James McDonald would never ride on the leather seat again with the wind in his hair and the sun on his face. The raw truth was that he lived on borrowed time already and while he didn't know it, his ride to the gravel shoulder of the highway would be his last. Not a threat but a written-in-stone promise.
A small rise flanked the road far enough back to provide excellent cover but not so far away he'd have trouble with the kill shot. He lined up from several different positions, sighting on the bike each time. Each was acceptable. The death gods were by his side tonight. Not only was the location perfect, but he was far enough away from Spokane to create a disconnect with Kendall Stewart's take-down. The local podunk cops would need years to make the link, if they ever did. He loved it when a plan came together.
He settled in to wait, gazing up at the moon as it rose full and milky in the clear sky. He put the rifle to his shoulder, the sight to his eye, and looked at the motorcycle where it sat empty along the side of the road.
"Bang, bang you're dead." he whispered and laughed under his breath.
Chapter Nine
"He is coming back tonight, right?" Louie eyed the sky overhead, wondering how long they'd be stuck sitting against the massive pine like a couple of huggers on save-the-tree duty. The sun was going down and the air, while crisp and clean, was a little on the cold side. There was no cool about it either. The temperature had dropped from comfortable to cold in the blink of an eye, and she wasn't dressed for it. The only thing that kept the night from being a complete wilderness adventure was a couple of soft blankets retrieved from the trunk of the Mustang and spread out on the ground.
Paul leaned against the tree and watched the occasional passing car or truck. "Maybe."
"Maybe?"
"Well, it's possible he couldn't find a tire."
She smacked him in the arm. "Now you tell me."
He shrugged. "One of the dealers will have one. The real question is whether or not they'll have it now or in the morning."
She groaned. "Great, so you're suggesting we stay here in the woods all night?"
"Why not? I thought you tough bounty hunter types were used to all sorts of stakeouts and covert operations."
She rolled her eyes. "You've been watching too much television."
"You Yanks are so soft."
She smacked him again. "I'll show you soft."
"Ouch. You hit all your partners?" He rubbed his arm though his gaze never wavered from the stretch of highway framed by the expanse of trees and brush.
"Oh, so now we're partners?" The word didn't have a bad ring to it even if she hadn't worked with a partner since leaving the police. Of course, her last partner had been a dog, so she wasn't sure if that really counted. Not that she believed he was being serious about the partner thing. Bail enforcement and hockey weren't even in the same universe.
Paul shrugged. "Sounds better than stalker."
That made her smile. She didn't think of him like that. Maybe with another man stalker might be closer to the truth. With Paul, not a chance. "True. I'd prefer partner over stalker too, and no, I don't usually hit my partners. Only the ones who deserve it."
The wind chose that moment to kick up, sending leaves and pine needles hurtling through the air. The cold air struck her face and she shivered, brushing bits of leaf from her hair. It was going to be a long night.
She jumped when Paul put an arm around her and pulled her close to his body. Lord, she acted like she'd never been touched by a man before. She wanted to keep her distance except…damn if he wasn't big and warm. She cuddled closer instead of moving away. Yeah, and how unprofessional was that anyway?
Why not? She was cold and he was warm, and they were all alone.
The hoot of an owl rippled through the still evening air. What else would the night bring? She was a city girl, comfortable in streets and alleys that bustled with constant movement. She knew Spokane like the back of her hand, from the West Plains to the South Hill to the North Division corridor. She knew where the kids cruised, the meth makers plied their trade, and the skin merchants peddled their bodies. She'd spent countless hours on stakeouts during her time on the job, drinking crappy coffee and watching run-down brick buildings and crumbling rentals. She and Butch had crawled through tunnels, jumped fences and raced through open lots.
What she didn't know were the sights, sounds, and smells of the wilderness. She didn't hunt, didn't fish, and absolutely didn't camp. Her idea of camping had the words concierge and room service attached. She was completely out of her element out here in God's country and knew it, not that she was about to admit it to Paul. Better he think her rough and tough than a pansy.
Traffic was light on the highway, with fewer and fewer vehicles passing by their niche in the underbrush as each hour passed. Without heat or life-giving coffee, the night would be long and cold. Those many mind-numbing stakeouts in her unmarked car were beginning to look really good.
For a long time they sat in silence, side by side. Cool air slapped her face while her hands were stuffed into her pockets. Odd how comfortable she felt with his arm around her shoulder, her body pressed next to his. Comfortable though not peaceful. Every nerve tingled and heat pooled inside her. Still, curiosity trumped attraction. Besides, it was safer to act on curiosity.
"So what's the story with you and little brother? You didn't really finish explaining earlier and I'm curious. Or, maybe just nosy."
Paul sighed, a sad sound floating across the night. He leaned back to rest his head against the tall tree. Moments passed, and she didn't think he was going to answer. She'd pushed too far this time.
"That's the million dollar question," he said quietly. "I tried for years to understand Jamie and I finally gave up. He's been doing one stupid thing after another for as long as I can remember. I kept thinking one day he'd grow up. I was wrong."
"What made you stop talking to him?"
"It wasn't any one thing. More like a whole lot of little things that built up until he calls me early one morning to ask if I would come bail him out of jail. He'd been partying with some friends, driving Mom's new car, and managed to get it high-centered it on a median in downtown Vancouver. He was picked up for driving under the influence. That was the last straw for me. I left him in jail and I haven't talked to him since. I figured it was only a matter of time before he either killed himself or somebody else."
"What about your parents? Obviously they're still involved."
This time his sigh was louder. "I hoped they would make Jamie stand up and be responsible. They didn't and they haven't. Not that I blame them. It's that unconditional love thing. They keep hoping and they keep enabling. It's a vicious circle."
She put a hand on his arm and squeezed. "I see it more than you can possibly imagine. Parents come in to see Harry every day of the week. Guilt, I think. Their babies are in trouble and they wonder what they did wrong. They all want to try and make it better. They want to fix what's broken, not realizing they can't."
"I don't get that." He sounded bitter. "I grew up with Jamie. We were in the same house with the same parents. He had every chance the same as I did. Bottom line is, our parents didn't do anything wrong, yet Jamie keeps dragging them down into his mud."
"If I've seen it once, I've seen it a hundred times and it is a little thing called free will. It's all about choices, Paul. Parents want to believe that if they raise their children in a good and loving environment, they'll be good and loving adults. They fail to factor in free will. Despite all the best intentions of parents, some children choose a path that's contrary to everything they were taught."
"Like Jamie?"
"Like Jamie."
A strong gust of wind whipped the bushes around them. She shivered again as the cold knifed right through her thin jacket. A heavier coat would have been nice.
"Damn," she said and moved closer to him. "This could be a long night."
He pulled her to him until she sat between his outstretched legs, her back against
his chest. He arranged one of the blankets over the top of them both, tucking them inside a cocoon that cradled them together. The intimacy seemed wrong and right at the same time. His arms came around her and he held her close, his chin on the top of her head.
"This isn't very professional," she told him.
"No, I suppose not. Do you want to go back to the car?"
She thought about it for a split second. The nice cushy seat. The warmth of the heater to take the chill from her skin. It would be better in so many ways and so much worse a few others.
"Uh … no."
"Good."
Louie relaxed her body and the tense muscles in her neck eased as she rested against him. When was the last time she'd felt so peaceful? Maybe never. Odd that she did now, considering they were sat wrapped up in a blanket in the chilly woods of Northeast Washington. Not the most romantic getaway.
She closed her eyes and let herself be in the moment, accepting the invitation without question or comment. When his lips touched the tip of her ear, she smiled. She tipped her head to the side and allowed his mouth to move to her neck. His touch was feather light and erotic. A rush of something she hadn't felt in eons flowed through her body. She had forgotten how it felt to be embraced by passion. Or was it lust? Didn't matter really, it felt fabulous whatever it was.
"Tell me to stop," Paul murmured against her ear.
* * * *
The dream came again, dark and evil. Chris didn't want to go through it and yet was powerless to make it stop. He tried before to wake up and couldn't. The dream refused to be denied.
The night was dark, the stars sprinkled across the black sky like a thousand sparkling diamonds. The warehouse appeared deserted and traffic on Market Street was almost non-existent. All day his gut instinct had tried to warn him, telling him to look once, twice. He'd ignored it, and the price for his neglect was very high.
Again he walked through the brush, hearing soft swishing noises as he moved. Pine cones were scattered on the ground, and he kicked them out of the way as he walked. He needed to be careful not to step on one and trip. The pine cones were big and hearty this time of year, perfect to cause a turned ankle. Usually he loved the tall pines and their beautiful brown cones. He'd been around the world and on almost every continent. None of the places he visited ever spoke to his heart like Spokane and the majesty Mother Nature had bestowed on the area.
He hated the Medicine Man. People like that sullied this beautiful place with destructive drugs and violence. No more. Not on his watch.
Chris crouched in the brush, his shoulder against the trunk of a pine. He could smell the scent of pitch as he pushed against the tree. He steadied himself as he brought the rifle up and set the scope to his right eye. Once more the feeling of disbelief slammed through his body. It didn't seem possible and yet what he saw, rather who he saw, was right there, big as life.
The sorrow that washed over him was something he hadn't felt since the day his parents were killed in an automobile accident. Snowbirds…both he and Louie worried about the long drive they continued to insist on making. Their worry that one day something terrible would happen came true, and he'd lost a piece of his heart. Now another piece fell away.
His nerves grew taut as he waited, unable to doing anything about what was to come. The dream always ended the same way. The bullet hit his head and whipped his neck back. His body floated through the air toward the ground. The last thing he saw before everything went black was the twinkling stars in the night sky.
"No," he croaked. "No."
Beside his bed, one of the monitors registered the flash of a spike before it settled once more into a steady pattern—blip, blip, blip. The dream over, Chris was grateful for the sleep that took him once more into a place of peaceful silence.
Outside the room at the end of the hall, Kevin Rowe, one of the night shift nurses, stopped and listened. Did he just hear a voice inside the room of Chris Russell? No way. Russell would never come out of the coma. They all knew that. It was just a matter of time before the shell the man lived inside gave up its struggle to hold onto life.
Kevin pushed the door open and stepped inside. Only the glow from the machines around Chris' bed broke up the shadowy darkness. Kevin stepped to the bed and looked down. No, Chris looked as he always did: thin, pale and serene. The monitors gave no sign of anything unusual, just their normal steady rhythm.
Kevin figured he'd been hearing things. Wouldn't be the first time. The night shift had its own set of challenges like phantom sounds and, in his opinion, lingering souls. So many came here rolled in on a bed and rolled out in a body bag. He couldn't remember when someone had left for the last time sitting in a wheelchair. Oh well, probably not in my lifetime. Kevin turned and walked out, pulling the door closed behind him just as a single tear slid down Chris' cheek.
* * * *
Louie turned so she could tip her face up to Paul's. She couldn't read his expression in the darkness. She could, however, feel his need pressed against her. It was raw, it was intense, and it was very real. He paused for a heartbeat before he lowered her onto the blanket and stretched out beside her. His hand slipped beneath her jacket, beneath her shirt, and her breath caught as his hand cupped her breast, his fingers teasing the nipple to hardness.
"Don't." She pressed her lips against his, whispering. "Don't stop."
Overwhelming need rushed through her body, but why? She could blame on too many years of celibacy, of denying her body's need for release, but that would be a lie. It wasn't a case of a body too long denied the touch of a man. No, it was much deeper than that. It was her need for this man, and this man alone. She wanted to taste him, to run her hands through his glorious red hair, to feel him inside her. From the first innocent touch, she'd known somewhere deep inside she had to have more.
His nearness fanned a slow heat into glorious flame.
"Are we crazy?" His fingers teased her nipples and she rose to his touch.
Louie put her hands on both sides of his face. "Maybe. Probably." Her eyes, grown accustomed to the darkness, could dimly see the strong lines of his face and his heavy lidded eyes.
"I don't remember ever feeling like this." His confession was whispered against her throat as his tongue seared a hot path down her soft skin. Hot shivery thrills rolled through her like ocean waves.
Neither did she, but she was afraid to put it into words. Maybe it was the magic of the full moon casting a creamy glow through the canopy of the pine trees. Maybe it was clear air carrying the fresh scents of nature. Or maybe it was desperation. Whatever it was, for this moment she'd take it in both hands and let it carry her away. For this moment, she'd forget the rest of the world and do something crazy—and wonderful.
Under the cover of darkness, the black sky sprinkled with the tiny lights of a million stars, and surrounded by thick brush and forest, they stood and slipped out of their clothes. She shivered as cool air kissed her skin but it wasn't the cold that made her quiver. It was the sight of his body in the light of full moon. Pale skin, broad muscled shoulders, a flat stomach. It took her breath away.
He held out a hand and she took it. Gently, he helped her lay back down onto the blanket. Then slowly, he pulled the second blanket over them, capturing the heat of bodies beneath. He brushed the hair from her face and their eyes met.
"You're so beautiful," he murmured as his lips pressed to hers.
At first the kiss was light but it didn't stay that way long. Her tongue met his in a dance that filled her with desire. Beneath the single blanket, her hands explored the strong lines of his back, the fine hair on his chest, the strong muscles of a toned athlete, his hard cock. It was heaven.
His hands touched and stroked her, moving from her breasts to her stomach and slipping between her legs to find her wet and wanting. Her hips lifted into his touch.
She stroked him, the smooth feel of his shaft against the palm of her hand fantastic. He groaned as her hand glided up and down. Did he taste as good as
he felt? It was question she'd love to answer but not right now.
Instead, with his cock in her hand, she guided him between her legs, a groan escaping her throat as he slipped into her, first moving gently, testing how much she could take. Then, with a strong thrust, he was fully inside. Her hands cupped his buttocks and she pulled him closer trying to feel as much him as she could.
He fit her as perfectly as if they were made for each other. The sensation was wondrous and once more she thought of magic. Except how could it be? She was a careful woman, one not given to flights of fancy or casual hook-ups, and yet it was almost like coming home.
"You feel like heaven," he rasped against her skin, his hot breath washing over her.
As he moved inside her, coaxing her slowly to the peak of pleasure, she met his eyes. This was no hook-up. Sex was a great thing, a needed thing, and this was so much more than sex. Deep in her soul that acknowledgement brought tears to her eyes, and fear to her heart.
Even so, she held him tighter, moving with him as he thrust into her with building force. She wanted it to go on forever, the touch, and feel of this man who was almost a stranger, and at the same time, a soul she felt as though she'd known for eternity.
He pressed his lips to hers. "Hold on, angel, just hold on." His whisper was ragged.
She wanted to. She wanted to hold on to the sensation of his cock sliding in and out of her with delicious, wet strokes. She couldn't. In a blinding rush of sensation, Louie came, her cry muffled as he covered her mouth, his tongue hot and probing.
A second later his body tensed and then shuddered. As the climax passed, he stilled and rolled to lie beside her, his breathing jerky. He put his arms around her and pulled her close to his hot body.
This was the craziest thing she'd ever done. Leaning her head against his chest, she closed her eyes, breathed in his earthy scent, and decided it was also the most perfect thing she'd ever done.
Dirty Deeds Page 12
