Against the Wild (18 page)

She moistened her lips, the same pink as her flowers. “I'm sorry, Caleb. I don't need trouble and apparently that's what you are.” She tried to close the door in his face, but he blocked it with his work boot.

“Just give me a minute to explain.” He saw fear leap into her face and silently cursed. “Dammit, Jenny. I'd never hurt you. Surely you know that.”

Her pale blue cat eyes filled.

“Don't cry, honey. I'll move my boot. I won't try to come in. I'll let you close the door in my face if you'll just give me a couple of minutes to explain.”

Jenny swallowed, dashed away tears. Finally, she nodded.

“Okay. You said when you phoned me that Holly called you. She told you I loved her. She said for you to stay away from me. Is that about it?”

“She . . . she was angry. She said I was the reason the two of you were having problems. She warned me to stay away.”

Caleb clamped down on his temper. He didn't need to upset Jenny any more than she was already. “I don't love her, Jenny. I thought I did when I was younger, but that was years ago. There's nothing between us. Nothing at all. I'm going to talk to her, make her understand it's over.”

“I . . . I'm a teacher, Caleb. I love my job. I can't be involved in something like this.”

“You're right. I know that and I understand. Let me take care of it. I won't bother you again until I've got everything straightened out. But don't give up on me. Not yet. Okay?”

She bit her lip. Finally nodded. “Okay.”

“I was . . . you know . . . looking forward to taking you to the fireworks show on the Fourth, but I guess that's off for now.”

Jenny didn't answer.

“I'll call you, I promise. I'll let you know when I've got this handled.”

“Bye, Caleb.”

“I'll see you soon, honey.”

Jenny closed the door, and for long moments he just stood there. With a calming breath, Caleb descended the porch stairs, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket as he headed for the gate. He found Holly's number on the calls received list and pressed the SEND button. Her phone rang, but Holly didn't pick up.

Maybe she was at work, either at the hospital or the café. She probably worked odd hours so he drove to the home address she had given him that day at the lodge, an apartment on Third Street. Maybe she was asleep or something.

Caleb knocked on the door, knocked again, but nobody was home. From there he drove to the hospital, but the receptionist told him Holly wasn't on call until tomorrow.

He headed for the Grizzly Café. The bell rang above the door as he pushed it open. It was after 8:00
PM
, the supper crowd mostly served. Maggie looked up from where she stood behind the counter and smiled as he walked inside.

“Hey, handsome.”

“Hey, Maggie.” She was a good-looking woman, big, blond, and buxom. She had the hots for Dylan, but he never seemed to notice. “I'm looking for Holly. I thought maybe she was working.”

She cast him a knowing glance, as if she knew what he was thinking. He didn't bother to tell her that she was dead wrong.

“She worked the early shift today. Did you try her apartment?”

“She wasn't there. I went by the hospital. No luck there, either. Any idea where I can find her?”

Maggie cut a wedge of cherry pie and slid it onto a plate. “Can't say for sure, but sometimes she goes over to the Pelican Pub. Or she might be at Mad Jack's.”

The Pelican Pub was a beer bar, not so much a family place as the Silver Salmon, but a good place to let off steam. Mad Jack's Saloon was a little rougher, a bar with a couple of pool tables and a band on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights. Lots of sportsmen went there, hunters and fishermen, guys off the ferry.

“I'll check it out. Thanks, Maggie.” Caleb headed for the door as Maggie whisked the pie off to a waiting customer. Caleb hoped to hell Holly was at the Pelican or Mad Jack's. He needed to find her, make it crystal clear—once and for all—that their relationship was over.

He thought of the tears in Jenny's pretty blue eyes and warned himself not to lose his temper.

Dylan left Lane in the middle of his big king-size bed. They had made love earlier—on the rug in front of the fireplace in the sitting room. He didn't want to close the bedroom curtains. He didn't want to do anything that would give away the fact he had discovered the watcher's location on the hill.

Dressed in jeans, a sweatshirt, and a green and dark-brown camouflage jacket, he glanced at the clock on the bedside table: 11:00
PM
. It had been late the night Lane had spotted the man on the deck, but there was a chance he was already out there. If not, Dylan wanted to be in position, be ready when he arrived.

He picked up his .44 Colt Anaconda off the nightstand, shoved it into the holster on his belt, flipped his jacket over it.

“Be careful,” Lane whispered from her side of the bed. He wanted her there as a lure for the watcher—and in her skimpy little pink teddy, she was one helluva lure.

His jaw tightened. How often had the son of a bitch watched them? How much could he see?

He smiled grimly. The shotgun was still under the bed. After the last incident, he'd shown her how to take off the safety, point, and shoot. If she had to, he didn't doubt she'd pull the trigger.

He almost wished the bastard would try to break in.

Dylan headed downstairs, slipped quietly out a door on the north side of the lodge, and began circling slowly around through the woods toward the spot in the grass on the south side he had found that afternoon.

With a thick layer of clouds rolling in, the moon wasn't giving off much light. As he moved silently through the trees, his camouflage jacket helped him blend into the landscape. Dylan found the game trail he had scouted that afternoon and followed it toward the depression in the grass the watcher had left on a small rise off the path.

His adrenaline was pumping. There was a chance the guy was already there. He slid the gun from its holster. He didn't know his opponent, only knew how determined he was. The last thing he wanted was to underestimate his enemy.

The depression in the grass was up ahead. Earlier, he had left a tiny mark on a nearby tree so he wouldn't miss the spot as he moved through the darkness.

His pulse kicked up as he approached, setting one boot quietly in front of the other. He could see the spot now, see the grass that was already beginning to spring back into its normal position.

He clenched his jaw.

No one there.

Disappointment filtered through him. He wanted this to end. Dylan moved deeper into the shadows and settled in to wait.

 

 

Caleb shoved through the swinging doors of Mad Jack's Saloon. He had phoned Holly a couple of times, but never reached her. He'd been to the Pelican Pub, hung around a while, stayed long enough to eat a hamburger and fries, but she'd never shown up.

Thursday through the weekend, Mad Jack's didn't really get going till after ten, when the band started playing. If Holly was headed there, it wouldn't be till late. The band was just ending an old Brad Paisley country song when he walked in. They finished the tune and the musicians set their guitars aside, taking a break as Caleb crossed the wooden floor to the bar.

In a heartbeat he spotted Holly, gleaming black hair, curves that made a man's mouth water. A skirt so short it barely covered her very nice ass. She was talking to the guy next to her, Jimmy Brock. Jimmy managed a local gas station. Nice guy, but he was married.

As Caleb walked up to them, Holly spotted him and grinned. She whirled on the bar stool and threw her arms around his neck.

“Caleb! Hey, baby.” She tried to kiss him, but he turned his head away, removed her arms from around his neck. Jimmy took the opportunity to slide off the stool and slip away.

“I need to talk to you,” Caleb said. “I called, but you didn't pick up.”

She dug her phone out of her purse, shrugged. “Dead battery.”

Typical Holly. She never bothered to think very far ahead.

“I'm glad you're here,” she said. “The band's great. You used to be a really fun dancer.”

“Yeah, well, that was a long time ago.” He took her arm, urged her down off the stool, over to a table in the corner.

Holly grinned. “Cool. It's nice and dark over here. Remember how we used to make out? Anytime, anyplace. Boy, you could really kiss.” She leaned toward him for a sample. Caleb backed away, sat her down in one of the battered wooden captain's chairs, and took the chair next to her.

“You're drunk, Holly.”

“So what? You used to like it when I got drunk. You used to like the things I did to you.” She started to rise. “Come on, let's go outside and I'll—”

“No, goddamn it!” He shoved her back into her chair, looked up to see a couple of people staring at them, lowered his voice. “Look, Holly, I came here to tell you I'm just not interested in picking up where we left off. It didn't work then. It wouldn't work now. I want you to leave me alone. I want you to leave Jenny alone. You understand?”

She leaned toward him, slung her arms around his neck, and tried to kiss him.

“Stop it! I'm telling you to leave us alone. If you don't, you're going to be sorry. I don't want to be with you—I want to be with Jenny. You got that?”

She stiffened, shot up out of her chair, propped her hands on her hips. “You bastard! You're just mad because I told your mousy, skinny little blond girlfriend about us.”

“There is no us! I'm warning you, Holly. I'm not putting up with this any longer.”

He tried to clamp down on the fury pumping through him. Turning away from her, he stormed toward the door. It occurred to him the place had gone quiet, that half the bar was watching.

Dammit, the last thing Jenny needed was gossip. With any luck, the jokers in the bar would get good and drunk and forget all about the scene he'd just made.

Caleb jerked open the door and stepped outside. At least he'd made sure Holly finally got the message.

He just hoped Jenny would want to see him again.

 

 

Dirty bastard.
Who the hell did he think he was? Holly still couldn't believe Caleb was treating her this way. He'd always been so easy to manage. Back when they'd been together, he would have crawled over broken glass for her.

She walked back to the bar and climbed up on the stool she had vacated, took a long drink from the bottle of beer she'd left behind.

Holly grimaced, set the bottle back down. It was warm now, and she was out of the mood to party anyway. When the band started playing and one of the locals asked her to dance, she just shook her head. Slinging the strap of her purse over her shoulder, she slid off the stool and headed for the door.

At least that bozo Jimmy Brock had paid for her beer. She pushed through the swinging doors and stepped out on the boardwalk in front of the bar. A guy sat on one of the benches along the wall smoking a cigarette, the tip glowing in the darkness.

She recognized him from a night a few days back, remembered how good-looking he was, remembered he was really built.

“Hey, darlin',” he said from his place in the shadows. “You're leavin' early.”

She thought he might have a slight Southern drawl. Southern men were so sexy. “It's boring in there.”

“You think so? You wanna have some fun?”

She hitched her purse up on her shoulder. “I might.”

He rose from the bench, even taller than she remembered, ground his cigarette out on the bottom of his boot, stuck the stub into his shirt pocket. His eyes were gleaming as he walked toward her, lean and lanky, sexy as hell.

He didn't ask permission, just hauled her into his arms and kissed her, long and deep. She was breathless when he stopped. His eyes held hers, dark brown and hungry. He didn't ask, just took her arm and started walking, hauling her off into the woods.

She liked a man who knew what he wanted. Her heart was beating really fast. One kiss and she was hot and wet between her legs. He knew where he was going, she could tell, letting him tug her along the path in his wake. By the time he reached the edge of the meadow beneath a pine tree, spread his jacket on the grass, and pulled her down beside him, the music sounded far away.

He didn't bother with the niceties, just started kissing her, and he was good at it. She gasped as his big hands slid beneath her short skirt, grabbed the silky thong panties that were all she wore under her clothes and ripped them away. Then his fingers were inside her and she was so hot.

“I don't . . . don't even know your name,” she panted.

For a minute she didn't think he was going to answer. “My friends call me Dusty,” he said, the words muffled by the sound of his zipper sliding down. She caught the flash of silver as he tore open a condom and sheathed himself, spread her legs with his knee, and plunged inside her.

He was big and he was hard. In an instant, Holly started coming. Wow, this guy was good. She bucked against him as he moved, heard his hiss of pleasure, smirked as she thought of Caleb. Caleb didn't know what he was missing. Well, he did, but he'd forgotten.

“You like this, don't you? I bet you like it a little kinky.”

Holly moaned as he plunged into her again and again. God, it felt good, and yet there was something. . . .

His hands moved to her neck, circled her throat. “This'll make you even hotter, I promise.” He pretended to choke her, just a little, as he withdrew and drove into her again. It was a game some men liked to play. Women, too. She went along with it for a while, pretended he was taking her against her will, let the excitement build.

She started coming a second time, and she could tell he was close. The hands around her throat went tighter. Tighter. Some of her enthusiasm faded even as her orgasm hit and pleasure rushed through her. Dammit, she could barely breathe.

“Stop . . . it . . . Dusty.” She tried to force out the words, but they were locked inside by his relentless grip on her neck. She tried to suck in a breath, but her chest wouldn't move. She squirmed frantically beneath him, her air supply almost gone, her vision beginning to blur.

“Stop!” She wasn't sure if she actually said the word or if she just screamed it inside her head. Her limbs felt weak, her strength nearly gone. She used the last of her energy trying to pry his hands off her neck, but he was oblivious to her struggles. He just kept pounding away, driving toward the climax he was determined to reach.

Her mind was spinning. Spots appeared in front of her eyes. She felt his hard body stiffen the instant before her vision faded to black. He was finished, she thought vaguely, her limbs suddenly weightless. Surely, she'd be okay. It was only a game, after all.

Holly had always been good at games.

 

 

Friday morning, the crew was hammering away up in the guest wing. Winnie was working upstairs with the girl who came in once a week to help her clean, but downstairs everyone was walking on tiptoes, including Lane.

It was raining outside, a real gully washer that had started in the early hours of the morning. After the night he had spent outdoors, Dylan had eaten breakfast, then gone into the great hall to check on a measurement, sat down on the old sofa, and fallen dead asleep. The poor man had spent half the night in the forest, hoping to catch the person who had been watching them.

Terrified something might happen to him, Lane had barely slept herself. She had finally fallen asleep for a couple of hours just before dawn, after Dylan had returned soaking wet. She'd kissed him, then gone back to her own room before the household awakened and found them together.

He was sound asleep now. Even the hammering, the buzzing of a saw chewing through a stack of two-by-fours hadn't disturbed him.

Lane checked her watch. He'd been in there at least three hours. She was sitting at her desk in the office going through her e-mails when Caleb walked through the door.

“You seen Dylan?”

“He fell asleep on the sofa,” she said as she answered an e-mail from one of the designers who worked at Modern Design. “Yesterday, he found a spot where a guy had been watching the lodge. He was out all night trying to catch him.”

“Damn. I should have been here.”

“Wouldn't have mattered,” Dylan said as he walked in yawning, carrying a mug of coffee and rubbing his eyes. “The guy didn't show.”

“You think he spotted you?”

“I doubt it. Might have been watching from a different location, but I did a surveillance round every hour. Didn't pick up any sign.”

“We can try again tonight. I'll be here to help. We'll take shifts.”

Dylan nodded, yawned again. “How'd it go with Jenny?”

Lane could tell by the look on Caleb's face it hadn't gone well.

“I talked to her. Jenny's afraid of a scandal. She's worried it could affect her job.”

“She's a first-grade teacher, right?” Lane said. “There's probably a chance it could.”

“I promised I wouldn't call her again until I had the problem solved with Holly.”

“And?” Dylan asked, taking a sip of coffee.

“And it took me all day and half the night to find her. We had a scene at Mad Jack's. It's wasn't pretty.”

“I presume Mad Jack's is a bar,” Lane said.

Caleb nodded. “She was there, already half drunk. It got loud. I warned her in no uncertain terms to stay away from me and Jenny.”

“Do you think she will?” Lane asked.

“Yeah, I think so. I think she was testing the waters. She's the kind of person who knows how to get what she wants, and wants whatever it is she can't have. I made it clear it wasn't going to happen this time.”

“That's good,” Dylan said. “Maybe that'll be the end of it.”

“I'm hoping.”

Footsteps hurried toward them down the hall. Winnie came bustling in, a worried look on her face.