A Stolen Chance (15 page)

“Why haven’t we met before? I never knew I had any relatives here at Zuni Pueblo.” Not that he’d asked, but his mother and Aunt Leona had never mentioned it. “Does Aunt Leona know about you? Did Gramps?”

“Your grandfather may have known, but he never inquired, so I doubt your mother or aunt knew. You see, my parents didn’t approve of Lily’s marriage and forbade it.” She clasped her hands and leaned back against the sofa. An older man, possibly her son, put an arm around her and bent to whisper in her ear. She patted his leg and murmured, “I’m fine,” before turning back to Carson.

“I was only six years old when Lily left, but I remember that day so well. My parents never believed their eldest daughter would defy their wishes. When she left, they were distraught. I didn’t tell them what I saw, and it was several days before the prayer fetishes were reported missing from the church. So you see, no one knew Lily had taken them until years later. I didn’t want to add to my parent’s distress, so I kept quiet until recently. Now it is time for the truth to come out.”

“I’m sorry for the burden that knowledge must have been all these years. Did you never try to contact my great-grandfather or try to recover them? Did you even know of Lily’s death?”

Face grim, she shook her head. “No, she was dead to us from the day she left here. Her name was never spoken again.”

What a loss. Here his mother and aunt had relatives they knew nothing about. Years of valued relationships lost because of something that had happened over eighty years ago. And Carson was to believe his great-grandmother was a thief? That was hard to swallow. “Do you think if she’d lived Lily would have returned the fetishes?”

“It’s possible. She was angry when she took them. She may have regretted her actions later, and then died before she had a chance to return them. The key question here is did John Riley know about them, and if so, why didn’t he return them? Was it spite or heartache that kept him silent?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll turn the motel upside down looking for answers and for the prayer set.” He nodded to all in the room. “And of course, when I find them, they’ll be returned to their rightful home.”

****

Shannon placed two cups of water in the small microwave oven and set the timer for three minutes. When the bell sounded, she removed the mugs, added hot cocoa mix, and stirred. Carson, brow furrowed in thought, sat on the back bench seat, Hans at his feet. Since they left the reservation and driven the short distance to Black Rock, he’d said little. He’d acquired them a camping space and hooked up the utilities. They ate their sandwiches in silence, Carson deep in thought. Shannon, knowing he had a lot on his mind, let him think.

Now, with a cup in each hand, she walked the short distance toward him, careful not to spill the hot liquid. Carson took one, and she sat down beside him.

He put his free arm around her shoulders. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He nudged her closer and brushed his lips against her hair. His warm breath danced across her cheek. “Not just for the cocoa, but for letting me mull things over in my head.”

She turned her face so her cheek would meet his lips. Hand on his leg, she squeezed. “You had a lot on your mind.”

“Mmm-hmm.” He nuzzled her jaw and kissed the corner of her mouth. She resisted the urge to turn and meet his lips with hers.

“Drink your cocoa before it gets cold or you spill it.” She straightened and brought her cup up and took a sip. “It’s already cooling down. I don’t like it lukewarm.”

His gaze pierced hers, his lips arched in a suggestive smile. “Neither do I.”

The warmth in his look didn’t refer to the beverage. Heat rose in her face and blossomed elsewhere. No, he wouldn’t be a lukewarm lover. He’d expect full surrender in a relationship and give it in return. No doubt about it, this man and his sex appeal sizzled like cold water on a hot griddle. The van, which had seemed roomy enough when she’d been in it alone, grew smaller.

Easing back, he tilted his cup, taking a healthy swallow. “Well, drink up, then.” He winked. “Relax, sweetheart. I can’t help admiring you, but I would never take advantage of this situation.”

“I know.”

He peered at her over the rim of his cup. “Do you?”

“Yes. Or we wouldn’t be sharing this van tonight.”

He wiggled his eyebrows.

“You on the top bunk, mister.” She patted the seat. “Me down here.”

“Spoil sport.”

An hour later, Carson’s thumping and bumping on the wall in the small upper bunk woke her. At his muffled, “Dammit,” she made up her mind.

She scooted as close to the back wall as she could. The bench seat folded down into a double bed, and though it would be close quarters, it’d be better than listening to him thrash around all night. They’d neither one get any sleep. “Come on down here and bring your sleeping bag.”

In the filtered light, his feet and legs appeared one second before his torso slid into view. He spread his sleeping bag beside her and crawled inside. It didn’t take him but a second to settle. “Thank you. I promise to be a gentleman.”

Hans chuffed at being disturbed, turned around in a circle, and lay back down on the carpeted floor.

Hugging the wall, she lay with her back to him. His body radiated heat and was a temptation.
Don’t go there, Susan.
She feared if she gave in to her longing for the emotional as well as the physical closeness she’d be lost. If something happened to him, or if he later cast her aside, she’d not survive. Yes, she cared entirely too much for the man. He implied he cared about her, and she trusted him with her life but wasn’t sure about her heart.

His breathing evened, and Shannon sighed with relief and allowed her body to relax. His soft snore lulled her to sleep.

****

“Howdy, mister. What can I get you?” The thirtyish-something waitress averted her eyes when he looked up. Hate boiled inside. Women used to fawn over him. Now they couldn’t bear to look at his scarred face. His eyes, void of lashes and brows, made him resemble one of the aliens folks talked about spotting in and around Roswell. Well, hell, the sightings were miles away.

Pasting on his nicest smile, he tried to appeal to her soft side. Most women had one. “I’ll have coffee and your biggest steak with all the trimmings. Make it rare.”

Picturing a big tip, he supposed, she grinned. “Coming right up.” She turned in his order and returned with a mug of java. She tapped her name tag. “The name’s Gina. If you need anything, just give a holler. Your food will be out in a jiff, hon.”

A minute ago she couldn’t stomach his ugly mug, and now she favored him with false endearments.
Bitch!
He watched her walk away, ass twitching with each step. He swallowed a disgusted snort. All women were devious.

He glanced around the room. The man in the picture, Carson Rhodes, wasn’t around. It was late in the evening, past most people’s dinner time. From the sign on the door, the place would close in an hour. Acting nonchalant, he took the folded gossip rag from his inside coat pocket and smoothed it out on the table.

The waitress leaned over his shoulder, purposely allowing her breast to rub against him as she refilled his cup. “My God, that’s Carson.” She set the carafe down, snatched up the paper, and waved it at the man in the kitchen. “George, come take a look at this.”

“Do you mind?” Dewayne pretended aggravation. Inside he chortled.

“Oh, sorry. Just got excited. That’s our boss.”

“Really?” He bent to study the article. “Well, I’ll be.” He tapped the page. “Says Siesta Café right there. What a coincidence.” Yeah, right.

George strode from the kitchen and put a plate in front of Dewayne. The meat covered the platter; blood ran from the beef where the pick labeled “rare” protruded from the flesh. His stomach rumbled in response to the delicious aroma. He cut a bite and popped it into his mouth, chewing slowly. “Mmm, perfect.”

George nodded and turned to Gina. “Now, what are you yammering about?”

She pointed. “Look, there, at that picture.”

He bent down and studied the photograph. “Damn.” He straightened and shook his head. “That fool reporter. The man better hope Carson doesn’t come looking for him.”

Gina giggled. “Shannon looks like a doe caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck.”

George stared, and muttered, “Shit.” He glared at Gina. “Don’t stand here yakking. Get back to work.” He stalked back to the kitchen.

Gina started to follow.

“Wait. Is this Shannon a regular here?”

Her brow furrowed. “Why are you asking?”

“No reason in particular. She reminds me of my sister.” He pasted a sober expression on his face. “She died some years ago.”

His sad story worked like a charm. “I’m so sorry.” She glanced back at George. “She lives in one of the cabins.” She winked and whispered, “I think she and Carson have the hots for each other,” before starting back to the kitchen.

Dewayne struggled to keep his rage tamped down, to keep his face from reddening, his voice civil. “Is there a bar in Siesta?” He wiggled his non-existent eyebrows. “Want to grab a drink after work?”

Her face lit in a smile. “I’d love to.”

George yelled from the kitchen. “Quit your gossiping, Gina. You’ve got work to do.”

Her shoulders slumped. “Sorry, guess I better not. I have to help close, and we’ll be here awhile.”

****

Dewayne shone his headlights into one of the garages on the back side of the abandoned motel. Three walls would keep some of the cold at bay. The debris inside was minimal, but he didn’t want to risk running over a nail and getting a flat tire. He got out and kicked boards and other trash to the corners. Back outside, he killed the lights on his car and gazed out across the field. A few lights twinkled in the distance, but they were far away. Satisfied that his car beams had gone unnoticed, he got in, backed into the small space, and killed the motor.

His watch glowed in the dark. It was almost midnight. He slid across to the passenger seat and put it in the recline position. Reaching behind him, he lifted a blanket and pillow from the back seat. Within minutes he was comfortable and warm. Fog covered the windows, blocking the outside world.

A knock on the passenger window woke him.
What the hell!

He used the blanket to wipe the window. An old Indian man bent down and stared at him. Long gray hair held in place by a woven headband didn’t prevent his hair from swinging forward. He mouthed something but Dewayne couldn’t make it out, and he wasn’t about to roll down the window.

Dewayne picked up the revolver from the driver’s seat and pointed it at him. He cracked the window and yelled. “Get the hell out of here before I shoot.”

The man threw back his head and an eerie laugh filled the car. Hair rose on the nape of Dewayne’s neck. Suddenly the figure fell apart into nothingness. Terror filled him, and he choked back a howl of fright. From the confines of his car, Dewayne searched the shadows of the garage and saw nothing. He started the engine and hit the brakes to activate the brake lights. Still nothing.

Had he dreamed the entire thing?

****

Something tickled his nose. Carson glanced down to find Shannon’s head on his chest, her arm thrown around his torso. Blonde hair fanned around her face, tickling his. He brushed it back, careful not to rouse her.
What a nice way to wake up.
A smile stretched his mouth, and he resisted the urge to tighten his hold on her, to turn and pull her body flush with his.
Bad idea.
If she woke, his state of arousal might send her shrieking from the bed. He stifled a chuckle and sighed. Waking up with Shannon in his arms every morning would be a welcome change in his life.

He wondered at her hesitance to take their camaraderie and mutual attraction to the next level, to have a sexual relationship. He understood her desire to keep him from becoming Dewayne’s target, but he wondered if something more was involved. Had Dewayne abused her sexually, or made her feel undesirable? He couldn’t see it, but people were strange creatures, and some were downright crazy. If the man had made Susan think she couldn’t respond, he was a fool. Carson would have to prove to Susan that her ex was wrong.

Hans sensed he was awake. The dog yawned and stretched. He put his paws up on the side of the bed and stood on his hind legs. He stared down at Carson intently before his brown eyes flitted from him to Susan and back again.

Carson whispered, “No, boy. I didn’t get lucky.”

The cheeky mutt snorted as if in disgust, and then nudged Carson with his nose. Carson eased from under Shannon and rose from the bed. His jeans hung on the back of the passenger seat. He pulled off his sleep pants and tugged on his denims. As he stepped into his shoes, he glanced at Shannon. Her eyes were closed but her cheeks were pink. So, she’d peeked. He swallowed a chuckle. He hoped she liked what she saw. At least it showed she thought about his body, as the idea of what hers looked like without clothes seared his brain.

****

“Here it is, boss.” Carson snatched up the gossip rag Gina slapped on the counter and scanned the page. He fisted his hands to halt the urge to slap the ridiculous grin off Gina’s face. She must have recognized his fury, as her delighted expression sobered. “Sorry.” Her shoulders slumped. He chided himself for being harsh. Hell, he shouldn’t have remained quiet about Shannon’s dilemma. He knew George was trustworthy, but he hadn’t been sure of Gina. That’s why he hadn’t shared the information.