by Jill Gregory
“Mr. McCallum, can we bring Batman back to my house tonight?” Brett asked before Zach could answer. “I want him to meet China’s puppies.”
“Not tonight. You boys are leaving early tomorrow morning, remember? I bet your folks have their hands full without having to bring Batman home at the crack of dawn.”
“Our foreman, Randy, can do it,” Brett pleaded. “He’s in charge of China and the puppies while we’re gone—he could bring Batman home—”
“Another time, Brett.” Zach smiled at the two boys. “Did everyone have dinner?”
“Yeah, fried chicken!” Dillon grinned.
“And french fries,” Brett added happily.
“Not to mention corn on the cob—and watermelon.” Faith rose. “Neely’s an excellent cook.”
“Did she bite your head off?” he asked in some amusement. “She takes a while to warm to people—I meant to be here to introduce you—”
“Don’t worry, Dad, Neely likes Ms. Barclay,” Dillon interrupted him, scooping Jelly up with a big smile on his face. “Ms. Barclay made the french fries!”
“Did she now?” Zach raised his brows as Faith actually laughed.
“One of my many talents,” she murmured with a wry grin.
“Charming Neely must be one of them,” he told her. “She doesn’t let just anyone enter her kitchen, you know, much less touch the potato peeler.”
“She didn’t seem charmed to me.” Faith remembered the way the woman had twisted her lips as Faith had first peeled a dozen red potatoes, then sliced them into finger-length wedges. “I’ve seen hanging judges with friendlier expressions.”
“You should see her if she doesn’t like someone,” Zach assured her. “She’d have shoved you out of her kitchen so fast your eyes would cross.”
“Neely’s a big grouch.” Dillon looked earnestly at Faith. “But she really liked you. I could tell.”
Zach saw warmth in the smile Faith gave his boy, but also something else . . . a flicker of sadness. What was that all about?
“Okay, you young cowboys,” he said aloud, more than ever determined to have some time alone with her, “let’s get your gear loaded. We’ve got to hit the road.”
As the boys scooped up the cats and left the barn, Zach watched Faith dust off some hay clinging to her jeans. She looked beautiful—far more alluring than any socialite or Texas debutante he’d ever seen. In her dark brown sweater and cream-colored pants, she looked sensuous and classy all at once and he fought the urge to drag her into an empty stall, kiss her breathless, and make love to her before the boys came back.
“Sorry I missed dinner,” he told her instead. “Something came up at work.”
“That’s what Dillon told me. Trouble?”
She found herself wondering at the tension she saw in his eyes. Zach wasn’t one to show emotion, and he’d hidden it while the boys were there, but she knew him well enough to recognize the shadow of worry now that they were alone. With his next words, she understood the cause.
“There was a bomb threat at the construction site of my new offices.” As she drew in her breath, his face tightened.
“It was a hoax—this time. Probably someone trying to send me a message.”
“What sort of message?”
“Don’t build the camp,” he said shortly.
She searched his eyes, and wasn’t surprised at the grim resolve she saw in them. Zach would never back down from something he believed in.
“There’s a petition being circulated in town,” she told him, biting her lip.
“I’ve seen it.”
He paced toward the stalls, reaching in to pat the horses that thrust their nuzzles toward him. “I never thought I’d say this, Faith, but I’ll be happy when your brother gets back. I might not be Ty’s favorite person, but he wouldn’t let that interfere with doing his job. Deputy Keene isn’t exactly a model of law enforcement professionalism.”
“I got that impression.” She went to the bench along the wall where saddles hung on hooks. “Does Ty give you a hard time—because of . . . us?”
“We ignore each other.” Zach grinned, a dark swarthy grin that showed he wasn’t the least bit intimidated by Faith’s big brother. “I can’t blame him for hating me. I treated you badly. If I had a sister and someone treated her the way I treated you . . .”
His voice trailed away as he saw the expression in her eyes. Was that the shimmer of tears? It was hard to tell in the dimness. She blinked quickly, and he thought he must have been mistaken.
“Don’t,” Faith said. “Don’t talk about it. It’s over, Zach, we can’t go back.”
It was the first real glimpse he’d ever had of her pain. It shook him. What he saw was an anguish deeper than he could have ever guessed. For that one flashing instant he saw what lay beneath the cool facade, the artless sarcasm, the careful distance.
“Faith—”
“What’s the point, Zach?” Faith lashed out, thankful for the flare of temper. “Our lives have gone in completely different directions, and there’s no going back—”
“Who says?” He clamped his hands on her shoulders and her eyes widened on his.
“I say,” she bit out. “To . . . to think anything else would be ridiculous—”
“Stop thinking then.” Zach’s voice was rough. His eyes were hot, glittering shards. “Just tell me what you feel.”
“I—”
He pulled her toward him so quickly the next words were forgotten. Then all words were silenced. And all thoughts. The kiss was hard, demanding. His mouth moved over hers, so warm and compelling that rational thought evaporated and all she knew was a heated desire that filled every inch of her.
She wanted to push him away, to run and not look back, but she found herself leaning into him, melting into the kiss as if it were the most natural thing in the world. As his arms tightly encircled her, she murmured sounds of pleasure, her blood racing, making her heart skip beat after beat.
His hands slid upward, tangling themselves in her hair, gliding through the loose curls as his mouth continued its burning assault on hers. He was playing dirty, she thought dimly, woozily. Kissing her in a dark, needy way that stole both her breath and her defenses.
He was too good at this. Much too good at this. And she couldn’t think anymore, not at all. Which was exactly what he wanted.
She meant to push him away. She did. But instead she pulled him closer, her arms sliding around his neck, her mouth hot and hungry against his.
Was she insane?
Oh, God, yes.
His hands eased down her body, rubbing, enticing. They stroked over her hips, then dipped lower, past the waistband of her pants, until he cupped her curved bottom tight against him. Faith moaned with pleasure as his strong hands caressed her, aroused her as she hadn’t been aroused in years, even when she was with Kevin. The barn and the hay and the horses blurred.
Her hands flew to his shirt, unbuttoning buttons, touching his warm skin, brushing across the crisp dark chest hair even as his mouth tore at hers.
She felt hot, dizzy, exhilarated, and terrified all at the same time. Her eyes were closed, her senses intensified, and raw need whistled through her as their kisses deepened and her body awakened and the tempeature in the barn soared as if the hay were on fire . . .
“Aw right!”
The childish voice split them apart in a flash. As one they both spun toward the door, where Dillon and Brett stood grinning.
“Does this mean you’re going to get married?” Dillon asked eagerly, racing forward as his father and Faith Barclay stared at him, looking stunned and embarrassed.
“No.” Zach took a deep breath, still feeling shaken from the kiss, and hoping to hell he didn’t show it. “It doesn’t mean anything of the sort.” His voice was hoarse, dammit. He cleared his throat.
“How long have you two been there? Didn’t I teach you not to sneak up on people?”
“We weren’t sneaking, Mr. McCallum,” Brett expl
ained, unable to squelch his grin. “We’ve got Dillon’s duffel and backpack, and we just came to tell you we were ready and—”
“I should let all of you get going,” Faith interrupted breathlessly. She smoothed a trembling hand through her hair as sanity surged back. And with it, mortification.
“Come with us for the ride.” Zach caught her hand as if sensing her instinct to run. His gaze was warm on hers. She knew she shouldn’t . . .
“Yeah, come with us,” Dillon repeated. His eyes shone with a hopefulness that split open her heart.
Brett added to the chorus. “Yeah, come on. You can see China’s puppies!”
Zach squeezed her hand. Her slim fingers felt engulfed by his gentle encompassing grip. Uncharacteristic indecision held her silent and before she realized what was happening, all four of them piled into the pickup, along with Batman, his tail thumping wildly.
He crouched undetected upon a rise fifty feet away, shadowed by newly fallen darkness. A light thrumming rain began to fall as he watched them drive away.
The night-vision goggles he’d ordered online perfectly illuminated the scene in weird greenish detail. He noted their expressions, the laughter of the little boys, the tension in Faith Barclay’s profile. The slight smile on Zach McCallum’s face as he turned on the windshield wipers.
What a moment this was. His fingers and arms were tingling with excitement.
And a white-hot anticipation.
To think he’d never known about this before. About what it felt like to slaughter a human being. He’d never done anything like it before, and now he couldn’t wait to do it again.
It was like a drug pumping through the blood, filling him with energy, with power. With joy.
Much better, he thought, the goggles following the pickup until it disappeared from sight, than hunting stupid animals. And, incredibly, even better than sex.
He’d never felt anything as erotic and sublime as that white-hot surge of dark lovely power that came with extinguishing a human life.
But ever since that night, when he’d driven the knife over and over into the blond whore’s soft flesh and shredding bone, he could think of little else except doing it again.
He couldn’t wait to take his knife to the assistant district attorney. He couldn’t wait to watch the terror in Faith Barclay’s eyes before the very first thrust.
But he would make himself wait. He would draw it out. Scare her some more. Keep her awake at night until she was exhausted and weak and dizzy with fear. She mustn’t get off easy.
And then, when he’d practiced some more, savored some more, let her move and breathe and sweat in terror just a little longer, he would finish it. He’d stand over her and demand answers.
There were so many questions—they screamed every minute in his head.
But let them. She would tell him everything before she died.
And she’d never see it coming.
Soon, he thought, standing in the darkness so near to where she’d passed only a few moments ago. Soon I’ll show myself to you and you’ll see what comes to whores like you.
No mercy.
She gave none, did she? She was so sure she was right. So sure she’d get away with it. But she was all that stood between him and what he wanted more than anything in this world.
Damn her. Stupid, arrogant, condescending bitch. He would sing with joy as he cut her, cut her, cut her down.
Chapter 18
“HOW LONG WILL DILLON BE GONE?” TENTATIVELY, Faith broke the silence in the pickup as they neared the turnoff leading to the Last Trail ranch house.
Batman had settled down across the backseat on the drive home and was softly snoring. The only other sounds were the cacophony of crickets in the darkness and the occasional howl of a coyote from the hills.
“Two weeks.” Zach avoided the raccoon crouched at the side of the road, and turned the pickup onto the tree-lined drive.
“I’m sure you’ll miss him. You two seem very close.”
“We are. And I will. But I’m glad he’s leaving right now.” He glanced at her. “I don’t like what’s going on in Thunder Creek these days. He’s better off away from here until things settle down.”
“You mean the bomb threat. And the petition against the camp.”
“And Candy’s murder.” Zach’s mouth looked hard as cement. “We have pretty good security at the ranch house, but until whoever killed Candy is caught, I’d rather have Dillon safely away.”
“That’s understandable.”
He braked in the driveway and killed the lights as, in the backseat, Batman stirred and clambered to his feet. “It’s time to finish that conversation we started earlier. Are you ready?”
“Just so long as the conversation is the only thing we finish,” she retorted, stepping out of the car.
“I’ll just follow your lead,” Zach assured her, but there was a purely male glint in his eyes as he opened the door for Batman, a glint that had her setting her jaw.
She hadn’t forgotten what had happened in the barn. And she wasn’t about to let anything like that happen again.
“See that you do.” She started toward the house, trying to appear confident, but her heart was thumping. “Let’s make this fast. I need to give Susan a call and check on her and I have some work to do. Let’s just stick to the point and settle whatever it is you think we need to settle with each other.”
“Ten years’ worth of questions, hurt, and doubt, Faith? Settled in a ten-minute conference, like a meeting in the judge’s chambers? I don’t think so.” Zach brushed past her and held open the screen door, a hard gleam in his eyes. “You don’t owe me a thing, Faith, not after the way I treated you—and the promises I broke. But you do owe it to yourself to hear the truth.”
The truth. She had devoted her life to the law, to justice . . . and to the truth. There were times—like in Jimmy Clement’s case—where the search for the truth had gone tragically awry. But not on purpose. She had sought it the best she could.
And with Zach, she had heard it, analyzed it, digested it. But never understood it.
“Fine. Let’s get this over with.” She marched ahead of him as he turned off the beeping alarm, schooling her features to an expression of icy calm, while all the while her heart pounded with the need to stay in control. To keep her cool and her focus—and her mouth shut.
The Last Trail ranch house felt different with Dillon and Brett gone. It felt bigger, quieter, more elegant—and far more subdued.
The marmalade cat scooted along the hallway toward the kitchen, with the kitten following behind. Batman was still outside, and a peaceful silence gripped the high-ceilinged entry hall and all the rooms that branched from it on the main floor.
Neely appeared to be nowhere about.
“Can I get you a drink?” Zach asked as he led her into the living room.
“No. Nothing. Let’s just do this.”
He studied her as she took a seat on the graceful rose and blue upholstered sofa. A short while ago, with the boys and Batman around, she’d looked relaxed, she’d laughed, there’d been warmth in her eyes. Now she looked stiff and wary. A Tiffany lamp shone golden, burnishing her hair, streaking those lush, loose curls with glints of fire, but also revealing the dark shadows smudged beneath her eyes. It didn’t take a genius to figure out she hadn’t been sleeping well, not for a while.
“All right. We’ll do this your way, Faith. No beating around the bush.” He paced to the mantel, gazed a moment at the banked logs, then turned to face her.
“I never should have run off that night and gone back to Texas. I should have talked to you first. Explained.”
“You were afraid,” she said, her tone wooden. “You didn’t know if Pete Harrison was going to live or die. You . . . panicked.”
“No.” The forcefulness of his reply startled her. She stared at him, astonished by the anger tightening his face. “I didn’t panic. Not about Pete. What I did that night had nothing to do with him. It was
about you. And me. And Alicia.”
Zach scraped a hand through his hair and took a step closer. “The night of the dance . . . when I was supposed to pick you up—Alicia called me from Texas. She was hysterical. She told me she was pregnant. And that she was going to kill herself.”
Faith felt the blood draining from her face. There was so much pain in Zach’s eyes she knew without a doubt he was telling her the truth.
“I was in shock,” he said in a low tone. “We’d used protection, but it failed us. I’d told you Alicia and I had broken up three weeks before I came to Thunder Creek.” His gaze held hers. “She’d known she was pregnant for nearly two months before she called me that night and told me. She’d wanted to end the pregnancy—she’d made two appointments under a false name with a clinic fifty miles from Buffalo Springs, but she couldn’t go through with it either time. Thank God,” he added, his face almost gray in the lamplight. “When I think of not having Dillon in my life . . .” He drew in a long breath.
Faith sat perfectly still, her blood cold . . . cold as Rocky Mountain snow.
“Alicia was terrified of her father finding out—either that she was pregnant or that she had an abortion. Deke Andrews indulged her, spoiled her, but he cracked the whip plenty.” Zach went to the sofa, dropped down beside Faith, forcing himself to continue, to get it all out, before he studied her reaction.
“He expected Alicia to play Daddy’s good little girl in public, before his friends and business associates—an unmarried pregnancy would have sent him through the roof.”
Faith felt like the ceiling was dropping down on her piece by piece. She didn’t know what to say.
“I . . . heard the rumors.” There had been plenty of them after Zach left town. Rumors and whispers and sidelong glances. She’d gone back home and left for college a week later, and the rumors had still been swirling. A few had gotten back to her in the months that followed. Some had said he ran off because he’d knocked up a girl in Texas and his father had forced him into a shotgun marriage. Some said he’d run off to escape assault charges and jail after putting Pete into a coma.
