A Killing Season

by Jessica Speart

  “People who love you don’t leave of their own accord, Rachel. It’s one of those things over which they have no control. I miss her as much as if we’d been of the same blood. But I also know that it must have been her time to go.”

  Although I’d buried my mother, I still held her close, hoping to ease my pain, refusing to let her spirit pass over so that she could find peace of her own.

  Matthew’s voice was oddly soothing as it reached inside to pluck at my heart. “Death mocks us all, Rachel. We just have to keep trying to outsmart it. The best way to do that is to enjoy the time we have left here.”

  Matthew polished off his wine. “Speaking of which, it’s getting late. I should probably let you catch some sleep.” He stood up and stretched.

  I watched as he raised those strong arms above his head; I had never felt more vulnerable and alone.

  Ghostly laughter broke out, reinforcing my fear. It was Kyle Lungren twisting on that rope, waiting for me to turn out the lights. And I knew, more than anything else, that I didn’t want to be alone tonight.

  Running was halfway out the door when I jumped up and followed. My response caught him by surprise, and he stopped and turned around. He looked at me for what felt like an eternity, saying nothing. Then his hand slowly began to travel up my spine.

  “Don’t leave. I’m not tired,” I entreated in a low, husky whisper.

  Running tested the waters further by pressing his lips against mine. All I wanted was for his arms to wrap themselves around me once more. That is, until his fingers softly began to play with my breasts.

  “It’s your call, Rachel.”

  I didn’t think. I only felt, as I drew Matthew back inside the room and he closed the door. There was no need to say another word. It was perfectly clear that I was falling down the rabbit hole. Kyle Lungren withdrew into the darkness as I pressed myself tighter against Running, slipping faster and deeper into the void. Matthew pulled me down onto the bed, and we explored each other from head to toe, as I put all my misgivings on hold.

  Sixteen

  Rrrrring! Rrrrring!

  I slowly emerged from the dark burrow I’d been curled up in, feeling all safe and snug and warm. My body still tingled after last night’s erotic foray, having experienced sensations that I’d never felt before. Part of me wondered if it had all been a dream, since I now found myself alone—until I heard the water running and realized Matthew was taking a shower. The other sound was the incessant ringing of the motel phone.

  “Hello?” I croaked. There was an additional sensation that I now became aware of—a steady pounding in my head.

  “You sound a little hungover, chère,” chortled a familiar voice. “We’ll have to figure out a way to spend more time together, if being apart is driving you to drink.”

  I lost my breath. I struggled to regain it, gasping like a fish out of water. If I weren’t already lying in bed, I’d have fallen down.

  “Santou?” I sputtered in disbelief. “How did you know where to reach me?”

  How else? God has obviously decided to punish you!

  “My pal Dixon told me.”

  “Dixon?” My panicky brain searched for a reference, desperate for something to seize on to.

  “You really did have too much to drink last night, didn’t you?” Santou responded, beginning to sound concerned. “I’m sitting in the FBI office here in Browning.”

  “What are you doing there?” I nearly wailed.

  “I was flown in to help on the Lungren case.” His voice dropped to a near whisper. “I wish I was with you right now, chère. But I’m afraid that’ll have to wait. So how about you jump in the shower, grab some breakfast, and head on over? We need to review what happened yesterday.”

  What happened yesterday? My mind suddenly went blank.

  Then I heard the shower door swing open, and I was bombarded with memories of every tantalizing moment between Matthew and me last night.

  “Chère? Are you all right?”

  “Yes, I’m—I’m fine,” I replied, struggling to snap out of my waking nightmare.

  “By the way, do me a favor. Could you ring your compadre in crime and pass along the message? I’ll need him here, as well.”

  “Sure, no problem,” I automatically replied, as my heart began to race. Oh God! Running and Santou were about to come face-to-face!

  “Great. Hurry on over. I can’t wait to see you,” Santou added in a low growl.

  Matthew picked that moment to walk into the room with only a towel wrapped around his waist.

  “Me, too,” I responded and quickly hung up.

  Running looked so good that, before Jake’s call, I’d have been tempted to lure him back into bed. Judging from his smile, Matthew felt the same way. It rapidly faded as he caught sight of my expression.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked and sat on the edge of the bed, where his fingers gently combed my hair.

  I had no choice but to tell him. “Remember I said that I’m involved with someone? What I didn’t mention is that he’s with the FBI. He just arrived in Browning to work on the Lungren case.”

  Matthew’s body stiffened and his hand dropped to his side. “The guy’s got great timing,” he muttered.

  I veered between wanting to throw my arms around him and feeling like a deceptive Jezebel. The one constant was my aching heart.

  Neither of us spoke, but dressed in awkward silence as we faced away from each other. The leaden quiet continued all the way to Browning, broken only by the sipping of coffee and the munching of donuts.

  We walked into the FBI office, where Dixon sat behind his desk and Santou stood anxiously waiting. I was immediately swept up by Jake’s profile—the long, sharp nose, the crooked smile, and those deep-set eyes hinting at wanton pleasures. Santou’s lips brushed against my cheek and he squeezed my hand, insinuating that this was only the prelude. I knew he probably planned a much more intimate reunion for later on tonight.

  By now, Matthew had quietly glided over to join us. I stood like a tongue-tied dolt between the two men.

  “Hi. I’m Matt Running, tribal game officer for the Blackfeet reservation.” He offered Jake his hand.

  The two men instinctively sized each other up.

  “Jake Santou, FBI agent.”

  And boyfriend of that cheating, two-timing, sleep-around gal, Rachel Porter. Oh God.

  Santou and Running had yet to break their handshake. Either they were about to duke it out or arm wrestle, or had discovered that they were latently gay.

  Running finally broke the silence. “Santou—I seem to remember that name. Wasn’t your father one of the Cajuns who worked the oil fields here years ago, during the summers?”

  Jake slowly nodded as he studied Matthew’s face.

  “And you used to come along with him as a kid.”

  “That’s right. How did you know?” Santou asked warily.

  Matthew broke into a grin. “I believe it was my uncle who taught you to speak Piegan. Don’t you remember me?”

  Jake’s face lit up and he pumped Matthew’s hand. “Of course! In fact, it’s due to your uncle that I’m here. I was brought in to work this case specifically because I speak the local language.”

  “But what does speaking Piegan have to do with the militia?” I asked, feeling bewildered. The way things were going, these two would become best buddies and I’d wind up being dumped.

  “Nothing, really. But I’ve also been asked to investigate a number of reports concerning missing people on the rez.”

  Neither Running nor I said a word. It wasn’t necessary; we felt the same way. Big Brother had arrived in the guise of the FBI and was muscling into our territory.

  “Now, what say we start at the beginning and go over what happened yesterday,” Santou suggested.

  I only half-listened as Running gave a blow-by-blow account from the time we left his vehicle up to the point where Kyle blew off his head.

  “Rachel, is there anything you’d like t
o add?” Jake inquired.

  Yeah. I wish you’d let us get on with our work. “Not a thing.”

  Maybe it was the fact that I wasn’t my usual rambunctious self that tipped Santou off. He waited for just the right moment to pull me aside.

  “Is there some sort of problem that you want to tell me about?”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” I dodged.

  “You’ve barely said two words since you’ve been here. I don’t claim to be psychic, but that’s not normal for you.”

  “Sorry, Jake. It’s just that I’m still kind of tired after yesterday.”

  He placed a consoling hand on my arm. “Did you have a rough night?”

  I unthinkingly pulled away, startled by his question. Damn! I knew that was all Santou would need to start reassessing the situation.

  “Yeah. I didn’t sleep very well.”

  He nodded understandingly, but the barest hint of suspicion had begun to take root in his eyes. We rejoined the others and I realized that Matthew had been watching us the entire time. Even worse, both men exchanged a guarded glance and I heard Santou take a deep breath. Its ragged exhalation nicked at my heart.

  “Is there anything else we need to go over, or are you done downloading me for the moment?” Running inquired.

  The two men silently appraised each other, making me feel like the grand prize in a turkey shoot.

  “Nah. It sounds pretty cut-and-dried, so I suppose that’s it for now. Oh, except for one thing. Don’t bother wasting any more of your time on that bear gallbladder case. The FBI will handle it from here since it involves Kyle Lungren as well.”

  What? A head of steam rose within me as fast as a stoked engine. “That’s all right; I don’t consider it a waste. In fact, I prefer to continue working the case,” I immediately responded, making my position known.

  Santou’s smile grew thin and tight. “Then let me make myself perfectly clear: you’re both to stay off the case. I don’t want to go over your heads on this, but I will if necessary.”

  Jake had never pulled rank on me like this before. The dirty work had always been left to others. Call me paranoid, but I was sure he suspected something was going on between me and Matthew, and this was his form of punishment.

  “And just why is the FBI suddenly so interested in the bear gall trade?” I challenged. “As far as I know, wildlife crime is still within my purview.”

  “Not when it involves the questionable death of a militia member. Then it becomes a capital case calling for further investigation,” Santou swiftly responded, coming down on me hard.

  Interesting. Only a minute ago it had been cut-and-dried; now it was questionable. What did Jake think, that Matthew and I had engineered Kyle Lungren’s death?

  “Have you got a problem with that?” Santou aimed the question at Running.

  “Hell no, man. Whatever you say,” he replied, throwing his hands up in surrender.

  That seemed to temporarily appease Jake.

  “Sorry, it’s just that this is a delicate situation. Listen, what say the three of us get together for dinner tonight? It’s on me.”

  Wouldn’t that be cozy.

  “Think of it as my way of thanking you for accompanying Rachel and not letting her stumble into this thing all on her own.”

  I was ready to explode, but Matthew must have read my mind and beat me to the punch.

  “I didn’t accompany her anywhere, Santou. The shit that’s taking place is happening on my reservation. As for Rachel, she’s a competent professional who doesn’t need anyone’s help. Thanks for the dinner invitation, but I’ve already got plans for tonight. Maybe another time.” Having said that, Matthew briskly walked out of the room.

  “I need to get going, too. I’ll talk to you later,” I added, anxious to follow him outside. But Santou grabbed hold of my arm.

  “Hey, wait a minute! What’s the rush? You’re supposed to be taking time off, remember?”

  “This isn’t the only case that I’m working on,” I coolly reminded him. “And as far as I know, I still have a job.”

  Santou loosened his grip. “Okay. Then how about telling me where I can reach you early this evening?”

  “I’ve been staying with a woman by the name of Sally Crossbow. I’ll probably go to see her.” I quickly scribbled down Sally’s number.

  Santou folded the scrap of paper and put it in his pocket as he continued to study me closely. “Are you sure everything is all right, chère?”

  “Fine.” Other than having my case pulled from me. “There are just some things I have to do,” I lied, refusing to meet his eyes.

  Dixon’s fingers impatiently drummed on his desktop. “Do you mind wrapping this up, Santou? I didn’t bring you here to socialize; we actually have work to do.”

  Jake held up a hand to fend him off. “Just give me another minute, Dix.” Then he turned his attention back to me. “All right. Let’s plan to meet tonight. I’ll promise we’ll sort everything out then.”

  “Will do.” I could feel Santou’s eyes suspiciously burrowing into my back as I beat a hasty retreat.

  I frantically ran outside, only to find that Matthew was already in his vehicle and beginning to pull away.

  “Hold on! Where are you off to?” I shouted.

  But Running kept right on going. Either he hadn’t heard my plea, or he chose to ignore it. There was only one thing to do—I threw myself onto the hood of his truck. I figured it was hard to ignore a woman hanging off the front of your pickup.

  Running had no choice but to slam on the brakes and reluctantly lower his window. I climbed off the hood, walked over, and firmly plunked my elbows on the ledge, not giving him a chance to speak.

  “So, that’s it? That’s the end of our case? The FBI snarls and all you do is to obligingly roll over for them?” I jabbed, doing my best to provoke the man.

  The trace of a smile flickered across his face. It was obvious that he knew what I was up to. “Yeah. You know me and Uncle Sam. I love to be his whipping boy.” Matthew brought an arm up and deliberately rested it against mine, his expression one of grim determination. “I’ll quit when Custer rises from his grave and takes back Little Big Horn. Until then, I have no intention of giving anything up.”

  I couldn’t help but wonder if that included me, as well.

  “I fully intend to find out what’s happening here on the rez—especially with those FBI hotshots throwing their weight around like a couple of prizefighters. They’ve got hard-ons just at the thought of taking over our case.” Running’s eyes met mine in challenge. “So, are you interested in joining my planned insurrection? Or do you take orders from your boyfriend in there?”

  A ripple of excitement surged through me—from the touch of his skin, as well as the fervor of his words. “Hey, you’re the one that I’m worried about. I’ve already done plenty to earn my reputation. No way in hell am I about to quit now.”

  Matthew smiled and I was once again the flagrant Jezebel, reveling in a variety of enticing emotions.

  “Remember when I told you that my totem spirit is a bear? Well, this case has now become personal. Anywhere in particular that you’d care to start?”

  “Yeah. I need to check in with a guy by the name of Benny Gugliani. He’s supposed to be digging up some information for me.”

  “Benny Gugliani?”

  “He’s another witness protection joker who was involved with Hutchins on that Medicare scam.”

  Running shook his head and grinned in amusement. “You just refuse to let that thing go, don’t you? Kind of like my dog once he locks on to a soup bone.”

  I shot him a dirty look, not quite sure how to take the remark. “I can’t shake the feeling that it somehow comes into play. If it turns out I’m wrong, then I’ll buy you dinner.”

  “In that case, I’ll come along and meet Gugliani with you.”

  “Thanks, but I think I should do this by myself.”

  “Uh-uh.” Running’s jaw was firmly set. �
��Consider it a deal breaker if we’re to work this case together. Under the present circumstances, it’s far too dangerous to go anywhere alone.”

  As much as I hated to admit it, I knew that Matt was right. I jumped into his pickup and we headed toward Willow Creek.

  Benny didn’t bother to question my obvious change in vehicles, but buzzed us straight through the gate without a word.

  “Nice statues,” Matthew commented sardonically as we went up the walkway.

  “That’s nothing. Wait till you get a load of the doorbell.” I laughed.

  But Running never had the chance. The entrance swung open before I could knock, and Vinnie Bertucci filled the doorway.

  Seventeen

  “Hey, New Yawk! How’s by you? This is just like old times, when you used to come see me at Hillard’s. Remember? I had a funny feeling you’d be dropping by. Only ain’t you supposed to be in Yellowstone? Or was that Jellystone? You know, like in Yogi and Boo Boo? I always get those two places confused.” A high-pitched giggle followed.

  Unbelievable! How the hell did Vinnie ever find this place? Had I left a trail of breadcrumbs behind me?

  “Listen, just to show there are no hard feelings, I’m willing to let bygones be bygones and invite ya in. I, for one, believe in playin’ fair and square, and sharin’ information with my friends whenever possible. Not like some people I know.”

  God, how I hate not having the upper hand.

  “Well, come on. Don’t just stand there like a coupla statues.” Vinnie waved us in through the door.

  The sound of pounding was the first thing to greet me. The sight of Benny tied to a chair was the second. His body jerked like a Mexican jumping bean as the chair’s wooden legs banged on the floor. Benny scowled upon catching sight of me, and the little coon tail on his cap bobbed furiously.

  “Good work, Porter! What the hell’d ya do? Draw the mope a map? Or did you just lead him straight to me?”

  I glanced at Vinnie, feeling equally curious.

  Vinnie rubbed his flattened nose. “I suppose it was a little of both. Of course, the real clue came when I caught the news about that militia freak blowing himself away. A reporter said some female Fish and Wildlife agent had been there and was now in deep shit because of it. It wasn’t hard to figure out who that was. I thought maybe you could use some help.”