by Lora Leigh
He kept his eyes on the rearview mirror, but his mind was still on Sam. She was growing more and more captivating every moment he spent with her. There was no need to avoid her now. She was an unattached adult with a great mind and a body built for pleasure. If she was feeling the same pull he was feeling, this investigation was about to get a lot more complicated on the personal side.
He wouldn’t soon forget that heated look in her eyes and her matter-of-fact denial. The flush in her cheeks betrayed her as did the way she pretended to look him straight in the eye while staring at his eyebrows. He shook his head. She was an incredibly enticing combination of cute and sexy as hell.
The faint glow of headlights in the pitch darkness caught his attention. He watched as they grew brighter. As they made the turn, his cell rang and he turned on his lights.
“Yeah.”
“I’m assuming that’s you that just turned on your lights ahead of me.” Sam’s voice was smooth and warm. Feminine but not high-pitched at all.
She’d lost a lot of her Southern accent and that had made him a little sad. He did notice when she got a little riled, it tended to surface a bit.
He’d enjoy causing that to happen as much as possible.
“That would be a good assumption. The road is rough. Just follow me.”
He went slow, glancing in the rearview to make sure she was behind him. She’d handled the drive up the hill just fine. Close to the end of the drive was grated, graveled, and levelled. At least there was that. Sam pulled in beside him and cut the engine.
The small log cabin above him was barely visible in the darkness, but he’d been up there enough times to know the way. Jacob kept his surroundings pristine. The contrast with his nature was a bit jarring. But then, not many got close enough to see his surroundings.
Hunter waited until Sam came around her car. Silently he took her hand and led her up the graveled path. He unlocked the door, stepped in, and quickly entered the code to disarm the security system.
“All clear, you can enter.” He winked as he stepped aside.
Sam’s expression was wary as she brushed past him and scanned the open area that was Jacob’s living room/dining room/kitchen combo. Once the door was locked and security was back online, he filled her in.
“This is Jacob Donovan’s place. He and I were in the corps together. He’s ridiculously private and kinda paranoid, but he trusts me. I’m trusting you not to talk about this place with anyone. Don’t come up here without me. Don’t even allude over the phone with me or anyone to there being a place. Don’t even say his name. Got it?”
Jacob was damned paranoid on a good day. What he was on a bad day defied description.
“Yes.” She sounded a bit mocking.
“I’m serious, Sam,” he warned her.
She turned and looked him in the eye. “I get it, Hunter. I’m not taking it lightly. How would he feel about you bringing me up here?”
He’d be fuckin’ livid. “I’ll handle it.”
Her brows lifted as she turned away from him. “Hmmm. Wouldn’t want to be around when you have that conversation. You can trust me.”
“I know.” He trusted his instincts, and those instincts wanted to wrap right around this woman in ways he’d never done before.
She glanced over her shoulder, frowning at him before turning back to study the room. “His place says a lot about him.”
Indeed, it did. It was simple but organized and immaculate.
There were no décor enhancements, no photos, no wall art, nothing frivolous around. Jacob was extremely practical. If it wasn’t useful, it weighed him down.
His furniture was big, heavy, overstuffed leather pieces. His dining table was small, dark, solid oak with four matching cushioned chairs.
There wasn’t a whole lot Jacob wouldn’t take on. His work as a private mercenary put him in some hellish situations. So, he believed in being as comfortable as possible, when possible, and he was always prepared for the worst.
The fireplace was ready to be lit, a large iron rack was filled with firewood, and there was a good-sized stack of kindling neatly piled in a metal box beside the rack. Two crystal oil-filled lamps sat on the mantle, his grandfather’s memorial flag placed between them. A box of matches was near the iron fireplace, tools on the hearth.
“Have a seat. You want something to drink? I’m sure Jacob has something in here.” Hunter opened the fridge and found a bottle of Moscato and a bottle of Riesling, beer, and soda.
Jacob never knew how long he’d be gone when he went on his covert trips, so he never kept much in the fridge.
Hunter was certain the pantry was stocked, as were the cabinets and the freezer. He was also pretty sure there were hidden cabinets and storage areas around the cabin stocked with all sorts of survival shit.
“No,” Sam said absently, while she scanned the room. “I’m fine.” Her attention shifted to her purse. “We shouldn’t be here long.”
Hunter glanced at the Bunn coffeemaker. “How about coffee?”
She paused, looked up, and then sighed. “Okay, you got me. I’d love coffee.”
She pulled out a chair at the table and sat.
Hunter grinned as he got the beans and the grinder down from the cabinet. Yeah, he remembered Samuel and Jolene, her mom and dad, fussing over Samantha about letting her have some coffee. She always got her coffee, though. He’d heard that Sam had died. That couldn’t have been easy for her. The two Sams had been so close. She was the quintessential daddy’s girl. There never seemed to be an appropriate time to broach the subject and offer condolences. This wasn’t it either.
His smile faltered when she laid her pistol on the table before retrieving what he assumed was a flash drive or something similar and palming it. It was still hard to see Sam as an armed officer of the law. He guessed they’d both changed a lot.
“I talked to Aunt Dottie just a few weeks ago. She was still as sharp as ever. But she seemed a bit preoccupied. The death of her friends hit her hard, but it was more than sadness. This was something else; there was an edginess in her voice,” Samantha said sadly.
“Did you ask her if something was bothering her?” He poured the fresh coffee into the mugs.
“Of course. She said she was fine, that she just had a lot on her mind. I asked if she needed anything, and as usual she said no. But when I asked her if she wanted me to come for a visit, she said ‘no’ awfully quickly. She added that she’d like to come visit me for a week or so if I’d be willing to ‘put up with her.’” Sam’s shoulders slumped. “I put her off because I was involved in some time-consuming crap at work. I just knew I wouldn’t be able to spend much time with her.”
Aw hell, yeah, that had to eat at her. “Dwelling on ‘should haves’ isn’t gonna help. It’ll only mess with your head.” Hunter walked with their mugs past her to the couch.
“I know. It’s just hard to think around it.”
Hunter understood completely. He also understood how unproductive it could be to let the regrets eat at you.
“Come sit in here. It’s more comfortable. Show me what you found.” He set her mug on the side table before he sat and took a sip from his own.
He watched as Sam left the table and walked over to sit sideways in the corner of the couch, slightly facing him, one leg folded under her. Her hair fell in loose curls past her shoulders. Her eyes were a little bloodshot. He wondered if that was from fatigue or from holding back tears.
It made his chest tighten a little at the thought of her crying. The way her lips pursed as she blew on her coffee drew his attention in less considerate ways.
“Wow, this coffee is freakin’ amazing!” Surprise lit her face.
“Jacob doesn’t scrimp. Sure as hell doesn’t settle for mediocre coffee,” he stated, still watching her closely.
Sam moaned as she took another sip. “I like this Jacob person.”
Yeah, Jacob would like her too. He’d like her thoroughly and often if he had the chance. H
unter frowned at that thought. Nope, he wasn’t comfortable with the thought of Jacob and Samantha meeting at all.
“So what did you find?” he asked again.
She sipped her coffee again then gave a little sigh.
“Aunt Dottie had a safety deposit box. I went to the bank today and found this.” She held up the flash drive. “I didn’t bring my laptop. Does your friend Jacob have a secure one?”
Hunter grinned at that. “Yep. Just don’t know where it’s at.” He reached for his phone and sent a text to Jacob.
Need secure server.
“Not sure if we’ll get access or not. Texting Jacob is hit or miss.” And that was putting it mildly, Hunter thought.
“Hmm.”
Unsure what the little sound meant, he watched Sam take another sip of her coffee.
“You asked about my deputies,” he said, as he waited for Jacob to respond. “Two of ’em, Joe Rodgers and Ray Decker, are a problem.”
“Never heard of them. Where are they from?” The way Sam pressed her lips to her mug made Hunter want to feel them pressed against any part of him.
“Decker is from Oroville. Rodgers, I believe, is from up in Oregon somewhere. They were hired by Henderson. Whether he put them there to keep tabs on me or they’re in the middle of the whole thing, I don’t know yet. But I don’t trust them.” As subtly as he could, he shifted to alleviate the strain in his jeans as a result of his growing interest in Sam’s sensuous mouth.
“I see. So what’s Henderson’s game? Drugs?”
“Well, that’s the logical answer. But I don’t think so.” He shook his head decisively. “We’ve shut down a couple of amateur meth labs. Scary shit, but nothing all that big.”
The conversation he’d had with Shane came to mind, but he set it aside for the time being. He’d bring it up with Sam if it turned out to be something.
“You know my uncle and Lillian Henderson had a thing, right?” he asked her.
Sam’s eyes widened. “I heard some stuff at the house after the funeral. I thought it was just gossip.”
He shook his head. “Nope. I don’t know if they ever really consummated that ‘thing,’ didn’t really wanna know. But there was a thing. A few weeks before his ‘hunting trip,’ Uncle Zachariah mentioned that he’d stumbled across something worrisome. Wanted to tell me about it in person.”
“Didn’t get the chance?” There was a soothing quality in Sam’s voice.
Her warm gaze met his and held him. “No.”
“I’m sorry, Hunter.” She absently licked her top lip, the look in her blue-green eyes went from warm understanding to a heated invitation. Or maybe he was just seeing what he wanted to see.
“Me too.” The words sounded like a groan to him, and he swallowed the last of his coffee. Back to the subject at hand, he chided himself. “I wonder if he said something to Lillian.”
Sam’s eyelids fluttered slightly as she looked down and cleared her throat. “That would make sense.”
No, he wasn’t imagining anything. “Yes and no. Uncle Zachariah was in love with Lillian. He’d never do anything that could remotely cause her harm. Two weeks later she was dead.”
“So how does Aunt Dottie fit in?” Intent and intelligent, her gaze sharpened on him.
“I’ve got a few theories, but nothin’ that sticks.” That was the problem, nothing was panning out.
Hunter’s phone buzzed.
Take the bottom bunk. Extra pillows in the hall closet. Pick up the steak. Don’t buy the cheap stuff. Quality is expensive.
Hunter read the message a couple of times before he got it. “Be right back.”
Sam nodded, holding her nearly empty cup with both hands.
It took him a moment to find the exact board under Jacob’s bed that allowed him to slide the panel aside to reveal the safe underneath. He crawled out from under the bed and went to the hall closet, found four pillows stacked there. He moved them aside … nothing. Took them out of their cases … nothing. Noticed a tiny zipper on the third one and opened it just enough to get his arm inside. He felt around till he found the slim capsule. He opened the capsule and found another riddle. He knew Jacob well enough to decipher the code to open the safe. The paranoid bastard couldn’t make things easy, could he?
The laptop was lying in the shallow opening. Pulling it free, he breathed out a curse, slid back, and rose to his feet to make his way back to the living room. He laid the laptop on the coffee table.
“Go ahead and boot it up. I’ll be right back.” Sam gave him an odd look, shrugged, and opened the laptop.
Hunter walked through the kitchen and into the pantry. He opened the freezer and shuffled through the stacks of meat neatly wrapped in butcher’s paper and labelled until he found the package labelled “wagyu.” He shook his head. The slip of blue paper was barely showing from under the final taped fold. On the paper Jacob had written:
In triangle ABC, the measure of angle B is 90 degrees, BC = 16, and AC = 20. Triangle DEF is similar to triangle ABC, where vertices D, E, and F correspond to vertices A, B, and C, respectively, and each side of triangle DEF is 1/3 the length of the corresponding side of triangle ABC. What is the value of sin F?
“Shit, paranoid motherfucker,” he murmured through his teeth, as he slammed the lid of the freezer and walked back into the living room while he worked on the problem. He was aware that Sam was watching him.
“I’m assuming you’re trying to figure out the password?”
He just nodded.
“Can I help?” He knew she was smiling without even looking up.
“Nah, I got it. Try [email protected].”
He watched her type it in and breathed a sigh of relief when it worked. “Paranoid bastard.”
Sam snickered as she slid the drive into a USB slot. “I can’t wait to meet Jacob.”
Hunter just grunted in response. He shook off the prickly possessiveness he felt at the thought and focused on the folder Sam opened. There were photos and a video. He sat on the couch beside her as she pressed play on the video.
“You know that guy with the mayor?” Sam’s tone was all business.
Hunter squinted. “Any way to zoom in on that video?”
Sam zoomed in, but it was too pixelated. “No. I can’t make him out. I wish I had more talent with this sort of thing, but that’s the best I can do.”
There was no audio on the video, but it was obvious Henderson was pissed. He poked the man in the chest, and the man went rigid, about to retaliate, before he lifted his hands and stepped back. Henderson turned on his heel and stalked away, and the video ended.
In addition to the video there were two photos of Henderson meeting with the man and handing him an envelope. There were also a couple of photos of Rodgers and Decker meeting with Henderson. However, they never met with the mayor at the same time.
“Well.” Sam sighed. “This is a lot and nothing all at once.”
“Yeah, no solid proof of anything, but hey, it gives us a direction. We need to find out about this guy. Want more coffee?”
“Mmm, I do. I’ll get it, though.” She stood and stretched.
He followed her into the kitchen, watching the natural sway of her hips. Working with her without touching her was gonna drive him crazy. With a soft curve of her full lips, she poured them both another cup. “I could get addicted to this coffee.”
“Yep,” Hunter agreed, trying to think past his growing need to feel her body pressed against him.
“Okay, so, allegedly Henderson paid this dude for something. Was he the hit man, you think?”
Hunter thought for a moment. “Could be. I got a feeling the hits were Rodgers and Decker. But they’re so inept, I find it hard to believe they could pull it off.”
“Technically they haven’t pulled it off.” She lifted her free hand palm up. “Here we are.”
“Well, that’s an excellent point.”
“How deep are Henderson’s pockets? He’s certainly paying off quite a number of
people.”
Hunter took another sip of his coffee. “Or he has shit on a number of people.”
Sam lifted a brow, pursed her lips, and nodded. After she finished her coffee, she rinsed out her cup and then turned to find him watching her. “What?” The corner of her mouth lifted.
Hunter took a step closer, trapping her against the counter with less than an inch between them. He set his empty cup on the counter behind her. “You know what.” If she didn’t the rasp of his voice would tell her.
Before he had a chance to make a move, she took his face in her hands, rose on her toes, and pressed her sweet little body against him. Her lips brushed his. It was just a whisper of a kiss, a feather-light touch that had the power to steal his breath. Another, just a fraction firmer, but when her tongue brushed across his bottom lip, his tenuous hold on whatever control he’d thought he had, slipped.
He wanted too much, too quickly, and at the same time he wanted to make it last. How long had he imagined tasting her, touching her? Tilting his head to deepen the coffee-flavored kiss, he sucked her lower lip just firmly enough. Her fingers combed through his hair as his tongue danced with hers in long, hungry strokes. With a low moan, she pressed her lush body tighter against him.
His hands slid down her back to grip her voluptuous ass and hold her tighter against him. Dammit, there were too many clothes between them. His cock was straining against his jeans, and he was aching to touch and taste every inch of her body. His mouth moved down her jaw to her neck. A gasp caught in her throat as his teeth grazed her neck where it met her shoulder then soothed the spot with a slow stroke of his tongue.
“Hunter.” It was no more than a plea on a sigh, but it only added to his need. Every little moan and gasp just fanned the flames consuming him.
She trembled as his mouth found her collarbone, carefully walking her backward toward the couch. He unbuttoned her shirt as she unbuttoned his. The simple brush of her fingers against his chest added to his need as though he were starving for her touch. He wanted his hands on her body, to feel her heated skin against his, beneath his tongue.
