StrongArmsoftheLaw (6 page)

“Is that a reason you came down here to research the Gonzaga
family?”

“Yes. I’d read so much about how they treated their own
women and how they pressed others into prostitution that I wanted to do one
novel totally devoted to that kind of oppression. But all my interest in
writing about crime really stems from a combination of those criminology
courses and my years in the Emergency Room. You know, the sooner you get
someone into a stable condition after a trauma, the faster they recover. So I
trained in emergency procedures and transferred. I was in the ER for more than
six years when I started to write. I knew I’d need a dynamite story to get
published, so I joined a writers’ group and met a few editors and agents. The
first agent I signed with really worked hard for me. And here we are, six
novels later and I’m able to write full time.”

“And do research that puts you in harm’s way,” he added, his
tone telling her he was none too happy about it.

“It brought me you,” she said with an awe and reverence that
had him turning to her, finding her hand and squeezing it.

“I won’t complain,” he told her.

But there the conversation died. And Skye wasn’t quite sure
why.

Then Rex said, “But if you and I continue together after
this is over, I might.”

She wanted to hug him. Instead, she looked out her side
window. “I’m not the only one with a dangerous job, here, Ranger, sir.”

“If you keep getting yourself on criminals’ hit list, you’ll
have a tough time staying alive, Miz Chamberlain, author, ma’am.”

“There are things you don’t know about me, Rex,” she said in
a more congenial voice, lowering the tension between them. She hoped. “I’ve
walked rough streets and I—”

“Walking them does not mean you will survive them!”

She took his hand now and pressed it reassuringly as he
stared at the road dead ahead. “What I should tell you is that I know how to
protect myself.”

“Not from the Gonzagas who want to scoop you up off the
streets and take you away to do, God knows what, rape you? Sell you to their
compadres
in Mexico? Shoot you up with—”

“Whoa! Whoa! Rex, listen to me. I told you weeks ago I know
how to shoot a gun. Remember?”

“Sure. But in a fight? Can you pull the trigger, honey?”

“Why not?” she asked but inside she knew the stock answer to
that one.

“If you’ve got one in your hand, you have to use it, or the
other guy will grab it from you and use it on you.”

“I know. I’ve heard that, Rex. But I wouldn’t clutch. And
I’m a damn good shot because I practice every month at a range outside Chicago.
I own a Sig Sauer. So I’m not as green—”

“As a gringo?” He was smiling even though his expression
said he was not totally happy with what he was hearing.

“Right. And there’s more.”

He cast her a look of tolerance. “Hurry up. Tell me before I
spit wooden nickels here.”

“I’m learning karate. I do
tai chi
when I can and—”

“Fuck me.”

“Well, I do hope so, honey.” She laughed and crossed her
arms, her breasts loving the movement, in lieu of having him lick them and nip
them.

He reached over, sank his fingers in her hair and ruffled
her curls wildly. “Hope these last few months haven’t atrophied your muscles.”

“I’ve done some work in my bedroom.”

“Yeah? You were awfully quiet about it. Why didn’t you come
out and show me?”

“Didn’t want to give you any ideas.”

“Darlin’, I
had
ideas. I still have ’em. And no
amount of gyrating that body of yours in any way shape or form would make me
want you more.”

She inhaled mightily. “Oh goody.”

He snorted. “God help us both.

“Tell me more about the ER duty.”

As the miles went by, she told him about some of her most
memorable patients. The young thirty-something window-washer who had fallen
from his platform onto piles of garbage and miraculously broken only an arm and
a leg. The gang member who had taken a bullet to the head and survived to stand
trial for murder of one of his buddies. The teenage girl who suffered from a
head injury incurred when her boyfriend pushed her from his speeding car. The
thief who came in with multiple gunshot wounds given him by the man whose house
he’d tried to rob.

“All that blood, all that destruction to a human body,” she
concluded on a somber note, “makes you value more every breath you take. Makes
you treasure every day that’s good. Makes you want to seize every good person
who comes into your life and make it a bigger joy.”

He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her
fingers. “Sounds like you for me.”

At his endearment, she felt her heart expand and fill with
all the sweet things she’d never sensed for any other man, never even
considered saying to any other man. “And you for me.”

Chapter Six

“Wait here,” Rex pulled into the lot of a convenience store
on the outskirts of Alpine. A gas station, the place was tiny, selling traps
for javalinas and bobcats outside and fresh tacos inside. “Be right back.” He
hit the remote to lock her in.

She sat, grinning like a Cheshire cat. How had she been so
lucky to get Rex? She’d never lived with a man, never wanted to. But this one
was perfect for her. And if she wanted to keep him, nurture the relationship,
she knew it was she who would have to move from the big city to wild west
Texas. No hardship there. What was scenery compared to the love of a good man?
Her gaze took in the scorched high plains, the scrub that gasped for water to
survive, the dust that covered everything with a fine mist. The blazing hot sun
that baked the truck so that she tried to open the window and couldn’t because
Rex had taken the key and the automatic windows didn’t work without it.
Glancing around, she saw an old yellow Camaro pull into the slot next to her.
But no one else was in the parking lot so she felt safe hitting the lock, and
opening her door a crack. Inhaling, she felt the August heat seep into her
lungs.

Rex came outside to frown at her as he climbed into the
truck. “Not a good idea to open that, darlin’. My fault, I know. I should have
left you the keys.” He dumped a brown paper bag in her lap.

She fished inside, happy as a clam. “Chocolate sauce?” She
held up the container, a question in her eyes.

“No condoms in there.”

“You must be kidding me. Doesn’t anyone do it in south
Texas?”

He chuckled, as he checked the rearview mirror and put the
truck in gear. “Evidently, they do it so much in this part of town, the guy is
sold out.”

She muttered her dismay.

“But I bought you that.” He cast her a devilish look. “For
your chocolate fix.”

“Oh, yeah?” She wiggled in her seat, her pussy gushing in
response to the image in her mind of how to use it. “Gonna let me try it on my
favorite confection?”

His brows knit with horrified delight. “I rather thought
you’d let me get a good taste of it on your nipples.”

“I might.” She nibbled on her lower lip. “Any place else
appeal to you?”

He sent his smoldering gaze down her body. “Yeah. All over
you. It’s gonna be messy good fun.”

“Damn, boy! You better buy a couple dozen boxes of those
little foil babies.”

“Exactly my plan,” he promised, gunning the engine on the
highway to Alpine.

Within five miles, he pulled into a strip mall where an old
pharmacy stood on the corner.

“Here.” He tossed her the keys. “Lock it up, sweetheart.”

She did as she was told, leaving the air-conditioner on and
pressing her thighs together. The chocolate sauce in her hot little hands was
an inspiring talisman to the future. When had she ever had a lover who gave in
to her foibles? Never. She thanked her lucky stars for Rex. Someone was
watching out for her. And the very idea that she could fall in love with a man
so right for her…

Fall in love.

She closed her eyes. Repeated the phrase. The very idea made
her tingle all over. But what else could it be?

Hot sex.

Sure. The hottest, craziest bed gymnastics she’d ever known.
Ever even hoped for. But that wasn’t where they’d started this relationship.
And that was a good thing. The best thing.

At thirty-two, she knew enough about men, her past
relationships, and sex in general to feel comfortable concluding that the wild
fucking they did was a result of how well they fit together. Yin and yang. Man
and woman. Lawman and crime writer.

He exited the store, a shit-eating grin on his handsome
face, jiggling a brown paper bag.

When he climbed in the truck, he pushed the package into her
lap. She peeked inside. Boxes! “Four of them?”

Smug, he was so pleased with himself. “I won’t have to ask
Jose for them.”

Squealing, she couldn’t help herself, she threw her arms
around him and gave him the biggest smacker of a kiss.

“Hey, woman. Let me drive us home, will you?”

She nibbled his ear, kissed his neck. “What if I can’t
wait?”

“Your new signature line, is it?”

“Oh, yeah.” She wrinkled her nose at him, then sat back.
“Maybe I could persuade you to stop on the side of the road.”

“You. Can. Not.” He smiled, but shook his head as he turned
the truck toward their little house.

“Okay.” She threw up her hands. “Okay. Just saying, you
know.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Hope we don’t run out of gas,” she offered, eyes on the
two-lane road home.

He laughed and shoved his hand back down between her thighs.
“I’d fly us there is I had wings. Never been like this with a woman.”

She locked her legs together, the feel of his fingers
grazing her damp jeans killing her patience. “I think we have something rare.”

When he faced her once more, his expression was dear and
sweet, melting her insides to mush. “We’re gonna talk about that. Soon.”

She nodded, her gaze admiring the passion written all over
his face. “Today.”

“I’m gonna use at least one of those first,” he told her,
his voice rough as gravel.

“Can’t talk while you make love?”

He roared, clutching her thigh tighter. “Can’t think while
I’m making love to you.”

She preened. “Such a good thing. You won’t get any
complaints from me. I can’t seem to get enough of you.”

“We have two more weeks until the trial, darlin’.”

She made goo-goo eyes at him. “We might have to go shopping
again before that.”

On Rex’s side, a car pulled alongside them on the double
lane.

“What the hell?” he murmured, putting his other hand on the
steering wheel as he decelerated…and so did the car.

A yellow one.

Skye stretched up to see it more clearly. “Camaro?”

“Yeah,” Rex said cryptically, checking his mirrors.

“He was in the gas station lot,” she added, her chest
tightening.

“He was.” Rex fell completely back to let the guy take the
road, but the yellow vehicle hung back, too, parallel with their pickup. “Did
you get a look at him?”

“No,” she was ashamed to say. “He didn’t get out.”

“Right.” Rex was examining the car, looking down to the
inside. “He’s got a buddy in there. Talking on the phone.”

She gulped. This was not good. “Is there a way to escape
them?”

“A crossroads up here,” he answered, his gaze all over the
road and their surroundings. Bounded by rock-strewn berms, the country road
offered no exits. Straight ahead was the only way to go, and she could bet that
their pickup was not agile enough to have a wheel radius that could turn them
easily in such a narrow space. And in the few minutes necessary to beat the
Camaro to a one-eighty reverse. “Hang on, honey.”

Rex gunned the pickup. A newer model than the Camaro, the
pickup sped ahead, leaving the driver of the Camaro to step on the gas. The
older car must have had a new, souped-up engine because within two minutes,
they were once more even on the road.

Another vehicle, straightaway about three or more miles
ahead of them, barreled toward them in the on-coming lane.

“He’ll have to drop back,” Skye said like a prayer.

“I will,” Rex told her, his jaw tense. “Rather have our
Camaro boys dead than us.”

“Or them,” she indicated the other truck.

But at that moment, the other truck switched lanes, heading
dead on for their pickup.

If Rex cursed, if she screamed, she didn’t know. But the
horror of the coming impact, made her brace herself.

The next thing she heard was the screech of their own
truck’s tires.

A huge jolt. A crunch of metal. The shattering of glass.

Voices. Loud. Crazy. Spanish. English.

Her own voice, saying, “No, no. Don’t touch me. I’m fine.”
But not feeling it. “I’m fine.” Wanting to vomit. Stumbling from the truck.
Retching into a ditch. Warm hands to her arms. Rough hands on her arms.

She turned, her gaze going to the man who held her. “Rex?”

She heard a man grunt, shout her name.

“Get her in the car, Marco.”

She was being yanked away.

Her knees gave out, as she saw three men beating Rex.
Outnumbered, he still managed to get in punches of his own. To one man’s head,
another’s ribs. A third, his groin.

But she was hustled off, lifted, carried.

“No! No!” She kicked at one man. He was small, thin, evil
looking. A mustache. She twisted away from the one who held her arms. But he
held on, cursing at her in Spanish and calling for help. But there were no more
men.
Were there?

She writhed and twisted.

Grappling with the two guys who carried her, she writhed.
They let her drop. The air gushed out of her, but she scrambled away. Getting
no farther than a few feet, she cut her hands. The two grabbed her up again.
She fought for calm, reason.

Where was Rex?

Where were these guys taking her?