Undercover Cowboy Page 12

  ****

  Sara Jane awoke to bright sunlight pouring through a bare window and found herself shackled to Nick. Anger shot through her. She shifted her wrist to a more comfortable position and looked down at him. Although his face was darkened with stubble that made him look dangerous, in slumber there was a vulnerability about him that tugged at her heart. Enough thoughts like that! With her free arm, she reached for the glass of water sitting on the floor. She took a small sip, and then poured the remainder into his face.

  He shot to a sitting position, almost dragging her off the cot. “What the hell?” He blinked and wiped water from his face with his free hand.

  “Good morning to you, too,” she quipped, glaring at him. “Is this the only way you can get a woman to spend the night with you?”

  “You’re feeling better, I see,” he growled as he unlocked the handcuffs. He raked his tousled hair. “Don’t waste the water again. It’s in short supply.” He got to his feet and looked down on her, rubbing his wrist and working the kinks out of his arm. “Since you were such a good girl,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “I’ll make you some breakfast.”

  Her stomach growled. She looked around—there was no stove, no refrigerator. “With what?”

  “When out in the bush, I always carry K-rations.”

  She shook her head. “As delicious as that sounds, I’ll pass.” She knew the line shacks were stocked with emergency supplies including blankets, first aid kits and a few canned goods, but a person would have to be starving to want any of the food. She doubted that Nick’s personal supply would be any better.

  He laughed. “What? A ranch girl sticking up her nose at chow cooked over a mesquite fire?”

  She laughed, too. “What’s even more surprising is that my kidnapper is my bodyguard who thinks cooking breakfast for me will smooth things over.”

  He darted a sidelong look at her. “Always a snappy comeback. That’s one of the things I can count on with you.” He grinned. “But I’m not complaining. Keeps the job from getting boring.”

  He grabbed some food and utensils from the cupboard and handed them to her, and then loaded up his arms as well. She followed him outside.

  “That’s right,” she said. “I almost forgot. This is just a job to you.” She fought a stab of disappointment. The heated tenderness in his green eyes told her that he liked her, even desired her, but this temporary set up was merely just part of the job to him. He was destined to move on when this was over.

  By the time his fire crackled with life, her hunger had increased to the point that his powdered eggs, pancakes and canned spam sounded pretty good. Soon wonderful aromas of frying spam and chicory coffee tickled her nostrils.

  Humming, Nick served up the food on aluminum plates and handed one to her. They sat cross-legged on the ground under an elm tree and ate silently for a few minutes. “Okay,” he said, smiling. “Admit it. It’s fantastic, right?”

  She laughed. “Don’t let it go to your head, but it’s better than I expected.” She realized that Nick had many of the resourceful qualities she wanted in a rancher-husband. Best of all, even when she didn’t want to, he could make her laugh. She took a sip of coffee. “Thanks for risking your life for me and Demon.”

  Nick gave a wry laugh. “But?”

  “Don’t get me wrong,” she said, unable to keep the laughter out of her tone. “I’m not happy that you kidnapped me—but nevertheless…thanks.” She looked down a moment, and then met his gaze. “May we please just tell Erik and Alicia that I’m alive?”

  Nick shook his head. “Impossible! That would be like splashing it across the headlines of U.S. newspapers or advertising over the Internet.” She opened her mouth to lash out at him, when his eyes softened and he added, “But I have good news—your grandma knows.”

  Relief washed over her, but she refused to let him to know how much that small concession touched her. “Thanks for that, “she said coolly. “But don’t think I’ve forgiven you for the grief you’ve caused my family.” Sorrow and a sense of helplessness rippled through Sara Jane. Uncle Luke, Aunt Amber, and her cousins all mourned her. What about the ranch hands? Did they wear black bands on their arms like when Indian Joe died at the age of a hundred and ten? She inhaled deeply and blew it out. Damn it, she refused to feel powerless. She looked up at him through her lashes. “Of course, I’ll escape the first chance I get.”

  He studied her for several long seconds. Slowly, he took his cell phone from his belt and dialed it.

  She rolled her eyes. “Who are you calling, the escape police?

  He held up a hand to shush her. When the person he called came on the line, he asked, “How is everyone holding up?” A tendon twitched in his jaw as he listened. Finally, when he handed her the phone, she expected it to be her dad. Tears filled her eyes when she heard her mother’s voice.

  “Honey, please cooperate just this once and I’ll never ask another thing of you. Grandma wants it, too. Promise me….”

  Sara Jane’s mom seldom asked for anything. And Grandma never did—she was all about giving. Sara Jane gripped the cell phone so tight her fingers ached. Everything in her wanted to rebel, but how could she turn down such a heartfelt plea from two of the most important people in her life? “Okay, Mom,” she finally forced out.

  “Don’t worry about your business—Erik offered to help me run it.” Her voice choked. “In your memory. And your clients aren’t leaving. They want to stay on as a memorial to you.”

  So many emotions charged through Sara Jane at once that she felt like she was in the path of a hurricane. She didn’t know how she felt about Erik getting into the act, but it touched her that her mother would set aside her own career as a freelance news reporter for a while to keep things going. Her throat constricted, thinking about her clients’ loyalty. She didn’t know how she got through the rest of the conversation. After she disconnected the line, she pressed the cell phone to her heart, fighting tears again. To everyone but her parents and grandma she was dead…

  Nick opened his arms and she moved into them. Shocked to find herself there, she looked up at him through tear-filled lashes to confirm her presence. He kissed her forehead, her eyelids—and then his mouth touched hers so gently that she thought her heart would stop. Needing more of him, she slid her fingers into the thick hair at the base of his skull and pulled him closer. He deepened the kiss, and when she gasped for breath, he kissed her neck, slowly working his way to the hollow of her throat. She shivered in desire as heat rose between them. He groaned and kissed her until they seemed to be one burning flame, growing in intensity, raging unstoppable.

  No! She couldn’t forgive him this easily. With all of her strength, she pushed him away. “The idea of my death is a horrible thing for those who don’t know I’m alive.” She glared at Nick who looked at her with eyes still smoky with desire. “Is this what they taught you at the training center at Quantico—if all else fails kidnap the person you’ve sworn to protect?”

  His jaw tightened. “Not exactly. Just whatever it takes to get the job done.”

  She touched her lips, still warm and swollen. “I thought you guys believed that your badge was something to live up to. I think you need a refresher course in ethics!”

  A flush crawled up his neck. “And you need one in gratitude.”

  “Is that what the kiss was about? I’m supposed to be grateful enough to…to…”

  “Forget it. I take back my comment and the kiss too.”

  She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to think about how much it hurt that he wanted to take the kiss back. She grabbed the first subject that occurred to her. “How come you have that six gun on your hip instead a fifteen-round Glock?”

  “Man! You’re really on a roll this morning. Is that the bump on your head talking?” He inhaled and stared at her a moment, as though counting to ten. “If that is a serious question, a Glock would blow my cowboy cover.”

  She laughed, surprised that she coul
d. “Your new duds red-flagged you as a greenhorn that first day. But don’t worry. Now that they’re wrinkled and blackened by soot you fit right in.”

  He shook his head. “That makes me feel a whole lot better.” Sarcasm dripped from his words. He paused and rubbed his jaw. “Maybe you’d feel safer to know that I have my Glock hidden nearby.”

  A tremor shot through her. “Have you ever killed anyone?” She wasn’t sure what she wanted his answer to be. She knew her dad had killed—but only as a last resort.

  “Let’s just say that at target practice, I never miss my mark. Even if it’s moving.”

  She knew from her dad that agents like Nick were well-trained in more than just firearms. They had to become expert at many things: DNA gathering, uncovering trace evidence, explosives, law, and computer science. Was he was an expert at making love? A few more minutes and she might have found out. Imagining, she shivered in delight. No! Stopping had been the wise thing to do. Her dad’s words, Nick has left many broken hearts behind, echoed in her head. She didn’t want to be just another notch on any man’s belt. And the only way to keep him at a distance was to rev up the animosity between them. “If you’ve killed, why keep it a secret? Are you ashamed of it?”

  ****

  Lying in the darkness with Sara Jane only a few feet away and breathing in her just-bathed fragrance sent desire racing through Nick’s veins. Even several days after he’d kissed her, the memory of their second kiss teased and seduced him. On the one hand, he was glad that she’d stopped things before they spiraled too far out of hand, but he cursed himself that she’d been the one to pull back. That was his job—and he’d failed.

  Every moment with her challenged his control. They breathed the same air, ate the same food, and shared the same old oak tub—separately, unfortunately. Twice a day he hung one of the blankets for privacy and filled the tub with cool well water. He’d never before realized how arousing the splash of bath water could be. The blanket gave her privacy from his eyes, but not from the images playing in his mind. He imagined her stepping into the tub with the grace of a dancer. All curves, arches and long lines, she lowered herself until her breasts dipped into the swaying water, rosy nipples budding at the coolness. Nick closed his eyes and became the water licking over her, tasting her soft skin….

  He moaned as his erection swelled and pressed into his jeans.

  “Did you say something, Nick?” The tentative quality of her soft voice was sexy as hell.

  He remained silent, pretending to be asleep. Trying to clear his mind of desire, he thought about Sara Jane’s question—the one that had tortured his mind for a couple of days—the one he’d refused to answer. Was he ashamed that he’d killed? Her dad was alive because he had pulled the trigger. And he was alive because Matt had returned the favor. How could he be ashamed of that? Yet the niggling fear that he had made his decision to shoot too quickly always plagued him. Killing wasn’t something he took lightly. If he ever got the Honey Killer in his sights, would he remember that? An image of Shirl flashed in his mind. His beloved sister lay motionless with honey matted in her hair. Probably not, he admitted to himself for the first time.

  ****

  Several days passed, and Sara Jane didn’t know if the kiss had tamed her, or if she was merely honoring her mother’s wishes. She sighed. Maybe she suffered from the relating-to-your-captor syndrome. Or perhaps she’d hung around because her head spun every time she got up too quickly. Not that Nick gave her a chance to get away—he watched her like a hawk. But he had stopped handcuffing her. Did that mean the beginning of trust between them?

  She couldn’t help but notice that besides being a controlling, brawny hunk who enjoyed making her life miserable, he was dedicated to his job. He had brought a battery-operated computer in from his truck and each morning he was up with the sun, and before cleaning up or making breakfast, he checked his email for daily updates. Nick wasn’t just hiding out with her, he was a one-man command center, working to make sense of the DNA and trace evidence the police and FBI gathered and shared with him.

  Curious, Sara Jane stood behind Nick as his fingers flew over the computer keys. She had an urge to massage his neck. She gripped the posts of the straight-backed chair. “Earlier, I heard you talking on your cell phone to the sheriff’s deputy,” she said. “You asked him about Wally. Surely you don’t think the gentle giant is mixed up in the trouble at the ranch?”

  Nick shrugged. “Just routine. I like to run a check on all the players in a case. Leila might have gotten suspicious if I had pressed her for Wally’s last name after asking about Kitty. Besides, I wanted more information than she would have given to a cowpoke. Our friendly deputy got it for me with no problem. In fact, he did better than that—he came up with a copy of the big guy’s work application. Turns out that Wally is a very interesting guy. Before hiring on with Leila he was a bounty hunter who worked between the U.S. and Mexico borders.” Nick chuckled. “And wait until you hear his last name.” Nick leaned forward to look closer at the FBI file displayed on the screen.

  “Well,” Sara Jane said, “don’t keep me in suspense. What is it?”

  “Catchum.”

  She laughed. “You’re kidding.”

  Nick lifted two fingers. “FBI’s honor.” He worked only a few more minutes, then he stopped and they carried the supplies outside for breakfast. Now that he had everything organized, starting the fire and cooking was such a breeze that Sara Jane felt she could handle it.

  “You know, I can cook,” she said as he handed her a steaming plate of scrambled eggs and chopped spam. “How about letting me prepare the next meal? I’ll show you what a ranch girl can do with these rations.” She doubted she could do as well. He had cooking over a fire down to a science.

  He laughed and sat down beside her. “You’re on. Thought you’d never ask.”

  Sara Jane poured two coffees from the aluminum pot and handed him a mug. “Was your mom a good cook?”

  Nick’s smile faded and his eyes darkened. “Probably, but I don’t remember much about her. My sister Shirl and I were raised in foster homes.” The cold edge to his voice and the finality in his tone told her he didn’t want to talk about it.

  But Sara Jane couldn’t leave it alone. “Homes? More than one?” She’d always had family around. The thought of not having them….

  “Twelve,” he muttered. “But who’s counting. Shirl and I were the lucky ones. Social services kept us together.”

  Sara Jane noticed that when he said his sister’s name his voice came out soft, almost reverent. “It must have been awful to move around so much.”

  “It’s been a way of life for as long as I can remember. Foster homes, the military, and now the Bureau. Moving has become part of my DNA. It would be difficult, if not impossible, to settle down in one place, even if I wanted to.”

  Sara Jane’s stomach knotted and she set her half-full plate aside. If his declaration wasn’t clear enough for her, nothing would be. She’d known in the beginning there was no future for them, so why torture herself? Unfortunately, some little part of her had hoped for a miracle.

  An invisible wall rose between them, and they each retreated to their thoughts and choked down their food in silence.

  Later, while they doused the fire and cleaned up the mess, they resumed talking, even joking. Although she felt better, a cloud of sadness hung over her that she couldn’t shake until Nick made his daily call to her dad to discuss new developments. Afterwards, he discussed them with her, and even asked her for suggestions of other hiding places should someone find them. Her tension eased. They were in the groove again. Her dad had sent him maps of the ranch in an email attachment. One by one, Nick brought each on up on the screen. They sat close at the table and studied them together. His presence filled not only the space next to her, but the whole room. It tortured her to inhale his clean maleness mingled with the smoky aroma of mesquite. Soon he’d leave. What a shame. He had come to know the ranch almost as well as
she did, maybe better. She had to admit he was damned good at his job.

  She hoped Alicia’s bodyguard was as good. “Nick,” Sara Jane said, aching to stroke his arm resting only a hair-breadth away. “Can’t I just tell Alicia that I’m alive? We’ve always shared things. I can’t bear that she thinks I’m dead. Grief might make her cancel her trip to San Antonio and walk away from a dream assignment. I can’t let that happen.”

  “Your mom and dad took care of that. They convinced Alicia that she had to go and do a bang-up job for the both of you, that you’d want that for her.” Nick paused. “Trust me, she’s going.”

  Nick touched her hand so gently that Sara Jane had to fight the threat of tears. His caring warmed her heart. But the other emotion in his eyes—barely bridled desire that matched her own—terrified her. And it frightened her how much the passing days alone with him was changing her and making her wish the impossible was possible.

  Each night they lay only a few feet apart in the darkness with her as aware of him as if he’d actually touched her. The rhythm of his breathing and the clean male scent of him caressed her and drowned her in arousing fantasies that heated her beyond anything real that she’d ever experienced. That included their kisses. And those two liplocks were the hottest things on the planet until her imaginings brought their glistening bodies so close that they pooled into one thrilling force, seeking release.

  ****

  Nick awoke with a start at the sound of a whinny. He grabbed his gun and jumped to his feet. Barefoot and shirtless, he looked out the front window into the darkness. Sara Jane sat up and whispered, “What is it?”

  “Probably nothing. Go back to sleep.” Nick sharpened his gaze. Leafy branches of an old oak swayed in the breeze. Rigid, he listened. Other than the restless stomping of the stallion he’d named Blacky and the low moan of the wind, he heard nothing.

  Lightning rippled a zigzag flash of silver over a cluster of clouds and for an instant brightened the room. Thunder rumbled and shook the sky. That was all he needed—a storm. Perhaps the approaching weather front had agitated Blacky. He pressed the light button on his watch and checked the time. 2:00 a.m.