Lawless (9 page)

“Have a safe journey and send on my thanks.”

For a moment, Ranson hesitated, half out of his chair. “I’m kind of hopin’ you might tuck this all in your memory. Just in case he…well, just in case.”

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“He got a past, your friend?” John had already guessed this was someone who outlaws accepted readily.

“We all do, Sheriff. It just depends what kind of past.”

“Granted.”

“Have a pleasant day.”

“Same to you.”

As his visitor exited, the animal at his heels, he tipped his hat to someone coming in the door and John was delighted to see it was his wife, a basket in hand. He got politely to his feet and couldn’t help but smile. “This is the second nice surprise I’ve gotten today.”

“That looked like a wolf.”

“Did to me too.”

Alice set the basket on his desk and returned his smile. “I thought I’d bring lunch.”

She’d blossomed since they’d finally been able to get married. The haunted look was gone from her eyes, banished the day her abusive husband’s body had been found in a pool of blood outside the saloon over a year ago. Two shots to the chest and no witnesses.

By then, John had already been sheriff and he had to admit he hadn’t tried very hard to solve that murder, duty be damned. That was one cruel man who deserved to die and he’d been actually grateful it had happened that way, because sooner or later, John was pretty sure he’d have had to kill him himself.

He went around and pulled her into his arms, feeling her familiar warmth with appreciation, her full breasts cushioned against his chest as he took her lips in a brief kiss.

“What an excellent idea.”

Laughing, she pushed him away. “I didn’t come here for that, John. Wasn’t last night enough for you?”

There was never enough with her, in his private opinion, because she was the most alluring woman he’d ever known, but his office wasn’t exactly a romantic spot, not with the jail cells right behind them. A drunken cowboy, reclining in one of spare bunks, let 62

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out a gentle snore and brought him back to reality. He needed to move on the information he’d just been given.

He grinned. “Last night was fair to middlin’, ma’am.”

“Fair?” She gave him a mock glare of outrage.

“We might need to practice more, that’s all I’m saying.”

Alice lifted her dark brows. “It seems to me we’ve done our share of practicing already, Sheriff Evans. Besides, Celia came over with the baby and they might be staying the night. Parker has some business in town and she rode along. She’s watching all of them right now, God help her, so I’d better get back right away.”

It was a bit amusing to picture his lovely sister, who was a little on the headstrong side herself, managing a bunch of wild children. Lord alone knew what mischief they could get into in her care. Between his rambunctious son and his willful wife, it was a good thing Parker West was a calm, patient man.

John chuckled. “By the way, I have good news. I just got word Laurel Daniels is safe and sound.”

Alice sank into the chair Gabriel Ranson had just vacated, her eyes showing interest.

“That is wonderful. Her family will be so relieved. Where is she?”

“I have no idea.”

Her forehead furrowed in consternation. “But you just said—”

“She’s safe and will be returned that way, it’s all I know.” He moved the napkin on the top of the basket and saw she’d brought fried chicken and the scent of warm bread drifted upwards, seductive and heady.

“How do you know?” His wife gave him a skeptical look.

He reached for a piece of chicken. “Whoever he is, I’m starting to trust my source.

I’m going to eat this and then I’m riding out. I’m glad Celia and Parker will be at the house with you. Tell them I said hello.”

***

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With the fickle whim of a usual Colorado fall, the weather turned fast. Cold rain dripped from the brim of his hat as Cal raised his rifle, trying to ignore the trickle down the back of his neck. There was a good supply of fresh game around but finding a flock of wild turkeys was a boon. He chose a peahen, took a bead, and dropped it neatly as the rest scattered in panic. Walking across the clearing, he picked up the glossy bird and headed back toward the cabin.

It was funny how he felt the discomfort of his wet clothes and the weather more than usual. Funny not in an amusing way, because he was well aware he was being seduced into the complacency of a man who wanted what he could never have. Warmth, shelter, a beautiful, willing woman waiting for him…

It shook him.

If there was one gamble he would have staked his life on, it was that he was immune to the idea of love. The wicked twists of fate in his past should make it impossible. His world was cold, violent, without mercy.

Or it used to be.

Cal needed to reconcile himself to the notion that as soon as Gabe returned, he needed to take Laurel home and then head for someplace new. Maybe Arizona or even California. He missed Texas but that was just too bad. He was too well known there. Too many men remembered not just his name, but his past.

Laurel must have been watching for him because she came out on the tiny porch, an anxious look on her face. “I heard a shot.”

He held up the bird. “Wild turkey isn’t something I could pass up. They were just at the edge of the clearing.”

Relief washed her fragile features. “It scared me. I mean you’d barely walked out the door, and—”

“You thought the worst, probably. I’d either gotten a bullet in me, or put one in someone else.”

She wore only one of his clean shirts, having washed her single set of clothes earlier.

They were still inside drying by the fire. Unfortunately, the garment only covered her to 64

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the knees and she had to roll up the sleeves around her slender wrists. The sight of her half-dressed that way, dwarfed by his shirt, made him even more aware of her delicate femininity. He was also acutely conscious she was nude beneath that single layer of cloth.

As if he needed that reminder of what they had already shared. As long as he lived—

and God alone knew if that would be much longer—he would never forget her innocent, captivating passion.

Laurel cocked a brow in reproach. “Do you blame me? You won’t even let me step foot out the door without following me with a loaded gun in your hand, Cal.”

She had a valid point, but with her he’d already discovered the part of his brain that used logic seemed to be in poor working order. “I’m trying to protect you. On the other hand, you needn’t concern yourself about me.”

Good Lord above, he actually sounded defensive.

One hand went to her hip and her chin went up in challenge. “What if I do anyway?”

“Do what?” His tone went deadpan.

“Concern myself.”

He wasn’t going to address that issue. Some perverse side of him reveled in the knowledge she cared at least a little bit, and the more practical side reminded him with ruthless honesty she was only going to get sorrow and heartbreak from their association.

With one hand he indicated the bird. “I’ll get this cleaned and dressed so we can have it for dinner.”

She didn’t move to go back inside though he knew she must be cold from the chilly, wet breeze. Tendrils of golden hair spilled down her back and one teased her cheek though she didn’t seem to notice. “You didn’t answer my question.”

One of things he liked about her was her spirit and courage, so he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised she wasn’t interested in being dismissed. “I think most folks would tell you it’s a foolish notion to worry over a man with a reputation for bloodshed and trouble.
I
just did.”

She slowly shook her head, her blue eyes luminous. “You’re still avoiding it, Cal.”

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He was getting soaked, the mist steady now, but he didn’t move, wondering just what she wanted from him. She was not just a pretty face and voluptuous body, she was intelligent, and surely knew involvement with him was not just imprudent but downright dangerous. He narrowed his eyes. “What exactly do you want me to say? That I’m glad you care enough to spare a thought for my safety? Well, I’m not, Laurel.”

The brutal honesty in his tone would have made most people flinch, but she smiled instead. “Why?”

Exasperation rose, mingled with another emotion he didn’t care to define. “Is this a trial or something? If so, can I defend myself inside where it’s at least dry?”

“Just answer me.”

The cool look he gave her didn’t seem to have the desired effect of making her back off. He said with deliberate mocking cynicism, “Sweetheart, if you are expecting some declaration of a deeper feeling than good old-fashioned lust, it isn’t coming. I doubt I’m even capable of it anymore.”

“Capable of saying it, maybe. Feeling it, I am not as sure of that. I was in that bed too, you know.”

“I remember, believe me. Yesterday morning and last night. You make a definite impression, darlin’.”

She stared at him, her lovely eyes direct. It felt a little like she could see right into his tarnished soul. Soft rose lips trembled. “The trouble is, Cal, will you ever be able to forget? I know I won’t, not ever. I think you’re selling yourself a lie and it’s going to end up hurting us both, not just me. Think about it.”

With that little speech she turned and went back inside, leaving him motionless for a moment, not sure how to handle the constriction in his chest.

What the hell was she saying? That she
wanted
involvement with a notorious outlaw, a marked man? It was only a matter of time until he encountered the situation he couldn’t handle—the faster gun, the stray bullet from some wet-behind-the-ears kid who wanted to be the man who shot and killed Cal Riker.

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A gust of wind hurled moisture into his face, but he didn’t care, wiping the rain away with a hand that wasn’t quite steady. The trembling wasn’t a good thing for a man who made his way in the world because he had iron-clad nerves.

She’d make him weak.

She’d make him whole again, and he couldn’t afford it.

***

Dinner was delicious, just like he’d predicted, but Laurel noticed Cal didn’t eat much after all, his expression shuttered in the way only he could manage, as if there was nothing behind that still, handsome mask. No emotion, no thought, no inner turmoil.

It was a lie.

The energy of it was there. She could feel it practically radiating in waves from his tall body, in the careful way he held himself, in the measured avoidance of his gaze. He built up the fire while she cleaned the dishes. When she was done she saw he was propped in a chair in front of the blaze, his long legs carelessly crossed at the ankle. His brooding gaze was fastened on the flames, his mouth set, and flickering light played across the elegant lines of his clean features and gilded his thick hair. She pulled up the other chair and sat down to warm herself, uncertain of how to break the silence, and not even sure if it was for the best to have another discussion, not in his present mood of ominous quiet.

Finally she couldn’t stand it. “Do you think it will snow? The wind sounds like it’s picking up.”

He transferred his gaze from the fire to her face and the corner of his mouth lifted a fraction in what could have been the ghost of a sardonic smile. “It’s not too early for it up here.”

“It stays warm longer farther south.”

“Yes, it does.”

“I like snow though. I love the winter.”

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“Thanks for letting me know. I’ll be sure to remember that about you the next time I’m sleeping outside in a storm.”

Silence fell again after her inane attempt at discussing the weather. Darn the man, Laurel thought crossly. She’d seen that hint of ironic amusement and it irritated her to think he sensed her restless need for conversation. Two could play that game, but she had a feeling he was much, much better at just sitting and cocooning himself in taciturn quiet, whereas she was more used to being around her family and the lively atmosphere of a working ranch.

Well, after they’d made love the first time he’d asked what she was thinking. Surely it was fair if she asked him?

“Is there a reason you’re so quiet?” She tried to keep the question neutral. “Have I done something?”

She knew she had. That he didn’t often acknowledge his feelings on any matter was hardly a deep, dark mystery and maybe she’d made a mistake. He’d made her angry the way he refused to acknowledge that whatever was between them wasn’t casual, and she’d just reacted.

If she hadn’t known it wasn’t just simple lust like he claimed—
known it
—she would never have let him touch her, much less have her.

“Yes, ma’am, you have done something.”

She waited, exasperation rising as he said nothing else. The wind rattled the shuttered window and sighed past the cabin in an eerie wail. Because of the fire she wasn’t precisely cold, but she shivered anyway. “Well, mind telling me?”

“Would it matter if I did mind?”

The low, husky tone of his voice made her shiver again for an entirely different reason. She said, “You’ve made it clear you don’t like questions, I know. But I’m not used to being ignored either. We don’t have to discuss anything personal.”

“We’ve covered the weather, I believe. And don’t worry, I’m not ignoring you. I wish I could, actually, but I think I’m pretty aware of every breath you take.” The look he sent her gave weight to his words, his silver eyes molten but his posture still indolent and 68

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giving the impression he was relaxed. “Besides, you pretty much ordered me to think about a few things and I have been.”

Laurel looked at him uncertainly, not sure how to handle his obviously volatile mood. Eventually, she murmured, “I somehow doubt anyone could order Cal Riker to do anything.”