He went still. “What happened?”
“What?” She sat up on her elbows and saw the alarm in his eyes. He reached over and switched on the lamp, and she blinked at the sudden brightness.
“Hey!”
“What the hell, Andrea?” He surveyed her bruises, which had faded to green and brown.
“I had a little run-in when I first got to town.”
“A run-in?”
“I bumped into someone at the ranch one night. He didn’t like me trespassing.”
The muscle in his jaw jumped. His gaze skimmed over her body, and she shifted slightly, so he wouldn’t see the still-dark bruise on her back. “Is anything broken?”
“I’m fine.” She shimmied down the bed and hooked her finger into the waist of his pants. “Really, it’s nothing. Turn off the light.”
When he didn’t move, she reached over and did it herself. Then she shifted to her knees in the darkness and ran her hands over his skin. He remained tense, unmoving.
“I’m fine,” she whispered, leaning into him. She kissed her way up his neck and lingered at the spot just under his ear that smelled so warm and masculine it was making her dizzy. She wanted to distract him again. Tonight was about distraction. She took his hand and settled it at her waist, then slowly brought it up to her breast as her teeth sank into his earlobe. She inched closer and stroked her hands over his wide shoulders, his sculpted arms. This was what she craved most—the contrast.
She loved the scent of him, the feel of him. She loved his arms wrapped around her. He brought his mouth down to hers, and she could taste his desire again as he eased her back against the mattress.
She lost herself in his kisses, in the warmth of his hands gliding over her, the feel of his stubble rasping over her skin. She loved his strength. She loved the hard contours of his shoulders as he propped himself on his forearms, trying to keep his weight from crushing her as their bodies moved together and the heat built.
She closed her eyes and gave into it, letting the need spread through her entire body like hot wax. She stopped thinking and let herself feel and touch and be tasted. Finally, he stepped off the bed and stripped off the rest of their clothes, and she heard the soft tear of a condom wrapper. Her heart pounded wildly. The mattress shifted and made a loud squeak.
He eased her legs apart, and she clamped down on her resistance as he pushed inside and every nerve jumped. For an endless moment, she didn’t move, didn’t breathe. He rested his weight on his arms and gazed down at her, and she could feel the tension in his body.
“I’m okay. It’s good,” she whispered, shifting her hips.
She pulled him close, and then they were moving, finding their rhythm, and the bed was squeaking and squeaking as she felt her body coiling tighter and tighter. He kissed her fiercely, possessively, as they moved together, and she slid her hands down the valley of his back, over his corded muscles. The cool, controlled part of him was gone, replaced by pure need and intensity, and the power of him took her breath away. She wrapped her arms tighter, desperate to pull him closer as he set a ruthless pace that she strove to match. It was like before, like the hiking, with him pushing and pushing and making her keep up with him, and she loved that he refused to go easy on her. The heat gathered inside her body, and she could feel it coming, feel it bearing down on her as she dug her heels into him and felt the first tremor as she clenched around him.
“Oh, God . . . yes.”
A powerful thrust pushed her over the edge, and she tipped her head back and came apart. A groan tore from his chest as he drove into her one last time.
She lay there, lax, just listening to his breathing and the sound of her own heart thrumming. He hovered over her, breathing hard but still not crushing her.
Her head fell to the side, against the cool bedspread, and they let the moment settle.
“You all right?”
She opened her eyes and smiled. He searched her face for another second before pulling away and climbing off the bed. He disappeared into the bathroom across the hall.
A chill drifted over her skin. She felt instantly, agonizingly alone, and she closed her eyes, shocked by the sting of tears. She never cried after sex. Her emotions felt exposed tonight. Her body, her nerve endings, everything tonight felt naked and vulnerable.
The bathroom door whisked shut. The mattress shifted and squeaked.
“Nice bed.” She turned to look at him as he stretched out beside her in the dimness.
“Yeah, sorry. I usually only use it for sleeping.”
“Usually?”
“Most nights, anyway.”
He’d said it to needle her, which she took as a good sign.
They were still on top of the covers, and the room was cold, but he radiated heat. She scooted against him and was pleased to feel the sweat on his skin and know she wasn’t the only one feeling the exertion. She rested her head on his biceps as she trailed her hand down his body.
She gave him a look. “Already?”
He kissed her forehead. “We can take a breather.”
She smiled and closed her eyes. He was keeping it light. Tonight was about distraction, and they both understood that.
She felt his fingers in her hair, combing it away from her face. Then he stroked his hand down her arm, and the touch was so gentle it put an ache in her chest.
Maybe there was more here.
But she didn’t want to think that. She refused to let herself. Almost as soon as the thought formed, she forced it away. She needed to let tonight be what it was, not think beyond it.
His arm settled over her waist, warm and heavy, and suddenly she was so, so tired she couldn’t form a single thought. She nestled against him and let the steady rhythm of his breathing soothe her to sleep.
♦
She lay in Jon’s bed, watching the windows lighten. She hadn’t slept well, and she resigned herself to starting yet another day feeling sapped of energy. Her gaze drifted to the man beside her, sleeping on his back with her thigh cradled snugly against his stomach. In the dimness, she watched the steady rise and fall of his chest. She looked at his muscled arms, his pecs, the shadow along his jaw where another day’s worth of beard was coming in. It was his face that amazed her. Despite the hard lines, there was something soft about him in sleep, something that wrapped around her heart and squeezed.
He looked relaxed. It wasn’t his typical state, and she felt lucky to catch a glimpse of him in their own private moment, locked away from everything else. What would it be like to see this private side of him every day? To really be with him and let her guard down? To learn each other?
The fantasy ended when she spied her phone on the night-stand. Still no word. She’d awakened twice during the night to check it, and twice Jon had pulled her back to bed and made her forget the soul-crushing worry.
Distraction. He was good at it. And despite the raw, physical way he did it, there was an aspect of friendship to it, too. She’d come over here last night looking for an escape, and he’d fulfilled her wish. It should have been enough, but now that they were cocooned together in the warmth of his sheets, she wanted more from him. The way he’d touched her and looked at her had kindled sparks of longing, which was so unlike her that she felt scared. She wanted . . . if she was honest with herself, she wanted him to want more of her. She wanted him to want her back, again and again.
It was a reckless thing to want. And it was impossible anyway, but that didn’t keep her from letting the thought fill her mind as she skimmed her gaze over his face, his shoulders, the masculine trail of hair that started at his navel.
“You gonna look or touch?” He opened an eye lazily.
“You’re awake.” She slapped his arm.
A smile spread over his face. “How can I sleep with you lusting over me like that?”
“Ha.” She turned to swing her legs out of bed, but he caught her around the waist and pulled her on top of him. It was one of their better positions.
“It’s okay.” His voice was still gravelly from sleep. “Lust all you want.”
She squirmed into a sitting position and looked down at him, flattered when his gaze drifted to her breasts. She was far from voluptuous, but that hadn’t stopped him from lavishing attention on her all night.
She reached out and traced a finger over his bristly chin. She felt flooded with wonder at the pure attraction burning in his eyes. He slid his palms up and pulled her down to kiss him. It started playful but quickly turned serious as she shifted on top of him. She couldn’t seem to get enough of his taste, his kiss, the feel of his hands gliding over her body.
At the sound of her phone, she went rigid. For a moment, they were still, staring at each other. Then she climbed off him and grabbed the phone from the nightstand.
She checked the number and muttered a curse.
“Who is it?” He sat up on his elbows.
“Nathan from work.”
“Don’t you need to answer it?”
She sighed. “I already know what he’s going to say.”
“It could be about your job.”
“It is.” The phone chirped as he left another voice mail. She glanced up, and Jon was watching her, gaze narrowed.
“How do you know?”
“Because he left a message yesterday.”
“And?”
“And the committee decided to let me go.”
He leaned forward. “They fired you?”
She flinched at the word. “It’s done.”
“What do you mean, done?”
“It’s over.” She tossed the phone onto the nightstand and grabbed her shirt off the floor. “They set up hoops for me to jump through. I didn’t jump. I missed three shrink appointments and a hearing. So they let me go.”
“Aren’t you going to fight for it? Can’t you tell them you had a family emergency or something? Can’t you call in a favor?”
“I don’t need a favor.” She whirled on him, infuriated by the suggestion. “I’ve been there six years. They know me. They have my case in front of them.” She snapped her jeans up off the floor. “They either want me back or they don’t, and they obviously don’t.”
He got up and pulled on the pants he’d shed just a few short hours ago. “Unbelievable,” he said as he zipped up.
“What?”
“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” He glared at her. “Get some cojones, Andrea. You love that job. Go back there and fight for yourself.”
“I’m not going to grovel.”
“No one’s asking you to grovel. They’re asking you to show up.”
“You don’t understand.”
“What don’t I understand? You think if you throw your career away, it’ll bring back that kid? He’s gone, Andrea.”
She stared at him, shocked.
“There’s no going back. And even if you could, you wouldn’t change it, because deep down, you know you did the right thing.”
She shook her head. “You know what? Just butt out.”
“What, and watch you make a really stupid mistake?”
“It’s over! And it’s none of your business, anyway.”
His face hardened at that. She’d insulted him. Fine. He’d insulted her, too. She held her clothes against her body and tried to muster some dignity.
“I need to use your shower.”
He looked incredulous. “You have to ask? Jesus.”
She stalked into the bathroom and slammed the door.
♦
Jon stared after her, fuming. Six years on the job, and she’d thrown it all away. He wanted to throttle her. He wanted to throttle her brother even more.
The shower went on as he looked at the door. His shower. He could be in there with her right now, touching her. But instead, he was out here, pissed off.
He turned away from the door. God damn it, she drove him crazy. But she challenged him, too, and that was part of what excited him. He couldn’t predict her. Last night in the dark, she’d mesmerized him, but this morning, she’d just as easily slammed the door in his face.
A phone beeped, and he looked at the nightstand. Both of their phones were there, but hers was the one glowing. He walked over to it.
Not a voice mail this time but a text.
Sorry 4 yesterday. New plan. Meet me @ DQ by 8 & come alone.
Jon glanced at the bathroom door. He picked up the phone.
chapter twenty-four
TORRES SWUNG INTO THE alley behind Walmart and pulled up next to North’s pickup.
“Where’s Maxwell?” Torres asked, climbing out.
“On his way, but I doubt he’ll get here in time.” North unlocked the toolbox mounted behind the truck cab and pulled out a Kevlar vest identical to the one he was wearing.
Torres peeled off his dun-colored jacket and tossed it into his truck. “Thought this was the sheriff’s collar,” he said, strapping on the vest.
“That’s the plan.”
Meaning if the sheriff’s guys screwed up, North wanted to be ready to jump in.
“So how’s this going down?” Torres got behind the wheel as North slid into the passenger seat.
“Quick and quiet. We need them out of there before anyone notices.”
“What’s our position?”
“Eastbound frontage road,” North said, “which is their most likely approach. Another deputy’s stationed on the westbound side in case they come from that direction.”
“And Andrea?”
“What about her?”
“She’s not coming?”
“No.”
Torres sensed there was a story there, but he didn’t ask. He pulled out of the alley and crossed the near-empty parking lot to the access road that paralleled the interstate. The Dairy Queen was about a hundred yards up at an overpass, a prime location just across from a truck stop.
Torres spotted the sheriff’s deputy parked in the grass, watching the exit ramp. He pulled in behind the Walmart sign, where the ICE truck was less noticeable but he and North would have a clear view of everything between the ramp and the restaurant.
Torres glanced across the truck. North was tense, and he figured it had to do with Andrea. Quick and quiet wasn’t always doable. Some people didn’t take kindly to a routine traffic stop, and everyone was operating under the assumption that Gavin Finch could be armed.
Torres took a deep breath to get himself in the zone. He checked his weapon. His pulse sped up, the way it always did before a takedown.
“Here we go.” North reached for the radio as a brown sedan came into view on the feeder road. “We’ve got a brown Dodge on the eastbound frontage road.”
“Roger that,” the sheriff’s deputy drawled. “I’m lighting ’em up.”
The Dodge zipped past the lurking sheriff’s unit, which immediately pulled off the grass and onto the road, lights whirling. Both cars passed Torres before the Dodge driver even tapped the brakes.
“Finch is at the wheel, red baseball cap,” North said into the radio. “No passenger.”
Where was Vicky Leeland?
The Dodge abruptly slowed and pulled over not far from where Torres had parked. When the Dodge’s one taillight went dark, the deputy killed the siren.
North’s stress was contagious, and Torres’s nerves started jumping as the sheriff’s deputy hefted himself out of the cruiser. His hand rested on the holster at his hip as he approached the car. Finch buzzed down his window, and they exchanged a few words, with the deputy motioning at the busted taillight. Then he motioned for Finch to get out.
Torres waited, heart thumping. North eased his door open a few inches and watched intently. If this bust was going to go sideways, it would happen now.
But the kid climbed out and casually handed over an ID. He was as tall as the deputy but probably only half as heavy with his skinny build.
“Come on, come on,” North muttered.
“He going to frisk him?”
“That’s the plan.”
There was some back-and-forth, probably about Vicky Leeland’s expired inspection and registration. A visible sigh from Finch, and then he turned around and placed his palms on the roof of the car as the deputy checked him for weapons and came up with nothing. They exchanged a few more words, with Finch shaking his head. The deputy reached for his handcuffs.
Finch bolted.
“Fuck!” North was out of the car in a flash, with Torres right behind him. The deputy jerked his gun from the holster and shouted, and Torres and North rocketed past him before he even got his ass moving.
Finch booked it across the parking lot, with Torres and North hot on his heels. The kid was fast. He darted across a street, dodging cars. He missed being creamed by a Mack truck and then hurdled a ditch like a gazelle.
Sirens went up behind them. The deputy had given up the foot chase.
“The truck stop!” Torres yelled as Finch veered toward the interstate.
Torres set his sights on the sprawling complex, where dozens of rigs coming and going would give Finch a place to hide, maybe even a ride out of town. He and North waited for a break in traffic before hauling across the street.
“Go around front, I’ll go in back!” North shouted as they hit the grass.
Torres leaped over the ditch and ignored the zing of pain in his ankle as he sprinted around the front of the building. North pursued around the back, to the row of pumps where eighteen-wheelers were fueling up. Torres ran past the diner and around the corner. He paused for a second and spotted a blur of movement between two rigs, quickly followed by another.
Torres took off for the farthest truck, hoping to head them off. As he ran, he realized he had his Sig in his hand, but he couldn’t remember pulling it from the holster. Half of the rigs coming through here were gas tankers, making this a bad place for a fire-fight.
Sirens screamed behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder to see a pair of sheriff’s cruisers flying across the lot.
Torres dodged between two rigs, determined to reach Finch before they did. He spotted the red ball cap just as North made a running leap and tackled the kid to the ground. In seconds, he had his hands behind his back and cuffed.
Far Gone Page 23
