Rebel's Claw (5 page)

His fingers clamped around her waist. The urge to shift ripped through him. He arched his toes to hold it off. What the hell? He could always control his shifting, especially during sex. Unlike other women, she touched him on a deeper level than hot, slick genitals. He never expected sleeping with a mate to be so intense.

Their bodies moved in rhythm, playing the old bedsprings like an accordion. Her moans told him she felt pleasure through the pain. Aroused out of their minds, his nuts tightened into knots.

He didn’t feel the wet droplets on his chest at first. Holy buffalo crap. She was crying.

“Hey, why the tears?” He cradled the back of her head with his palm.

“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “Everything.”

“Then let it out. I’m going to come soon, though. Can’t hold it off.”

Nodding, she wiped her red eyes while hoarse sobs racked her tiny frame. A haunting chill gripped Roark’s heart. He was probably the first person who’d held her since her father had died.

How could he walk away tomorrow, leaving her to her lonely life?

When she dropped to lie completely on top of him, he pulsed his release into the condom inside her. A delicious ache throbbed through his cock with each spurt. Tonight wasn’t his best performance. He’d made the woman cry, for God’s sake. She hadn’t climaxed, either, but that wasn’t surprising given her virginity.

Despite everything, it was the best freaking sex he’d ever had.

Even Jared faded from his mind. They held each other for a long time without moving. Yeah, it would be hard to leave her tomorrow, but he had to get away from Yellow Barrel Ranch and Wyoming. Time to put those pictures away, move his pack to safety, and get on with his life.

Hellhole, South Dakota didn’t look half bad anymore.

***

The next morning, Carrie hummed an old mining tune to herself while she cooked flapjacks and ham. Daddy used to whistle it in the morning. How nice to fix breakfast for someone else instead of herself. In fact, she rarely bothered with much anymore besides coffee and toast. Her stomach growled. Roark had worked up the biggest appetite she’d had in a long time.

He strolled into the kitchen, his gorgeous black hair damp from his shower and hanging loose over his shoulders.

“I figured you’d be up at the butt-crack of dawn,” he said after yawning.

“Got chores to do,” she replied.

He slipped a possessive arm around her waist and kissed her. Tingles shot through her cleft as she remembered last night. She was so sore, but it was a good sore. Like being in the saddle all day at roundup time.

“Breakfast smells great,” he said. “Can I use your phone to call a tow truck? My cell doesn’t get any signal here.”

“Sure. Use the one in the den where it’s quieter.”

His walk reminded her of a loping animal as he left the room. Lord, he was a fine-looking bull. Maybe she’d dream about him instead of her nightmares. He’d been so gentle and sweet in her bed. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes again as she flipped over the flapjacks.

She’d gotten used to living alone, but after he left, she wasn’t sure she could handle it again. Last night had changed her in more ways than one.

He was a friend of the man she’d killed, she reminded herself. Yes, man. The jaunty tune died on her lips as nausea settled into her gut. Had fate sent Roark here to torment her? The only comfort she’d had the past three years was not knowing anything about the mysterious creature lying in her field. She could pretend her mind had played tricks on her in the dark, imaging a human face. Although she had no idea how a dead wolf could turn into a man, now she knew he was real and Roark’s best friend. Since Roark seemed to be a gentleman, that fellow probably was, too. She even knew his name. Jared.

Had Roark waited up for him that night? The intense fire in his dark eyes told her the loss still hurt him. Didn’t he deserve the truth? At least with Daddy’s death, hard as it was, she had closure.

The shriek of the smoke detector snapped her out of her thoughts. Her flapjacks were black on the bottom, so she dumped them into the trash and started over.

She couldn’t afford to get sappy now. Daddy’s ranch—her home—must stay protected. The sooner Roark left, the better.

***

After breakfast, Roark walked outside with Carrie to help her check for storm damage and feed the cows. After deflowering her and eating her food, it was the least he could do. Her long duster jacket and leather boots were sexier than the long nightgown. She even had a bandana around her neck.

He tweaked the brim of her Western hat. “You’re a regular cowgirl, aren’t you?”

“It comes with the territory.”

He pointed to the full-size pickup truck and tractor nearby. “I assume you drive those?”

“Sure do. I even maintain them when I’m not busy with mating and breeding.”

His cock stirred. She definitely knew how to mate.

“Did your father teach you everything?”

“Mostly.” She shrugged. “Experience taught me the rest.”

Amazing woman, in bed and out.

The morning sun peered over the distant mountains, and the rain puddles were already sinking into the ground. He didn’t have to be a wolf to smell the cows. Or hear them. They gathered around both sides of a long trough.

“At the feedlot already.” She laughed. “They’re letting me know they’re hungry.”

“Don’t they graze?” Roark asked.

“I supplement with grain. Ranch isn’t big enough to have its own feed operation.”

The ground was as fresh and soft as her cunt. Damn, he needed to shift. Especially after the mind-blowing sex, which had scrambled his emotions as well as his balls. Couldn’t risk it, though. Carrie’s ranch was too small. The last thing he needed was for her to find out he was a Wolf shifter.

“Luckily, their breakfast doesn’t have to be cooked,” she said, “so I can’t burn it.”

“You’re a good cook,” he told her. “I don’t suppose you’d fix me a roast-beef sandwich for the road?”

“Sure!”

He rubbed his hands together. “I can’t wait to see the wolf deterrents you’re using.”

“There’s one of them.” She pointed to a big donkey grazing several yards away. “Meet Bruce.”

“Very cool, but I can see him fine from here.” Donkeys were nasty fighters, so most wolves left them alone. “What else?”

Next, she pointed to a line of fencing. “My entire ranch is electric fenced.”

He knew. Climbing over it had nearly shocked his balls out of their sockets his first night here.

“The
fladry
, plastic streamers, also deter wolves,” she added, “visually and by the flapping sound they make when the wind blows. It blows most of the time around here.”

“I’m impressed.”

“Unfortunately, some ranches are too large to fence affordably,” she added.

He knew. So did his dead Lamar pack mates. He had a feeling she liked being surrounded by an electrified, protective barrier. Knowing he was the first man she’d invited into her bed swelled his chest. He rested a hand on her lower back as they skirted the barn to the front door on the other side.

My woman.

The fragrant, homey scent of hay enclosed him. Before they stepped inside, he glanced up. Her barn was painted to resemble a billboard. The letters were a little faded but read Lucky Horseshoe Tobacco. Beside them a…fuck…green horseshoe. The sun shone right on it like a spotlight.

“Roark?” she called from the doorway. “The grain is in here.”

But he couldn’t answer. He fell to his knees in the mud, staring at the image that had haunted him for the past three years. The last one Jared sent him. He’d searched every bar for miles for nothing. It had never occurred to him to look for a barn.

Nausea washed over him harder than last night’s rain. Jared had died here. But how? Why? Those questions were easy to answer. He’d probably been in wolf form, and everybody knew wolves weren’t welcome guests on ranches.

Most importantly, who had pulled the trigger? A hired hand, Carrie’s father, or, shit, Carrie herself?

His breakfast threatened to rise up, flapjacks and all.

Please tell me I didn’t fuck my best friend’s murderer.

She stepped outside and gazed up at the logo. “Daddy’s favorite tobacco. It looks kind of strange out here, doesn’t it?”

“How come I’ve never heard of it?” he asked, standing on wobbly ankles.

“We’re from Arkansas,” she said matter-of-factly. “The local brand disappeared a long time ago.”

Disappeared. Like his best friend.

She motioned him inside the barn. “Come on. The cows are starving, and the tow truck will be along soon.”

Right. He’d forgotten all about the truck.

“Where is he?”

How could her face look so innocent bathed in morning sunlight? “Where’s who?”

He wrestled the wallet out of his back pocket. His hand shook so hard it dropped into the mud. He picked it up and flipped it open to the last picture.

“Him!”

Carrie’s face paled as her body smacked back first into the side of the barn, knocking off her hat. Oh, yeah. She definitely knew something.

“I-I don’t know what you mean.” She picked up her hat and held it against her belly. “He’s your friend. Not mine.”

He wiped off the wallet and shoved it back in his pocket. “He was here.”

“Did he tell you so?”

Roark stared at the ground, wondering how to explain without giving away being a shifter. “I’m sure you’ve heard of mental telepathy. Reading minds?”

She nodded.

“Well, Jared and I could do it.” He stepped in front of her, trapping her against the barn. “I saw the image right before he died.”

“You must be mistaken.” She shook her head, banging it against the rough wood. “I’ve never seen him before.”

He leaned closer. “Then why did you act so strange last night when you saw his picture?”

Her chest rose and fell under her brown jacket so fast it almost formed a blur. How did she manage to look so fragile when she was so close to cold-blooded murder?

“I bet his body is here on this ranch, isn’t it?” He pinned her shoulders to the wood. “Who did it, Carrie? Who killed him?”

“I don’t know,” she wailed.

He let go of her and set his hands on his hips. What was he supposed to do now? Chain her to a torture rack until she talked? He needed more evidence than a telepathic sign. Despite her affection for that lousy rifle, he didn’t believe she was the one who’d pulled the trigger. And except for her occasional tough act, she was too skittish to kill a fly. Even if she fired, she’d probably miss.

The old man had surely done it. Daddy, as she so affectionately called him. Yeah, Daddy was a bastard like all the other ranchers. If only he were alive so Roark could knock his head off.

“Your father shot him, didn’t he?” he asked.

“No!”

“I’m not stupid, Carrie. When a wolf sets foot on a ranch, most people shoot.”

She frowned. “Wolf? I thought we were talking about your friend.”

Wolf…shit
. His emotions had carried him away.

“That’s what I meant.” He squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Your father was probably not fond of trespassers. You threatened to shoot me, remember?”

“I know he wouldn’t do something like that.”

“Well, someone did.” He slapped his fist into his palm. “And when I find out who, that person will pay.”

Her clothing rubbed against the wood as she jumped. She acted so nervous all the time, he could hardly tell if she was guilty or not.

“I’d better go wait for the tow truck,” he said.

“You’re leaving, then?”

“For now. But I’ll be back to get to the bottom of this.” He gripped the wide collar of her jacket. “I’ve waited three long years to avenge Jared’s death.”

She blinked at him, looking as if she might cry again.

He took the rubber band out of his pocket and jerked his hair into a ponytail. “Thanks for the breakfast.”

And the closure. At least he had more now than he’d arrived with. Unfortunately, learning more clues about Jared’s death only added fuel to his fire for revenge. Unshed tears clouded his vision as he stared out at the flat fields.

Where are you, man?

Nothing stirred except his mind, remembering the girl standing in front of him was his mate. Didn’t mean a damn thing. He’d be back, all right—to grill her with questions until she broke down and told him the truth. She was so high-strung, it probably wouldn’t take long.

But he was too messed up from the shock of seeing the horseshoe to think straight right now. Besides, he had a duty to fulfill for his pack and a long drive ahead of him. When he’d already waited three years for revenge, what did a few more days matter?

A few days later, Roark pushed his way through the crowd in Gee’s Bar and claimed a seat at the bar. Lara trailed behind him with guitar in hand. He couldn’t wait until she went up front to perform so she’d stop hovering over him.

When he ordered his first beer, Kaden, the bartender, looked to her.

“Cut him off after the second one,” she said.

Roark rested his elbows on the bar. “Thanks for treating me like a child.”

“Stop acting like one.” She glared at him. “Until you take the blood oath, you’re under my care. I’m new to the Tao pack myself, so I’m warning you. Straighten up.”

He held his hands out, palms up. “What have I done?”

“Let’s see.” She counted her fingers. “You’ve gotten drunk here every night this week. You ran Ogden’s work truck into a ditch.”

“Excuse me for not being used to the shitty excuses for roads around here.”

“You also ruined two hundred dollars’ worth of timber at the mill because you were careless.”

He grabbed the fresh beer placed in front of him and took a gulp. “I’m not cut out for mill work.”

“Well, you need to find a job.” Her strident voice sliced through the nearby conversations with the force of a hatchet. “Driving the Lamar pack here and helping them unload is the only thing you’re doing right.”

“You’re a real drag, you know that? I’d rather hear you sing than nag me all night.”