by Julie Miller
There were lines etched beside those eyes now, a few as deep and craggy as the rugged landscape he loved so well. There were secrets hidden there, too—secrets the young Ethan had never kept. The Ethan standing before her now, taming her with his gentle touch and deep, hushed voice, was a seasoned, more potent version of the young man she’d loved. He was a bigger mystery to her now than he had ever been. The years had taken the faith from his expression, but the caring was still there.
It was a caring she didn’t deserve. And yet…A yearning for something lost, something new to be discovered, sprouted like a tiny seed inside her, waiting to be nourished. Infused with his scent and warmth, Ethan’s jacket reminded her of what it was like to be sheltered and claimed by this man. She inhaled a deep, stuttering breath and pushed her hand through the front opening so that she could reach up and touch the sharp angle of his cheekbone.
He wore his Ute heritage beautifully, proudly. Far better than she or her parents ever had.
“You’re getting wet.” She brushed the rain from the smooth leather of his skin, savoring the friction beneath her fingertips.
“So are you.” The corner of his mouth crooked into a smile, luring her touch to the spot.
A slow breath warmed her fingers as his lips parted. A different warmth, deeper inside, unfurled as he pressed a kiss to a lucky fingertip. She remembered his mouth, maddeningly patient, excruciatingly thorough, pressed against her own as he’d taught her what passion between a man and woman could be—should be.
Lightning flashed in the sky overhead, reflecting heat in the night of his eyes, sparking the desire to bring the best part of her past to life again. Her own lips parted as she stroked her finger across the firm male line that ended with a tiny scar at the opposite corner. Like the closely cropped style of his raven’s-wing hair, the scar was new.
There was a lot to admire in the changes she was discovering in the mature man. Plenty of ridges and hollows of muscle being revealed as the rain plastered his white dress shirt to his skin. Plenty of raw, masculine energy in the sheer size of him. Parts of her body strained to move closer to his earthy scent and heat. Even the physical battery and scars of her rape hadn’t dimmed the memory of how intoxicating a kiss from Ethan could be. Though she’d dated a few men in recent years, she’d struggled with intimacy. Even before the rape, it had been hard to trust or depend on anyone besides herself. Her parents had always depended on her, not the other way around. After their deaths, after the rape and the debacle of justice that followed, it had just been easier, safer, to concentrate on her career because it required an emotional detachment that kept her sane, kept her functioning—allowed her to succeed. But her choices also kept her lonely.
Could Ethan sense the attraction he rekindled inside her? Could he also sense the reluctance to act on the need that simmered in her veins?
Of course he could. What few details Ethan’s eyes missed he seemed to intuit with that sixth sense of his. Joanna curled her fingers into her palm and offered a rueful laugh. “Seems I don’t have my act together any better than I did fifteen years ago, does it?”
“You’ve got nothing to apologize for.” He tucked his fingers beneath the collar of his jacket, closing it more securely around across her chest. “All those years you took care of your parents, putting them first. And now it seems as though you put your job first. When are you going to start taking care of yourself?”
“I am. I just…” She wound her fingers around the nubby tweed of his lapels, denying the urge to reach out to the man himself. “I didn’t expect Elmer to say things that would take me back to that day. It felt as though, after all this time—after all the work and therapy I’ve done—that nothing had changed. The Watts family always said I’d asked for what happened to me. I wasn’t prepared for that.”
Ethan’s hands slipped to her shoulders, instilling his warmth with a gentle massage up and down her arms. “Did you want the old bastard to show remorse? Elmer doesn’t even remember who you are.”
“I know.” Joanna shook her head. “I can’t let him get to me. Every day I put together profiles on murderers, kidnappers, drug dealers and more. This shouldn’t be any different. I talk to people. I get inside their heads. It’s what I do. I can’t let it be personal.”
“It’s already personal. You barely survived once—”
“You don’t think I can survive this place again?” Joanna tugged the jacket from her shoulders and pushed it into the middle of his chest, forcing him to take hold of it—forcing her fingers to let go and pull away. She didn’t need his warmth. She didn’t need his caring. She didn’t need him to make her feel weak or vulnerable or dependent on anyone again. “I’m not a girl anymore, Ethan. I’m not a victim. I’m going to prove that I can do this.”
Her eyes filled with rain, and she had to blink away the moisture before he finally spoke.
“Walk away from this assignment, Jo. Walk away before you can’t outrun the demons anymore.”
“What do you know about demons? I know you mean well, but you can’t possibly understand what I’ve been through—what I need in order to make my life whole again.”
“Demons come in many forms.” The deadness in his tone was more unsettling than the words themselves. “Trust me, I know exactly how hard they are to shake.”
“What does that mean?” Was there something in that comment that explained the harder edges and protective obsession of this older, more cryptic Ethan Bia? Did he think what had happened to her fifteen years ago was somehow his fault? That the challenges she faced now could be solved by anyone besides herself? He pulled his keys from his pocket and circled around her to the cab of his truck. She turned and followed. “Ethan? Don’t speak to me in riddles. Talk to me.”
“Agent Rhodes?” Patrick Martinez’s voice called from the nursing home’s front door.
Joanna huffed at the untimely interruption, and glanced over her shoulder to see the sheriff approaching them across the parking lot. She quickly caught up to Ethan, stopped him by laying a hand at the center of his back. “This is my battle, Ethan. I’ll be okay.” Her issues were her own to deal with.
“It should have been our battle.” He spun around, leaning in close enough that his chest pushed against her hand before she could snatch it away. “Is it because I didn’t protect you from Sherman Watts?”
What? “You couldn’t know—”
“Is that why you didn’t give me a chance to help you afterward? You didn’t believe I’d be there for you?”
“I had to find my own strength. I couldn’t do that here. And you couldn’t leave. You belong here. I wasn’t about to turn your life upside down in an effort to save mine.”
“You never even asked. We could have talked about it.”
“I was eighteen and damaged and scared out of my mind. I didn’t know how.”
That fathomless gaze captured Joanna for a moment, reached down to her, found its way beneath her defensive armor, conveying emotions as deep and turbulent as her own. Then, as abruptly as he’d breached her personal space, he retreated. “You have to tell Patrick.”
“Tell me what?”
Ethan was hurting. He was angry. She seemed to have a bad habit of bringing out those negative feelings in him. Guilt warred with the feminine instinct to wrap him in her arms and get him to share his secrets. To listen and comfort the way he had with her just a moment ago. She owed him so much more than the few minutes she could give him before climbing onto a plane and leaving Kenner County again as soon as her interview with Watts was completed.
Because that was how this reunion was destined to play out. She hadn’t come back to resurrect a relationship with Ethan. She would never drag him into her world again. She’d never allow her world to hurt him again.
So she pasted on a smile and turned to face Patrick. “I guess we’re climbing a mountain.”
“I’m climbing the mountain,” Ethan corrected, casting a shadow like Sleeping Ute itself as he stepped up bes
ide her. “You can do the talking once I bring Watts in.”
“Good work in there,” Martinez complimented her. “Sorry it got ugly, but that intel definitely narrows our search.” Patrick pulled his hat forward to shield his eyes as he looked up into the storm clouds overhead. “Provided we can get anywhere tonight. The chopper will be useless until this clears. As long as there’s lightning, I won’t allow a search team to take it up.”
An expressionless mask slid into place on Ethan’s face before Joanna could get a clear read on what he was thinking. “We can catch him on foot. I know the paths he’d most likely take, and have a couple more ideas on fishing holes he might go to. But we’ll need daylight. The rocks will be treacherous enough with all this rain. Elmer was right about the rivers and creeks topping their banks. And washouts on the trails are pretty common since the rest of the year is so dry.”
Patrick shifted his gaze to Joanna. “I suppose the FBI will want to take over the pursuit?”
Ethan shook his head, denying her the chance to answer. “It’s too dangerous for inexperienced climbers to tackle the ascent under these conditions.”
“I’m not an inexperienced climber,” she argued. “I grew up with those same mountains.”
“The terrain can change a lot in fifteen years.”
“You’ll need as many eyes as you can get to help with the search.”
“Whoa. Am I missing something?” Patrick raised his hands, signaling a time-out as Ethan’s will to take care of her warred with Joanna’s need to take care of herself.
Joanna curled her lip between her teeth. Arguing in front of the ranking local officer wouldn’t earn her any cooperation, or a good review for her boss back in D.C. “No, sir. Ethan and I just…see the way to proceed differently.”
There was no mistaking where Martinez chose to put his trust. “Ethan’s been running search and rescue for Kenner County for the past three years. When it comes to finding someone on those mountains, it’s his call.”
Ethan’s call was equally clear. “I’ll take in a small team who know what they’re doing. If the FBI is joining the search, they’ll be under my command.”
“I’ll tell them,” Patrick agreed. “Safety first.”
“I’ll round up a couple more guides—men who’ve worked S and R with me know the area. We’ll assemble at the north trailhead of Sleeping Ute Mountain at daybreak. We can each take a destination and pray the weather hasn’t washed away every trace of Watts’s path. If we travel light and move fast, we should be able to close ground on him.” Ethan’s tone held none of the warmth he’d shown Joanna a few moments earlier. “I don’t want anyone on that mountain who doesn’t know what he’s doing. My best men will be tied up with the search. Communication may be spotty, and if I have to spare them for a rescue, we could lose Watts.”
The sheriff gave a wry laugh. “You have any good news for me?”
“Watts is dealing with the same weather and hazards. That should slow him down. He won’t make it to Rising Sun Creek tonight. He’ll have to make camp somewhere along the way. Even if he moves on in the morning, finding his camp will put us on a clear trail.”
“Get your men lined up,” Patrick ordered. “I’ll get on the horn to Ben and Dylan. I expect Tom Ryan will want to be part of the search, too.” He grumbled as he pulled his phone from his belt. “I hate calling a man in from his honeymoon. Agent Rhodes, can I give you a lift to your hotel?”
She wanted to stay with Ethan and find out what miracle he had up his sleeve to track down Watts. She wanted to be on that hike tomorrow morning and be a part of bringing Watts in herself. As difficult as it would be to face her rapist across an interview table, it would be impossible to find closure and move on with her life if Watts disappeared into the wilderness and she never even got the chance to nail him for his more recent crimes.
She had to make Ethan understand that.
But he was already climbing into his truck. The conversation was over.
“Yes, Sheriff, thanks. I’ll be right there.” Joanna hurried to the truck cab and caught the door before Ethan could close it. “Ethan?”
He peered through the windshield, straight ahead into the night.
But Joanna had made a career out of getting people to talk. And sometimes, that meant she was the one who had to open up first. Inhaling a steadying breath, she stepped into the Vee formed by the truck frame and door. “I’m sorry I hurt you. That was never my intention. You were the best part of my life here.”
“Yeah. Things were so good between us, you had to leave.” Sarcasm was a new twist to Ethan’s personality. But he was talking.
“I had to survive.” Tears burned in the corner of her eyes, but she blinked them away. She had to keep the emotion out of her voice and say exactly what she needed to. “I would have gone nuts if I’d stayed here. People on the rez and in Kenner City already talked about me—talked down to me—because of Mom and Dad. They were either going to pity me or laugh at me because I was stupid enough, helpless enough, naive enough—whatever—to let the Watts men take advantage of me. I couldn’t handle all that and heal. My problems would have destroyed us. I would have brought you down with me. You couldn’t fix me or the situation. No one could. I had to get away. I’m a stronger woman now. Like you said before, it was the first time I ever put myself first. I left because that’s what I needed. I’m just sorry you had to pay the price.”
Apparently, her explanation was fifteen years too late. For the longest time, he just sat there, staring into the rain, saying nothing.
“Ethan?”
“So facing the worst part of your past—entirely on your own—and beating it, is the ultimate therapy for you?”
“Something like that.” Lightning flashed overhead, and the answering thunder urged Joanna a step closer. She lightly brushed his pant leg, asking him to listen a little bit longer. “Can you really find Watts after a night like this?”
Not entirely on her own.
Ethan glanced down at her hand, then turned in his seat, slowly assessing, then accepting her unspoken request. “I’ll bring him in if that’s what you need from me.”
She summoned a shaky smile. “That’s what I need.”
He reached out, palmed the back of her head and pulled her up onto her toes as he bent his head to cover her mouth in a deep, hard kiss. Joanna’s fingers dug into his corded thigh. Her lips parted in surprise, then welcome. His tongue snuck inside to dance with hers and she moaned at the raspy caress that tasted of earthiness and man. She braced a hand against the damp wall of his chest, leaned in. Kissed him back.
Ethan’s hand found its way to the curve of her hip and her feet left the ground entirely as he lifted her into the heat and hardness of his upper body. The rain splashed a cool warning against her cheeks, but Joanna ignored it. She wound an arm around his neck, found an erotic stubble of short hair at his nape to rub her palm against instead of the silky, shoulder-length strands where she’d once tunneled her fingers.
It was a kiss of rediscovery—of years gone by and apologies accepted. It hinted at life lived and changes made and opportunities missed. This kiss was more seasoned and sure than the ones she remembered. There was no youthful exuberance, no hesitant testing the waters. It was a grown man’s kiss of passion. A kiss of promise.
Joanna was breathless and hot by the time he pulled away.
She sank back onto her heels, her fingers still hanging on to his wet shirtfront, his hands still clamped possessively at her neck and hip. She’d felt no fear of Ethan when he kissed her. But Joanna feared what his kiss made her feel. “I—”
“Don’t say anything.” Ethan’s dark eyes glowed like obsidian glass in the light from his truck. “I’ve missed you so much, Nüa-rü. I’ve needed you. I remember when you were all sunshine and curiosity and a strong, forgiving heart. I needed that.”
She frowned with confusion, ached with compassion, at the sorrow heard in his voice. “Ethan—”
“Shh.” He
pressed a finger to her lips. “I’ll do this for you. I may not understand it, but I’ll do whatever it takes to get the spirit Watts stole from you back.” His uneven breath fanned warmly across her cheek as he rested his forehead against hers and made her a promise. “Watts may know those mountains. But I know them better.”
Chapter Five
“Love to love ya, baby…”
Sherman Watts sang a familiar melody, his eyes closed, his hand stroking his thigh from crotch to knee, remembering better times up here on the mountain. The air crackled with electricity from the storm. His clothes were wet and sticking to his skin. But ghostly memories blended with reality. He didn’t care about any discomfort he should be feeling.
The chilling mist that dotted his face blended with visions of long black hair, sweetly perfumed, caressing him. The thunder added percussion to the music playing in his head. He pursed his lips around the mouth of his Jack Daniel’s bottle and tipped it back, letting the whiskey ignite a fire all the way down to his belly.
He licked the rim of the bottle, stroked his thigh and pretended he wasn’t alone. “I need your—”
The shrill chirp of a cell phone startled him from his hazy fantasy. Sitting bolt upright, he knocked the bottle from his lap. “Son of a bitch.”
A pool of amber liquid sank into the dust. Cursing at the waste, and his ungainly movements that couldn’t right the bottle faster, he stopped to pound the cork into the bottle before he reached into his pack to grab the phone. He leaned back against the back wall of the shallow cave where he’d taken shelter and flipped open the phone. There was only one caller who ever contacted him on this line.
“What do you want?”
“Boyd Perkins is looking for you.”
Sherman wasn’t so far gone with lust or drink that his head couldn’t clear fast. He braced his hand against the gritty sandstone wall and staggered to his feet. For a moment the rustle of static in his ear made him wonder if he’d heard right. “Boyd Perkins?”
