by Desiree Holt
There. She'd done it. What she'd sworn never to do, especially with Zane Cameron. Put herself out there with her defenses down. If he was going to hurt her, this would be the time. She didn't know if the silence on the other end was good or bad. He was, after all, surrounded by other people.
"You don't have to say it back,” she added hastily. “I just wanted to tell you."
"I love you, too, Jamie.” His voice had dropped to almost a whisper, but it was very firm. “Keep holding onto that. I'll be there when I can."
His words were the best medicine she could have had. He'd put it out there, too, and now she knew this was real. If she'd been in better shape, she would have danced around the room. She disconnected the call and handed the phone back to Kit, a foolish grin on her face.
"All better?” her friend asked.
"For the moment."
Kit stuck the phone back in her purse. “It's about time you admitted how you feel. I'm guessing he did the same."
Jamie nodded, her fear receding to the background, replaced by a warm feeling of security. But then a shiver skittered over her spine. She'd be happy when she could see Zane with her own eyes.
* * * *
"It's a mess, sheriff.” Deputy Roy Galvan stood on the shoulder of the road looking at the mess of twisted metal and broken glass in the gully. “This guy's been an accident waiting to happen for a long time. Probably just one more drunk making paperwork for us, but when I checked to see if he was alive or dead, I saw the bandage under his shirt. He's got a bullet wound in his shoulder."
Zane's face tightened. “Bullet wound?"
"Yeah. And after what happened with Miss Randall this morning, I thought you'd want to check this out yourself."
"You thought right."
"I also found this on the seat next to him.” Wearing the latex gloves he'd pulled on as soon as he got to the scene, he handed Zane a torn, blood-spattered envelope with a thick wad of cash in it.
Zane stared at it. “Okay. Drop it in an evidence bag, mark the time and date, and initial it. I'll count it when we get back to the office.” He looked at it again. “I'd say, though, there's close to fifty thousand."
"So here's an interesting question for you, Sheriff. Who'd pay a jerk-off like Danny Christopher this kind of money?"
"And what does it have to do with this morning's attack on Jamie Randall?” The rage in his voice was difficult to conceal. He knew his growing relationship with Jamie was no longer secret. Certainly not after the way he'd behaved at her house and the hospital. He no longer cared. This time what they had was real and he didn't intend to let go of it. The hate and anger were gone, replaced by a deeper emotion than he'd ever thought to feel. So whatever anyone thought, fuck ‘em.
"Crime Scene Unit's been here for half an hour,” Galvan told him. “They weren't far away so they got here real quick."
"Oh? What were they doing?” Zane hadn't heard a crime called in from anywhere in the immediate vicinity.
"Another illegal body. A kid, just like the other one we found. Brutalized and strangled."
"Shit.” One more problem he couldn't get a handle on. “Okay, what did they say?"
"At first, I wondered if someone had run him off the road, but there were no other tire tracks. Only the skid marks from this junker, and it looked as if he just lost control. From the empty vodka bottle on the floor I can figure out why."
"That's not saying someone else didn't give him a nudge,” Zane muttered. “Have the techs set up all the portable lights and do a thorough check of the roadway. Keep this one lane blocked off until they're through."
"You'll have some pissed off drivers,” Ray grunted.
"Not at this time of night. Most of them will be on the Interstate. Which brings up another question. Why wasn't Danny on the I-10? Most people hardly use this road now."
"Haven't got a clue. I'll see if I can backtrack his movements."
Zane took off his Stetson, wiped his forehead on his arm, and clapped his hat back in place. “I'd heard Danny could be hired for some nasty jobs, but we never had any evidence. The few times I talked to him, he was a surly son of a bitch. Get a big shovel and start digging. Something has to turn up."
"Okay, boss. But with the two new bodies we found and what's going on with Miss Randall, our shifts will be stretched pretty thin."
Zane fisted his hands, then forced himself to ease up. “Call in the part-timers. I'll sign off on any overtime. And have one of the patrols check the Randall house on a regular basis. See if anything hinky's going on."
"Got it."
"Okay, Ray.” Zane heaved a tired sigh. “You'll be lead on all of this."
"Where will you be?"
"I'm going to make a quick stop at the hospital, try to catch a little sleep, and head into San Antonio in the morning."
Galvan raised an eyebrow. “Business or pleasure?"
"Definitely business,” Zane told him, his voice cold and uninflected. “I'm going to check in with a friend of mine with Immigration and Customs Enforcement. I want to know what they've got going and if any of it spills over into Diablo County."
Ray took a long look at him. “You think this might have to do with traffic in illegals."
Zane nodded. “I've had suspicions for a long time, but nothing I could put my finger on. Lately, though, too many things have been happening. I think this is a bigger operation than we've ever imagined around here, with very big bucks involved. But I have to step lightly because of the people I think are involved. I'll need a federal judge to sign warrants for me, and for that, I need to get ICE involved."
"Good luck. I'll take care of things here."
Zane climbed wearily into his SUV and headed back toward Amen. He had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach he wasn't going to like any of the answers he found.
* * * *
Kit was curled up in the recliner reading when Zane walked into the room, the floor lamp behind her the only light. She put a finger to her lips. “She fell asleep again about an hour ago. I finally got her to eat some soup and gelatin, and she drank some more water."
"And she kept it down? Good. That's good.” He kept his voice low. Standing beside the bed, he lightly touched Jamie's hand lying on the covers. “How's her head?"
"Much better since they gave her something stronger than acetaminophen.” Kit smiled at the obvious emotion in Zane's gesture, stuck a bookmark in her book, and came to stand on the other side of the bed. “Her cuts look a lot worse than they are, and her bruises are already starting the fade."
"Thank god you walked in when you did.” Zane's voice was raw with pain and anger. “I'd like to skin the little fucker alive."
"The doctor was in and said if nothing changes, she can go home tomorrow."
And won't I be forever grateful that I walked in when I did.
"I have to go into San Antonio in the morning, and I probably won't be back until noon.” He glanced up at Kit. “I don't want her leaving here before then."
"Don't worry,” Kit assured him. “I'll handle it. Are you still planning to take her to your place?"
"Both of you,” Zane told her.
"Listen,” she began, “I'm not sure—"
"I am. There's no way I'm leaving you alone in that house, and I don't think it would be good for Jamie if you left right now."
Kit grinned. “The two of you won't have much privacy."
Zane looked over at her, everything he felt showing in his eyes. “I haven't said much about it to her yet, but Jamie and I will have a lot of years for privacy. We can handle a few days."
Kit cleared her throat. “You're pretty sure of yourself. Are you positive about this?"
He nodded. “More than positive. We fucked up once. Both of us. It won't happen again. Even if it means I leave Amen. There are law enforcement jobs everywhere.” He lifted Jamie's hand and kissed the knuckles. “But we've got a lot of business to attend to before we can even discuss that."
"How are things
going? You look exhausted."
He told her about Danny Christopher and the accident at the county line. “I think something really nasty is going on right under my nose, and I have a feeling it's been happening for a long time. Tomorrow, I'm going to take some steps that hopefully give me some information and we'll go from there."
"Get some sleep,” Kit urged. “I'd hate for you to fall asleep at the wheel."
"Me, too.” He gave her a rueful grin. “I'll call you from the road, but I should be able to get here by noon to pick you up."
"I'll need to go back to the house and pack some things. For both of us."
"I'll have a deputy take you, then follow you back to my place so you'll have your car.” He placed Jamie's hand carefully on the bed covers. “Tell her ... tell her ... just say I'll see her tomorrow."
Kit swallowed another grin as she watched Zane walk out the door. The sheriff was sure having a hard time verbalizing his feelings. But she'd figure out how to give him a helping hand.
* * * *
Manny Alvarado opened the sack from the electronics store and took out four disposable cell phones, following the instructions to activate one of them. Wearily, he punched in Gray Ballou's cell number, recited the number on his phone, and disconnected. In less than a minute the phone trilled.
"What's this all about?” he asked Gray. “Disposable cells? What's wrong with the ones we've got?"
"Things are getting out of hand, you idiot,” Ballou snapped. “Throwaways are not traceable. They can't pull the log from them. And if we keep our calls short, they can't triangulate on them."
"What's going on, Gray? Has something else happened?"
"That jack-off Danny Christopher ran off the highway and killed himself."
Manny grunted. “Pardon me if I don't shed any tears, but what does that have to do with us?"
"He had fifty thousand in cash with him.” The anger in Ballou's voice was barely controlled. “Someone paid him to go after the Randall woman, and now Zane Cameron will bring the hounds of hell down on everyone. And we've got a deal going down in two days."
"Three,” Manny said. “I got us an extension. But only the one day."
"Let me know if it looks like anyone's around."
"Hey.” Manny mopped the beads of sweat from his forehead. “I know what to do. This was my operation to begin with, remember?"
"And a penny ante one at that until I stepped in. You remember, okay?"
Manny was silent. Grayson Ballou could puff all he wanted to about how he'd expanded things and added things, but it was Manny's sweat that had provided the basis for what they had. One of these days he'd find a way to make sure the man knew it. Good.
He needed, also, to make sure his little sideline wasn't interrupted. A man had few enough bonuses in life as it was. He wasn't about to give this one up.
"Drive by the house tomorrow and see what's going on,” Ballou continued. “See if she and that friend of hers are back from the hospital. Find out who set Christopher on her. Then call me. At this number. After that, throw this phone away and use the next one."
The line went dead. Manny wanted to throw the phone into the trash. And Grayson Ballou along with it.
* * * *
Jamie stood in the hallway of Zane's house and looked around with frank curiosity while he reset the alarm. Somehow she had pictured him in something totally different. Something more austere. Colder. Harsher. This was a welcoming house, a place for people to feel comfortable.
The house was larger than she'd expected, with a wide entrance hall opening into a great room with a sweeping fireplace and floor-to-ceiling windows. She could see an entrance on the left side of the room that led to a kitchen and an open door on the right that gave her a glimpse of what was obviously a den.
Sunlight swept in from the windows and reflected on the polished wood floors, bathing everything in amber light. A large Native American woven rug was a splash of color on the wood floor, and throw pillows that could have been made by the same person gave life to a dark leather couch.
A graceful stairway curved to the second floor, the banister and the treads also highly polished wood.
"The woodwork is mine,” Zane told her, catching her glance. “I found it was a good way to work off excess energy. Or frustration. Whatever."
"It's just beautiful,” she told him, still somewhat awestruck.
"When my mother moved to Copper Ridge, I wanted to stay here. I could have moved the main sheriff's office, but I chose not to. And I wanted a house, a place I could immerse myself in when I wasn't working.” He put his arm under her elbow. “Come on. Let's get you upstairs."
"I'm not an invalid, you know,” she tried to joke.
"You lie like a trooper.” He, too, was trying to keep it light. “I'll bet your head still feels like it ran into a bull at the rodeo."
Her lips curved in a tiny smile. “Maybe a very small bull. But I am a lot better."
"And I intend to keep you that way."
As they talked, he'd been gradually urging her up the stairs that led to a wide hallway. There was a door on either side and double doors at the end of the hallway.
"Guest rooms?” she asked.
A strange look flashed through his eyes. “I did a lot of remodeling when I bought this place. Like I said, it's a good way to sweat things out. While I was at it, I figured I'd do a little planning for the future, too."
Jamie's stomach did a flip flop that had nothing to do with her concussion or her attack. The future. Until this week, she'd never thought of Zane and the future in the same breath. Of course, until recently she hadn't thought of him as anything but an asshole who knew how to fuck, so her mind and emotions were going through a lot of changes.
Kit came chugging up the stairs right behind them. When they got to the door on the right, Zane opened it and gestured inside. “Kit, I think you'll be comfortable in here. If you need anything, let me know."
Kit's eyes widened as they took in the spacious bedroom with its quilt spread and Western prints on the wall. “Wow!"
"The bathroom's over there, and there's a big walk-in closet. I'll get your bags in a minute."
"I'm good,” she told him. “Take care of the walking wounded."
When Zane opened the double doors at the end of the hallway and led Jamie into his bedroom, again she could only stare. The room was huge, with the biggest bed she'd ever seen in her life. The furniture was all hand-rubbed oak, and copies of Frederick Russell paintings hung on the walls. Over the bed was a framed Lone Star flag, the symbol of Texas.
"Somehow I never thought of you as a diehard Texan,” she told him.
One corner of his mouth hitched. “My people were here long before yours,” he reminded her.
"Have you ... did you...” Jesus, Jamie, quit stammering, and either ask him or shut up. “I know it's none of my business and you don't have to say anything, but have you brought other women here?” Dummy. Stop acting like a teenager.
Zane stared at her for a long moment. “As a matter of fact, I haven't. This is my private space. I'm picky about who I share it with."
Jamie couldn't help the burst of joy his answer brought. She was still amazed at how her relationship with Zane had done a one-eighty in such a little amount of time. If only her bad luck didn't pop up again and disrupt it all.
"Come on.” He urged her toward the bed. “You need to lie down. I want to check those cuts for myself, then Kit's going to fix lunch. I've got to get going, much as I hate to."
Ignoring her protests, Zane closed the door, pulled back the spread, then carefully removed her clothing. When she was naked, he placed her on the cool cotton of the sheets. As he catalogued the damage done to her body, a murderous rage flared in his gut.
I wish I'd been the one to walk in on that bastard. I'd have gutted him like a wild boar.
"When did they change your bandages last?” he finally got out, forcing a calm he didn't feel.
"This morning. Early. Why?"<
br />
"I checked with the nurse when I signed you out, and she gave me a schedule of sorts. I think they need changing again. Just to be on the safe side. Hold on one second,” he said, heading for the bathroom.
He found a first aid kit and quickly returned to set it on the nightstand. Then he carefully removed the bandages covering the cuts on her breasts and the inside of one thigh. “Too bad the son of a bitch is dead. I'd like to kill him myself. Okay. The nurse told me what to do."
He cleaned each place with an antiseptic wipe, then applied antibiotic ointment and a self-stick bandage. When he pressed it in place, his hand brushed against her pubic curls and she shifted under his touch.
"Those tight little curls are rubbing against your thigh,” he pointed out. “We'll fix that when I get home. If you're up to it."
Jamie raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Exactly what did you have in mind?"
He couldn't contain his wolfish grin. “I think you'd be a lot more comfortable if we got rid of them. Purely for medical reasons, of course."
"Of course.” She tried to hide her grin. “Medical."
Unable to resist, Zane moved the tips of two fingers lightly the length of her slit, up and down, a feathery caress. Her juices seeped out around his touch, revealing her arousal.
"You're supposed to be an invalid,” he reminded her.
She snorted. “Fat chance. Besides, that jerk didn't do all that much damage.” A wicked light flared in her eyes. “But I do think I'll need some special attention to wipe it all out of my mind."
He placed a soft kiss on each injured spot, took a careful swipe through her slit with his tongue, and pressed his mouth to hers, sharing her taste with her. They were both breathing hard when he broke the kiss.
"I'll be sure to take care of it the minute I get home.” He looked at his watch. “Which might be late, depending on how long it takes me to put things in motion and what other crazy stuff comes along today."
"How was your meeting this morning?"
"Good. Skip Conway was very happy to bring ICE into this whole business. They've heard lots of rumors of a well-organized traffic in illegals around here for a long time, years, even, but haven't been able to get a handle on anything.” His eyes darkened. “He also said they've heard all the young girls brought across are sold to wealthy buyers who use them, then kill them and dispose of their bodies. I told him about the two we found in recent months."
