Rules of Protection (Tangled in Texas) (Volume 1) (14 page)

Unreassuringly, they all jumped at the chance to bet against me.

“Can’t wait to see this,” Jake said, walking ahead toward the target with his tight-knit group. They chuckled and bumped fists in a show of macho posturing.

It made me regret letting Hank bet on me. “Hank, I appreciate what you’re doing, but you know you’re about to lose some money, right?”

“Emily, I have faith in you. Get your adrenaline pumping and focus. It’ll be like second nature. You’re the minority, and you have a temper. It won’t take long before these guys light a spark under you. You’ll do fine.”

Once I was standing there, lining my sights on the target, I knew Hank was on the wrong side of the betting pool. The pressure of performing like a seal with a ball on my nose got to me.

Jake glared at me, waiting for me to mess up my first shot, which wouldn’t be a problem since I was genetically programmed to short circuit around him. It didn’t help that the others heckled me.

I squeezed the trigger gently, and my first shot went wild, not coming close to my target. All the boys laughed.

“There’s one,” Jake said.

“Glad you can count,” I replied icily.

When I shot for the second time, a piece of the bark flew off the tree, but the scarecrow remained untouched.

Jake had a smile plastered on his face. “There’s two. Maybe Hank should’ve made a sticker chart for you.”

“At least I hit the damn tree. He said the more I practice, the better I’ll get,” I said, shrugging off his comment.

“Or the luckier she gets,” Jake muttered to the guys, making them laugh more.

“You’re all a bunch of comedians, aren’t you? I’ve been shooting for only an hour. Heaven forbid you pass a compliment my way. It’s nerve-wracking enough shooting while you’re all staring at me as if I were standing here in my underwear.”

Cowboy spoke up. “Darlin’, if you were in your underwear, none of us would
care
if you hit the target. Hell, I doubt we’d even notice you missed. Might be worth fifty bucks to watch you shoot in your panties.”

The male chauvinist attitude pissed me off. Call me oversensitive, but their remarks left me motivated to hit my target more than ever. On a whim, I lifted the gun, barely aimed, and squeezed off another round, working more on instincts.

My third shot hit the scarecrow in the crotch, blowing a hole in the target’s pants. All of the men winced and let out a collective groan. I doubted it had anything to do with the money they’d lost.

Hank walked up, tickled with my shot, and slapped Jake on the back. “That girl sure knows how to twist the knife, doesn’t she?”

“Jake, maybe you should get Emily to show you a few things about shooting,” Judd said, laughing. “She must have a knack for it if she can make a shot like that.”

I smiled proudly at my win. Men are such pushovers.

Cowboy, Judd, and Ox all dug out their wallets and slapped cash into Hank’s hand. Jake was the only one who hadn’t paid up. He reviewed the target, probably wondering how I made that shot. Hell, I wondered the same thing.

I couldn’t help but gloat, though. “Man up, Jake. It’s not every day you get shown up by a girl.”

Jake was irritable, but I never expected him to react the way he did. He pulled the 9mm out of his shoulder holster and unloaded the entire clip into the scarecrow. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one with a temper. About three seconds after he put away his gun, the scarecrow fell off the tree. Show-off.

He grabbed the gun from my hand and shoved it into the waistband of my shorts. “Keep this somewhere accessible in case you need it.”

I didn’t like the feeling of a loaded weapon pointed at my crotch. At least not one of the metal variety. “You think my pants are accessible?”

“For the gun, no. For me? Oh, yeah.” He grinned, then walked over and handed Hank fifty dollars from his back pocket.

Hank pocketed his money. “As lucky as that girl is, we should take her with us in the morning.”

Jake gave him a
yeah, right
look. “Emily? Hunting? You’re kidding, right?”

His comment bugged the crap out of me. It was bad enough he’d called me promiscuous. He was lucky I didn’t shoot him for that alone. Now, I had a good mind to pistol whip the bastard. No need, though. Jake had given me all the ammo I needed to get even. So he doesn’t want me to go hunting and thinks my pants are accessible, huh?

We’ll see about that.

…

Jake slid under the covers. “You’re not going. End of discussion.”

“I
am
going. Hank said I could.”

“And how did you talk him into that?”

“By winning him two hundred dollars in your stupid bet. Guess he felt like he owed me. What does it matter? You said yourself that you should be close by if something happens.”

“I’m not going to be far,” Jake said. “Floss will be here, and she knows how to shoot a gun. Besides, no one will find you here. It’s the last place they’d look. You’re safe here.”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

“You’re still not going,” Jake said, glaring at me.

“We’ll see what Hank says about that. Of course, it might hurt when he kicks the handle off your gun while it’s in your ass.”

Jake clenched his teeth. “Stop being pigheaded. Why would you want to go sit in a deer blind? It’s not going to be any fun.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” I said with a wicked grin. I was having lots of fun annoying the hell out of Jake right now. “Besides, it’ll break up the monotony.”

“Are you going just to irritate me?”

“Who, me?”

Jake looked exasperated. “You’re getting even with me about earlier today.”

Before he could catch me smiling, I rolled away from him and flipped off the bedside lamp, plunging us into total darkness. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

There was a moment of silence.

“You’re going to get cold and end up snuggled up to me in the middle of the night. Might as well come over here now.”

My heart skipped a beat, but I stayed put. “No thanks.”

“Want me to spoon with you instead?”

I held the mattress in a death grip, forcing myself to stay on my own side of the bed. My attempts at torturing Jake had mixed results. I needed to rewire my own brain to alter its responses to him if I was going to have any luck driving him crazy.

“That’s okay. I’m fine,” I lied.

Jake sat upright in bed. “Okay, what’s wrong with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m waiting for one of your snide sexual remarks.”

“Too tired. Plus, we have to get up in a few hours. Maybe tomorrow night I’ll feel up to it.”

I couldn’t see him, but I imagined him glaring at the back of my head with brows furrowed into the bridge of his nose and his mouth tightened into a thin straight line. If anything, his silence reeked of confusion. It surprised me how fast he gave up and lay back down.

After admitting he cared for me, I was positive he’d become the sexual aggressor. I hadn’t counted on Jake’s resilience and patience, as well as my lack thereof. To drive him bonkers, I’d have to rethink my strategy and start baiting him to keep him involved, like a sexual game of tag.

“Oh, Jake…” I paused for a moment. “Did I ever tell you I don’t have a gag reflex?”

He groaned. “Damn it, Emily. You make it hard to be a gentleman sometimes.”

Gotcha! You’re it.

Chapter Eleven

Okay, maybe it wasn’t such a great idea after all. What moron gets up at five o’clock in the morning to go hunting? Me, that’s who. And I only did it to get Jake’s goat. If I was smart, I would’ve let him keep his damn goat and gone back to bed.

“That’s not camouflage,” Jake said.

I looked down at the T-shirt I got from Junior’s daughter. “What do you mean?”

“It’s pink.”

“So. It still has the same pattern as your shirt does.”

“Yeah, but mine is the color of dirt and leaves. Only thing you’re going to blend in with is a piece of bubble gum. Here, wear this.” Jake peeled off the long sleeve camouflage shirt he wore over a black T-shirt. He put it on me as his uncle came out of the house.

I pointed to Hank’s bright orange hat. “Why does he get to wear color, and I don’t?”

Jake glanced over at his uncle and shook his head. “Because his hat is that color for safety reasons. He won’t get mistaken for an animal and accidentally shot walking through the woods.”

I slid Jake’s shirt off and tossed it back to him. “Well, unless someone is hunting bubble gum, then I should be fairly safe.”

Jake grunted, glaring at Hank. “You said she could come; you get to deal with her.” Then he grabbed a flashlight and stomped off toward the back of the property.

“Who crapped in his oatmeal this morning?” Hank asked.

“I guess that would be me.”

Hank grinned and turned on his own flashlight. “Let’s go.”

We caught up to Jake on the back side of the pasture near the barbed wire fence. Jake pushed the bottom wires down with the weight of his boot and picked up the top wire to create an opening. Hank went through first and I followed, before turning to watch Hank do the same for Jake.

Jake led the way on the walking trail with his rifle leaned over his left shoulder as we followed. Hank kept his rifle in his left hand, opposite of me, and pointed to the ground. “You need to keep watch for wild hogs,” Hank warned me. “They hang out near the deer feeders usually, but we sometimes cross them on the trails. They’re dangerous.”

“A pig, dangerous? You’re kidding, right?”

“These aren’t domesticated pigs. They’re wild hogs. Mean little bastards. They’ll rip you open with their tusks if they get a chance. I’m not kidding about that. I’ve got an eight-inch long scar on my calf to prove it.”

“I thought we were supposed to be the hunters. Now you’re telling me the animals can attack us?”

Hank chuckled. “Anytime you corner an animal, you run the risk of it turning on you.” He shot a look at Jake’s back. “Same goes for people.”

“Another pearl of wisdom?”

“An observation,” Hank corrected.

“Good eyes.”

The trail ended, and we walked through the long, deep grass until the sticky ground got mushier where it had rained earlier in the night. Hank told Jake to cut through the scrub brush to avoid the mud, then sandwiched me in between them. I followed Jake’s flashlight as he cleared the path ahead.

After a few minutes, Hank tapped me on the shoulder. “Emily, do you know what they call a bunch of deer?”

“Herd.”

“Heard what?” Hank said, grinning at his dumb joke. “You know what you call a deer with no eyes?” Hank asked, pushing through the brush behind me as I shrugged. “No-eye deer,” he said in a corny voice and then chuckled.

I laughed at that one, and Jake shot us an ugly look. “If you two don’t zip it, you’re going to scare off everything within a ten mile radius.”

“Put a lid on it, Jake.” Authority colored Hank’s tone, and Jake wasn’t dumb enough to push the issue. We walked in silence the rest of the way.

The deer blind—a green wooden structure with rectangles cut out for windows—was elevated off the ground and had a ladder attached. Jake climbed up, opened the door, and shined his flashlight inside.

“All clear,” he said, knocking a cobweb away from the door.

“You two go on in,” Hank said. “My neighbor isn’t hunting this morning. I’m going to go over and sit in his deer blind. Bubba said he didn’t mind.”

“When did you talk to Bubba?” Jake asked.

“Last night.” Hank grinned and turned to walk away. “I’ll be back for you two around nine o’clock.”

Jake shook his head with disgust and motioned for me to climb up the ladder. Silently, I did as asked. Once inside, Jake slid an upside down milk crate over to me and plopped down on one himself. He leaned the rifle in the corner and propped open two of the hinged windows, letting in the slight breeze and a small amount of blue morning light.

“What’s the deal with Hank?” I asked.

“The old man doesn’t know how to leave well enough alone. I guess he thought we needed some alone time.”

“What kind of
alone
time?”

“The kind when there isn’t another person around,” Jake said, unable to keep from smirking.

“You’ve got to be kidding.” Hard to believe Hank considered a shoddy, musty-smelling box in the middle of the woods romantic.

“If you keep talking, we won’t see anything. Sound carries, and the deer spook easily.” Jake checked his watch. “The feeder’s on a timer. We’ve got twenty minutes before it starts throwing corn.”

We sat in silence—boring, painful silence—until we heard the whir of a machine in the distance as the feeder dropped corn. Deer must have a built-in clock because moments later Jake put his fingers to his lips and motioned for me to look out the window.

A small white-tailed buck with a modest rack approached the feeder, peacefully nibbling the corn beneath his feet. A doe trotted up behind him. I watched them for a few minutes, but my legs fell asleep from the way I squatted near the window. I reached for my milk crate and slid it closer, grating it across the wooden floor. The noise was enough to scare off our company.

Jake gave me a stern look, but all I could do was shrug and mouth “sorry” to him. I settled in next to the window and picked dry mud out of my sneakers with a twig. I practically fell asleep leaning against the wall when Jake touched my arm and whispered, “Deer.”

I swept my eyes back and forth over the area. “Where?” I whispered. “I don’t see a deer.”

“To the left of the feeder, standing on the other side of the bushes.”

Either Jake lost his mind or I was gullible. Probably the latter, but I still didn’t see anything. Jake grabbed the rifle and carefully stuck it out the window. He peered through the scope until he found what he was looking for and then held the gun steady for me. “Look through the scope. You’ll see him.”

Seconds later, I caught the movement of brown fur through the thick cover of greenery. A large buck with an impressive display of antlers stepped out from behind the bushes and into the open area beyond the feeder. Alert, he stopped and lifted his large head, turning it back and forth and twitching his ears as he listened for danger. His nostrils flared, taking in the surrounding scents, before he shook his head and went back to grazing.

I pulled my eye back from the scope and tried to give the gun back to Jake, but he shook his head. “He’s all yours.”

“Damn it, Jake. He’s not going to stand still and let me shoot three times before he runs,” I said in a low voice. “You do it.”

“Man up,” Jake whispered, grinning from ear to ear. “Isn’t that what you told me? Now it’s your turn.”

I don’t know why I always felt like I needed to prove something. “Fine, then. Move over,” I whispered back.

I aimed the rifle to the buck and watched him through the scope with a twinge of sorrow. He was divine. Completely unaware of how fragile his life was. How shaky the ground was that he walked on.

It was hard to fathom destroying a majestic creature. Only time I ever thought I’d shoot an animal was when I had a camera in my hands, which of course would be painless for the animal. And for me.

“Aim for the neck, just behind the jawbone, at the base of the ears,” Jake told me in a hushed voice. “It’ll break his neck bone and drop him where he stands.”

“Do I have to keep my eyes open?”

Jake gave me a stern look. “Couldn’t hurt.”

I steadied the rifle against my shoulder, aimed carefully, and let my finger linger over the trigger. When I glimpsed a movement in the nearby brush, I adjusted a little to the left.

A small nimble doe stepped out into the open and walked toward the buck. A fawn, still covered in spots, pranced up alongside her and the two of them joined the aloof buck in eating the corn.

Not only did I feel sorry for the deer, but I felt like a monster for what I was about to do. Maybe it was a biological response. Or maybe it was my conscience swooping in to complicate matters. Either way, I had a hard time tuning out the voices in my head.

“I can’t do it,” I said. “I can’t pull the trigger.”

“Yes, you can. I’ll help you.” Jake put his finger over mine and I froze.

I peered at the three deer and watched the trusting, innocent fawn dance happily around its mother. My pulse quickened as I trained the rifle on the massive buck that was moments away from falling to the ground with nothing left to show for his life except a fresh, bloody wound.

Don’t think about it. Just do it.

But I couldn’t because my hands shook. I broke out in hives over my deep-seated guilt complex brought on by my own mortality and attachments to the people I had lost. My dad. My mom. My policeman. All severed from my life by one thoughtless act carried out by someone else. Now, I was that someone else.

Jake steadied the rifle and tightened his finger over mine. “Take a deep breath and let it out as you pull the trigger,” he whispered into my ear.

A wave of emotion swept over me as my chest involuntarily swelled with air. I held my breath, keeping it inside, knowing when I let it out Jake would coordinate it with one ruthless pull of the trigger.

It felt like senseless killing, but I couldn’t hold my breath any longer. Jake slowly squeezed my finger and the air from my lungs screamed past my lips. The crack of the rifle drowned me out as I felt the power under my hands and against my shoulder. Jake fell backward in shock but recovered in time to see what I was looking at. With a flash of their white tails, the three deer scattered into the forest.

“What happened? Why did you scream?” Jake asked, grabbing the rifle and looking out the window for signs of life. When I didn’t answer him, he grabbed my shoulders and turned me toward him. “Emily…?”

I didn’t want him to know I couldn’t do it. If I could concoct a reason for why I screamed, then maybe…he wouldn’t have to know. But the tears came. Big traitor tears trailed down my traumatized face, tattling on me for my weakness. I was a wreck.

Jake knew why. “You gotta be shittin’ me. Jesus Christ. You’re such a girl.” He slammed his hand against the plywood wall as he opened the door and jumped out, letting the door swing shut behind him.

I watched from the window as he threw a dead branch and kicked into the air, blowing off steam. It was an inappropriately handled and irrational display of male arrogance, but I had predicted this reaction.

Jake was a man’s man, one accustomed to being the master of his domain. He wanted control—to be the one in the driver’s seat—but I pulled relentlessly at his wheel. Even while he patiently colored inside the lines, I consistently scribbled outside them. He needed rules to keep his life balanced, but my reckless, unpredictable behavior constantly tipped the scales.

When the door opened, I wiped at my runny nose and tried to stop the sniffling, but a dry heave shivered across my shoulders. Jake kneeled beside me, but I couldn’t look at him.

“Emily…?”

Shit. I knew this was coming.

“Look at me.”

“No.”

I stayed put, but Jake touched his hand to my cheek and turned my face toward his. He took in the sight of me, which was probably pretty rough. “Oh, hell. I’d like to choke you.”

“Why don’t you, then?”

“Because I’d rather do this,” he said, placing his mouth over mine.

The potency of his kiss threw my senses off, making me tingle from head to toe as my breath bottomed out. He was kindling for me—one tiny spark and I was on fire. His tongue explored my mouth, feeding the flames growing inside me, burning me from the inside out.

Jake pulled off my pink camouflage shirt, tossed it aside, and his gaze fixated on my breasts as if surprised by my lack of bra. I couldn’t take my eyes off him as he touched my neck and ran his hand slowly down my chest, making my breath catch in my throat. He stripped off his open camo shirt and laid it on the ground before maneuvering me onto my back. His shirt separated my soft skin from the hard wooden floor.

Wandering eyes and hands feasted on my exposed skin, taunting me with every touch until I was limp and pliable. The torture was too much. I reached down and unsnapped my jeans, inviting him to go further. He stripped off his black T-shirt, revealing his tanned muscular physique. Making quick work of it, Jake yanked the jeans from my hips and slid them off, along with my shoes. It left me completely nude.

“I’d swear you planned this,” he said, grinning.

I shrugged. “It’s laundry day.” And I never saw much point in wearing only half my underwear. After all, isn’t that why they make matching bras and panties?

Jake leaned over me and put his mouth on my neck while I traced my fingers over the muscles on his back, feeling them bulge and tighten under my grip. He moved up my throat, kissed my chin, then trailed his tongue back into my mouth where the sexual tension between us exploded.

Without words, he kneed my thighs apart and fumbled with the button on his jeans. Then he stopped. A pained expression seized his face. “Damn it,” he whispered, looking at his watch. “Hank’s back early.”

“How do you know?”

“I can hear him whistling in the distance.” Jake shoved my clothes at me. “Hurry and get dressed.”

We slithered back into our clothes as quickly as possible and made it outside as Hank walked up. We were both still rearranging and smoothing, making sure our clothing was in order. I could imagine how bad it looked.

“I heard the gun shot. You two get any action?”

Hank caught the uncomfortable look Jake and I exchanged, and although he didn’t say anything, he barely kept a straight face. I’d swear he’d done it on purpose.