King's Ransom

by Sharon Sala

  He lifted himself over her, nearly blind with a need to dissolve into this woman below him.

  Her soft whisper barely penetrated through the blood thundering in his ears, but when it did, it stopped him cold.

  “I don’t have to forget what never was,” Jesse said, and slid her hands down the tightly bunched muscles tensing along his back. Her hands slid around his waist, urging him to finish what they’d started.

  King blinked, shook his head slowly, then leaned forward, collapsing his entire weight as he buried his face in the curve of her neck.

  “What in hell are you telling me, Jesse Rose?” he pleaded, then lifted himself away, focusing on the clear blue gaze beneath him. He was falling into space, weightless and out of control.

  “That I love you, King McCandless. And that I’ve waited a lifetime to show you how much.”

  “No…no, Jess,” King groaned in disbelief, suddenly afraid to move, yet knowing he had to. It was just that this gift was so much more than he’d expected…so much more than he deserved.

  “Please,” Jesse begged, and felt his silent answer as he slowly surged forward.

  It was only a tiny, fleeting pressure that erupted into one blinding flash of pain, and then the sensation of emptiness Jesse had felt for so long completely disappeared as King swelled within her.

  King winced, regretting the need for the tiny gasp he heard, and saw her eyes flutter as she bit against her lower lip to keep from crying aloud.

  “I’m sorry. So sorry, baby,” he muttered, and bent down, placing kisses of repentance on her eyelids and down the sides of her mouth. “But I can promise you this, it’s the last pain I’ll ever willingly give you. From now on, Jesse, it’s nothing but pleasure.”

  His body tensed as he took a deep, agonized breath, then began to move slowly in a rhythm as old as time. Just before words became more than he could form, he managed to whisper his promise into the silence of the room before Jesse took him into paradise. “Sweet, sweet, pleasure.”

  * * *

  Duncan watched the smoke from his window high above Tulsa, and judged the location to be near, if not actually on, the Double M. He knew it was a grass fire—a big one, judging by the size of the smoke clouds. His eyes narrowed, his lips thinned, and the planes of his face angled and flattened until he was barely recognizable.

  “The whole damn place can go up in smoke for all I care,” he muttered.

  He walked to the bar and poured himself another drink. It seemed these days that that was all he was able to do—drink to avoid what he knew lay in wait. He walked back to the window with his drink in hand and stood silently, debating with himself about the wisdom of going out to the ranch to help. Finally, what was left of his conscience rallied. He spun about, intent on driving to the ranch, when the phone rang and stopped him squarely in the middle of the living room floor.

  Now he had to decide whether to answer it or let it ring. It could be a number of people, all of whom he owed money, and he nearly didn’t answer. But the persistent, shrill tone won out over his jangled nerves.

  “McCandless,” he said shortly, then let his drink spill slowly from his glass onto the carpeted floor.

  “I know who it is, Boss,” the voice whined. “And you know who this is, too. Damn it, you promised to come back. I got hungry, man. I needed to eat, and I needed medicine.”

  “What the hell do you want?” Duncan asked, his voice low and angry. “And where are you?”

  “You know what I want. I need cash. I’m here…in town. And I ain’t got no way to disappear. They’re lookin’ for me all over. You got to help me. After all, this was your idea,” he said accusingly.

  “It wasn’t my idea to hurt her,” he said all too softly. “And it wasn’t my damned idea to go passing hot checks and get caught on video at the same time, you stupid son-of-a-bitch. I don’t have any money, thanks to you. And you better get the hell out of Tulsa, because I’ll finish what Jesse started if you don’t. Do I make myself, clear?”

  Lynch shuddered at the still, ominous quality in the man’s voice, and knew the moment of truth had arrived. Now not only were the cops after him for attempted murder and kidnapping, but this man, a formidable foe, also had good reason to want him dead. With one last act of bravado, he whined, “Well, if the cops get me, you’ll be next.”

  “No, I won’t,” Duncan sneered. “I’m not stupid. There’s absolutely nothing linking me to you, or the crime, except your word. Who do you think the cops will believe—a concerned member of the family or a murdering crook?”

  “You bastard!” Lynch cried. “You got to help me.”

  “Where are you?” Duncan asked quietly.

  Suddenly, Wiley Lynch knew he’d said too much. He had pushed a man he was mortally afraid of too far.

  “Never mind,” Lynch muttered. “I’ll get myself out of town. I’ll hitch a ride…something. Just forget I asked, okay, Boss?”

  Just then another truckload of livestock pulled into the stockyards by the pay phone Wiley Lynch was using. The constant bellow and lowing of the load of cattle and the truck’s shifting gears echoed into the receiver.

  “Okay, Boss?” he repeated. But the line went dead as Duncan McCandless gently placed the phone back on the hook.

  Lynch stood, staring in horror at the milling crowd of people around him and began to shake. McCandless knew where he was! He dropped the receiver, letting it dangle in the wind and heat, and began to run in a scurrying fashion back to the pile of shipping crates behind the sale barn, unaware of several people’s curious, suspicious stares. First chance he got, he would be on a cattle truck heading west.

  * * *

  King lay quietly, absorbing the rise and fall of Jesse’s breasts beneath his hand, and watched the first ray of morning lighten the shadows in his room. He raised up on one elbow and propped his head in his hands so he could watch her sleep.

  Her lashes lay like thick, curly fans on her windburned cheeks, and King felt a fierce wave of protectfulness sweep over him at the thought of anyone, or anything, ever hurting Jesse again.

  She was so small and fragile in appearance, yet King knew what a strong, fierce spirit she possessed. She was more than a match for his physical strength. She’d proven that over and over throughout the night as King would take her to the brink of passion, pushing her right to the edge of reason, and then, just before she felt herself fly into a million pieces beneath his mouth and hands, he’d gather her into his arms, and with one wild thrust send them both falling through mindless space.

  He leaned over, gently ran the tip of his finger along the line of her slightly swollen lower lip, humble with the knowledge of what Jesse had saved, then given to him last night. Please God, may I never make her sorry.

  He inhaled sharply at the quick, intense reaction of his body as Jesse rolled over and buried her face against his chest. He was instantly hard, throbbing with a need he knew only Jesse could fill. Her arms slid around him as she pulled herself against the thrust of his body, and King felt himself lose it as she opened her mouth, nuzzled against his chest, took a hard brown nipple between her teeth and pressed lightly.

  “Does that feel as good to you as it does to me?” Jesse whispered.

  King’s sudden intake of breath told her what he could not. She did it once more for good measure, and found herself on top of his hard, aching body. Jesse had one swift look at the wild flare of passion in his eyes before he groaned and slid into her.

  “Does that feel as good to you as it does to me?” he asked in return, and pulled her hips down tightly across him.

  Jesse gasped and moaned, as he began moving beneath her in a soft, tantalizing thrust.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” she mumbled. And then she forgot why she’d answered as King took her on a ride she’d never forget.

  It was some time later before either of them could move, and even later before they could think. Finally the phone rang, ending their lethargy. King reluctantly released Jesse and rolled ov
er to answer.

  It was Maggie and she was on her way home. That message had them both on their feet and hurrying to dress. Maggie would know soon enough about the new turn of events between them, but they wanted to tell her not show her. By the time Maggie arrived, they had coffee brewed and breakfast waiting on the table.

  “My stars,” she announced as she came through the front door. “Are you two all right? It looks like the place nearly went up in flames yesterday.”

  She was referring to the huge, blackened swath covering the hillside. Before either King or Jesse could answer, Maggie took another, closer look at the expressions on their faces. She smiled slyly. “Or maybe it wasn’t the Double M that went up in flames last night. Is there something you two want to tell me?”

  Guilt painted an embarrassed blush on King’s face. He stuttered. Then he started to explain, grinned sheepishly and pulled her into his arms, whirling her around the living room floor, much to her surprise and glee.

  “You’re not the only love of my life, woman. Put your bag down and come to breakfast. We’ll fill you in on what you think you’ve missed.” Then he added, “At least part of it.”

  The last dish was washed and put away as King came back through the door. He’d been outside, overseeing the damage they’d sustained, and issuing orders for the day.

  “Jesse Rose,” he called, slamming the door shut behind him. “If you’re barefoot, grab your shoes. We’re going to Tulsa to pick up the cattle check at the stockyard.”

  “But I was going to help…” she started to say, when he pulled her off her feet and into his arms, fixing her with an unwavering stare.

  “If you think I’m leaving you here alone again, you’re crazy, woman. You can’t be trusted, and I’m too tired to rescue you again today. Okay?”

  Jesse smiled, placed a kiss in the vicinity of his left ear, and whispered softly so that the grinning Maggie couldn’t overhear, “How come you’re so tired?” she teased. “Was it something I said…or was it something I did?”

  “Witch,” he growled, and set her down before he embarrassed them both. “Get your damn shoes.”

  King pulled the Lincoln carefully between stock trailers and semi-trucks that were loading and unloading droves of milling, bawling, cattle. He parked between a Cadillac and a rusted-out pickup truck.

  There was less class-consciousness among farmers and ranchers than any other group of working men in America. Whether they ran a big spread or a nickel-and-dime operation on weekends only, they all faced the same frustrations and joys, and at one time or another they all wound up with manure on their boots. Ranching had a way of equalizing men.

  “My check will be at the office, Jess,” he said, as he parked. “Come with me.”

  “I know,” Jesse chided, as she scooted across the seat. “You don’t trust me.”

  “I love you, baby,” he whispered, and dipped his head to steal a kiss from her pouting lips. “Trust me, okay?”

  The hot breeze whipped the skirt of Jesse’s light green sundress around her legs and outlined her slim body in a tantalizing caress. King jammed his hat down on his head and guided Jesse between the parked and moving vehicles.

  “Whew,” he muttered, as they stepped quickly inside, shutting the wind and heat and the ever-present smell of manure and diesel smoke outside. “You can sit here, Jesse,” he said, indicating a row of assorted wood and metal folding chairs outside the cashier’s window. “It may take a while. They may not have the check ready. I don’t mind telling you, it’s just luck that I hauled that herd off to market when I did. The fire would have taken some of them for sure.”

  Then, realizing what he’d said about the fire, he frowned. Ignoring any curious stares or whispers from anyone present, he cupped her face in his hands and tilted it toward him.

  “I wasn’t lucky yesterday, Jesse. I was blessed. But not because the stock was saved.” His voice was low and husky; his dark eyes filled with promise and regret.

  “I know, King,” Jesse said, and caressed the hand cupping her cheek. “It’s okay. Go on and get in line. I’ll just wait here.” She took a seat between two grinning women who’d witnessed their interchange.

  * * *

  Lynch couldn’t believe his eyes. It was the boss, kissing the same woman he’d hired him to snatch.

  “What the hell is goin’ on here?” he whined to himself, and slipped behind the pair as they hurried toward the offices.

  He’d been trying ever since daybreak to sneak aboard an empty cattle truck, but so far had remained unsuccessful. The drivers were careful to search their empty trailers before taking off. They had no desire to haul hitchhikers. It was dangerous, and it was illegal.

  Now Lynch wondered if it wasn’t fate that made him miss a ride. Maybe he could still get some money. McCandless wouldn’t want to cause a scene in front of the woman. He rubbed his hands together gleefully, and stayed just out of sight as King and Jesse entered the offices. Now all he had to do was wait.

  * * *

  “Hey, boy!” a loud, boisterous voice boomed out behind King and Jesse as they left the sale barn on their way back to the car. “How ’bout a loan?”

  King grinned and turned to see one of his dad’s old friends.

  “You need a loan?” King teased. “Not in this lifetime, Booster. You could loan money to the federal government and never miss it.”

  The grizzled old cowboy’s cackle was nearly drowned out by the noise of a truck pulling away from the stockyards.

  “Here, honey,” King said, as he handed Jesse the car keys. “Go on and get in out of the heat. I’ll just say ‘hi’ to Booster.”

  “Okay,” Jesse said. “Give him my love.”

  “I’ll tell him you said ‘hi’, too,” King growled. “Your love’s all mine.”

  Jesse felt her face flame along with an answering fire in the pit of her stomach. Lord have mercy, she thought, as she headed for the car’s cool comfort, I’ve created a monster. And then she grinned to herself. And he’s all mine.

  King was momentarily trapped between two long, semi-trailer trucks, one coming, one going. He stepped back against the bumper of a parked truck and ducked his head as the dust boiled up his nostrils and into his eyes. When a man behind him began to speak it startled him. He didn’t even know anyone was around. He turned sideways, blinking rapidly as he tried to see past the film of dust coating his vision.

  “Hey, Boss,” the man whined. “What’s the damn deal? I saw you kiss her. If you was on them kinda terms, how come you wanted her snatched?”

  King couldn’t believe what he was hearing, nor could he believe who he thought he was seeing.

  “What in hell?” he muttered as he rubbed his eyes, anxiously trying to remove the dirt and grit. The man was still there…and he looked just like…

  “I need some dough,” the man said, and hitched at his pants as they slid down his skinny hips. “Don’t tell me again that you’re broke. I just saw you go in the office and pick up that big fat check. All I need is a little to get me out of town. I swear you’ll never hear from me again. I won’t tell no one about our deal. I swear it. I know I screwed up, but you should have told me that LeBeau woman was no sissy.”

  It was when he mentioned Jesse’s name that King was certain who was talking to him. But he couldn’t get past the horror building inside his mind. Why did Lynch think he knew him?

  “Lynch? Wiley Lynch?” King growled huskily, and started toward him.

  “What the…?” Lynch muttered, and felt with certainty that he’d just made a terrible, terrible mistake. He didn’t know that deep, unfamiliar voice. He knew the face, but not the voice.

  “Who are you?” he asked, and began to stumble backward. “You’re not McCandless!”

  “Yes, I am, you son-of-a-bitch,” King growled. “I’m the one who was going to cough up the half million. And I know who you are too. You’re dead.”

  Wiley Lynch took one last, wild look at the big man, and began to run. He
didn’t have to look behind to see if McCandless was following him. He could hear him. He knew it would take a miracle to escape the wrath of the big man who was quickly closing the distance between them.

  “Miss LeBeau?” a man asked, as he stepped from behind King’s Lincoln and flashed his badge.

  The sunlight caught and held on the shiny metal as Jesse looked up, startled. Suddenly she was afraid. The man, so out of place in suit and tie, took her firmly by the elbow.

  “Oklahoma State Bureau of Investigation,” he said, as they walked quickly toward another group of men all dressed in similar fashion. A familiar, short, stocky figure emerged from the men and took Jesse by the hand.

  “Miss LeBeau,” he greeted her. “It’s been a while. You look much better than the last time I saw you. Would you please come with me? The men here have a job to finish, and you and McCandless out of the line of fire, so to speak.”

  “Captain Shockey?” Jesse said, stunned to see the Missouri policeman here in Oklahoma.

  The implications of his presence began to dawn on her, and she spun around, frantically searching the crowded parking lot for King.

  “We got a tip last night that Lynch might be here,” he said. “Couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw you two come out of the offices. Fate plays funny tricks sometimes.”

  “King,” she asked, and clutched his arm in fear. “He was right behind me, and now I don’t see him.”

  Her voice began to shake, and her legs went weak.

  One of the OSBI men frowned at her statement. He motioned for some of the men to follow, then one of the trucks blocking their vision finally moved. He stood transfixed for mere seconds before he began to run.

  “It’s Lynch,” he yelled, as they started in fast pursuit, “and McCandless is after him.”

  The men split up, running in parallel paths, hoping to converge on the fleeing suspect should he try to escape down one of the many narrow paths between the dozens of holding corrals where the livestock were kept until sold at auction.

  Jesse started to follow, but was pulled back by Shockey’s strong, unyielding grasp.