by Piper Stone
Why would Walter go to this extreme? Did he need money that badly and who was he selling his soul to for cash?
Questions I wasn’t going to be able to answer tonight.
A few of the other lights were turned out and I heard several additional vehicles leaving, only the warm glow of the nightlights along the various empty stalls remaining. The cleaning crew was still hard at work getting everything prepared for the next day’s events. We’d be kicked out soon enough, but this was a good a place as any to have a conversation.
My growing suspicions to her concerns remained unfounded, although Holland had insisted on performing a toxicology test on Skywalker. I was certainly going to make some calls in the morning myself. If Walter was involved, he’d make certain to try to cover his tracks. I’d snooped over the last hour, asking leading questions of several of the cowboys. There was nothing concrete, just conjecture of outside interference with some of the ranchers.
That didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out.
I noticed that she was finally walking in my direction, her hands shoved into her pockets. Her expression wasn’t her usual hellion on wheels. She appeared exhausted, although just as beautiful as ever.
“You didn’t have to wait for me. I’m a big girl,” she muttered, stopping several feet away.
I had the distinct feeling she wanted to stay far away from me. “So you keep saying.”
She barely tipped her head, but I could just see the smile curling on her lips. “Long night. I could really use a beer.”
“I think that can be arranged.”
“I need to go back to my place tonight.”
I hesitated before walking closer. “And I have a full day of consultations tomorrow, but I think I might be able to wrangle us a couple of cold ones.” I held out my hand almost on instinct, the action even surprising me. More shocking? She clasped onto my fingers, rubbing her thumb across my palm before firming her grip.
“Shouldn’t we get out of here? I think everyone left.”
“The important creatures are still here.”
I could even see the roll of her eyes in the dim lighting.
“Very funny,” she whispered, a hint of relaxation in her voice.
“Cleaning crew is still here. Afraid of being alone with me?”
She darted a look over her shoulder before giving me a wicked grin. “You? Never.” We continued walking. “I think Skywalker is going to be fine.”
“Thanks to you. Maybe tomorrow we’ll find out about the toxicology tests, confirming your suspicions.” I headed for the concession stand, growling when I noticed the padlock. “Damn it.”
“If I had my tools with me...” she purred. “Of course, some big, hulking cowboy of a man took them away from me.”
My reaction was swift, yanking her closer and tossing her over one arm while I peppered her bottom with several hard swats. “Nice girls aren’t supposed to have burglary tools.”
“Ouch! Who said I was a nice girl?”
She wiggled in my hold, although none of the fighting she’d done before. I was actually beginning to think she was responding to regular spankings. Now I was the one rolling my eyes.
But I didn’t stop the spanking, issuing several more smacks until her breathing became ragged. When I eased her into a standing position, her porcelain face seemed almost iridescent given the moon’s light. “Actually, I think you’re more than just nice, Holland. I think you’re amazing.” I cupped both sides of her face, lifting her head as I lowered mine.
“Montana, I’m not who you think I am,” she whispered.
I pressed my lips against hers, taking my time to breathe in her scent, the fragrance more intoxicating than ever.
She placed her hands over mine, arching her back and leaning further in. The feel of her breasts resting against my chest was almost too powerful. When she darted out her tongue, pushing just past my lips, every ounce of control was ripped away. I wanted her here and now.
I crushed her mouth, dominating her tongue as the kiss became a passionate roar. Explosive fire and blatant need were all wrapped together, the electricity soaring between us.
Undulating her hips, she moaned into the wet kiss, our tongues delving into the dark crevices. Everything about her touch was combustible, my cock pinched against my jeans.
She was the one who broke the connection, taking several steps backward, biting her lower lip. “Mmm... Careful, cowboy. You might get yourself into heaps of trouble.”
“That kind of trouble I like.”
“Well, I’m still a thirsty girl.” Taking long strides, she headed toward the locked door of the concession. “Where’s a sledgehammer when you need one.”
Huffing, I shook my head. “Uh-huh. Even you wouldn’t dare. I might have something in my bag that could help. Now you have me breaking and entering. What’s next? You move from this spot and you get another spanking.”
“Promises, promises. And I wouldn’t dare me for any reason, cowboy.”
Her teasing was stilted. She was placing a shield between us.
“Hey, Cobra. Maybe you need to check your eyesight.”
When I turned, seeing the padlock in her hand, yet another grin on her face, I allowed a single growl. “Please tell me you didn’t bust that lock.”
“Didn’t have to.” Giggling, she pushed the door in, moving into the darkness.
Thank God, I knew the dude who ran the concession stand. A few seconds later, she came out with two longneck bottles, sliding one across her forehead. The move was far too tempting.
“Seems you helped yourself.”
“A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.” She rolled the slick glass across her forehead one more time before holding out the other bottle. “I took the liberty of opening it for you.”
I took the bottle, still finding it difficult to open up the lines of communication. “I think the press is going to have a field day with what happened.”
Holland laughed, the tone bitter. “Julia will make certain of it.”
“I assume you told her about your suspicions.”
“Yeah. She’s really the only friend I have in town. What do you know about Walter Gammon?”
I moved toward the fence, leaning over and taking a few gulps of the beer. “Enough to know you can’t go accusing him of something illegal without corroborating evidence. Even then, he’ll manage to find a way to kick your ass to the curb.”
“Said like a man with experience dealing with him.”
“He’s one hard man.”
“I think I heard you call him an asshole, to be exact,” she said in a teasing manner.
Grinning, I lifted an eyebrow. “When the shoe fits.”
“Another enemy?” she asked, easing her back against the railing. “You seem to have a lot of those. Then I guess we all do.”
I allowed the comment to slide, knowing she was searching for information in the same way I was.
“Julia suggested that you had a reason for returning to Wyoming.”
“A reason,” I huffed. “You could say that.”
She sipped on her beer for a full minute before pressing on. “I’m a good listener.”
“Yeah, well, it’s a story that doesn’t deserve repeating.”
Holland seemed thoughtful. “I like you, Montana.”
“You do, huh? I kinda like you, when you’re not a bratty little bitch.”
“I’m serious. As much as I tried not to like you, I can’t seem to help myself. I think about you often. I know it sounds crazy, but I could fall long and hard for you and that scares me to death. I want to get to know you, every part of you. Your likes and dislikes. Your fears and aspirations. Everything. I know almost nothing, yet we’ve had some of the most amazing sex.”
I could sense her anxiety, as if we were both in unchartered waters. “O-kay. Fair enough. I enjoy being by the ocean and the mountains. I love seafood, especially fried.”
“For a surgeon?”
“
No judging,” I said, wagging my finger.
Her laugh was like sweet music to my ears. “What else?”
“Hmmm... I don’t like thunderstorms or horror movies. My favorite color is red and if I had my choice, I’d be driving the same Ferrari that Tom Selleck drove in Magnum, PI, but that’s not practical here in little ole Cheyenne.”
“Actually, I like the sound of that. One hot surgeon. One amazing sports car. I could get used to having a boyfriend with a vehicle like that.” Both her eyes opened wide, as if horrified she’d issued the word ‘boyfriend.’
“Okay, your turn,” I said, tapping my finger on the tip of her nose.
“Well... Since you’re asking. I adore horror movies, the scarier the better. I loathe fried foods of any kind and the sound of rolling thunder reminds me of my mother.” She bit her lip and looked away. “Oh, and I do enjoy tequila.” She laughed again, her eyes dancing in the moonlight. “Not a match made in heaven, huh?”
“Opposites attract. That’s been proven.” I brushed hair out of her eyes, enjoying the private moment more than I should. I could feel a clamp shutting down my emotions. Why? Because guilt was settling in. “I don’t know if I have what it takes to be in a relationship, as much as I would enjoy trying.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound presumptuous.”
“You didn’t. It’s just that I have difficulty getting close to someone. Very tough for me.” I blew out a puff of air. I hadn’t been this close with anyone in a long time.
“Come on, Montana. You asked me to trust you the other day. Why don’t you trust me?”
“You mean like you did with who you really are?” Maybe I shouldn’t have allowed the words to slide out of my mouth the way they had, but the elephant in the room was getting far too heavy.
She slunk back, much like I knew she would, and I expected her to turn tail and run. While her expression was riddled with irritation at first, she stepped up on the rung of the fence, glaring up at the sky. “You know almost everything about me, Montana. I’m not a liar, although I have to be careful who I trust. I am a veterinarian. I was sent to live with my aunt and uncle after my mother’s horrific accident. I came here to start a new life.”
“Then why doesn’t your name appear anywhere? Holland Kennedy doesn’t exist.”
A short laugh pulsed past her lips. “Holland is my middle name. I never liked Deborah, but that’s on all my legal paperwork.”
“I know there’s more. Who are you running from, your father?”
Shrugging, she looked in my direction, moving to sit on the top of the railing. “Yes, but more because of the kind of man he turned into. I don’t think he’ll try and destroy my life. He has far too many challenges of his own.”
“Like?”
She brought the bottle to her lips, her hand shaking briefly before she took a sip. “Prison.”
Unable to look me in the eyes, she fiddled with the label on the bottle. Maybe I hadn’t been prepared for her honest and rather brutal answer. “It’s none of my business, but what did he do?”
“Extortion. Several of his clients. He was a well-respected financial advisor, handling millions of dollars.”
“I’m so sorry.” I couldn’t blame her for wanting a new life. “Do you talk to him at all?”
“Never. I refuse to talk to him. The story I told you about the hospital is true, but I left out some important things.” Holland blinked several times, smacking her fist against her thigh.
I fisted my hand over hers, squeezing. “You don’t have to tell me.”
“No, I don’t, but I want to. Maybe the past is just eating me alive. Maybe I need closure. Maybe I do care about you and you’re right, if you can’t trust me then what chance could we have?”
Bringing her hand to my mouth, I pressed a series of kisses over her clenched fingers.
“My mother found out what good ole Dad was doing. She’d gone to his office with me in tow, confronting him, saying she had evidence and she’d turn him into the police herself. My mother was the most honest person I knew, her love for my father blinding. I picked up on that even when I was a small child. Then when I found love letters in her things later, I swore to myself that I’d never fall for a man.” Laughing, she held the bottle into the air. “Then one sexy cowboy comes along and I lose grip on my resolve.”
There was nothing to say, her words full of such trepidation.
“Anyway, they argued. I threw a tantrum. Things got ugly. Then my mother stormed out of his office, swearing that she was going to take evidence to the cops. I was just old enough to understand. She was crying hysterically, trying to keep me calm while driving through a thunderstorm. She lost control and ran off the road, dying instantly.” Exhaling, she lowered her head. “I never forgave him.”
“Baby, I don’t know what to say.”
“There is nothing you can say.”
Silence ebbed between us.
“Your father has been in prison a long time,” I said softly.
“Not that long. Good ole Pops was able to hide behind his actions for a good ten years, maybe longer. If my mother had evidence, she certainly didn’t have time to release it. I think he hid his tracks pretty well, stealing from others all their hard-earned money.”
While her story was horrible, I could see zero connection with what whatever could be going on in town, but she could certainly be in danger. “Any of your father’s clients ever try and contact you?”
A slight snort erupted from her throat. “My father all but pretended he didn’t have a daughter. I doubt any of his clients would even know my name. Which is fine with me.”
“Your father doesn’t have a business partner that might keep tabs on you?”
“What are you getting at?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.
“The mysterious phone calls, the threats. Maybe the reason you’re in danger is because of your father. He could still have some powerful enemies.”
“My father wasn’t well liked by his clients. He was known as being ruthless. That much I learned from a single visit I gave him. That was only one week prior to his arrest. Do I think he pissed off a lot of people? Hell, yes, but I doubt any of them would decide to come after his daughter on a whim. Now, I adore the protector in you, Montana, but the only reason I could be in danger is because maybe I’m getting close to finding who’s trying to sabotage several of the ranchers in town.”
I finally nodded, taking in what she was saying. “Then we both need to be careful. Walter isn’t a man to be fucked with either.”
“So you’ve said.”
Another awkward moment of silence passed between us.
“Where did you grow up?”
She issued another sigh. “Chicago. Beautiful city but I prefer the mountains and fresh air.”
I bristled hearing the information. Chicago? “Yeah, it is.”
“Are you going to tell me what happened to you, at least why Mr. Gammon doesn’t like you?” She pushed my arm as she leaned in. “I told you my ugliness. It’s only fair in this game.”
“Nothing to tell, not really.”
“Don’t do that. Don’t clam up now. You didn’t judge me. Why would I do that to you?”
“Because some stories don’t have a good ending. Some of them should stay locked away.” I turned away, angry with myself.
“Maybe you need closure like I do.”
I laughed. “And men like Walter Gammon won’t allow that kind of closure. He refuses to allow me to live my life.” I gazed into her eyes, the rocket full of emotions ready to explode. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Holland. Maybe I don’t trust myself.”
When she remained completely quiet, allowing me space, I couldn’t hold back any longer. “Walter’s son had a condition that wasn’t disclosed. I went into the surgery not knowing about his epilepsy. If I’d known, things could have turned out differently. Of course, Walter blamed me for his son’s death, after the tragedy settled, digging into my past. What he learne
d, he’s held over my head ever since.”
“We all have pasts. I understand extreme sadness, but why hold a grudge against you for that long?”
“He has his reasons.” Every part of my body was tingling. “As far as the past, maybe not as traumatic as mine.” I gripped the railing, trying to keep my emotions in check. “I interned in Chicago. I absolutely loved being there. The city. The lights. The food. Everything was amazing. One night there was an unexpected snowstorm and the entire hospital was caught off guard. I had the night off but was the only surgeon the hospital administrators could get in touch with. I’d had one glass of wine. One.” Every part of me tensed even more, the same anger as before sweeping through me.
Holland gave me the sweetest smile, encouraging in a way I hadn’t experienced before.
“There was a terrible wreck, a mother and daughter. I did my best trying to save them, but their injuries were significant.”
“What happened?” she asked in a whispered voice.
“The mother died on the table, her daughter a few days later despite every effort. I was devastated, inconsolable. Then suddenly, there was a scandal, the woman’s husband accusing me of being drunk while performing my duties.”
“You have to be kidding me.”
I huffed, shaking my head several times. “I only wish I was. The press got ahold of it and I thought that was the end of my career. I was exonerated, but the toll was significant. I was let go, the hospital distancing themselves. I had no place to go but home. The depression was horrific and for months, I was useless. Only Garland was there to give a shit, listening to my blubbering stories and trying to remind me I had worth. I owe the man a hell of a lot.” I blinked several times, fighting the sadness. “The worst part? My father believed the press. He’d always accused me of becoming a doctor for the notoriety. I don’t know. Maybe I took up bull riding as a way of embracing danger, no longer caring whether I lived or died.”
