Primal Force (14 page)

Sex with Battise had made her wonder if she'd ever really had sex before. Oh, she'd rolled around with a few guys before Brody, hooked up body parts and thought,
Yeah, this is nice.
But getting it on with Battise had been—well. The earth moved.

Her thighs tightened involuntarily with an urge she had no way to satisfy at the moment. Oh no. She wasn't going to let Battise ruin her day.

She tucked into her beans and rice, and choked. The food tasted of prison life. And just now, she couldn't swallow that.

“You need to get you some Beano.” Jori looked over at the same inmate who was still watching her. “Them beans can bind up a body somethin' awful.”

 

CHAPTER TWELVE

In the time it took to walk to her SUV with the last of her supplies, Jori started having second thoughts about agreeing to spend a week with Battise. She was just asking for heartache.

Or maybe a helluva week of mind-blowing sex.

A smile tugged her mouth as she climbed behind the wheel, but she resisted. As difficult as Battise could be at times, she hadn't regretted for even a second what had happened between them. She just needed to dial back her expectations before she saw him again.

Yeah. Like that was going to happen. Just remembering watching him towel off after a shower, all damp and squeaky-clean naked, made her mind sweat and her body tense.

A horn sounding sharply from behind her vehicle startled Jori. She'd been so busy thinking about sex she'd put her SUV in gear and begun backing up without really looking behind her. A big brown delivery van was now taking up her full-review mirror.

Jori hopped out. “Sorry. Didn't see you.”

“No harm.” The woman driver looked at her invoice. “Are you Jori Garrison?” Jori nodded. “This is for you.” The woman handed over a huge box. “And I need you to sign here, please. Thanks. Have a good one,” the driver tossed back over her shoulder as she hurried away.

Jori did not need confirmation of the return address to realize who the box was from. But there it was anyway, written in her mother's cheerful print. Nor did she need to open it to find out what was inside. Dresses for her to choose from for the reception and wedding coming up in a few days. Her mother had sent a text message telling her to expect them.

Annoyed that her mother hadn't taken no for an answer, Jori stalked back to her SUV, jerked open a back door, and tossed the box on the seat.

“Doesn't anyone listen to me?” She slammed the door so hard the SUV rocked.

Mee-ow
ing in concern, Argyle poked her head up through the top of the cat carrier sitting on the floor of the passenger side to check out the source of that frustrated voice.

Jori slid behind the wheel. “Not now, Argyle.” She pushed her kitten gently back inside and checked the lock. Then she started the ignition, threw the SUV into gear, and took off as if she could outdistance her problems by driving like a bat out of hell.

*   *   *

“No. No. No. Not here.”

Jori thumped her palm repeatedly against the steering wheel. Her vehicle had just sputtered, choked, and then rolled to a halt on the half shoulder of a two-lane blacktop in the Boston Mountains of northwest Arkansas.

She twisted the key in the ignition. The dashboard lit up and then her gaze shifted to the gas gauge. It was mostly broken. It had two settings: half full and desert-dry empty. At the moment the little red needle lay flat on its back like a victim of a heatstroke, despite the December chill in the air.

“Crap in a can!”

She reached into the glove compartment for the notepad on which she kept her record of fill-ups. The numbers didn't lie. She was out of gas.

Jori shook her head in self-disgust. How could she have forgotten to buy gas? Of course. She'd been too busy trying to outrun her anger over her mother's package to think about filling up.

Not knowing exactly where she was, she pulled out her cell phone to look at her GPS. She had one signal bar that kept winking out. That meant she probably couldn't make a call, either. Not that she had anyone to call. Roadside service wasn't in her budget. Calling Battise would be too embarrassing. She was supposed to be coming to help him. It wouldn't be very professional to begin the other way around.

Muttering, she tucked the phone back into her pocket and got out of her SUV. She was in the hollow of hills surrounded by autumn-striped trees that marched off in all directions. The strip of blacktop, she knew from the printed directions Kelli had given her to Battise's home, was named High Sky Inn Road. That should have been a warning to stop for gas. The more colorful the name, the more likely the road would be narrow, winding, and a long way from anywhere.

The sky was a high, clear Ozark Mountain blue, but the radio had earlier been filled with predictions of a potentially dangerous cold front headed toward the area over the weekend. The chill in the air was quickly draining the car heat from her body despite her puffy vest.

She plunged her hands into her vest pockets as she stared in first one direction and then the other down the empty road. Though she could see a long way, there wasn't a single house in view. No traffic, either. When had she last passed a service station? Three, five miles ago? She guessed she'd find out because walking for help seemed to be the only option. She checked her SUV, leaving a window cracked for air for Argyle, and headed off.

She'd walked no more than a dozen yards when she heard a vehicle in the distance coming from the other direction.

The state trooper car pulling up before her SUV seemed a mixed blessing. The last thing she wanted to do was deal with law enforcement. But she did need help.

The man who unfolded from behind the wheel was tall and broad, all crisp uniform, mirrored shades, and trooper hat set at an angle of intimidation.

Jori felt a nudge of unease as she walked back to where he was parked a short distance away. He had paused by his front fender to speak into the radio on his shoulder. As he stood there, she tried to penetrate the impersonal mask formed by the broad brim and opaque shades.
Clean rigid jawline, pronounced cheekbones, and a generous pair of lips.
Nice-looking man, er, officer. It didn't stop the jelly feeling in her stomach as she paused within a few yards of him.

“You got a problem?”

His voice, pitched low and penetrating, sent a shiver of alarm up her spine. Badge intimidation? Definitely. Yet he sounded familiar. She was just thinking of Battise. That's what it was! She supposed all overbearing Alpha males sounded the same when in I'm-in-charge mode.

“You need help?” Obviously he thought she hadn't heard him.

She swallowed her unease. She was being ridiculous. “I'm out of gas.” Her tone sounded more defensive than she meant it to be. But she was embarrassed by the stupidity of her mistake.

“You call roadside service?”

“Can't afford it. I was about to walk back to town.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Wherever that is.”

“You're about to lose a passenger.” A long blunt-tipped finger pointed past her at her driver's window.

She turned just in time to catch the kitten wriggling through the two-inch breathing space. She hugged the fuzzy animal to her chest. “You're a menace.”

“Argyle, right?”

Her head snapped around. The officer watched her with the slightest trace of amusement tugging up one corner of his mouth.

“Still don't recognize me? Maybe if I shucked my pants.”

Her gaze dropped to his legs. The wind was whipping at his pant legs. The left one was suspiciously loose. “Battise?”

“Officer of the Law, to you.” He pulled off his glasses. That high-grade-crude gaze was unmistakable. But the face was that of a stranger.

A stranger she'd done the dirty with.

Oh no, not a good time to think of that. Not when he was looking at her like, like he was the big bad wolf.

Law watched her trying to absorb his new look. The uniform, the shorter hair, and the lack of a beard. It had taken him a couple of days to stop doing double takes in shop windows after he'd shaved. Yet the look was a reversion to his old self. She was recalculating her opinion of him based on what, for her, was a completely new persona. He didn't like the way it was adding up in her eyes. Her gaze was guarded, and this time Argyle was fiddling with the end of the braid slung forward over her shoulder.

He frowned. “You're staring.”

“I didn't expect to see you like this.”

He rested his hands on either side of his belt, elbows flared. “You mean on the road?”

“No.” She waved at his patrol car. “The whole law enforcement thing.”

“What bothers you most? The uniform? Or that I'm wearing it?”

It wasn't even close. It was the man himself. She'd wondered what his bushy beard disguised. Now she knew. The man was flat-out gorgeous in a totally rugged male way. She let out a slow breath of admiration, a purely feminine response. Not good. She needed her body to stop reacting to him.

She tucked Argyle into her vest, needing an excuse to stop staring. “You got your job back. Congratulations.”

“The chance to pass the physical is next week. After that, I'm back with full duties.” He slanted a speculative gaze down at her. “You could ask me for help.”

Jori noted the glint in his eye. He was enjoying this.

She folded her arms across her chest. “I didn't think law enforcement officers ran errands for civilians.”

“How about asking a favor from a friend?” It was a flip reply, and she wanted to answer it in kind. But friendship was one thing she'd never considered with this man.

“We're friends?”

“Unless you got a better name for it.” He was looking at her with an expression that said he was considering a few other possibilities. All of them sexual. This was the Battise she remembered.

The heat rising up her neck and behind her ears betrayed her vulnerability to his potency. Discretion was called for. “Yeah, let's go with that. Friends.”

“I live just up the road.” He jerked his thumb back over his shoulder. “I keep a full gas can in my garage. Come on.”

Jori followed with reluctant steps to his patrol car. By then her goose bumps had goose bumps of anxiety.

“Where should I sit?”

Law frowned at her over the hood until reason dawned. She thought he was about to put her in back. She'd probably been in the back of enough squad cars to last her two lifetimes. “Sam's in the back and she's very territorial about her space. It's either the trunk or the front seat with me.”

Jori smiled. He'd actually made a joke though nothing changed in his face. “I'll take my chances in front.”

He grinned at her. The experience was revelatory. Without a beard to cover it, his smile was shark-bright and just as dangerous. It hit her like a shot of tequila. Maybe the trunk was the safer choice.

She slid into the small passenger side crowded by his computer and other equipment and was immediately accosted from the rear by a wet tongue. “Samantha!”

Sam had watched her Alpha leave their vehicle with careful eyes. Usually there was no uptick in his pheromones as they rode together. But something had kicked Alpha's output into high gear. He was shedding emotions. Not anger or fear but excitement of some kind.

Sam was on alert because he hadn't let her out to accompany him. Alpha had yet to learn that was her job to be with him, always. But then she spied the WWP trainer through the front windshield and her worry faded.

Her Alpha was happy to see the Alpha female. Happy was a good place.

Sam was happy, too. The Alpha female always brought treats and toys. Sam's whole body wagged with anticipation.

And then Sam saw it. The cat.

Sam's happy dance wiggled down to a squirm. No happy dance for the high-anxiety feline whose claws were sharper than the veterinarian's needle. Too bad the Alpha female brought it. Cat was definitely
not
pack.

Still, Sam greeted the Alpha woman with a sloppy lick. She would not lick cat.

Cat hissed when she spied dog.

“No, not nice.” Jori tucked Argyle deeper into her vest. “Play nice.”

Argyle just
grrrr-oowl
ed low in a strangled cat way that was part snarl, part yowl.

*   *   *

They hadn't traveled more than two miles when Law turned off High Sky Inn Road onto an even narrower unpaved lane that didn't have enough room for a center stripe. The patrol car was no sleek machine but a big powerful vehicle that took the sudden rises and sharp turns of the hill country with the souped-up aggression of an armored tank crossing enemy territory.

“You good?” Law glanced at her with an edgy grin after a particularly sudden swoop in the road left Jori gasping from a sense of free fall.

“Good.” She gave him a thumbs-up but shut her eyes, feeling that just maybe what she couldn't see wouldn't hurt her. He must know what he was doing.

They came to a sudden stop after the final fifty feet of unpaved road that sent gravel spraying from beneath the tires. Jori opened her eyes.

She hadn't given much thought to where Battise might live. Standard apartment in town, whatever that might look like. Or a trailer, maybe. She hadn't expected that he would live off-road, up a secluded gravel track in the woods. She was looking at an A-frame log cabin perched on a bluff. It was small but neat, with a porch running the width of the front and wrapping around the side toward the rear. A cord of wood cut for the fireplace lay stacked just nearby.

Law turned to her. “You can come in or wait here while I get the gas.”

The words were neutral, but the invitation in his eyes was intimate and a dare.

“I'll wait.”

Sam jumped out of the back of the car when Law opened the door and fell into step with him as he climbed the few steps, leading the way. When they reached the porch, Sam suddenly moved in front, barring Law from opening the door.