by Desiree Holt
And then it was over. Her heart rate slowed, her pulse steadied, and she drew gasps of air into her lungs. Zane's sweat-slickened body lay over her, pressing her into the mattress.
Her brain spun with the reality of what had just happened. The tension was still in the air, but the tenor of it had changed and it scared her to death. A chill raced over her, and she pushed hard at him to lift him away from her.
"Move,” she told him. “I have to get up."
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Chapter Five
Zane rolled to his side, away from Jamie, his arm over his eyes. “Damn it. I knew this would happen. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Why the hell did you have to come back here anyway?"
Jamie got to her feet and glared at him. God, he was just as infuriating as he'd ever been. And just as self-centered. “Gee, thanks for the kind words, Zane. I didn't notice being in that bed by myself."
"You always did bewitch me.” He moved his arm and looked at her. “You left here with your tail on fire. Why can't you stay the hell out of my life now?"
She didn't know what to do with the anger that consumed her. “Get out of here, Zane. I didn't ask for this, and you can be damn sure it won't happen again. This is the last time you'll catch me off balance. Excuse me, I need to shower."
"Still the same smart mouth on you."
Smarter than my brain. How the hell did I let this happen?
"If you didn't want this, all you had to do was say so,” he called after her. “Why didn't you?"
She ignored him and kept on walking.
"Hey! I asked you a question."
"Well, you're not getting an answer.” Because I don't have one.
Jamie stomped into the bathroom and slammed the door. She turned the shower on full blast, the drumming of the water against the bottom of the tub vying with the drumming of her heart. Well, wasn't that just the stupidest thing she'd ever done? She'd better get tighter control of her hormones if she was going to survive this blip in her life.
She'd walked away from Zane Cameron the last time before he could bury her in this godforsaken place. She didn't intent to let him suck her in now. She might be down but she wasn't out. As soon as she got her act and some money together, she'd be out of here.
Screw Zane Cameron.
No, wait. That was what she'd just done. So first she needed to find her brains again.
She had just finished soaping her body and started to rinse it off when she heard the bathroom door open. Damn. She'd forgotten to lock it. Another stupid mistake.
A large hand pulled the shower curtain aside, and Zane stepped under the spray with her.
"Do you mind?” She backed up two steps. “This is my shower."
"I'm just borrowing it.” His eyes had a wicked gleam. “Jamie, we have to talk."
"We have nothing to talk about. Take your shower and get out.” She ducked under his arm and stepped out onto the bath mat. “I'll leave a towel for you. Don't slam the door on your way out."
She pulled on another T-shirt and shorts, equally as unattractive as the one's she'd been wearing, brushed her wet hair away from her face, and tugged it into its usual pony tail.
Stomping angrily down the stairs, she got out the coffee can and filter and set a pot to brewing. What she really wanted was a beer. Or better yet a shot of really good bourbon. How had she let herself be seduced like that?
No. Not seduced. Taken. Zane had given her no choice. Not that she'd protested at all. And that made her even more furious. She had business to take care, business that was sure to get under his skin, and sex would only cloud the issue. No matter how mind-blowing it was.
She'd just taken two mugs out of the cupboard when she heard Zane's footsteps behind her. She turned to face him, determined to get this straightened out once and for all.
Freshly showered, his straight dark hair combed back and tied with the leather thong, his bonze skin glowing, the image of him nearly killed Jamie's resolve. Especially when he was so close, he stole her breath away.
"I told you we need to talk and we're going to."
She drew in a breath to steady herself and let it out. “Talk. Okay. Sure. What happened was a mistake. It won't happen again. Good-bye."
"That's not talking,” he objected. “That's just you spouting words.” He gripped her arms. “When I heard you were back, I wanted to run you out of town so bad you're lucky I didn't throw a hitch on that fancy SUV of yours and tow it."
"Try it,” she spat at it.
"Oh, I think we're past that, darlin'."
"I'm not your darlin',” she corrected, a little louder than necessary. “I'm not your anything."
"Is that a fact?” He started to lean his head down toward her. “You sure could have fooled me."
She held out both hands and tried to back up, but the counter was right behind her. “This is not good. Not good at all."
Zane cocked an eyebrow. “Oh? I thought it was pretty damn good myself. And I for sure wasn't the only one enjoying it."
"This was a mistake, like you said. It can't happen again."
His slow smile made her knees buckle. Damn him.
"Tell me you didn't enjoy it, and I'll call you a liar. You were so hot for me your cunt was extra juicy. I'll bet you haven't had an orgasm like that in years."
"That's beside the point. We did it and it's over.” Liar! “That's the end of it."
His face tightened. “Still running away from me, Jamie? Afraid my mixed blood isn't good enough for you?"
"Damn it, Zane. You know that's not it at all.” She turned back to pour the coffee.
"You could have fooled me. I didn't see you objecting or contradicting when your drunk-as-a-skunk old man threatened to blow my head off and called me every dirty name he could think of."
She gritted her teeth. “That was a long time ago. Life's happened in the meantime. And I have no intention of getting sucked into something here in lousy little Amen that will wreck what's left of my life."
"You nearly got your wish, darlin'. All I had in mind was to take what should have been mine all these years and then run your ass out of town. Pronto."
She glared at him. “Go ahead. You got what you wanted."
Zane moved until they were belly to belly and thigh to thigh. “Not by half. It seems the joke's on me, because you're in my blood thicker than ever."
"Zane, don't—"
"You listen to me, Jamie. I didn't come after you when you left, although I damn well wanted to. But at that time I had nothing to offer you. Only my word, which wasn't worth a whole hell of a lot then and you knew it. That's one of the reasons you ran. I don't blame you. But times have changed. I let you do this to me once before, but not this time. Whatever's between us is hotter than ever. We're not once and done the way I planned, damn it. Either pack up and head back out of town, or you can count on me taking what's mine. Consider this fair warning."
She wrenched herself free. “What's yours? I am not yours, Zane Cameron."
His eyes were like hot coals. “Maybe not yet, but you will be."
"I might have something to say about that.” That is, if I can find the courage to say it. Don't touch me, Zane. It makes my body melt and my brain turn to mush.
"We'll see. Oh, yes. We'll just see."
Jamie's knees wobbled and liquid seeped from her cunt. No, damn it!
Zane backed away and poured himself some coffee in the mug she'd taken down. His hard eyes studied her over the rim as he sipped it.
"So.” She moved away from him. “One more time. Did you bring the report?"
His face darkened. “Jamie—"
"Well?"
"Fine. Whatever.” He slammed his mug down hard enough that some of the coffee sloshed over onto the counter and his hand. He swore, shaking the liquid off over the sink. “Give me a towel."
"I'll get it.” Jamie tore a sheet off a roll of paper towel. “You just get me that piece of paper."
He unbuttoned his uniform shirt po
cket, pulled something out, and handed it to her. “Here, but I don't know what you think you're looking for."
Jamie took it from him and studied it carefully. She'd read enough accident reports in her life to know this one was pretty thoroughly filled out. Yet there were some details missing she was curious about.
"Did the truck just roll over and tumble sideways?” she asked. “It doesn't say here."
"Yes. It did.” Zane gritted his teeth. “I didn't think I needed to add the details. The condition of the truck spoke for itself."
She frowned, her teeth dragging on her lower lip. “I just can't imagine him letting that happen. He's taken that curve in rotten weather when he was so drunk he couldn't stand up."
A muscle ticked in Zane's cheek. “Are you saying you don't think I investigated the accident properly? That I'm just a dumb hick cop who doesn't know anything?"
She looked up at him. “I'm not saying anything, except there are some things that bother me. Come outside a minute.” She led him to the side drive where Duke had dropped the truck. “See? Those dents in the tailgate? They look fresh. If he rolled on the side, how did those dents get there?"
"Damn it, Jamie. How the hell can you even tell when those dents were made, as old and beat up as this piece of crap is?"
She glared at him. “If you look at it, Sheriff, you'll see the paint under the scrape marks hasn't had time to weather. These are fresh. Like someone bumped him from behind and tried to push him over the edge of that hill."
Zane ran his hand over the metal, anger rolling off him in waves. “That could have happened any time.” He stood up, glowering at her. “What the hell's going on here? Everyone knows what a drunk Frank Randall was and getting worse every year. It's a wonder he hadn't killed himself before this."
Jamie scowled right back. Let him get mad. She wasn't about to be put off. “And where was he coming from?” She looked at the report she was holding. “This says the accident happened at four in the morning. The Last Call Saloon was long closed by then. He'd been somewhere."
Zane shook his head. “You're making something out of nothing here. Frank wandered all over the place. Anyway, why are you making such a stink? I don't think you ever said one word to him after you lit out of here like a cat with its tail on fire."
She went back to chewing her bottom lip. “So what? That doesn't mean I don't want to know what really happened. Or nail the person who did it if someone's at fault."
One lean finger tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him. “There's nothing here to find, darlin'. Diablo County has little crime to speak of, so there's no reason why anyone would want to pitch old Frank over the side of the hill. You've been living in the city too long. You're seeing trouble where there isn't any."
Jamie jerked her head away. “I said I'm not your darlin'. Or your anything. I can see how much help you'll be to me here, so why don't you get on your way, Sheriff.” Each time she said the word, she spat it as if it were an epithet.
"Fine.” His voice was thick with anger. He dropped his hand and moved away. “Do whatever you want. Knock yourself out. I'll be waiting for your apology any time you're ready to give it to me."
"Don't hold your breath,” she called as he stormed away from her.
He didn't answer her, just climbed into the Expedition, turned in a flurry of gravel, and roared out onto the highway.
Well, damn it all.
She hated to admit he'd been right about one thing. Why was she so hung up on this, anyway? Was she really seeing monsters where there weren't any? Not that Frank hadn't been a prime monster himself. She still wondered how she'd come out of all those nightmarish years without permanent problems. Or maybe she had them and just didn't realize it.
And now there was this thing with Zane to face. She was sure both of them had thought one roll in the sack would get it all out of their systems, but that wasn't what happened. No, damn it, not at all. She just wasn't sure how to handle it.
Sighing she trudged back into the house, realizing, in the heat of the moment, she'd forgotten to ask Zane if he knew who Grayson Ballou was.
* * * *
"Gray, she's had the damned truck towed to her house.” Manny's hand on the cell phone was slick with sweat. He hated giving unpleasant information to his boss.
"Let's not panic, okay?” Gray's voice was calm and even. “That piece of junk is so banged up you can't tell one dent from the other."
"Then why did she bother? What does she suspect?"
"Nothing, you idiot.” A note of impatience crept in. “There's nothing to suspect, right? She's just wasting time."
Manny's stomach knotted. This tone of voice always made him nervous. Things were about to go to hell in a handbasket. He could feel it. And all because of one old drunk. “If you say so. But she had the sheriff out there again today."
Gray chuckled. “Zane Cameron's been sniffing around her ass since she was in high school. He's just looking to get him a piece if he can."
"She must have turned him down, then, because he didn't look any too happy when he passed me a while ago."
"Just don't get caught playing I Spy. Cover yourself. She won't find anything."
"And if she does?"
"Then we'll just take care of that little problem, too. Only this time, Manny, we have to make the body disappear. Too many in Diablo and even the half-breed sheriff will get suspicious."
"I hear you. I'll figure out a way to keep an eye on her without getting spotted."
"Good, good.” Gray's tone of voice turned jovial. “I knew I could count on you. Be sure to keep in touch."
Manny clicked off the call and mopped his face with a handkerchief. He'd better find a way to derail whatever Jamie Randall was doing. If this lucrative little business of theirs blew up in their faces, Gray Ballou would be sure to blame him.
* * * *
Zane had the air conditioner blowing on him full blast. It wasn't just the heat raising his temperature. How had he let things get out of hand this way? Only twenty-four hours since he'd seen her again and already Jamie Randall was leading him around by his cock just as she always had.
Damn!
He never should have fucked her. That put him in a vulnerable position, letting her see how he felt. But his body was already telling him he couldn't stay away from her. All that delicious wet heat, those soft but firm breasts, nipples like chocolate candy against her tanned skin. He wanted to sink himself inside her and stay forever.
He'd have her again. There was no mistaking that. But on his terms. All he had to do was get her hot like he did today and she was his for the taking. Getting close enough might be a problem, but he could work on that.
Only what was all this business about the truck and his accident report? He couldn't think of a living soul who'd want to kill Frank Randall. Not that there weren't a lot of people who wished the old scumbag dead, himself included. But it just didn't seem worth the effort to anyone. They all expected him to drink himself to death one day, anyway.
Zane wished his feelings for Jamie weren't quite so confused. He'd been a real fuckaround when she was in high school, and that had put her off when he came sniffing around her. Still, something had connected between them. He knew it, just as he was sure it had never gone away. Not for him, not for her.
She didn't trust him then, and she had big ideas of her own. He'd hated her all these years for leaving. She said there was nothing for her here. That included him.
He sighed as the station came into sight. He'd have to figure out how to handle this. The thing that terrified him was the stark realization that this was about more than the best sex he'd ever had in his life. And just as Jamie hadn't trusted him all those years ago, he didn't trust her now.
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Chapter Six
Jamie dumped out the rest of the coffee and took a cold can of soda from the fridge. Carrying it with her, she went out to the back patio and dropped into an old metal folding chair. S
he couldn't even care that it was filthy dirty and probably about to fall apart, just like everything else in the house.
Tears stung her eyes. It just wasn't fair. She worked hard to educate herself and build a new life away from here. Someone's political agenda had destroyed it all, and now she was back where she started—broke, no prospects, in a house about to fall down around her ears. She'd never get it back in shape to live in, even if she decided to stay here. And what a depressing thought that was. If she was smart, she take whatever Grayson Ballou offered and try to put her life back together.
That little tango in the sheets with Zane wasn't helping, either. She'd come back to Amen, determined that very thing wasn't going to happen, yet here she was, her body still aching for his even after two mind-crushing orgasms. She could just imagine him walking around with his chest all puffed up, sure he had her right where he wanted her.
With the back of her hand, she brushed away a lone tear that trickled down her cheek. Damn it, she would not cry. She was tougher than that. And she'd find out what happened to her father, no matter how much of a waste case he was. Or what Zane Cameron said to deter her. Something didn't add up and she'd find out what.
The phone rang, but she ignored it. Maybe it was Zane calling to chew her out again, and she didn't need that aggravation. Eventually the ringing stopped, but then her cell phone, which she'd stuck in the pocket of her shorts, vibrated. She flipped it open to see Kit's number. At least one person was safe to talk to.
"So have you seen the hot sheriff again?” were Kit's first words.
"Give it a rest,” Jamie told her friend. The last thing she wanted to discuss at the moment was Zane Cameron.
"Not on your life.” Kit laughed, a silvery sound. “Honey, you've been like a nun for so long I'm not sure you'd know what sex is all about any more. You need to get laid. Bad."
Oh, Kit. If you only knew. “Sex never solves anything. Especially with the wrong person."
"Oh, yeah? And what makes you think he's the wrong person? You haven't stopped talking about him since the first minute we met."
