by Vonna Harper
“Do you think I don’t care?”
Rachele and she had been there a couple of hours while they waited for answers. Fortunately the two officers from the bomb squad hadn’t found anything, but that meant there was no reason for her and her employee to remain. Law enforcement had left a while ago, and a few minutes ago Jason had responded to Rachele’s questions about the aircrane by taking her to look at it. Watching Rachele’s disappearing back, she wondered if Rachele had deliberately given her and Maco some privacy.
“I know you care,” Maco said after a moment. “I see it in your eyes.”
“Then what?”
They’d moved to the shaded side of the trailer. Unless Rachele or Jason turned around, no one would know what took place here. Not that anything would.
“You supplied me with a couple of dogs,” he said. “That’s all. Then suddenly my problem became yours.”
“Don’t blame yourself.” His body was only inches from hers and calling to her in a language maybe she’d waited all her life to hear. “After all, the day of Ona’s accident, my problem landed on your shoulders.”
“Okay. Point taken. How is the old girl? No residual effects?”
Sensing he didn’t want to talk about Ona any more than she did, she nevertheless told him that Ona continued to be fine. Then, although maybe they should discuss the sheriff’s plan to spread the word about there being an informant among the Greenspeakers’ ranks, she placed her hands on his shoulders. Heat bled into her and stole her breath.
“What’s this about?” he asked.
“I’m concerned for you. Safety issues must be making things hard for you.”
“One thing that’s helped is not having you around.”
“Oh?” Was her tone calm or had she given away the sudden knot in her belly? “How’s that?”
“I need to focus on doing my job. I don’t dare be distracted.”
So she was a distraction, was she? “Things combust between us.”
“Yeah, they do.”
Suddenly his hands were on her hips, the firm touch seeming to reach all the way to her core. Something primal took hold, and she thrust her pelvis at him. With her hands providing her with a measure of balance, she arched her back. He drew her even closer. His erection ground at her to awaken hot memories and even hotter need.
A moan tore up her throat and whispered around them. He answered with a low grunt. The concerned owner of Working Dogs gave way to animal need. Maco’s features blurred; even his form lost definition.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he said. “We know—”
“Don’t talk!”
He muttered something, but her inner fire singed the words so she couldn’t make sense of them. Only her hungry body mattered. It craved. Demanded. Sought to drink from him, to add fuel to the flames lapping over every inch of her.
She couldn’t remember what she was wearing. What she did know was that her juices were soaking her panties. Her pussy became so sensitive she didn’t dare touch it, and yet she longed to feel his fingers against her there.
He repeatedly shoved his trapped cock at her, grunting with each thrust. Diving into the simulated sex act, she rocked her pelvis from side to side. Her spine protested, prompting her to clench her teeth and shake her head until the ache in her back faded. Eyes closed, she dug her nails into his shoulders as images sucked her in.
They were in her bedroom, both kneeling on the mattress, naked with their mouths open. She’d climbed on to his offered cock and taken him deep, full, and hard. Danced with him.
Her bedroom faded and was replaced by a nameless pool in a nameless place. Naked in the heated water, she wrapped her body around his and anchored herself to him. Equally weightless, they flowed here and there, always together, mouths hard against each other and the veins at the sides of her neck threatening to explode.
“Do me. Oh God, yes, do me!”
“Shari, not so loud.”
His command killed the fantasy. Even before she opened her eyes, the burning in her spine threatened to make her cry out. Hating what she had to do, she straightened.
“What was that?” His hands remained on her hips, but he was no longer trying to pull her toward him.
“I lost—I’m sorry. I forgot where we were.”
Although he didn’t smile, his eyes said he appreciated her honesty. “I make that much of an impact on you?”
He might have intended his question to be casual, but she couldn’t take it as such. A few minutes ago she’d been listening to the sheriff’s concerns and plans. Then, simply because she and Maco were alone, she’d forgotten everything except him.
What was the matter? Surely her self-control wasn’t that tenuous.
“Just because I’m horny,” she said and backed away, “is no reason for you to take full credit.”
He pointedly looked at where his hands had rested. “If that’s what you thought I was doing, I’m sorry. You’re right. I have no control over your body, any more than you do over mine.”
Was that true? Even if it was, try telling that to her damn crazy nervous system. Being near him had her wanting to throw ropes around him to ensure he’d never get away. So she could climb onto him whenever need became too much.
“This is crazy, you know,” she got out. “We both have so much going on that, well, it’s hardly time for ...”
Nodding, he removed his Stetson and placed it on her head. Just like that she felt protected, sheltered. Swaying, she reached for him.
“Shari? Where are you?”
Rachele’s question jerked her in the direction the voice had come from. Hand shaking, she pulled off the hat, returned it to him, and turned away. With her back now to Maco, her world refocused.
“Here,” she called out and headed around the trailer. “What’s up?”
Rachele stood maybe twenty feet away with one hand lifted to shield her eyes. Shari couldn’t see Jason.
“The sheriff just called.” Rachele patted her front pocket.
“He wants me to meet with him. See if I can remember anything more about Dyson and where he might have gone. But first I need to go back to the kennels for my car. Can you take me?”
Shari glanced at Maco. Nothing about his expression said he wanted her to stay. “Of course. I’m ready to leave.”
18
“You’re sure I didn’t interrupt something?” Rachele asked from the passenger’s seat. “There’s some pretty heavy energy between you and Maco.”
“There is, or rather there was,” Shari admitted. “I’m not going to lie. The man turns me on.”
“I can see why. His brother has some of the same vibes or whatever you call it.”
“You’re interested in—”
“Whoa.” Rachele held up her hand. “Not. Absolutely not. The last thing I need is another man complicating my life. I don’t know how much more I can tell the sheriff. Oh damn, I just thought of something. He won’t ask about our sex life, will he?”
“I can’t see why.”
Rachele rubbed her right temple. “Looking at him, you’d think Dyson was the greatest stud in the state, but he had this hair trigger, if you know what I’m talking about. And sometimes he couldn’t get it up. I did a little research. Steroids can have that impact.”
“Wonderful. How did he feel about not being able to perform ?”
“He tried to tell me it was my fault. No matter whether I offered to try harder or told him to relax, his reaction was the same.”
“Which was?”
“He got mad.”
“I thought you said he didn’t have a temper.”
“That was the only thing that would set him off. I couldn’t tell who he was mad at.”
Thinking how anger might morph into something else, Shari paid scant attention to her driving. After all, they were the only ones on the gravel road. Then just as they neared the county highway, she noted an older sedan parked off to the side of the road. Looking over, she spotted what appeared to be a man sle
eping behind the wheel.
“Nice spot for a nap,” she muttered. Had she seen that vehicle before?
Rachele shrugged. “Whatever.”
Granted, the law enforcement officers hadn’t disturbed his equipment or the aircrane. Just the same, as the afternoon wore on, Maco couldn’t get past feeling that his world had been invaded. Jason and he had had problem employees and what they considered over-involved officials, but early in their business, they’d agreed not to let those issues get to them. Until now that mindset had worked. However, they were now in uncharted territory.
Watching the blades slowly turn as Jason worked on the aircrane’s electronics, he belatedly acknowledged that vandalism and bomb threats had made only a certain impact on his emotions. As for the rest, bottom line, he didn’t know how to handle how he felt about Shari.
Life would be easier without her. He’d do his job and put his divorce far behind him. Much later, he’d look around for an uncomplicated woman who didn’t cause him to forget which way was up.
An uncomplicated and unsexy woman.
Disgusted with his inability to shake free of Shari’s hold on his mind and body, he mounted Broomtail and started down the winding walking path that lead to the base of the canyon. Feeling a horse under him had always relaxed him—in the past.
Patting the gelding’s neck, he concentrated on his surroundings. A crew of thirty was at work today. As soon as he’d heard about the bomb threat, he’d called everyone together and explained what was going on. No one was to return to their machinery until it had been cleared. Now, fortunately, everyone was back at work.
Thirty. Despite their number, because they were spread out over the acreage, he felt alone. Granted, the sounds of machinery reminded him that that wasn’t true. Despite the animal he rode, isolation had wrapped itself around him.
Because he wanted/needed Shari beside him.
Under him.
Climbing over his skin and into his mind, touching his flesh with warm and knowing fingers.
The woman was dangerous, hellfire dangerous! For all he knew, she was cleaning the kennels right now, wearing galoshes and manning a shovel or hose. If that was the case, she might consider herself the unsexiest woman on earth. To her way of thinking, no man alive would be interested in stripping off her wet and well-used clothes.
He was, damn it! No matter what she was doing, he’d be drawn to her. He’d take the tools of her trade from her, followed by tossing her over his shoulder and marching them both to her bedroom. Who cared whether anyone was watching? Her knowing hands would trail over his buttocks to let him know in no uncertain way that she approved. More to the point, she’d kick out of the oversized galoshes.
“You’re crazy,” she’d laugh.
“If I am it’s because you’ve done it to me.” He’d punctuate his point by slipping a hand between her legs.
She’d moan and sigh and clamp her thighs around his hand. She might squirm, but his strength would keep her from sliding off—one of the bonuses of fantasy, he’d become as strong as he needed to be. She’d remain part of him and available to him as he climbed onto the porch and kicked open her door.
Then, because this was still his fantasy to manipulate and mold, when he placed her on her bed, she’d be naked.
Hell, so would he.
Wait. Maybe he’d ask her to wear his Stetson. No more with taking it off as she’d done earlier.
Maybe she’d drop to her knees and open her mouth and take him deep. Maybe she’d hoist herself onto him so his cock slid into her, and they’d fuck standing up.
But maybe they’d race each other to the bedroom. Yeah, that would work. He’d throw her onto the bed and climb up next to her like some stallion laying claim to a mare in heat.
Broomtail stumbled. Looking down, he saw nothing but packed dirt and rocks. If he’d been paying attention, he would have noticed how steep the slope was there. Broomtail was one of the most surefooted horses he’d ever owned, but the quiet-tempered gelding was no miracle worker.
“I need you to pay attention,” he told the horse, “because I’m not sure I can.”
He had to dig through his mind before he remembered that his intention had been to see if the motor grader had dug down to bedrock on the west side. Afternoon’s shadows had claimed more than half of the site. As a consequence, the contrast between that and what was still in sunlight made it hard for him to pick out details. It was easier to focus on the slope opposite him, not that there was much to see beyond boulders and manzanita bushes. Most of the boulders and brush would eventually be removed. In the meantime, they stood as a reminder of what the area had looked like for centuries.
He’d never told anyone that altering the land for a living made him feel as if he should apologize to Mother Nature. He’d felt that way starting with when he’d been responsible for that first foundation. Watching a backhoe claw and chew into the earth had been an almost painful experience. In the past his destruction had been limited to what a building or a complex needed. Now, however, because of him, a cavernous hole was taking form.
Couldn’t be helped, because without that chasm, there’d be no water for thirsty agricultural land and ranches like the one his family owned.
That’s what he wanted to tell Shari. She’d understand how hard leaving the ranch had been but that he’d eventually found something almost as rewarding to do with his life. That’s why he was determined not to run from threats.
What was that? Someone taking a dump behind a bush? He didn’t blame whoever it was for opting for something closer than the three Porta-Potties, but as whoever it was continued to crouch, he realized his initial conclusion had been wrong. There was no machinery or work needing to be done anywhere near the man.
From here, Maco couldn’t be sure what he was wearing let alone see if he recognized him. The stranger’s back was to him, and he appeared to be watching an excavator at work. Why would such an ordinary task interest him, unless—
Leaving the thought half finished, Maco stopped Broomtail, yanked out his cell phone, and punched in his brother’s number.
“I could be wrong,” he said when Jason picked up, “but we might have a trespasser.”
“Shit. You’re sure?”
“No, I’m not, but neither am I willing to stand around waiting to see what he’s going to do. Are you still in the aircrane?”
“Just left it. Where is he?”
Maco described the spot. “Get the binoculars out of the office. Tell me what you see.”
“I’m heading that way as we speak. Damn, damn.”
Judging by how far the aircrane was from the office, Maco figured he wouldn’t hear from his brother for nearly five minutes. However, Jason called back in no more than three. In the meantime, Maco had pretended to be making phone calls in case the maybe-stranger noticed him.
“I’ve got the binoculars out,” Jason said tersely. “Wait a—yeah, there he is.”
“Do you recognize him?”
“Can’t say. I’ve got to wait until he turns around. I don’t like the way he’s acting, as if he doesn’t want anyone to see him.”
“I came to the same conclusion.”
While waiting for his brother to respond, Maco looked around for the dogs. One of them—from this distance he couldn’t be sure which—was at the top of the canyon and not far from the path he was on. If he whistled, it wouldn’t take Tucker or Bruce long to reach him. And then what?
“There,” Jason said. “He’s facing me now, not that he knows it. Shit.”
“Shit what?”
“I’ve never seen him before.”
Jason’s words chilled him. At the same time, knowing he’d soon be face-to-face with the enemy sent his mind into overdrive.
“Get on Silver. Go around to where he is. Stay above him. See if you can herd him this way.”
“What are you going to be doing?”
“Seeing how well our dogs are trained.”
“If he isn’
t doing something he shouldn’t be, he won’t run.”
Maco grunted. “You want to take a bet on that?”
“Hell no. Ready?”
“Ready.”
From where Broomtail and he were, he couldn’t see the horse corral. Apparently the trespasser wasn’t taking notice of what was going on inside it because he remained where he was.
“Things are going to get interesting,” he told the gelding. “I need you to live up to your reputation as calm and collected, all right?”
Broomtail’s ears had swung back while he was talking. Now they perked forward again. The horse’s body remained relaxed. Taking advantage of the machinery sounds, Maco put his fingers to his mouth and whistled. Broomtail’s ears flattened a little, and his head lifted.
Remembering what Shari had told him about using a high-pitched sound the dogs could separate from everything else, he risked injury to his throat doing just that. The dog above him immediately went into a stiff-legged stance. He whistled again. The gelding’s ears flattened even more.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
Running in the smooth, swift way that had impressed him from the beginning, the Doberman headed down the trail to where horse and rider waited. A human would have lost his footing but not the dog he now recognized as Bruce.
“Come here.” He patted his leg when Bruce was maybe a hundred feet away. “Hang with us for a bit. With luck, you’re going to see some action.”
Bruce came within inches of Broomtail’s front legs and looked up at him open-mouthed. Studying those white and deadly teeth, Maco thanked Shari for a job well done. Thank goodness she was no longer here. Whatever happened, he wanted her safe.
Silver, with Jason in the saddle, was circling the canyon, coming as close to the edge as he dared. When the stranger jerked his head in that direction followed by scurrying behind a nearby boulder, Maco would have given a year of his life to see the man’s expression. The terrain between Jason and the stranger was too steep for Jason to risk taking his mount any closer, but Jason was now poised above the stranger as if daring him to come up.
Going by how the man left the boulder and scurried a few yards farther into the canyon, Maco guessed Jason had yelled something to him.
