Two Cowboys in Her Crosshairs [Hellfire Ranch] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (15 page)

BOOK: Two Cowboys in Her Crosshairs [Hellfire Ranch] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)
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The man wore boxers and black socks to bed.

Jake shook his head as he gunned the engine and sped toward Hellfire Ranch. “Got your cell?”

“Yes. Do you think he’s following us?”

He scanned the dark road behind them. “No. Not unless he’s crazy and driving with no lights.”

She held the phone up. “The idiot threw a grenade into a motel room. I think crazy is a given. Does 911 get Tag?”

“Use his personal number.” Jake gave it to her and waited while it rang.

After a long moment she cursed. “He’s not answering.”

“Probably on his way to the scene.”

The SUV ate up the yellow road reflectors as he drove. His mind tossed around what just happened. He looked over at her. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

“Yes.” She shivered then reached over and turned down the AC. “Except for being buck-assed naked.”

Her lips twitched.

Then she snorted.

Jake couldn’t help but grin in response. “Hey, I happen to like you in that state. Makes for easy access, if you know what I mean.”

She slugged him. “Jacob Dean Logan. You should be ashamed.”

He shrugged. “Of what? You’re a fine-looking woman, Olivia. Being naked just means less time before I can get in your—what the hell?”

Jake stomped on the brakes and veered to the right. Deputy Wallace’s car was exactly where he passed it five hours earlier. In the glare of headlights, Jake saw the deputy was in the exact same position. Head back, hat covering his face, and not moving.

“Oh shit,” Jake whispered.

“What’s wrong?” Olivia asked as she peered into the darkness.

“Wallace hasn’t moved an inch since eight this evening. That’s why there were no sirens. Why we didn’t see any cars coming when we left the motel.”

She clutched at his arm. “God, you think he’s dead?”

Jake nodded. “Stay here.” He rammed the gear shift to park. “Call Tag again. Tell him we’re on FM 422 about half a mile south of Miles Cochran’s place.”

He opened the door, but she lunged across the console and grabbed at his bare waist. Her nails scored along his skin. “Wait, Jake.”

Under the interior light of the SUV, her eyes were heavy with worry. “I’ll be careful,” he promised. “Call Tag.”

Olivia bit her lip then nodded.

Jake slid from the car and gingerly stepped over brambles, stickers, and the occasional rock as he made his way to the deputy’s car.

He peered inside then knocked on the window. “Pete? You okay?”

The man inside didn’t move. Sweat broke out on Jake’s neck. It rolled down his back and pooled at his butt. The muggy May air pressed down on him like a fur coat. His stomach churned.

Wallace had a pregnant wife and two little ones at home. He couldn’t be dead.

Jake knocked harder. Behind him the SUV door opened and shut. He looked and saw Olivia rushing forward. Before he could warn her, she cried out and fell against the hood of the car. She lifted her foot and brushed at the sole.

“Stay there,” he said. “Did you get hold of Tag?”

“Yes,” she said. She waggled the phone at him. “He’s on the line. Wants to talk to you.”

Jake looked back at Wallace and the truth rammed him. The man hadn’t moved or taken a breath in the entire time Jake had been banging on the window.

Fuck.

He picked his way back to Olivia and grabbed the phone. “Tag? Where are you?”

“Calico Queen,” Tag’s gravelly voice said. “You two okay?”

“Yeah. A few cuts and scratches, but we’re whole. Listen, Tag, you need to get over here.”

“You find Wallace? Is he sleeping again?”

Jake started. He narrowed his eyes and turned back to the car. “I found him.”

“Let me talk to him.”

Jake met Olivia’s concerned eyes over the glare of the SUV’s headlights. He cleared his throat. “Tag,” he said. “You need to come here right now.”

“What’s wrong? Is the shooter chasing you?” Tag’s voice was tight and pissed.

“No. It’s Wallace. Tag.” Jake drew in a deep breath and turned to face the car. He lowered his voice. “Tag, I think he’s dead.”

“Son of a bitch, no!” Tag roared.

Jake pulled the phone away from his ringing ear and worked his jaw to clear the echoes. “I’m not sure. He’s not answering. The door is locked.”

“Fuck and double fuck,” Tag said.

Jake heard the sheriff running across pavement. “Dispatch, call Kerr county and have them send a deputy over. Call the Texas Rangers, too. I need Gideon Masters in my office in two hours. Jake, don’t touch a damn thing. I’m on my way.”

The line went dead. Jake hit the
end
button then started to hand the phone back to Olivia. He hesitated.

“Tag is on his way. He said to stay here.”

“That makes sense,” she said. “He’ll need to get our statements.”

“I hate being out here in the open. We’re still easy targets.”

“Trust me, Jake. If this bastard wanted to nail us, he would have. The rifle he was using at the motel could see through that excuse for curtain. Unless he was a complete idiot, and I don’t think he is, he could have hit us at any time.”

Jake clenched the phone in tight fingers. “He missed on purpose.”

“Yeah. One shot, one kill. But get us both up and into play and it’s easier. Tossing that grenade was his way of taking out two birds with one stone.”

“We’re dealing with a professional.”

“I don’t know if he’s as good as I was,” Olivia said with a tight smile. “But he’s got skills. He shredded the window and put a bullet exactly between us. An inch to either side and one of us wouldn’t have made it out.”

“Why didn’t he shoot when we got in the car? I
know
he was still there.”

She frowned. “I don’t know. That part doesn’t make sense.” She looked up at the night sky.

For a moment Jake was arrested by the moonbeams as they played over her skin. The peaks and valleys of her breasts and tummy reminded him of a Grecian goddess carved from marble.

But there was nothing cold about Olivia.

His gaze drifted to the juncture of her thighs then snapped back to her face. “Hell, we’re naked.”

She frowned and nodded. “Yeah, we covered this.”

He scowled. “I don’t want Tag seeing you without clothes.” Jake lifted the phone and punched in Hudson’s number.

Olivia shook her head. “It’s fine.”

“No, it is not fucking fine. Hudson? Get your ass up. I need you to bring me some clothes.”

“Do you know what the hell time it is?” Hudson snarled into his ear.

Jake checked the display on the phone. “Three twenty-six.”

“Fine. Call me back in an hour and thirty four minutes. I ain’t getting up until five.”

“Hudson,” Jake snapped. “This is serious. Olivia and I are on the side of 422 wearing nothing but skin.”

“Didn’t know you were so kinky. Make sure you don’t get any splinters where the sun don’t shine. I sure as hell won’t pull ’em out for you.”

Jake gritted his teeth and barely resisted the urge to use every profanity he knew. “Someone blew up the motel. Wallace is dead.”

“Shit.” Hudson sounded stunned. “I’m on my way. Shit,” he repeated. “What the hell do I bring for Olivia?”

Jake tried to think, but the events of the evening were pressing in on him. His head suddenly throbbed and deep shivers wracked him. “Grab some of my sweat pants and a T-shirt. And my slippers. I’ll need shoes, too. Bastard scorched my best pair of boots.”

“I’m there in five.”

Jake stabbed the
end
button and gave the phone back to Olivia. She studied him like he was a prized bull. “What?” he snapped.

“Don’t lose it now, Jake. I need you to stay focused.”

He shivered again. Shamed that he was falling apart, he looked away then walked to the driver’s side door. One more secret that he carried and if he wasn’t careful this one would spill out.

He wondered what Olivia would think of him if she knew he’d been diagnosed with PTSD. He propped his naked butt on the leather seat and rubbed his forehead. For a week after his return he’d been jumpy, had the shakes, and couldn’t help but react violently when something was dropped.

Week two had Hudson dragging his ass to the shrink’s office. Another month of careful study had passed before the good doctor diagnosed him. Fortunately, the man also knew a thing or two about helping. After several intensive sessions of cognitive behavioral therapy, Jake had seen a light at the end of the tunnel that wasn’t a train.

When the head shrink added the serotonin inhibitor, he finally found a balance he could work with.

His neck and back were as tense as if he were facing down another ambush. He tried to concentrate and focus on his inner being. Tried to channel the CBT lessons, but it was little use.

He was as skittish as a long-tailed cat in a roomful of rocking chairs.

“Jake?” Olivia’s hand smoothed along his shoulder. She was warm and vibrant.

Immediately he felt better.

He picked up her hand, pressed it to his lips, and pressed a kiss to the center of her palm. “Hopefully Hudson will beat Tag here.” He twisted in the seat. “But if he doesn’t, I want you to stay in the car until we get some clothes on you.”

She smiled softly. “Yes, sir.”

He shook his head and kissed her hand again. “Smart-ass.”

Olivia winked. “Surely that’s not a newsflash?”

“Hell no. And don’t call me Shirley.”

They grinned at each other, and Jake felt the tension seeping toward his toes. Not away entirely, but it was better.

Twin beams of light split the night sky. Jake quickly shut his door and pushed her down below the dash.

“It’s probably Hudson,” she said.

“Yeah, well until we’re sure, stay down.”

“God, you’re bossy.”

“Damn right, sweetheart. As long as it keeps you safe, I’ll be the bossiest son of a bitch you ever knew.”

The vehicle stopped, and its lights streamed into the SUV. A door thudded. “Jake?”

He’d never been happier to hear his friend’s voice.

Jake shoved open the door and waved him over. “Over here.”

Just as Hudson reached the wheel well, Jake held his hand up. “Toss me the bag.”

Olivia remained curled on the seat, but he saw the humor in her eyes. “Want me to flash him?” she asked.

Jake figured Hudson would not only love that, but take it as a personal invitation. His heart kicked. “Nah, he’s just getting over being sick. Seeing you naked might stop his heart or something.”

She rolled her eyes.

A cricket flew into the cab of the SUV from Jake’s open door and landed on her bare back. She screamed and jerked upward then shoved open the passenger door and toppled out.

Jake stared at her, sprawled bare and disheveled on the bramble-infested road.

“Here.”

He looked up just as Hudson threw him the bag and started around the front of the car. He held the sweats and a burnt-orange Longhorns shirt in his hands.

“Darlin’, you okay down there? You’re probably getting sand in your nether parts. That can’t be comfortable.”

Jake stuffed himself into his jeans, shirt, and boots. All the while he watched Hudson and Olivia. His friend picked her up off the brambles and set her gingerly on the running boards. His big hands swept along her back, legs, and ass.

It looked like Hudson’s hand lingered a shade too long on her sweet ass.

Not that he could blame him. Olivia’s ass was one of her best features.

“Okay, looks like you’re clear,” Hudson said. He gave her the clothes and winked. “Guess we’ll have to wait and check your bottom tomorrow and make sure you didn’t land in any poison ivy.”

“Poison ivy?” she yelped and looked down with wild eyes.

“Yep,” Hudson said. “It’ll be hell if you get that stuff in your privates. Painful and red and swollen. Ugh.”

Olivia slid into the sweats and tugged the shirt over her head. “I think you’re full of shit, Hudson. This is a county road. They’d clear that kind of stuff out.”

Hudson’s laughter mirrored Jake’s, and she turned to peer at him through the car. “Sweetheart,” Jake said. “This is the county. They’re more interested in awarding best pie ribbons than clearing out the ivy.”

She groaned and rubbed at her butt. “I hope there’s none, then.”

A fast-approaching car sounded behind them, and Jake once more slammed the door shut. He sprinted around the SUV to Olivia and Hudson and yanked her off the running boards before shutting her door, too.

“Get down,” he said, but they were already hunched below the hood.

The car skidded to a fast stop. It blocked most of the blacktop, and its lights centered on the deputy’s car.

Deputy Wallace’s pale neck and stiff posture were as clear as if the noon sun beat down on him.

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