yet. She needed to calm down a little before she had a sit-down chat with her friend.

  Jac killed the engine as one of the contracted hands ran the gate closed. She looked up at Steve where he’d found a perch on the top of the fence. ‘How many?’ she asked.

  Steve glanced down at the counter. ‘Two hundred and ninety-three.’

  Jac frowned. ‘Really?’ There were supposed to be more heads out this way.

  Steve held up a second coun
ter. ‘Yep.’ She smiled, impressed he’d taken a second counter. ‘Okay. Two hundred and ninety-three it is.’

  She turned as Scott stopped his truck and leaned his arm on the window frame. ‘How’d we do?’

  Jac winced. ‘We’ve lost over a dozen. I’m going to ride out and have a quick scout along Duck’s Gully.’ The gully was dry now, but when the rains came the gully filled with water, and ducks were known to paddle. Not for a while now, but the name had stuck.

  ‘Want me to come with you?’

  Jac smiled. She was still finding it a little awkward, being around him after that kiss, but he was definitely making more of an effort to spend time with her. But it didn’t need two of them to scout for cows, not when they had to test all the stock here. ‘Uh, no, I’ll be fine. Can you get the guys to start checking their tags? And we’ll do another count. Pull out any that look sickly, and we’ll take it from there.’

  Scott nodded, put his truck into gear, then hesitated. ‘Say, we’ve been working like Trojans for the last few days. Do you feel like having a drink when we get back? I’ll bring the beer…?’

  She bit her lip. She wasn’t sure how she felt about Scott—or Mac. They were each so different, and they made her feel differently. Mac could be infuriating. Annoying. Challenging. Sweet. Too damn sexy for his own good… and Scott, on the other hand, was easy. Comfortable. Relaxed… and good-looking in his own way. She never thought either of them would show any interest in her, so she was surprised and more than a little confused when they did. But Scott was right. She had been working everyone pretty hard since the discovery at Brandy, and they’d always shared a beer and had a chat to unwind after a big day. Maybe the company of a man other than Mac was exactly what she needed. ‘Sure. That would be great. I’ll see you back at the house after dinner.’

  Scott flicked his hat with his finger, his lips curving into a smile as he drove off.

  She turned back to Steve, who looked like he was trying to hide a smile. ‘Can you make a note of the numbers, then reset for a third count?’

  He quickly wiped the smile off his face and nodded.

  ‘Good. You could call it quits after that, if you like.’ She smiled. ‘An early mark. You’ve done well today, Steve. Thanks.’

  He ducked his head, and Jac pretended she didn’t notice his blush. ‘Thanks, Jacinta.’

  ‘No worries. See you tomorrow.’

  She whistled for Ray, who came racing around the pen and jumped up on the back of her seat. She took off smoothly, careful not to dislodge her dog, and rode off in the direction of Duck’s Gully.

  She had to crest two hills before heading down into the mouth of the gully. It was wide—a dry riverbed, actually. But it had started as a gully, and general erosion had widened it to its current layout.

  She slowed down, cruising along the floor of the riverbed. Down here, with yet another sunset colouring the skies with the apricot streaks and a blue-grey blush creeping in, it was quiet. Peaceful. The dry banks reached a height well above her head, so it was like entering a hushed haven.

  Mac would like this place, she thought idly, then sighed. She had to get him out of her mind. Every now and then she’d have a flash of memory, of him kissing her in the car, or that first time, at the back of the ute. She was fantasising about it happening again, but these fantasies involved them both being horizontal. Preferably naked. No car.

  And then she’d start to stress. She hadn’t heard Mac’s name linked with another woman for a while, but that didn’t fool her. The guy was a player, and she had no intention of being another notch on his bedpost. Besides, when they weren’t arguing, she enjoyed their talks. She’d gotten closer to him in those drives out around the property. When he wasn’t being an infuriating douche, he could be quite funny. And deep, with his need to make his community safe. He was as dedicated to his job as she was to the farm. She couldn’t help it, she was fascinated by the man.

  He was a complex, contrary mix. He could be so distant and cool when he was working, yet so tender and considerate, like when he’d stayed with her at the hospital. Or smoking-hot-sexy, like he’d been when he’d kissed her. She didn’t know what to do about him. Her. Them. He was a friend. He was Jamie’s best friend. If it didn’t work out, things could get messy. And did she want things to work out? Was she ready for that? There were things she still wanted to do with the farm. She needed to cut down the debt attached to the property—a debt that would balloon as a result of the meth-lab clean-up and property decontamination. She needed to help look after her father. He was so worried, after learning about the drug activity. He was even doing some fence inspections along the highway, which was both fantastic and distressing. Not many guys would sign up for this kind of life. She didn’t have the time to date anyone, let alone forge a relationship, and she was used to being her own boss—well, as much as she could be with her father around. And who said anything about a relationship? Mac wasn’t the marrying kind. The man was a born bachelor.

  And up until a few short days earlier, he’d considered her a sister and had never looked twice at her. She could handle brother Mac, had managed to handle him all these years, but she had no idea how to handle sexy Mac. Scott was easy. Mac was … a challenge, one that left her feeling a little unbalanced, and a little out of control. If there was one thing she needed at the moment, it was to feel like she had some control over her life. Besides, Mac thought her father, Scott or even poor Marion could be involved with the drug operation—which was just pure bonkers.

  Jac frowned. Maybe she should just try to weigh up the good versus the bad. So Mac’s suspicion of her family was … bad. His kisses, on the other hand, were good. No. Bad, because the kisses changed everything, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready for change. She could lose a friend. Brother. Whatever. Scott was supportive and loyal to her family … good. His kisses were—well, they weren’t bad. Maybe she just needed to try again with Scott, when her head wasn’t already in a tizz from Mac.

  She followed a bend in the gully, and skidded to a stop. Ray toppled off the bike and rolled when he hit the ground. He shook the sand off as he rose to his feet. Jac stared at the carnage in front of her, her mouth opened in stunned horror.

  Cows, calves … she rapidly counted them. Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-holy mother of god, twenty-three. They lay where they’d fallen, flies buzzing around the puddles of blood that had pooled under and around the bodies.

  She cut the engine and swung off the bike, letting it drop to the ground as she stepped away. Oh my god. Tears blurred her vision as she staggered over to the first corpse. She dropped to her knees. What the hell?

  She reached over and touched the dead cow’s shoulder. The poor thing. She sniffed, then scanned the body. What had happened? How had she died? Jacinta leaned over to look at the sightless eyes, and froze when she saw the bullet hole in the forehead. Turning slowly, she looked at all the other animals.

  They’d all been shot. Her hand rose to her mouth. Why? Why would someone do that? Cows were … harmless. Docile. Generally. This was such a waste. She swallowed as she rose to her feet and backed up toward the bike. They’d been shot.

  When? She hadn’t heard any shots. Not that day, not the night before… She wasn’t a vet, she had no idea how to tell how long the animals had been dead. Hours? Days? She bent and hauled up her motorbike as she tried to swallow her tears. Why? Why this senseless killing? There was so much damage…

  She swung her leg over the bike and kicked the starter. She tried to whistle a couple of times, then just ended up calling Ray over as she revved the bike and tore up an incline. She cleared the ridge, Ray running behind her, and headed back to the house.

  She needed to call Mac.

  Mac picked up the sheet of paper that the printer had just spat out, and walked over to whiteboard. He snagged a bit of sticky tape and stuck the photo he’d just printed next to Jayden Terrance’s mug shot.

  Detective Brent Pocock leaned his hip on the spare desk that
Mac had set up for the visiting officer from the drug squad in Sydney.

  ‘He’s not the prettiest lad,’ Mac commented.

  Brent shook his head. ‘Nope.’

  Mac folded his arms and stared at the image of Graham Toohey. Apparently the phone confiscated from Hayden at Silverwater prison had coughed up a big fish. ‘Jeez. It seems incredible, and yet…not.’

  He’d already had an interesting discussion with Hayden Terrance. The man was being surprisingly cooperative. The guy had been furious to learn of the discovery of a second drug lab at Bulls’ Run. Actually, ballistic might be a better description for his reaction. If Mac had any doubts about Hayden’s friendship with Jac, they’d been put to rest when the guy had agreed to an interview, and given up whatever information he could in order to protect Jac and her father. The problem was, Hayden had been given the phone he’d turned in, and all numbers had been pre-programmed. He didn’t know any names, but he did recall seeing a guy visiting his brother at the prison, once. The man had been leaving just as Hayden was arriving. There was no contact, no discussion, but Hayden thought he could identify him if he saw him again. Mac and Brent were currently waiting for Hayden to come in to the station to see if this photo matched the guy Hayden had seen at the prison.

  Brent sighed. ‘We’ve been trying to nail this guy for years. That phone is the first time we can link Toohey’s operations with Terrance at Silverwater—and if your contact can identify him, that’s another nail in the coffin. Then you guys found those meth labs…’ Brent shook his head. ‘That’s going to cost Toohey millions. We’re getting close.’

  Mac nodded. Toohey was a renowned underworld figure. Murder, prostitution, drugs… you name it, the guy was into it. And he was nasty. Leader of the Black Demons motorcycle gang, which had been responsible for several drive-by shootings, and was currently in a war with the Chinese gangs in Sydney, as well as some of the gangs up in Queensland.