The Black Sheep and the Hidden Beauty (19 page)

Rafe nodded. “Are we leaving the trailer here?”

“No, it comes back with me. It's mine, but I loan it out to Kate on occasion, when she picks up new stock.”

He fell into step beside her as they walked to the front of the truck. “Speaking of new stock, how is Bonder doing?”

She gave him a look of surprise.

“What?”

“Just—never mind.” It was silly to be touched that he cared about the day-to-day details of her world. Bonder had put her on her ass, and he'd witnessed it. Of course he remembered. “He's doing okay. Tracey has taken over some of his training. It's been good for both of them. I think.”

He cocked his head.

“Well, it's just, she's getting attached. And I—I'm not sure what Kate's plans are for him. I've been meaning to talk to her about it, had thought I would this morning, then—” She broke off, not wanting to dive back into that subject, or any subject that had to do with why he'd ingratiated himself into her world. It was enough that he was here now, and foolish as it may be, she just wanted the comfort of his company a little while longer, without the real world intruding.

“Maybe tomorrow,” was all he said, and the fact that her throat tightened a little in gratitude was warning enough that she wasn't thinking clearly.

She nodded, then went to move around him to open the driver's door.

He put his hand on her arm, keeping his body between her and the truck. “Let me drive home. It's been a long day for you.”

“I can get myself home.”

“You could probably slay dragons bareback. I'm not saying you're weak. I'm saying you're tired. Emotionally ragged, as would be expected of someone who's just spent the last—how many hours?—worrying about someone she loves.”

Really, he had to stop saying all the right things. She was having a hard enough time keeping her head straight about him.

Well, then, I guess you have your answer.

Kenny's comment floated through her mind.

“Let me take you home, Elena.”

He'd said it quietly, without a trace of pity or condescension.
Just one friend helping another.

“Exactly,” he said.

She hadn't realized she'd said that last part out loud. “I, uh—” She wasn't used to this. She was usually the one caretaking those around her, the capable one, the steady one, the one with all the answers.

He gently took her arm and tucked it in his own and walked her around the front of the truck. “You get to be the boss when I'm on horseback, but the rest of the time, just let me be your friend.”

He reached for the handle and she stopped him.

He turned to face her, his expression all set to argue. She stopped him with a kiss to his cheek.

His eyebrows lifted. “What…was that?”

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“For?”

“The offer of friendship.”

“It's more than an offer. I'd like it to be fact.”

“I—I would, too. It's just…people don't become friends with a snap of the fingers. Real friends, I mean. You should understand that better than anyone. Someone who's had friends in his life since childhood.”

“I do understand. You can have all kinds of friendships. Some develop over time, some are destined to remain casual.” He stepped closer, so her back brushed up against the door of the truck. “And then there are the rare few who just become part of your orbit from the moment they step into it. I like it that you're there. Even if you do drive me crazy.”

She stared into those steady, dark, reassuring eyes of his. “Yeah,” she said after a long moment. “I'm liking you there, too. Even if you drive me crazy, too.” The idea that she was letting him in, letting him get closer, now of all times, was both thrilling and terrifying.

But here he stood.

And when he lowered his head toward hers, she didn't turn away.

H
e'd been craving the taste of her since their first kiss. He'd convinced himself he must have embellished the hell out of it, because a kiss was just a kiss, right? No way could one kiss be so different, so consuming, so intoxicating…so addicting.

As it turned out he was wrong. Way wrong.

Her lips were so soft, and the way she caught her breath in the back of her throat, that little guttural moan, made him go instantly rock-hard. It was all he could do not to plaster her back against the truck and devour her whole. He wove his fingers into her hair, tilted her head so he could take the kiss deeper, half expecting her to push him away. He had no idea if Kenny was still standing over by the barn, or if he could see the two of them, and he really didn't care, but he thought she might.

Except her fingers were clutching at his shoulders, and when her lips parted beneath his, she drew him in almost greedily. Christ, but he wanted her. Purely and fully.

Somewhere, rationality prevailed and he lifted his head, just a fraction, so he could still feel the warmth of her breath, her skin. “Elena…this isn't—I mean, my offer to help, it's not about…this.”

Her gaze lifted to his and what he found there surprised him. Amusement.

“You're so worried that I'm going to think less of you for wanting more of this. What does that make me?”

He had her pinned against the truck now, and though he'd broken the kiss, he couldn't quite find the wherewithal to sever any additional contact. “You want more of this?”

“I'm not exactly pushing you away.”

His lips twitched. “True. But I don't want to take advantage—”

“Of my weakened state?” She smiled dryly. “If I didn't want you manhandling me up against my truck, I'd stop you, even if I had one foot in the grave.”

He smiled then, even as he gentled his hold on her. “I believe that.”

“Good, then we're square.”

“Meaning?”

“If I'm going to let you in, let you help, then why would I do that and cut this off? It doesn't make much sense, now does it? Life is hard enough, right?”

He grinned and shook his head. “I can't keep up with you.”

“You can thank Kenny.”

“What? What for?”

“He…sort of got me to think things through. About you.”

“Then I definitely owe the man.” She was smiling up at him, and it was like his entire world had shifted to some new position, rotating on a completely different axis, with an orbit that was no longer his own to navigate. It should have scared him more. He ran his thumb along her lower lip, watching her eyes darken under his touch, wishing like hell her dragons had already been slain. He wanted far, far more than either of them could give at the moment, so he settled for resting his hips against hers, lowering his mouth to hers. Another taste—he needed that much.

The kiss was gentle, almost sweet, and he felt his heart catch a little when she wove her fingers into his hair and held his head, keeping his mouth on hers, wanting as much as he did. He sighed when their lips finally parted.

“You matter to me,
mijita
,” he whispered roughly. “It's the damnedest thing.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, her fingers playing in his hair. “The damnedest thing.”

“You're going to have to let me all the way in, you know that.”

He felt her shudder against him, and his hips moved almost of their own volition. It wasn't how he'd meant the statement, and he knew she knew that, but it didn't stop the rush of images that flooded his brain at the thought of how it would be when—not if—they finally had each other fully.

“Rafe—”

“It's not just me you have now, you know. You've got a formidable team behind you. When you have me, you have them, too.” He paused for a moment, let that sink in. “But you can't hold anything back.”

“I know,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I know. And I will. In my own way, in my own time.”

“Is time something you have the luxury of wasting?”

“Don't push harder, okay? Trust goes both ways. Trust me to know when the time is right.” She trailed off, turned her face into his palm as he cupped her cheek.

He looked into her eyes. And what he saw there, for the first time, was fear. Raw fear, not the dazed kind of terror that struck her earlier, when she wasn't prepared. This fear had depth, this fear had history, this was intimate fear, the kind that robbed a person of the ability to reason.

“Just tell me this much. Is Springer safe here? Truly safe?”

Her eyes went glassy then, as if his concern for her horse undid something inside her. She nodded, then faltered. “For now. Yes.”

“Are you sure she wouldn't be better under our care and supervision? Will she put Kenny at risk in any way?”

“I'd never do that.”

“I know you wouldn't intentionally, but if she's the target—”

“She's not.”

She'd said it too swiftly. “Elena.”

She bristled a little. “No one cares about my horse except me, and Kenny.”

“And me.”

That caught at her, but she remained more defiant than pliant. “She's not a target.”

“Are you?”

“Not now, Rafe. Not here.”

“Elena—”

And just like that, she exploded. “Give me a little time, will you? For once, just stop pushing me! I give you an inch and you want a football field.” She shoved at him, but he didn't let her push him away.

In addition to the fear, he knew she was tired, the kind of tired you didn't get from one difficult day. But he'd been on quite the emotionally draining roller coaster ride himself, and though he knew she needed him to be calming and gentle, he lost his grip a little, too. “Fine. You can yell at me all you want if it helps get the nerves and the fear under control. But at some point you're going to have to tell me whatever the hell it was you got involved in so we can stop wasting time avoiding the problem and get started on a solution.”

“There is no solution,” she shouted right back at him. “I'm not a freaking idiot. If there was something I could have done, goddammit, I'd have done it by now. I did what I had to do, and it's working. Or would be if you'd have kept your over-involved, paranoid self out of it.”

“You're not paranoid when someone really is out to get you,” he shot back, feeling the sting of that particular barb. He hated the fact that his digging had turned up the heat for her, but, at the same time, if it got her to fix it rather than hide from it, maybe it was for the better. He turned her around. “Get in. And climb over. I'm driving.”

“You don't tell me—”

“Get in,” he said flatly and lifted her by the waist.

“I can climb in the truck without your assistance. Believe it or not, the world continues to revolve without you helping it every step of the way.” She smacked at his hands, but she climbed in. And kept going until she was in the passenger seat.

“Well?” she demanded.

He was seriously pissed off, at her and himself, worried, and still a little more aroused than the situation called for. So why he felt like smiling, he had no idea. Ducking his chin so she wouldn't take a swing at it if she caught so much as a glimmer of humor on his face, he climbed in and shut the door behind him.

Life certainly wasn't boring with her around, that was for sure.

He pulled the truck around, fully prepared to bully her into telling him the whole story if he had to. Tired and scared she might be, but he could literally hear the clock ticking, his instincts were screaming so loudly. She wasn't leaving this truck until he fully understood what was going on. But then he saw her gaze dip over to the rearview mirror as the barn housing Springer faded into the background, and he saw her shoulders slump, just a little, and the way she tucked her arms more tightly around her middle.

He knew what it was like to worry about someone you loved. Worse, he knew what it was like to do everything you possibly could, and still feel helpless to do what needed to be done. He'd spent what felt like three lifetimes watching his mother work herself to death because she wanted more for him. He remembered how frustrated he'd felt, not being old enough, strong enough, or smart enough to do anything to help. He'd vowed that the moment he could, he would. And he had.

He'd helped her, first by being the best that he could be, so that all that hard work hadn't been for nothing. Then by making sure that, after spending the first half of her life with nothing, she'd spend the rest wanting for nothing.

He'd helped a lot of other people since then, but despite the occasional frustration over not being able to solve every problem, he'd never felt that deep well of helplessness creep over him, like it had when he was young. He felt the raw edges of that now. Elena was formidable, and there was no certainty that even he could bully the truth out of her, no matter how hard he tried. But he was far from helpless now. And he had years of successfully solving some pretty intricate, and at times, harrowing, problems. The resulting confidence was sometimes an opponent in and of itself.

“Sometimes you can be a real jerk, you know that?”

Considering his thoughts at the moment, he laughed before he could catch himself. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

“Well, at least you're self-aware.”

“I try.”

“And humble, too.”

“Lately, just on horseback. But it's probably a good lesson.”

“Undoubtedly.”

She shut up then, and so did he, deciding to let her find her own way into the conversation they both knew they had to have. Maybe it wasn't bullying she needed. Or a shoulder to cry on. Maybe what she needed was an ear. With a brain attached. Perhaps he should start using his.

Another mile or two passed in silence, but he stuck it out, despite the dozens of questions on the tip of his tongue. After another ten minutes of silence, his patience was finally rewarded.

“The investigator on the phone,” she began, clearly uncomfortable, “was digging for information about Geronimo,” she continued. “The fire marshal's report—”

“Was inconclusive in forming an airtight case for arson. I know.” At her surprised and somewhat accusatory look, he said, “I read it, okay?”

She huffed an indignant sigh. “Why don't you tell me what you know so I don't waste my breath? Hell, you might know more than I do.”

Actually, she had a point. “You know, maybe I can fill in some blanks for you.” He lifted a hand when she glared at him. “I'm just saying that my research might have garnered information you weren't privy to.”

“Why were you researching Geronimo? I thought you were looking into me? I didn't have anything to do with him.”

“Just the fact that an incident of that caliber happened while you were working there, and it was just after that that you left—”

“A few months later,” she clarified.

“Still, it was no small thing, so it warranted looking into. And we didn't know if you were involved until we checked into it. I looked into everything that provoked any interest. Or as much as I could. I haven't had that much time.”

She folded her arms and stared out the window. “Fine. You spill first, then. What do you know?”

The fact that she wasn't summarily rejecting the topic of Geronimo as being relevant was cause enough for Rafe to conclude he was part of this. Somehow. A major step forward, and a relief to know his instincts had been clamoring for a reason. “Generally speaking, I know that neither the police nor the fire marshal was able to establish foul play conclusively. What I don't know yet is why, if they were unable to prove arson of any kind, the insurance company hasn't been able to—”

“Companies.”

“Companies,” he nodded, “haven't signed off, one way or the other. Despite the obvious reason of not wanting to pay such a big-dollar claim.”

“It can get complicated where big-dollar racehorses are concerned.”

“Enlighten me.”

“In addition, I'm sure, to policies on the building and property, there were also likely two on Geronimo.”

“Two?”

“One for his personal worth, and one for his worth as a stud.”

“You mean one for him, and one for his, uh, swimmers?”

“Semen. Yes. Or its viability, anyway.”

He smiled a little at her impatient tone. “We're guys. We're sensitive to that sort of talk.”

“Right. How silly of me.”

His smile grew. “You know, for all your gentle nature with horses, you have a surprisingly direct way of dealing with people.”

“Horses respond to gentle. People, at least those in my line of work, tend to respond better to direct and to the point.”