by Janet Dailey
“And what would your father say if I told him what I found you doing here?” Tanner demanded.
“He’d laugh in your face. The woman’s fair game. He already gave me the go-ahead. Said I could even marry her if I wanted. Not that I would. She’s as common as dirt. Not much better than a whore. You think she didn’t know I was watching her? Hell, she was showing off.”
Tanner loomed over him, battling the urge to grab Garn by the scruff of the neck and slam his head against the hood of his fancy Porsche. Much as it would have given him pleasure, he was here to do a job, not beat up the boss’s son. “Is this what you do in your spare time? Sneak around and spy on women?” he growled. “Hell, you deserve to be tarred and feathered.”
“I didn’t plan this,” Garn said. “I just stopped by to see how she was doing, and this is what I found. You can’t blame me for enjoying the sight. You’d do the same, I’ll bet. And I’ll bet you want her, too.”
Tanner took a deep breath, mentally counting to ten. “I’m going to move the truck,” he said. “After I do, I want you to drive out of here. If I catch you bothering Rose again, so help me, I’ll—”
Tanner didn’t bother to finish the sentence. Garn’s grin said it all. As long as he was on his own property and not breaking the law, Ferg’s son could—and would—do whatever he damn well pleased.
Still fuming, Tanner backed the truck out long enough for Garn to roar away in his fancy-ass car. Then he parked again, climbed out of the truck, and headed across the creek.
Only then did he see the trailer. Nice, he thought. Bull hadn’t wasted any time getting Rose into a decent place to live. But right now his first concern was making sure she was all right.
He rapped lightly on the door and waited. There was no answer. After a moment he tried again. “Rose,” he called softly. “It’s me. It’s Tanner.”
He heard a footstep and the sound of a bolt sliding back. Slowly Rose opened the door. She was dressed in an old-fashioned flannel nightgown. Her hair hung around her shoulders in damp strings. Tears glimmered on her cheeks.
Something broke inside him. She was so hurt, so vulnerable.
“Oh, Rose . . .” he murmured, and gathered her into his arms.
He half expected her to resist him, but she stood quietly, trembling, as he stepped inside, pulled the door shut, and locked it with one hand. Standing in the darkness he simply held her, letting her tears soak into his shirt as he waited for her to speak.
“Was it Garn?”
“Who else? I don’t think he’ll be back anytime soon. But you’ll need to be careful.”
She nodded. “I’m all right now,” she said.
“I don’t think you are, Rose. Let me stay awhile.”
When she didn’t answer, he led her into the front part of the trailer, which had built-in upholstered seating along the sides, and sat down, holding her on his lap. She nestled close, like a child seeking comfort.
“I really will be all right,” she said. “So you can go if you need to.”
“I don’t need to.” His mouth nuzzled her damp hair. He could feel the curves of her body and her sharp little bones through the thin nightgown. The hunger that warmed and stirred inside him was both familiar and forbidden. But right now the last thing he wanted was to leave her.
“I’m a big girl,” she said. “I don’t need protecting.”
“Maybe you do. If anything had happened to you tonight, I would never have forgiven myself.”
“What makes you think you’re responsible for my safety?” She looked up at him, her eyes wide in the moonlit darkness. Tanner didn’t reply. The question had triggered memories that would haunt him forever.
“Something’s bothering you, I can tell,” she said. “What is it, Tanner? I want to understand.”
He took a sharp breath and let it out in a long, slow exhalation. He never talked about what had happened two years ago in Wyoming. But maybe it was time.
“I was a deputy sheriff back in Wyoming,” he said. “It was a good life, helping my brother run the family ranch and working as a part-time lawman to help out in the lean times.”
Rose nestled closer, like a child about to hear a bedtime story. Maybe I should stop, Tanner thought. But now he’d started, so it was too late for that.
“My brother and I both had families. He and his wife, Ruth, had four youngsters, and now they’re now expecting a fifth. My wife . . . Annie.” Even the name was painful to speak. “We’d been married just three years. We had a young son and another baby on the way . . .”
Tanner bit back a surge of emotion and continued. “My work as a deputy was pretty routine—a few burglaries, some stolen cattle, some domestics. But all that changed when a wanted serial killer named Cletus Murchison, who’d murdered a woman in the next county over, was tracked to a mountain cabin above our town. To make a long story short, there was a standoff, with half a dozen local lawmen pinned down on the slope below the cabin. I volunteered to circle around the back way and try to take him from the rear.”
“And did it work?” Rose asked.
“It did, mostly because I was too dumb and inexperienced to know any better. I shot the bastard through the window, from behind. He was dead before he even knew he’d been hit.
“The news media called me a hero, and I guess it went to my head some. The county folks decided to hold a ceremony and give me a medal. My wife was proud and wanted to be part of it, but on the night of the celebration, our boy got the flu, and Annie wasn’t feeling so great herself. There was nothing to do but leave them home and go by myself.”
The memories were raging now, ripping into him and through him like claws. Tanner wanted to stop, but this was a story he knew he had to finish.
“I drove home to find our house in flames. I tried, almost died trying, before the firemen dragged me out—but it was too late to save my wife and son.”
“Oh, Tanner,” Rose whispered.
“Murchison had a brother. He set the fire. I was still in the hospital when the feds caught him the next day. He died last year in a prison stabbing . . .”
* * *
Tanner was quivering with emotion. Rose wrapped her arms around him. He was broken, as she was, but more painfully than she could even imagine.
“It was my own fault. If I hadn’t been so damned full of myself, I’d have turned down the award, canceled the ceremony, and been there to protect my family.”
“You couldn’t have known,” Rose said.
“I should’ve at least been worried about leaving them alone, with no one watching the place. But it didn’t enter my damn fool head.” Tanner took a long, painful breath. His hand stroked Rose’s hair. “I went back to the ranch and tried to move on. But everything I saw and heard reminded me of what I’d lost. When I read about this job opening, I knew I had to apply. I was hoping it would help me make a new start, but all I’ve done is bring my old baggage with me.”
Rose’s arms tightened around him. Was this why he seemed so protective of her, because he’d once failed to protect the people he loved?
Tilting her face upward, she brushed his lips with hers. She’d never made such a move with a man before, but he was so wounded, so much in need of comfort that she forgot to be afraid.
The low sound in his throat could have been a growl or a sob as he responded to her kiss, his lips caressing hers so gently that she wanted to weep with the sweetness of it. Wanting more, she arched upward against him, inviting his hands to graze her body through the fabric of her nightgown. She had been forced, raped, and violated by men, but she had never been loved—and only now did Tanner’s tenderness give her the courage to want what every woman deserved.
“Take me, Tanner,” she whispered. “Make love to me.”
Without a word, he rose, lifting her in his arms. His long strides carried her back to the bedroom, where he lowered her to the bed, kicked off his boots, lay down beside her, and took her in his arms. His hands found their way under her nightgown,
gliding up her body, cupping her breasts, triggering whorls of sheer pleasure.
“I want you, Rose.” His lips brushed her ear. “But I don’t want to hurt you or frighten you. Anytime you want me to stop—”
Her kiss blocked the rest of his words. Her hands tugged at his belt buckle. He helped her, then paused to roll away, drop his jeans and briefs, and fumble with something in his wallet. It took a moment before Rose realized he was protecting her.
Lying back, she opened her arms. A memory flashed through her mind—the pain, the sweat, the awful grunting and thrusting, and the shame that never went away; but it vanished as he held her close. Her hand felt his arousal, like velvet-cloaked steel, and suddenly she was no longer afraid. Her legs parted. She waited for him.
“Lie still, Rose.” He surprised her by moving down in the bed until his head was between her legs. She gasped at the sudden, intimate contact. Exquisite sensations poured through her body. Her womb pulsed and contracted. She cried out. Never in her life had she known that anything could feel like this.
With a low chuckle, he slid forward and entered her in one smooth glide. She was ready, more than ready. Her legs wrapped around his hips as he pushed deeper, heightening the waves of ecstasy that his mouth had ignited. It was . . . heaven.
Afterward, he held her gently, kissing her face, her eyes, her throat. “You know I mustn’t stay,” he whispered.
“I know. But hold me just a little longer. You make me feel safe, Tanner, for the first time in my life.”
* * *
He left her, after checking to make sure the door was locked and that her pistol was loaded and handy. “I’ll see you soon,” he said. “Be careful.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said. “Thanks to you, Jasper and Bull have become like old mother hens. They’ll take good care of me, and probably drive me crazy.”
“Good for them.” After a final kiss he crossed the creek and walked back to the pickup he’d left at the edge of the trees. There was no sign that Garn Prescott had come back, but Tanner’s instincts were prickling. Since he was far from sleepy, it wouldn’t hurt to spend more time checking the pastures and the entrances and exits to the ranch. Maybe tonight he’d find a clue to the mystery of Ferg’s missing cattle.
CHAPTER TWELVE
TANNER HEADED THE TRUCK BACK THE WAY HE HAD COME. IT WAS still too early for cattle-rustling activity. He would go back to the bunkhouse and put in a call to his brother, then lay out a plan for the rest of the night.
Rose would be safe in her sturdy trailer, he told himself. Still, he planned to circle back that way later just to make sure. He knew that past guilt was working on his mind. He’d lost his loved ones because he’d taken their safety for granted. He was probably being overcautious, but Rose had become precious to him. Their lovemaking had been sweet and healing—though he could never be completely healed from the loss of his family.
Was he falling in love with her?
Falling, at least. But love was a word Tanner didn’t use lightly. He and Annie had been childhood sweethearts. They’d known each other all their lives. That was love. Feisty, sensual little Rose had come into his life only days ago. She fascinated him. She’d filled his dreams with erotic fantasies—fantasies that had become real in her bed tonight.
But love?
Maybe he’d be smart to nip the relationship in the bud. He didn’t want to hurt Rose. She deserved far better than that. She deserved a man who’d treat her like a queen, a man who’d stay by her side and never leave her. Even if he wanted to be that man, Tanner knew he didn’t have it in him. His heart would never be whole again.
Getting Rose’s expectations up, then letting her down, would be cruel—and Lord knows, she’d known enough cruelty from men in her life. The last thing he wanted was to become one more.
A coyote streaked into his headlights. Tanner touched the brake to let the animal bound off into the darkness. He had no quarrel with coyotes, especially tonight when he was still feeling the afterglow from making love to Rose. But the ranch lights in the distance ahead reminded him that he had serious work to do.
A couple of days ago, he had zeroed in on a small herd of mature steers. They were prime quality, market ready, perfect targets for theft. Acting on a hunch, he’d kept a close eye on their pasture. So far he’d seen nothing, but he planned to watch again tonight. It might be a waste of time, but maybe the rustlers would show up and he’d be lucky enough to catch them in the act.
It was coming up on nine-thirty. He’d have time to call his brother from the bunkhouse, grab a sandwich and some coffee, and catch a couple hours of shut-eye before getting back to work.
Driving past the house, he noticed that Garn’s black Porsche was missing from the lineup of parked vehicles. Maybe Ferg’s son had gone to town for some Blanco Springs–style excitement. That was fine, as long as he wasn’t hanging around Rose’s place. But Tanner planned to check later on, just to make sure.
In the bunkhouse, most of the cowhands were either sleeping or watching TV in the common room. The hall, where the pay phones were set up, was quiet. Tanner deposited the handful of change he’d saved up and called his brother. With luck, Clint would be indoors at this hour and able to talk with him.
“Is that you, Tanner?” Clint had a way of shouting into the phone when he knew it was long distance. “Lord, it’s been tough, here. Ruth’s in danger of delivering early, so the doc’s ordered bed rest. I hired a woman from town to help her out with the house and kids, but that costs money.”
“I’ll send more, Clint. I get paid tomorrow. There’ll be another five hundred in the mail.”
“It’s not just the money, Tanner. It’s you. I need you to come and help me run this ranch. The high school kid I hired wasn’t worth spit. I let him go yesterday. And the calving season’s on.”
“We need the income from this job,” Tanner said. “But maybe when I wrap up this case I can take unpaid leave for a couple of weeks to help you with the calving. I’ll see what I can do.”
It was a mercy to run out of phone change. Tanner ended the call writhing with guilt. He had deep roots in the family ranch, and he knew his brother needed help. But he would have drowned in despair if he hadn’t left to take this job. He would send his brother every cent he could spare. Maybe someday he would be strong enough to return to Wyoming and take up his life without Annie and Ethan. But he wasn’t ready to go back. Not yet.
He made himself a sandwich in the kitchen and washed it down with stale coffee. Then he went down the hall to his small private room, set the radio alarm, stretched out on the bunk, and closed his eyes. He’d had it with the Prescott family drama and with not finding any answers to the cattle theft. One way or another, he needed to wrap up this frustrating case and move on.
But as he drifted off to sleep, it was the memory of Rose’s beautifully flawed face that haunted him.
* * *
Ferg splashed his cheeks and jaw with Old Spice before going out the door. He might not have bothered, but Bonnie had mentioned that the scent turned her on, and he wanted her turned on tonight.
As he drove his new Cadillac to town he whistled along with the radio. It hadn’t been a great day—hell, it hadn’t been a great week with the missing cattle and all. But hot sex with Bonnie was like a tonic. She made him feel like a young stud again. He would almost marry the woman—if only he could expect her to be faithful.
He’d thought about marrying again—in the hope of getting a more promising son than Garn, if nothing else. But he hadn’t done so well the first time. And wives were trouble. They wanted constant attention. They wanted money. And if they weren’t happy, they’d leave you and take a chunk of everything you owned. Marriage, for what you got out of it, wasn’t worth the risk.
So why bother, when there were women like Bonnie?
The hour was late—it was almost midnight. But Bonnie always saved late nights for him in case he wanted to stay for an encore, or just to have a few drinks. He kne
w he wasn’t her only lover, but he was the only one who mattered. Most of the time he left cash on her dresser, and he wasn’t stingy. But when he didn’t, he knew it was all right with her. Their relationship was about more than money. She was his girl, and he was her special man.
Ferg’s buoyant mood evaporated as he pulled up to Bonnie’s house, parked discreetly down the street as he usually did, and climbed out of his car. There, parked at the curb right in front, for all to see, was an all-too-familiar black Porsche.
There was only one car like that in the whole county. What the devil was Garn doing here?
Stupid question. As if he didn’t know.
As Ferg stood fuming by the curb, Bonnie’s front door opened. Garn stepped out, then strutted down the sidewalk as if knowing he had an audience.
Livid, Ferg stepped into his path, blocking his way. “You’ve got some explaining to do, boy,” he said.
Garn laughed. “I don’t owe you an explanation, or anything else, Daddy-O,” he said. “Bonnie’s in there now, making herself fresh and pretty for you. Nothing else that happened in the past hour is any of your business.”
It was all Ferg could do to keep from ramming his son’s front teeth down his throat. “Are you trying to make me a laughingstock? Find your own damn woman!”
“Why bother? Bonnie’s available, and she knows the score. By now, you should know it, too. No complications, just good, clean fun.” Garn smirked. “Fun for all! When you do her tonight, remember that I was in that sweet spot before you. As they say in some circles, I buttered your bun.”
Ferg slapped his son. His big hand struck with a force that he felt all the way up his arm. Garn reeled and staggered, but the smug smile Ferg hated never left his face.
“You watch your mouth with your father, you namby-pamby little punk. Show some respect.”
“I lost my respect for you years ago.” Hatred glimmered in Garn’s eyes as he faced his father. “That’s the last time you’ll ever lay a hand on me, old man,” he said. Then, still smiling, he walked around Ferg and out to his car.
