Secrets of the Lynx

by Aimée Thurlo

  “I don’t need a doc,” Paul said, then glanced at Kendra. “I think you should have one look you over, though.”

  “No thanks. I’m scraped up and bruised, but nothing worse than a bad day at the gym,” she said.

  Paul didn’t argue. She was back to being Deputy Marshal Armstrong now, and Kendra would call anything short of gushing blood a scrape. He smiled. She was some kind of woman—his kind of woman.

  The realization slammed into him. He was falling in love with Kendra—hard. He stared at her for a moment longer than he should have.

  “You okay?” she asked. “You look...confused.”

  “Nah, I’m just sorting things out.” The truth of it was he had no business falling in love with anyone. Until Judy’s killer was behind bars, his life wasn’t his own. He owed a debt to the past—one that needed to be repaid.

  “I’ve got a bottle of twelve-year-old single malt scotch in the cabinet for you,” Gene said, glancing at Paul.

  “Still the best painkiller I know,” he replied.

  As Gene parked in front of the bunkhouse, Paul looked over at Kendra and saw the smile on her face.

  “You into country living?” Paul asked her.

  “I wouldn’t go that far, but this place is just so welcoming,” she said. “I love the white painted wood, bright yellow chairs, and just look at that porch swing for two.”

  “That’s mostly Lori’s doing,” Gene said proudly. “Before, there was only a log bench and hitching post. Come on, let me show you the inside.”

  Gene opened the door and invited them in with a wave of his hand. “There’s not much in the mini fridge here, so come over to the main house when you’re ready to eat.”

  “Where’s Lori?” Paul asked glancing around. “Cooking up a storm?”

  “Nah. She’s shopping in Cortez, but she’ll be back by eight. She left dinner for me, but, as usual, she made enough to feed an army, so you’re invited to dig in. There’s a batch of fresh homemade chocolate chip cookies, too.”

  “Bro, she’s got you eating right out of her hand,” Paul teased.

  “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it,” he said, then nodded to Kendra. “There’s a shower in the small bathroom at the end of this hall, but you’ll only get cold water there. The big bathroom with the claw-footed bathtub has cold and hot running water—and the tub fits two.”

  Kendra nearly choked. “I bathe alone.”

  Gene looked at Paul with raised eyebrows and shrugged.

  “One more thing before you go,” Paul said, playfully shoving Gene back toward the door. “Where do you keep the first aid kit?”

  “Bathroom cabinet. You’ll find plenty of supplies there. Lori insisted on it after Preston and Daniel put on the gloves and turned the corral into a boxing ring one evening. They’d decided to work out their frustrations after the fifty dollar pay-per-view match they’d been watching lasted less than two minutes.”

  “Who won, Preston or Daniel?” Kendra asked.

  “Neither. Lori turned the hose on them as soon as Preston got a bloody lip,” Gene said, laughing.

  “Speaking of bloody,” Paul said, glancing down at his clothing. “Can I borrow a change of clothing?”

  “Daniel keeps a few shirts and pants in the first bedroom. You and Dan wear the same size, right?” He glanced at Kendra. “You’re about the same size as Daniel’s wife, Holly. She keeps some jeans and sweaters in there, too. Feel free to borrow whatever you need. They won’t mind. I think there’s some makeup stuff in there, too, but I don’t know jack about that.”

  Paul walked outside with Gene. “Thanks for coming to pick us up,” he said.

  “No prob. Clean up and relax with the lady. I’ll stay away.”

  “No need, nothing’s going to happen.”

  Gene shook his head. “Maybe something should. I saw the way you look at her.” Not giving him a chance to answer, Gene walked away.

  Paul expelled his breath in a hiss. Were his feelings for Kendra that obvious? He strode back inside and found Kendra running her hand along the tongue and groove, knotty pine walls.

  “This is so beautiful,” she said, standing at the doorway to one of the rooms. “It’s real wood, and the grain’s perfect.”

  “It used to be one big room with bunk beds and a potbelly stove in the middle. Lori has been pressuring Gene to make the place better-suited to adults. I can see she won that battle.”

  “She’s done a great job. Look at this vanity table. I bet she made the organza skirt around it. It’s so pretty.”

  “In a bunkhouse...”

  “It’s extra special precisely because it’s in a bunkhouse. It welcomes women, not just men.”

  “I guess,” he replied.

  She glanced back at him. “What’s wrong?”

  “Just sore and crabby,” he said, but as he tried to shrug, he winced.

  “Is it your shoulder again?”

  “Nah, I scraped my back when I crawled out of the pickup window,” he said. “I recall I was in a hurry at the time.”

  “Take off your shirt and let me take a look. You might need that doctor after all.”

  “It’s not that bad,” he said, but he shrugged out of his shirt anyway and set his fetish aside.

  “Turn around,” she said softly.

  As her fingertips brushed his skin, he suppressed a shudder—and not from the pain.

  “You’re more scraped up than me, so you get to clean up first. Once you’re out of the bathtub, I’ll put some antiseptic on those cuts.”

  “Then I’ll do the same for you.”

  “My scrapes have sealed up. I’m fine,” she said.

  He pointed to her shoulder. “Not really. You’re still bleeding a bit. See where your sweater’s sticking to the cut? You don’t want to get any of that soot and grime in there. Better take it off so we can have a look.”

  He saw the flash of excitement that lit her eyes, and that look pleased him far more than it should have.

  “Never mind. I’ll grab some clothes and go take a bath,” she said, then looked at her hands and winced. “Ugh. On second thought, I need to wash my hands first. Pretty disgusting, huh?”

  “I have to disagree.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her gently. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, drawing back and enjoying the hazy look in her eyes as she gazed back at him.

  “Why can’t I stop wanting you?” she whispered, but this time she didn’t pull away. “I know what I have to do....”

  “You can’t be strong all the time. No one can,” he said, kissing her again.

  “Not even you?”

  “Particularly me,” he said. “I need...you.”

  He kissed her shoulder, then her neck, loving the way she melted into him. “Even the strong need love, sweetheart, more than we’ll ever admit.”

  She drew in a breath as he gently lifted off her sweater, unclasped her bra and kissed her breasts. “My knees are about to buckle. I’m not that strong.”

  “You need me as much as I need you. Stop thinking. Just-feel.”

  He grasped her buttocks and pressed her into him. He was hard and ready, but he’d hold back. He’d burn these moments into her memory forever.

  “Before you came into my life, I was cold and empty inside. You’ve given my heart a reason for beating again.” He took her soft breast into his mouth.

  Gasping, she wrapped her arms around him. “I want....” Her words trailed off as he nipped at the taut peak gently.

  “Tell me,” he demanded in a rough whisper.

  “I want to surrender...then feel you go wild inside me.”

  The words lit a fire in his blood. He lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed.

  “Set me down,” she said quickly. “You’ll hurt your shoulder....”

  “What shoulder?” All he could feel now was the fire—pure, sweet, and furnace-hot.

  He eased her onto the soft mattress, brushing away what remained of her clothing and kissi
ng her everywhere. He kept his touch gentle, wanting to bring her to the edge many times before they were through. He knew what would give her pleasure.

  “This was meant to happen,” he murmured, opening her to his touch.

  She gasped with pleasure and arched upwards toward him. “No, not yet,” she managed, struggling to hold back. “You’ve still got your jeans on. Let me see you.”

  He stood beside the bed, unbuckled his belt, and stripped. “Like what you see?” he growled, standing there, letting her gaze sear over him.

  “You’re so beautiful,” she managed in a choked whisper.

  “Nobody’s ever called me that.”

  She opened her arms and reached out to him. “Look at me when you slip inside my body. I love the way your eyes darken when you want me.”

  Seeing her wanting and needing him made him crazy. Holding her gaze, he settled over her. “How could I not look at you now?”

  * * *

  SHE WASN’T SURE how long she slept, but when she awoke she found herself encircled in his powerful arms. His chest moved with each breath as she lay with her head on his left shoulder.

  “You’re awake,” he said.

  “How did you know? Your eyes were closed.”

  “Yes, but I wasn’t asleep. I was enjoying the warmth of your body against mine.”

  She nestled deeper into his arms and sighed contentedly. “We can’t lie here forever. It’s seven o’clock in the evening.”

  “My brother won’t bother us.”

  She laughed softly. “Have him trained, do you?” she said, sitting up.

  “He knows I’ve got feelings for you,” he said.

  “Do you?” she asked softly.

  He started to reach for his jeans, then stopped and turned his head to look at her. “I thought I was pretty clear about that.” He gestured back to the bed. “Complaints?”

  She shook her head and smiled. “You were gentle when you needed to be and rough and wonderful at other times,” she said, getting up.

  Only one thing had kept it from being perfect. He’d never really told her how he felt about her.

  Almost as if Paul had read her unspoken thought, he pulled her against him. “I care about you, Kendra, and that’s not something I say lightly. In fact, I’ve never said that to anyone before.”

  The revelation didn’t surprise her. She looked up at him, sensing he had more to say.

  “These days, people use the word ‘love’ too easily. To me, love means the willingness to make the other person a part of your life, but that’s not a place you can be right now. My life will never be my own until my past is settled.”

  She nodded. That kind of loyalty was rare and beautiful. “No promises were made and none need to be kept,” she said.

  He stood tall, confident in his nakedness. “Regrets?”

  “None,” she said.

  He took a step closer to her, his body growing hard again. But hearing a car pulling up in the gravel, he stopped.

  Paul went to the window and, standing to one side, looked out.

  “Two of my brothers are here,” he said.

  “I’ll bathe fast, then you can go clean up.”

  “No hurry. I’ll use the shower. The cold water will do me good.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Kendra bathed, then dressed quickly. Stopping to look at herself in the mirror, she studied her reflection. The pale peach turtleneck sweater and snug jeans accentuated her feminine curves.

  “You look nice,” he said, standing in the doorway.

  “These clothes will have to do, but they don’t really suit me,” she said.

  “They may not suit Deputy U.S. Marshal Armstrong, but they do suit the you I’ve come to know.”

  Kendra avoided looking at him. It was time to get down to business. To emphasize it to herself, she clipped her badge onto her belt. “Sexy and feminine clash big-time with my weapon and holster,” she said with a quick half smile. “There’s a jacket in there, and I think I’m going to put it over this sweater.”

  He nodded, then walked down the hall.

  A few moments later, she met him in the living room.

  “You look the part, Deputy Marshal, and you’ll fit right in with law enforcement here in the Four Corners,” he said.

  “Good.” She rolled up the cuffs another notch. “This jacket will hide my holster and badge—unless I choose to have them show.”

  Minutes later they walked over to the main house. As they went through the unlocked kitchen door, Paul heard the crackle of the fireplace and loud, familiar voices arguing in the next room.

  “They’re both targets,” Preston was saying. “The evidence speaks for itself.”

  “Don’t kid yourself. Without a clear motive, we’re still just guessing,” Daniel answered.

  “They’ve been ducking bullets for days now. What else do you need?” Gene said.

  “Guys,” Paul said, walking into the room.

  “Hey, good to see you’re both okay. I figured I’d give you about another ten minutes, then call the paramedics,” Gene said with a quick grin.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Paul growled then looked at Preston. “What brought you here? Did you turn up something?”

  He shook his head. “I read the bulletin and knew you’d be here. The state patrol is still looking over the crime scene, so why don’t you tell me how it all went down?”

  “The gunman was above us on the bank, firing blind into the cab,” Paul said. “There was a lot of smoke, and the side windows were below ground level.”

  “Which side of the cab took the bulk of the hits—driver’s or passenger’s?” Preston asked, zeroing in on the question foremost in their minds. “Do you know?”

  “The driver’s side took the first few hits. The rounds came through the lower roof and rear of the cab,” Kendra said. “The steering wheel hub took a hit, and there were at least two more through the driver’s side backrest. The way I see it, they were grouped to cover that half of the interior.”

  “Did the shooter know who was driving?” Daniel asked.

  “Yeah, he knew. We passed by so close there was no way for him to miss that,” Kendra said. “Paul pulled me down across the cab, and the bullets passed just over my legs. If I’d stayed behind the wheel I’d be dead.”

  “I still don’t get it. What were you doing on that road in the first place?” Preston asked.

  “We’d just picked up a flash drive from Mickey,” Paul said, telling him about the gun show surveillance feed.

  “So, once again, though it looks like we’re dealing with a marksman, he still missed his target?” Daniel said.

  “This time it wasn’t for lack of trying,” Paul said. “Combine that with the fact that he ran us off the road, and that alone could have easily killed us, and you’re looking at what was clearly a hit.”

  “But why are you being targeted? What’s the motive here?” Preston said.

  “You tell me. I suspect an informant in the marshals service, but as I said, I have no proof,” Kendra said.

  “From where I sit, it looks like the informant is someone close to both of you,” Daniel said, looking at Kendra, then Paul.

  “It’s no one I associate with,” Paul said. “I haven’t had any special contact with the marshals service in eight or nine months.”

  “I’m sure you have your own source there, a friend who has kept you current on the status of the investigation?” Kendra said, taking a guess. “Who is it?”

  He shook his head. “Couldn’t be him. He’s completely loyal to the marshals service.”

  “I’m with Kendra on this. We should still look into it,” Preston said. “I could check him out—discreetly, of course.”

  “No, you don’t get it,” Paul said. “He retired two months ago. My guy’s out of the loop, and what’s been happening to us is recent.”

  “Okay, but keep thinking about it,” Preston said. “Who could it be?”

  Paul said nothing for several
long moments, standing in front of the fireplace, staring at the flames.

  Minutes stretched out. Kendra started to speak, but Preston shook his head.

  She waited.

  Paul finally turned to face them. “The hit on the judge happened ten months ago. No one’s come after me since then. So why now? What’s changed?”

  “I asked myself that just the other day. I figured once I found the answer, I could use it to draw Miller out,” Kendra said. “Nothing’s come to light, so now I don’t know. Do you think that maybe it’s taken them this long to get to you because they figured you weren’t going anywhere?”

  “Not likely. That kind of business doesn’t get put on hold,” Paul said. “I’ve got another idea we need to consider. What if you were right, Kendra, and you were the primary target all along? The hit on me could have been arranged so that your supervisor would be pressured to send you here—away from where you might have done serious damage. Having you killed while hunting down Miller could have also permanently obscured the real motive for the hit.”

  Kendra stared at him for a moment, his words sinking in. “If you’re right, that’s a brilliant plan.”

  “So, now what?” Daniel asked.

  “We go back to one of the primary questions,” Preston said. “Someone has been feeding the gunman information on your whereabouts. Let’s narrow it down. Who knows where you are?” he asked Kendra.

  “My supervisor, Evan Thomas, his office assistant, his boss and anyone else in the chain of command who has access to the reports,” Kendra said.

  Her cell phone, inside the pocket of her shirt, began to ring. She glanced at the caller ID. “It’s Evan, do you believe it? I have to take this. By now, he’s seen the Colorado patrol’s report.”

  “Don’t give out your current location if you can help it,” Preston warned.

  Kendra nodded and stepped into the kitchen. “Armstrong,” she said, answering the call.

  “I just heard about the incident that went down earlier today, but there was no medical report. You okay?” Thomas asked.