CHRISTMAS AT THUNDER HORSE RANCH (4 page)

When Dante stiffened, he stopped, his hard member buried deep inside her. A moment later, he dragged himself free and lay down beside her, pulling her into the warmth of his arms.

The heat of his body and the haze of pleasurable exhaustion washed over her and she melted against him. “Mmm. I never knew it would be that good.”

He lay with his arms around her, his body stiff. “You cried out. Why?”

Heat rose into her cheeks. “Did I?”

For a long moment, Dante held her without talking. “You were a virgin, weren’t you?” When she refused to answer, he continued, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Emma rested her hand on his chest, feeling the swift beat of his heart against her palm. “I was embarrassed. Besides, what difference does it make?”

“We wouldn’t have done it.” He smoothed a hand along her lower back.

“Are you sorry you did?” she asked, her lips so close to his nipple, she tongued the hard little point, liking the way it beaded even tighter.

“No.”

She smiled in the darkness and relaxed against him. “Me, either. Virginity is way overrated.”

He tipped her chin up with his finger. “Then why are—
were
—you still one?” His breath warmed her.

“Like I told you. I’m not good at relationships. I could never get past a first date.”

She could feel his head shaking side to side. “Inconceivable,” he said, then captured her mouth with his.

When he broke the kiss, Emma lay in his arms, basking in the afterglow, their bodies generating enough combined heat that, along with the cocoon of blankets, they held off the cold.

“Just so you know, I’m not good at relationships, either,” Dante said into the darkness. “I can offer you no guarantees.”

“I understand.” The warmth she’d been feeling chilled slightly. What did she expect? Sex was sex. No matter how good it felt, it didn’t necessarily come with emotional commitment.

She couldn’t expect Dante to fall in love with her just because she’d given him her virginity. “Don’t worry. I won’t stalk you or make any demands of you. The ‘no guarantees’ thing goes both ways.”

His hand paused the circular motion he’d begun on her naked back.

She added to boost her own self-confidence, “Thank you for getting me over my awkwardness. I won’t be so hesitant with my future dates.” As soon as she said the words, she could have kicked herself. Would he consider them flippant and insensitive, or worse? Would he think she was loose and easy with her body?

Despite his announcement that he’d give no guarantees, she’d harbored a wish, a dream and a raging desire to repeat what had just happened. When the storm cleared and they made it back to civilization, she hoped he’d ask her out again. Though sex with Dante had been magical to her, he certainly wouldn’t be impressed enough for a repeat performance with an awkward ex-virgin?

Chapter Four

Dante pressed himself as close as he could get to the jagged hulk of his crashed helicopter; his copilot lay at an awkward angle, still strapped to his seat, dead from a broken neck sustained upon impact. He didn’t recognize the copilot, his face was hidden in shadows.

A movement at the edge of the village where he’d crashed caught Dante’s eye. The flap of a dark robe fluttered in the desert breeze. There. The man he’d seen at the last minute, pointing an RPG at him, stood at the corner of a mud hut.

Staying low behind the metal wreckage, Dante leveled his 9 mm pistol, aiming at the man, waiting for him to step out of the shadows and come within range.

The sound of an engine made his blood run cold. An old, rusty truck rumbled down the middle of the street between the buildings, loaded with Taliban soldiers wielding Soviet-made rifles.

Alone, without any backup, it was him with a full clip against the Taliban. If he wanted to live, he had to make every shot count.

The truck barreled toward him and stopped short. The soldiers leaped over the side. He fired, hitting one, then another, but they kept coming as if the truck had an endless supply. One by one, he fired until the trigger clicked and the clip was empty.

Taliban men grabbed his arms and pulled him from the wreckage, shouting and shooting their weapons in the air. The hum of the truck engine growled louder as they dragged him closer.

“Dante.”

How did they know his name? He struggled against their hold, kicking and shoving at their hands.

“Dante, wake up!”

He opened his eyes. The sand and desert disappeared and dim light seeped in around the blinds over a window.

“Dante?” a soft feminine voice called out and it all came back to him.

“Emma?” he said, his voice hoarse.

She leaned over him, her naked body pressed against his, her breasts smashed to his chest, her thigh draped over his. She smelled of roses mixed with the musky scent of sex.

It took him a moment to shake the terror of being captured and dragged away by the Taliban, and even longer to return to the camp trailer on the North Dakota tundra.

Then he noticed a red mark on Emma’s cheek. “What happened to you?” He reached up to gently brush his thumb around the mark.

She smiled crookedly. “You were having a bad dream.”

“I did that?” His chest tightened and he pushed to a sitting position. “Oh, Emma, I’m so sorry.”

“It doesn’t hurt.” She pressed her fingers to the red welt. “I’m more worried about the engine noise I hear outside.”

Dante sat still and silent, focusing on the noise from outside. Just as she’d said, an engine revved nearby.

Dante threw back the covers. “Get up. Get dressed.”

“Why?” She asked, scrambling off the bed, gooseflesh rising on her naked skin.

“We don’t know if the man who shot me down yesterday is back.”

“Damn.” Emma grabbed her sweater, tugged it over her naked breasts and slipped into her snow pants and boots.

Dante only had his thermals to pull on and his boots.

When he reached for the door handle and twisted, it didn’t open. “Is there some kind of lock on this?”

“It should open when you twist the handle.”

He tried again.

About that time, the trailer lurched, sending him flying across the floor, slamming into the sink.

Emma fell across the bed. “What the hell?”

“The door lock is jammed, and someone’s driving your truck with the trailer still attached. Hold on!”

The vehicle lurched and bumped over the rough terrain.

“He’s backing us up!” Emma shouted. “If he goes much farther, we’ll end up in the ditch my team has been digging.” She staggered to her feet and flung herself across the room to the door. Another bump and her forehead slammed into the wall.

She slipped, her hands grabbing for the door latch. “We have to stop him.”

Dante staggered across to her. “Move!” He picked her up and shoved her to the side. Bracing himself on whatever he could hold on to, he slammed his heel into the door. The force with which he hit reverberated up his leg. The door remained secure. He kicked again. Nothing.

Emma grasped the sink and ripped the blinds from the window. “Oh, my god. We’re going to fall—”

The trailer tipped wildly. Everything that wasn’t nailed to the floor, including Dante and Emma, was flung to the back of the trailer as it tumbled down the near-vertical slope of the dig site. The rear end of the trailer slammed into the ground, crumpling on impact. Cold air blasted through the cracks and glass broke from the windows.

Dante landed on the mattress as it slid toward the back of the trailer. “Emma?” He couldn’t see her anywhere.

“I’m okay, I think.” A hand waved from beneath the mattress. “I’m just stuck.”

The truck engine revved and a door slammed outside. Then the upper end of the trailer caved in, bearing down on them. Dante rolled to the side, letting the mattress take the bulk of the blow.

When the world quit shaking, Dante was jammed between the mattress and the wall. Metal squeaked against metal and the trailer seemed to groan.

“Dante?” Emma called out.

“I’m going to try to move this mattress.” He squeezed himself against the wall and rolled the mattress back. “Can you get yourself out?”

“I’ll try.” Emma reached up, grabbed the edge of the sink and pulled herself out from beneath the mattress.

Dante let the mattress fall in place and hauled himself up on it, ducking low to keep from hitting his head on the crushed trailer. His stomach lurched when he saw the bumper of the truck through a crack in the wall. Whoever had driven them into the ditch had crashed the truck down on top of them. If it shifted even a little, they’d be stuck in there, trapped and possibly crushed.

Light and cold wind filtered through the broken window over the sink. Placing his head close to the opening, he listened.

“Is he gone?” Emma whispered.

A small engine roared above them. If he wasn’t mistaken, Dante would guess it was a snowmobile. “I think that’s him leaving now.” And none too soon. The truck above them shifted and the walls sank closer to where he and Emma crouched on the mattress.

The door was crushed and mangled. They wouldn’t be getting out that way. If they didn’t leave soon, the truck would smash into them. “We have to get out of here.”

“How?” Emma asked.

Dante lay back and kicked the rest of the glass out of the window over the sink. Then, using the pillow, he worked the jagged edges loose. “You go first,” he said.

“And leave you to be crushed?” Emma shook her head. “No way. If you can get out, I can get out.”

“If I get stuck, neither one of us will get out. If you go first and I’m trapped, you can go for help.”

Emma worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “Okay. But you’re not getting stuck.” She edged her body through the tight opening and dropped to the ground. “Now you!” she called out. “And throw any blankets or coats you can salvage out with you.”

Dante scavenged two blankets from the rubble and pushed them through the window. He followed them with Emma’s winter jacket.

Metal shrieked against metal and the trailer’s walls quaked.

“The truck’s shifting!” Emma called out. “Get out now!”

Dante dove for the small window, wondering how he’d get his broad shoulders through the narrow opening. He squeezed one through and angled the other, the rim of the window tight around his ribs. Then he was pushing himself through.

Emma braced his hands on her shoulders and walked backward as he brought his hips and legs almost all the way out.

The entire structure wobbled and creaked, then folded like an accordion.

Emma dragged him the rest of the way, both of them falling onto the ground as the truck’s weight crushed the remainder of the trailer walls beneath it.

Dante rolled off Emma and stood, pulling her up beside him. Together they stared at the wreckage.

She shook in the curve of his arm. “If one more minute had passed...”

His arm tightened around her. “We’re out. That’s all that matters.”

“But who would do this?”

“I don’t know, but I’m sure as hell going to find out.”

* * *

E
MMA
COULDN
’
T
REMEMBER
the road leading into the dig site being as long as it was, until she had to walk through snow to get to a paved road. Her toes were frozen and her jacket barely kept the cold wind from chilling her body to the bone. But she couldn’t complain when all Dante had on were his thermal underwear and the blankets he’d salvaged from the trailer before it had been crushed beneath her truck.

With the truck a total write-off, she’d hoped the snowmobile she’d left parked outside the night before would be usable.

Whoever had tried to kill them had stabbed a hole in the snowmobile’s gas tank and ripped the wires loose. It wasn’t going anywhere but a junkyard.

If they wanted to get help, they were forced to trudge through three feet of snow for almost two miles just to reach a paved road. And as the North Dakota countryside could be desolate, it could be hours or days before anyone passed by on the paved road.

Tired, hungry and cold, Emma formed a smile with her chapped lips. At least she wouldn’t die a virgin. “Are you doing okay?” she asked. “We could stop and hunker down long enough for you to warm up.”

“I’m fine.” Enveloped in the two blankets he’d thrown from the wreckage, his thermal-clad legs were more exposed to the elements than anything else. “We should keep moving.”

Emma could tell he was trying not to let his teeth chatter. She slipped her arm around him and leaned her body into his to block as much of the wind as she could. Blankets provided little protection against the icy Arctic winds. If they didn’t find help soon, he’d freeze to death. How much could a man persevere after being shot down and nearly crushed?

Her gaze swept over him. The man, all muscle and strength, displayed no weakness. But as cold as she was, he had to be freezing.

Though the storm had moved on and the sun had come out, the wind hadn’t let up, seeming to come directly from the North Pole.

When they reached pavement, Emma almost felt giddy with relief. With the gravel road she’d come in on buried in snow, she hadn’t been completely sure they were headed in the right direction.

“Which way?” Dante asked.

Emma glanced right, then left, and back right again. “If I recall correctly, the man who owns this ranch lives in a house a couple of miles north of this turnoff.”

A cold blast of wind sent a violent shiver across her body.

“Here.” Dante peeled one of the blankets off his back and handed it to her.

“No way.” She refused to take it. “I’m warm enough. You’re the one who needs it.”

“I’m used to this kind of cold. I grew up in the Badlands.”

“I don’t care where you grew up. If you drop from hypothermia, I can’t carry you.” She stood taller, stretching every bit of her five-foot-four-inch frame in an attempt to equal his over six-feet-tall height. “Put it back on.”

He grinned, his lips as windburned as hers, and wrapped the blanket back around his shoulders. “Then let’s get to it. The sooner we get there, the sooner I get my morning cup of coffee.” Wrapping the blankets tightly around himself, he took off.

Emma had to hurry to keep up, shaking her head at his offer of a blanket when she had all the snow gear on and he had nothing but his underwear. Stubborn man.

Her heart warmed at his concern for her and the strength he demonstrated.

So many questions burned through her, but she saved them for when they made it to shelter and warmth. Emma focused all her energy on keeping up with the long-legged Native American marching through the snow to find help. With the sun shining brightly, the blindingly white snow made her eyes hurt and she ducked her head, her gaze on Dante’s boot heels. She stepped in the tracks he left as much as possible to save energy, though his strides were far longer than hers.

After what felt like an eternity, cold to the bone, her teeth chattering so badly she couldn’t hear herself think, Emma looked up and nearly cried.

A thin ribbon of smoke rose above the snow-covered landscape. Where there was smoke, there was fire and warmth. Fueled by hope, she picked up the pace, squinting at the snowy fields until the shape of a ranch house was discernible.

Less than a tenth of a mile from the house, Emma stumbled and fell into the snow. Too stiff to move quickly, she didn’t get her arms up in time to keep from performing a face-plant in the icy crystals.

Before she could roll over and sit up, she was plucked from the snow and gathered in Dante’s arms.

“P-put me down,” she stammered, her teeth clattering so hard she was afraid she’d bite her tongue, but was too tired to care.

“Shush,” he said and continued the last tenth of a mile to the front door of the house.

Her face stinging from the cold, all she could do was wrap her arms around Dante’s neck and hold on while he banged on the door.

Footsteps sounded on the other side of the solid wood door and it swung open.

“Dear Lord.” An older gentleman in a flannel shirt and blue jeans stood in sock feet, his mouth dropped open.

“Sir, we need help,” Dante said.

“Olaf, don’t just stand there, let them in and close the door. Can’t let all that heat escape with the power out.” An older woman hurried up behind Olaf. “Come in, come in.”

Olaf’s jaw snapped shut and he stepped aside, allowing Dante to carry Emma through the door.

Even before Olaf closed the door behind them, heat surrounded Emma and tears slid down her cheeks. “We made it.” She buried her face against the cool blankets covering Dante’s chest.

“Set her down here on the couch in front of the fire,” the woman said, urging Dante forward. She waved a golden retriever out of the way and pointed to the couch she was referring to. “The storm knocked the power out last night and we’ve been camping out in the living room to stay warm by the fireplace. We have a generator, but we save that for emergencies.”