Silent Deceit (6 page)

  Of course, Natasha shadowed them every
step of the way, choking on the woman's perfume. She couldn't leave Skip on his
own. The lady was a vamp who would devour a lesser man
in the blink of an eye—it might take her two or three minutes to devour Skip.
Blue forgot to mention that little detail.

  After much giggling and flirting on
Mary-Jane's part, Skip's tour ended when he declined a visit to the furnace
room. With nothing more to see, he was back at the front desk accepting a
packet of pamphlets from his tour guide. Oops, she forgot to give him some
important telephone numbers with the pamphlets. There you go, her home and cell
numbers, in case he had a library emergency. Oops again, she forgot to add her email addy.

  Mary-Jane's cheek bussing and silicone
breasts plastered against his chest came last, then Skip was on his way out the
door.

  "I struck out," he murmured. "So much for my
irresistible charm. When I mentioned Blue, she changed the subject."

  "Well, that's disappointing." Natasha
sailed along after him, thinking she'd buy him a coffee to cheer him up. And came face-to-face with Deuce. Crap! She doubted he was
there to broaden his literary horizons, and assumed Mary-Jane was his big draw.
Puzzle solved. Now they knew how he'd found out about Gordo Wilder's meeting
with her CO.

  "What the fuck?" Kingman's gaze swept the pamphlets
in Skip's hands with Mary-Jane's personal information plastered all over them.
"What the hell are you up to?"

  Natasha froze in her tracks, scrambling
to come up with an explanation that would satisfy him. Otherwise, he would fire
her at
Trailblazer's
. Blow her chances of finding Zach.

  "The Kama Sutra," Skip said
without missing a beat. A smarmy smile on his face, he looked like a snake oil
salesman. "I came in looking for a copy. Didn't find it on the shelves.
Next thing I knew, this helpful librarian had me on a tour and was handing me
pamphlets."

  "You're kidding me. The Kama
Sutra?" Deuce's gaze traveled Natasha's body as if he had x-ray vision. Eesh! She could feel a blush spread from her toes clear to the roots of
her hair. He threw back his head and laughed. "This here's a small town
library. Try the sex shop. And have a fun day off."

  "That's the plan." Skip tossed
the pamphlets into the nearest garbage bin, grabbed her hand, and grinned at
Deuce. "Where do we find the sex shop?"

––––––––

  S
kip turned the pickup into the graveled
driveway on Canyon Creek Road, pulling alongside an SUV close to the cedar-shingled
cottage. Spruce trees guarded the house like sentinels; migrating birds fighting
over suet feeders hanging from the boughs. Hedges were trimmed and the wide
expanse of lawn was neatly kept.

  Blue helped Natasha out of the jump seat
in back, and they made their way to the crime scene tape edging the burn marks
on the ground. The barn was little more than a pile of smoking ash now.
Luckily, the wind had shifted away from the house. The smell wasn't as strong
as the night before. Natasha shook her head as she surveyed the damage; no
doubt remembering how they all could have lost their lives.

  He squeezed her arm, glancing at Blue. "You
think Rena is okay on her own for a few hours?"

  "Put it this way," Blue said, turning
toward the house and the front porch. "Tigz is back, and I left him curled
up with her while she slept. I also closed her window, so he isn't going
anywhere."

  "No worries then." Skip hauled
out his cell phone to check for messages. He scrolled through the list. Nothing
that couldn't wait until later. "I have a hunch the cat would rip
someone's head off if they tried to hurt her."

  "Tell me about it." Blue
absently rubbed an arm beneath his sweater where Tigz had caught him with his
claws. 

  Natasha rapped on Wilder's screen door
and they waited. Garth Brooks sang about friends in low places from inside the
house. Skip smelled bacon frying and coffee perking in
the kitchen. His stomach grumbled. It had been a long
time since he and Natasha had eaten toast at the diner
this morning.

  A barrel chested man sporting a sidearm
appeared in the doorway, nodded at Blue, and invited them inside. He introduced
himself as Max Tyler, the bodyguard they had arranged for with the field
office. Max jacked down the stereo and headed to the kitchen as they filed into
a living space crammed with camping gear and prospector tools. Skip figured it
was a bachelor crib with no Mrs. Wilder in residence. Instead of doilies on the
overstuffed furniture or china figurines cluttering up a china cabinet, rock
specimens and geology books prevailed on every available surface. Land surveyor
maps hung on the walls, and a layer of dust coated the entire room.

  "Mr. Falcone?" A man sat on the
couch with his feet up. "I'm Gordo Wilder."

  Other than a bandage at his temple, he
appeared to be in good shape. About sixty years old, five-eleven and two
hundred pounds of muscle and sinew, Skip wondered how he had carted this guy
from the barn last night with so little effort. Then again, adrenaline had a
way of doubling or tripling a person's strength.

  Wilder invited them to sit down.   Blue
made the introductions and lost no time getting down to business. "Do you
remember what happened before the fire?"

  "All I remember is I went to the
barn to feed Rutherford...my mule. Next thing I knew, someone bashed me over
the head." He touched the bandage at his temple. "I woke up in the
hospital with one hell of a goose egg."

  Max came out of the kitchen with a
heaping platter of grilled cheese and bacon sandwiches. "I like to cook
when things get quiet. Hope you're hungry."

  Skip nodded his appreciation and locked
eyes with Natasha, realizing he was hungry for a lot more than food. She drove
him crazy on every level. Judging by her expression, she felt the same way
about him. Did they love each other? It might be too soon to tell, but yeah, he
had a strong feeling they did. And one thing was clear as crystal. Sharing
living space with Blue and Rena didn't work for either of them. Jesus, much
more of this and he'd be crippled with arthritis from taking freezing cold
showers to reduce the swelling in his balls.

  Max returned to the kitchen for a pot of
coffee, and Wilder leaned forward to grab Blue's shoulder. "I want to
thank you and your friends for saving me and Rutherford last night. We owe you
our lives."

  "Actually, I think I'm responsible
for causing the fire," Blue said, his gaze level with the other man's.
"If I hadn't asked you to talk to me, this might not have happened."

  "Bullcrap! Things were coming to a
head with or without you." Wilder reached for a bottle of whiskey on an
end table and poured some in his coffee. "Kingman saw me in the canyon the
last time he hauled ass out of there. He was in the Hummer, the black one with
the chrome detailing."

  "What happened?" Natasha edged
forward in her seat, setting her mug down on the coffee table.

  "It was the middle of the night.
Rutherford and I sometimes camp under the stars when it's not too cold."
Wilder shook his head. "The damn Hummer came barreling out of the canyon
and straight through my campsite. Hell, I barely rolled out of the way in time.
The prick caught me in his headlights, clear as day."

  "You have any idea what he was doing
out there?" Natasha asked.

  "Nope, but whatever it was, he was
up to no good. Why else would he be there at that hour?"

  "I don't know," Blue said.
"But we're going to find out."

  Skip stopped by the kitchen to say
goodbye to Max. "Thanks for lunch. Really appreciate it."

  "No problem." Max bent and slid
homemade lasagna in the oven. "Just try to get me a little more action the
next time you need me to babysit. If anything pops on this case, be sure to
call."

  "Sure."

  They left by the kitchen door and walked
around the side of the house. Skip could see a family of raccoons heading for
the garbage bins. Maybe Max was in for some action after all.

  "What do you think?" Skip asked
Blue as they climbed in the pickup and shut the doors. He keyed the engine,
pulled out of the drive, and floored it for the
highway.

  "It's too soon to tell. Let's check
out the map Mary-Jane provided and see if
Kingman Coal Mining
operated a
shaft somewhere in Canyon Creek."

  "Yes!" A grin tipped the
corners of Natasha's mouth in the rearview mirror. "You think we've found
another way into
Trailblazer's
!"

  "I didn't say that, but it's worth
looking into."

  N
atasha packed extra ammo, a flashlight,
and her Glock into the knapsack on the bed in her hotel room. Finally, they had
a solid lead. One that could take them to her brother—or his dead body. Pray
for the best-case scenario and plan for the worst. Right? Wasn't that what the
job was about? She knew her desperation to find Zach
alive wouldn't change the reality, because life could be a mean bitch.

  "Come here and check this out,
Tas." The men poured over the old
Kingman Coal Mining
map spread
out on the desk. Skip wrapped an arm around her waist when she joined them, and
tapped the map with a finger. "Look, there was a shaft in Canyon Creek
when the mine was operational."

  Blue leaned back in his chair and tossed
a pencil on the desk, the red X evident where he had marked the map. "It
shouldn't be too difficult to locate, especially since Gordo Wilder knows where
Deuce came out of the canyon. It could be the back door to Deuce's operation,
depending on what we find underground."

  "You mean if there's a tunnel
connecting Canyon Creek to the bar?" Natasha took a steadying breath to
ease the ache in her chest. She willed her stomach to settle, and her hands to
stop shaking. "When do we go in?"

  "Tonight, if we can find the
entrance." Blue leveled his gaze at her. "I can bring in another
agent to replace you if you want to sit this one out
because of your brother. No one would blame you."

  "Not on your life." She shook
her head. "I'm good to go. I really need this, guys."

  "Fine, but you ride with me."
Skip waited her out until she nodded in agreement. There was no argument there.
"Why don't we head over to the field office and requisition our wish
list?"

  "Good idea." Blue leaned back
in his chair with a smile. "We'll need the usual items, and see if they
have any new toys we can try out."

  "Will do." Natasha felt better
now, more in control. Whatever happened, Skip would watch her back, and she had
his. She knew she would be solid when the time came. She cared about him too much to fall apart and risk his life. "What about
Rena? Should we stash her here until this is over?"

  "We can't." Blue poured himself
a coffee from the 2-cup machine sitting on the bathroom counter. "We need
eyes and ears on Deuce and his thugs when we make our move. I can't send anyone
else in when
Trailblazer's
is closed for repairs."

  "I don't like it, Blue."
Natasha felt awful for involving Rena in the first place. She hadn't given the
woman a way out. "You really think this is a good idea?"

  "No, I think it sucks." Blue
walked to the window, staring through a gap in the curtains. A muscle ticked in
his jaw. "Nevertheless, she is a paid informant. She knew the risks going
in, and she's the only one in place to do the job."

  "Tas, we'll be linked to her by
satellite feed. Try not to worry."

 
Sure,
Skip. Like you really believe chatting with us on the phone will
keep her safe.

––––––––

T
wo hours
later, they were loaded for big game and ready to roll. Skip stashed their
supplies in the box of the pickup while Natasha scribbled her
signature across the requisition forms. Their next stop was Gordo Wilder's
house, about an hour's drive away. Blue would meet them there after giving Rena
the satellite phone and explaining what he needed her to do. Natasha secretly
hoped Rena refused to help, and headed for the open road instead.

  Skip didn't say much on the drive, which
suited her fine. She needed the quiet to focus and prepare for the night ahead.
Mostly she prayed everyone would get through this op in one piece. She knew she
wasn't responsible for Zach. Or his actions leading up to his disappearance,
but she would carry the guilt if anything went wrong and people got hurt.

  "Knock it off, bluebird." Skip
grabbed her hand and smoothed it against his thigh. She felt his leg muscles work
the brake and gas pedals through the material of his cargo pants. "If
there's one thing I hate, it's a woman wearing a hair shirt. It makes for really
lousy sex."

  She laughed at that. "First off,
we're taking down the bad guys tonight, not having sex. And secondly, there is
no guilt involved here."

  "Don't hand me that shitola."
Skip kept his eyes on the road, shaking his head. "Stop blaming yourself.
You haven’t been responsible for Zach's choices since his first trip to
juvie."

  "Well that's just bullshit, plain
and simple." Who the hell did he think he was dropping that bomb on her?
"You don't know what you're talking about."

  "Like hell I don't. I read your
brother's jacket, Tas. His juvenile record was sealed, but I read the
rest." Skip sped up to pass a bus and then moved back into the lane.
"The more Zach screwed up, the more you defended him. Your statements are
in his file. I'm curious; why do you keep bailing him out?"

  "You sure you want to know the
truth?" She sighed. More like he would never talk to her again. Still, it
might feel good to get it off her chest.

  "Honey, I sure don't want you to
lie." Skip's gaze searched hers for a heartbeat before turning back to the
road. "Let's hear it."

  "Zach covered for me on his first
brush with the law on a B & E. I helped him break into a house. When the
cops showed up and caught him in the act, he didn't tell them about me."

  "How old were you?"

  "I was eight."

  "And how old was your brother?"

  "Fifteen."

  Skip pulled over to the side of the road
and turned off the engine. He lowered the windows. "What did you do to
help him?"

  "I crawled through a basement window
and let him in by the back door."

  "He needed you to gain access to the
house?"

  "I guess."

  Skip slid his arm across the back of the
seat and touched her nape. "Tas, do you hear how ridiculous this
sounds?"

  Goddamn, she hated it when he was
right—and her eyes filling with tears made it that much worse. "He used
me, didn't he? Even then?"

  "What do you think?" He brushed
a tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb.

  "I think I was a child, and he was almost
an adult. He needed me to squeeze through that window; that
was all he cared about. Heck, he probably didn't turn me in because he knew our
folks would be furious and he'd be blamed." Natasha took several breaths
to fight the tears. "I think he played me for a sucker, and he's been
playing me ever since."

  Skip kissed her forehead, and then moved
on to her lips. He started the engine, and pulled back on the highway. "No more guilt about your brother, or I'll put you over my
knee and spank you."

––––––––

  S
kip recognized Blue's Harley parked near
Wilder's kitchen door.

  "Come in. It's open." Max, Gordo
and Blue sat at the table, eating dinner. Gordo pointed to two empty chairs.
"Take a seat and dig in. Max's lasagna is to die for."

  "Never say the 'D' word when leaving
on a mission, Wilder." While Skip wasn't one to wear the same socks or underwear
on every op for good luck, neither did he believe in tempting fate. Still, the
lasagna smelled delicious. He grabbed a serving spoon and heaped the pasta on
his plate.

  Natasha did the same. For a small woman
she could sure pack it away. "Nice spread, Max. Thanks."

  Blue wiped his mouth and stood to clear
his dishes. "Did you pick up everything on the shopping list? We can’t go
without the essentials."

  "Yeah, we stocked right up."
Skip ran through the list. "Kevlar vests, assault rifles, plenty of ammo,
flash bangs, night vision goggles, satellite headsets, tasers, and flashlights.
Am I missing anything?"

  "Looks like you've got it
covered." Blue poured coffee all around and sat back down with his java.
"I'll be riding with Max and Gordo tonight. Once Gordo shows us where Deuce came out of the canyon, we'll plug in the
longs and lats and start a grid search."

  "Are we working this op on our
own?" Natasha asked.

  Blue shook his head. "Only at this
end. Emergency Response is standing by with a warrant. They'll wait for our
signal to move in at
Trailblazer's
."

  His gaze traveled the room, studying
every face. "Is everyone good to go?"

  Natasha pushed her empty plate away,
jumped to her feet, and strode to the door. "Let's do it."

  Once outside, Skip searched the sky. Too
many clouds, no stars to speak of, and too little moon to conduct an optimal
grid search. At least the rain had held off, but how long that would last was
anyone’s guess.

  Blue dropped his go bag in Max's SUV and
then walked to the pickup with the others to divvy up supplies. Natasha stood
in the box, handing down equipment. "Don't carry anything too heavy, Gordo.
Remember your head wound."

  "Don't you worry about me, kid. I'm
feeling lucky tonight."

  Actually, Skip wondered about Natasha's
foot injury. He had noticed her limping a little more than usual today. The
race to get Wilder out of the barn last night probably hadn't helped. After
tonight, she should rest, on the beach in Maui with him, or in his bed. Either
way, they would be together. He'd make sure of it. Blue could make them keep
their distance on the job, but not in their private lives.

  "Turn off your cell phones and
remove the batteries." This was for Gordo's and Max's benefit, standard
procedure for Blue. He didn't want them tracked with the internal GPS function.
Not to mention a ringing phone could get them all killed.

  Blue turned to Skip. "You and
Natasha circle the canyon and make your approach from the opposite end. Gordo
says there is a dirt road that enters the gorge on the east side. I'll call you
with grid coordinates when I know the starting point."

––––––––

  W
aiting for Blue's call got to Skip, that
and the scent of Natasha's shampoo. She smelled of clover and sunshine, the
same scent he'd fallen for when he had first met her. He was desperate to touch
her, but knew his timing couldn't be worse. He should be scanning the horizon
for scumbags. Deuce might not be holed up at
Trailblazer's
like they
thought
.

But,
goddamn, his wet dream was sitting only a hairsbreadth away. Too many nights
without her made it impossible to control the need building in his groin to
volcanic intensity. He needed a diversion before he
embarrassed them both. "Tas, give me your
foot."

  She glanced his way and rolled her eyes.
"And why would I do that?"

  He bent down, grabbed her booted ankle,
and tugged at the laces. "I noticed your limp is getting worse."

  "Ow! Quit twisting me like a
pretzel." She tried to straighten and get her foot back on the floor.
"Cut it out. Blue's gonna call us any minute. I need both my boots
on."

  Skip wrestled it off her and tossed it
out the window. He wished teasing her was enough for him, but no way in hell.
Not when her tight little body sat so close to him, and she played the leading
role in his X-rated fantasies. For sure not when he needed her more than the
air he breathed. They belonged together, plain and simple, in so many ways it
made his head spin. "Maybe later."

  "Hey! Give it back!"

  "Let me see your wound first. Then
I'll get it for you."

  "This is too uncomfortable. There's
no room in this truck to move."

  "Then we'll do it outside." He
exited the cab, opened the passenger door, and scooped her up in his arms. The
feel of her against him caused his heart to jackhammer. 

  A glimmer of hope surfaced when she
curled into his neck and sighed. Hot. Breathless. Aroused. Tugging his shirt
up, she smoothed her hands across his chest. Branded his skin with her touch.
And it no longer mattered if his timing was off. He would
not
be
using his hand to get off tonight.

  On a slow breath, he gazed at her
incredible mouth. Walked to the back of the truck, dropped the tailgate, and
set her down. He pulled off her other boot, making his intentions clear.
Whether she picked up on it or not was up to her.

––––––––

  "D
o what outside?" The look in
Skip's eyes drew her. He wanted her. She wanted him. Natasha shifted to the
edge of the tailgate. He didn't sit beside her. Instead, he paced back and
forth like a dog marking its territory. She wrapped her legs around his waist
on the next pass, pulling him close. She breathed him in. Touched his face with
her fingertips. Kissed him, her tongue flicking in to taste his.

  “You getting frisky with me, bluebird?”

  “If you let me,” she said, nipping his chin.

  "Honey, I'm putty in your hands."
Grabbing a bedroll off the bed of the truck, he tossed it to the ground, lifted
her off the tailgate and laid her down. 

  Nuh-uh, this was her party, Natasha
decided. She had waited too long for this moment. She would control the moves
and set the pace. She pulled him on top of her, then rolled and straddled him.
Slipping her T-shirt over her head, she unfastened her bra and tossed it,
shivering in the night air. Her nipples tightened. She arched her back, cupping
her hands along the undersides of her breasts. "See Skip? I'm not wearing
a hair shirt."

  He watched her, laughing. Desire lighting his hungry gaze. "Let me take a
closer look."

  He sat up and caressed her back, the
rock-hard feel of his biceps rippling along her sides. His lips closed on her
nipples. Suckling. Nipping. Sending shockwave after shockwave of blistering
heat straight to her core. If she didn't slow him down, she would climax before
the party began.

  Pushing him back down on the bedroll, she
admired the view of his leanly muscled frame, trailing her hands down his
amazing chest to his belt buckle. She unzipped his pants and eased them over
his hips. And took him into her mouth, tasting this beautiful man. She stroked
his length, giving herself as much pleasure as she gave him. He was everything
to her. The feel of him, his unique scent, his need to protect, and the love
for her he couldn't hide. He curled his fists in her hair. Sighed out her name.
"Tas...I'm going to explode if you don't ease off."