The Black Sheep and the Princess (33 page)

“Donovan,” Kate whispered in warning, as fear for his safety drove an icy spear of terror down her spine. All she could think of was that Gilby could shoot them both, bury them or toss them in the lake, and no one would ever be the wiser. Who would even care? She wondered how long it would take Shelby to notice if she disappeared. Of course, Donovan had Finn and Rafe. They knew where he was. At least one of them had family, so to speak.

She darted a glance to Donovan. Was he telling the truth about making contact with someone or was it a big bluff?

“You haven't done squat with that alleged evidence you think you found,” Gilby continued, “so the empty threats are just that.”

Donovan nodded toward the gun. “How're you going to explain something happening to me or Kate? Bizarre hunting accident with a service revolver? I'll admit, I'm a bit surprised you didn't clean up after yourselves a little better already, so I'm not exactly feeling a lot of faith in your preplanning abilities here.”

“Shut up, MacLeod.”

Don't give him any ideas
, Kate thought, wanting to muzzle Donovan as she saw the tic in Gilby's jaw and the way his tightened grip on the gun was making it waver. Goading the sheriff wasn't going to be as easy as goading Stan.

“I'm simply here to escort you trespassers off private property,” Gilby said. “Seeing as I found you assaulting Mr. Harris here, and don't seem to be cooperating, I feel it necessary to use lethal force. As for the rest, I will officially state here and now that I have no idea what the rest of this nonsense is about and I don't care to know.” He took a step back and waved his gun. “Now, if you'll follow me, I have a plow truck waiting to escort you to the county line. What you do from there I could give a good goddamn about, as long as you never come back here.”

“Wait a minute,” Kate said, ignoring Donovan's warning glare as she shouldered past him. Or tried to. He kept her corralled at his side with a firm grip to her upper arm. “I am here with the full permission of my brother, Shelby Sutherland. You have no call to escort me, or my guest, anywhere.”

Besides, the last thing she was going to do was march through deep snow at gunpoint, to a supposed plow truck. Likely story. Unless the plow was just there to dig their graves. She could only hope Donovan was of the same mind and was presently working on an alternative plan, because stalling for time with this lame trespassing argument was all she had at the moment. And she doubted it was going to get them very far.

“Well, now, I can't manage to track down the owner of this property to alert him to the fire that has taken place, or find out what the truth is about his alleged guests, who, for all I know, set the fire themselves,” Gilby said. “So, until I do, you'll have to vacate.”

“Giving you time to clean up the rest of your mess here, Sheriff? Convenient,” Donovan said, smiling briefly.

Kate, on the other hand, felt like throwing up. Perhaps Donovan was taking her cue too well. More provoking was probably not in their best combined interests.

“It was a bad day for you when Kate waltzed in unannounced and set up shop here, wasn't it?” he went on. “Did you really think you'd scare her off with a few cans of spray paint? Or were you just trying to distract her long enough to get into the cabins here and clean up whatever evidence you'd left lying around? I know why the fire was set, by the way. Your little hidey-hole wasn't completely destroyed, despite setting the fire right on top of it.” He glanced at Stan. “Your work? Because, really, not all that great.”

Gilby just smiled, and the malevolence she saw there made Kate's skin crawl.

“Good,” he said. “Now I can arrest you on trespassing on a crime scene, MacLeod, as well as assault. Either way, your little return home visit is officially over. So which will it be? County line? Or county jail? Maybe I'll put you in your daddy's cell for old-time's sake. Always said trash doesn't fall far from the trailer. Looks like I was right.”

Other than a slight flex in the grip he still had on her arm, Kate didn't sense the slightest change in Donovan's demeanor. She, on the other hand, wanted to rip Gilby's head off with her bare hands and shove it up his leather-studded ass.

“Kate?” Donovan asked calmly. “Why don't you go give Shelby a call and we'll clear this property matter up. Then the sheriff and I can take care of this other misunderstanding.”

Gilby moved more squarely in front of the door. “Nice try, MacLeod. She doesn't leave, unless it's handcuffed in the back of my state cruiser, or in that plow truck.”

Kate wasn't sure if she imagined the unholy gleam that lit Gilby's eyes at the mention of the use of handcuffs and her in the same sentence, but her throat tightened as did her hold on Donovan's arm.

Donovan merely handed Kate his satellite phone. “No need. She can use this.”

Even as Gilby jabbed his revolver at them at the sudden appearance of Donovan's phone, Kate quickly fumbled with it, turning it on and quickly dialing, praying, for once, that her stepbrother was where he was supposed to be.

“I don't give a rat's ass who she says she's calling, could be anyone,” Gilby informed Donovan. “That doesn't resolve the crime scene issue.”

“It was a mere guess on my part,” Donovan said easily. “And given that I found that envelope you're clutching in a similar space in the next cabin over, a pretty good one. You'd have to prove I trespassed. And with this storm…” He trailed off, shrugged. “Good luck with that.” Then he nodded at the packet in Gilby's hands. “You have what you came for. You've got nothing on me, and now I've got nothing on you. I say we call it even. Unless you want to tell me about that leather hood you were sporting in that picture where the three girls are—” He broke off, cocked his head, and gave Gilby a visual once-over. “That was you, wasn't it? I guess I could ask around town.”

Kate tried to mask her disappointment when Shelby's answering machine came on. She debated trying to brazen it out and pretend he was on the line, but if Gilby demanded to speak to him—then suddenly Gilby was waving his gun at Stan, and she forgot all about the call to Shelby.

“Stan, take these and hike out of here.”

“But—”

“Don't question me, dammit.”

Stan took the envelope back and scurried out of the cabin without looking back.

“Masterful control. Let me guess, he was the one bent over the chair with the plug up his—”

“You'll wipe that smug-ass grin off your face if you know what's good for you, MacLeod. You're in no position to bargain anything with me at the moment.”

“And you being the one who would know about positions and all.”

Gilby brought his other hand up to steady his gun, and Kate tugged on Donovan's arm, thinking the snow plow option might be the better bet. She was just wondering how fast she could run in knee-deep snow when Donovan slid the phone from Kate's hands. “Just so you know, it was no bluff. About alerting the authorities, I mean. This phone has a digital camera and satellite linkup, so I'm connected to the Internet and e-mail all the time.” He smiled. “I tried to tell Stan about modern technology, but maybe you should consider upgrading, too.”

For the first time, Gilby didn't look so fierce.

“I didn't get them all, but enough to get the point across. Especially the ones showing the women's faces clearly. I wasn't kidding about the connections either. You'll remember Finn Dalton from back in the good old camp days? Well, seems he inherited all of Daddy's money. Trust me when I say it's substantial. And with that comes a lot of power. With a lot of the right people.” Donovan pocketed the phone. “And a few really, really wrong ones.” He smiled. “So why don't you follow Stan out to that plow truck. You might want to get back to Ralston and talk to a few folks before word hits the papers. Even for a small town like yours, I imagine this will make at least a few news cycles.”

Gilby stood there, throat working, for a few very long, nerve-shattering moments. “This isn't over yet,” he said at length. “You don't get to come back to my town, son of some drunk asshole, and make these kinds of accusations. I will see you tarred and feathered every step of the way.” He looked at Kate. “And I'll do my best to take her down with you, even if I just have to make shit up. By the time the papers figure out what's real and what's not—”

Donovan took two steps forward, but Kate dragged him back.

“Have a nice afternoon, Sheriff,” Donovan bit off.

“Fuck you, MacLeod.” But Gilby turned and stalked out of the cabin.

M
ac walked to the edge of the open cabin door.

“Is he really leaving?” Kate asked.

“Appears to be.” He continued watching the two as they hiked through the snow, toward the main road, where, he assumed, there really was a plow truck waiting.

“What—what exactly was in the envelope?” Kate asked.

Donovan turned to find her standing in the middle of the cabin, her arms wrapped around her middle. He immediately went to her and pulled her into his arms. “Just the pictures, but a lot of them, and pretty damning to the folks in them. Come here.” She was shivering, and he wasn't sure if it was due to the cold, or the aftermath of the adrenaline rush that came with having a gun pointed at you.

“Do you get used to that?” she asked. “Being a cop, I mean.”

“Used to what? The gun?”

“That, the verbal maneuvering, all of it. You—you never even seemed nervous. I was scared to death the entire time.” She shivered. “Still am, actually.”

Donovan tucked her closer against him, rubbing his hands up and down her back. “I don't know if you get used to it, but you do learn to manage it. You learn to step outside of the immediate threat to you and work with your instincts on how to play a certain situation.” He kissed her hair and hugged her more closely. “Harder to do when someone you care about is in it with you, though. I'm sorry, Kate.”

“No, no, you were…” She couldn't finish, just slid her arms around his waist and held on tightly. “Did you think he was really going to give up so easily?”

“I think he's basically a small-town cop who is used to wielding the power he has without ever having to really back it up. I doubt he's ever really had his authority challenged and would prefer not to go there and find out what he's really made of if he doesn't have to. I don't think he has instincts because he hasn't had to develop them. And it's clear from the amateurish way they handled this whole mess that none of them is exactly a brain trust. I just had to find him a way out that suited his need to keep his chest puffed out and that stick up his ass.”

Kate's teeth began chattering. “So is this all really over? Really?”

He tipped her chin up and kissed her until her body stopped tremoring, guessing the reaction had far more to do with the aftermath of the moment than the cold. “We have to decide what to do with the evidence, but—”

“So, you did take copies of the pictures?”

Donovan kissed his way along her cheek, then pressed a last one against her temple. “I kept some of the originals. Sent some digital copies to Finn for backup. If nothing happens in a few days' time, Gilby could think that I'm bluffing. But I could make sure he's so substantially worried about it that he leaves you alone, or becomes your best friend in helping you set things up here.” He tipped her face up. “What do you want to do?”

“Well, I know I don't want the town to help me because I'm blackmailing them into it.” She shuddered again, but this time it seemed to be in revulsion. “Hell, I feel like I won the battle but lost the war. How will I ever go into town again and look at…anyone? God, what a mess.” She looked up at him. “Do we need to take legal steps? Were they…hurting those women?”

“I don't think so, no. I imagine they were in it for profit, but who knows if they're here legally. I'm guessing they're imports from north of the Canadian border. It wouldn't take much, though, to get those responsible for starting this whole thing to step down from their respective jobs, without bringing the media or the law into it.”

Mac felt her slump a little in his arms, but her hold on him remained tight. He tried mightily to think only of her and her future in this particular moment, knowing the threat was over, but that the reality for her here was not pleasant.

“No matter what I do…it's just not going to all go away, though, is it? I mean, we can get Gilby to retire and Stan to find somewhere else to play dress up.” She shuddered again, then looked at him. “But the town in general doesn't want me here because of Louisa.”

“You could prove them wrong, win them over. It might take a while and some creative thinking, but—”

“I just cringe at the idea that they're small-minded like Stan, that they'd ever take out their hostility on me, on the kids in my camp, or their families, who will probably use some of the facilities and shopping in town during their stay.” She groaned. “God, what a mess. And that's if I can get the damn camp built. There's no guarantee I'll get anyone to work for me still and—”

“I imagine there are enough folks worried about those pictures that they'll do anything you want as long as their secrets remain secret. Stan could see to that, or Gilby.”

She shook her head. “No, that's just not in me, to do that. If I have to go farther away to hire, it's going to cost me a substantial amount more but maybe—”

Donovan tipped her head back and silenced the rest with a kiss. He hadn't meant for it to be more than a single, reassuring, thank-God-you're-okay affirmation kiss, but it didn't end right away. The kiss gentled then, and went from an affirmation of survival to an affirmation of…something else.

And when he finally lifted his head, he framed her face with his hands, and the words in his heart, the ones that had been there for some time now, just came tumbling out. “Don't stay here.”

Her eyes widened. “What did you say?”

“I know it's going to sound crazy, but…don't stay here.”

“I—I don't have much choice.”

“Sure you do. You always have choices.”

“But my camp—”

He kissed her again, softly, an entreaty to her to listen to him, to really listen. He hadn't meant to just blurt it all out; hell, he wasn't sure he'd ever meant to say anything. She was tired, confused, sick to her stomach, and overwhelmed. The last thing she needed was him adding to the pile of reality she was presently dealing with. At least not until they'd had more than five minutes to regroup. But he'd started the ball rolling now…

When he lifted his head, he looked directly into her eyes. “I know you're confused as hell right now, and I have no business putting pressure on you of any kind, but…I have another solution for you, if you're interested in listening.”

“What other solution is there?”

He stroked his fingers across her cheek. “How much does it really mean to you to stay here? On this specific property?”

“What choice do I have?”

“I think you have a few options.”

“Such as?”

Mac took her hand and tugged her over to sit on the edge of one of the beds. She shuddered a little, and he rethought the idea. “Yeah, let's get out of here, head back to the cabin, then we can talk the whole thing over.”

“I'm going to have to burn those or something,” she said, all but racing him to the door. She shuddered again. “I'm glad you didn't show me the pictures; the mental images I have are already bad enough.”

He tugged her out onto the porch, but swung her back into his arms. Smiling, he said, “Why don't I give you some new mental images to replace those old ones?”

“That's the best offer I've had all day.”

So far, he thought, praying she'd listen to what he had to say. It should shock him how certain he was about what he was about to offer her, but he had learned to trust his instincts, and when they were right, it was the easiest thing to do in the world. His were right this time. He didn't doubt that for a second. His only concern was that she wouldn't see it the same way.

“Hop up,” he said, offering her his back.

“There is no way I'm getting on your back and allowing you to cart me through all that snow, up that steep hill. Your knees might never be the same.”

So he did what he had to do. He scooped her over his shoulder. “Okay. So we'll do it the hard way, then.”

She squealed and smacked at his back. “Put me down right this instant. You're going to hurt yourself.”

“I'm a grown man,” he said, stepping off the porch. “Something you know quite personally. Now, if you're really interested in helping my knees out, stop kicking.”

She did, but he still heard her huff. It made him smile.

She let him go about twenty yards, before saying, “Really, you don't need this macho display to impress me.”

“Oh, I'm not trying to impress you. I'm trying to preserve your strength. Besides, you had some really intriguing pain management methods that I haven't forgotten. Now I figure I can milk them for all they're worth. No, ah, pun intended.”

She swatted at his backside, and he laughed.

“Honestly, men.”

“It's the sexy boots you're wearing, I can't help myself.”

“Those are barn boots. For mucking out stalls. Still want to carry me over your shoulder?”

He slid his hand over the back of her thigh and slowly moved it upward.

She started squirming. “Okay, okay.”

He got to the top of the trail, the cabin in sight, and let her slide off his shoulder until her feet hit the ground, then tugged her close. Yes, he did love how she always fit right up into him, without ever stiffening up or pulling away. Like she wanted to be as up close and personal at all times with him like he did with her. He silently prayed that was true, because now that he'd made his decision on what he wanted, he was going to be hell on wheels doing whatever he could to get it.

He tucked his hand under the hair on her neck and tilted her head back, so her mouth was just beneath his. “I'm always going to want my hands on you, no matter what. You have a problem with that?”

“I—uh, no.” Her gaze connected with his. “No,” she said, more quietly.

He hoped it was the only context in which he heard that word today. He kissed her with unhurried tenderness. If he had his way, there would be many more kisses between them. “Let's go inside,” he murmured against her lips. “We need to talk. About a lot of things.”

“I know,” she said, and he wished right then he had a peephole into her thoughts.

He honestly had no idea how she was going to react to his suggestions, to his offer. She could be just as gung ho as he was when she wanted something. He just had to find out how gung ho she was about having her camp here at Winnimocca, on her family property.

They held hands the rest of the way, his knees screaming from his impulsive trek up the mountainside, but no way was he going to let her see that. So it amused him, and touched him, when the first thing she did after paying attention to a wriggling Bagel was head right to the freezer and make him a few ice packs. “Go put on something dry and comfortable.”

“You want to help me with that?”

“We're talking, remember?”

He changed into sweats, his knees complaining just enough that he didn't try and change her mind.

“Here,” she said when he came back out, her tone brooking no argument, not that she was going to get one from him. She poured two cups of what was probably very strong coffee at this point and grabbed a bottle of pain reliever out of the kitchen cupboard. “Come with me.”

She led him over to the small living room couch, where she patted one end, and sat at the other. “Put your feet in my lap. Then you can balance the ice bags better.”

It wasn't exactly the position he wanted to be in when asking her to change her entire life so he could very selfishly keep her in his, but now was not the time to buck her either.

Once they were settled in, she fussed with the ice bags, and he couldn't help but groan a little in relief when he took a sip of hot anything while she started rubbing his feet. “Okay, that seals it. You're sticking with me.”

She smiled. “You're so easy like that.”

He lowered his mug and held her gaze. “It is remarkably easy where you're involved. Almost scary.”

Her hands stilled for a moment. Then she nodded. “I know,” she said quietly.

The moment expanded, and he teetered on the brink of not wanting to move forward and risk everything, and having to so he could have everything he never knew he so badly wanted. “Kate—”

“So what are we—” They both spoke at the same time, smiled. “You go.”

Moment of truth time. “I want you to hear me out, then think about it, before you answer.”

“I will.”

He took a breath, and debated on the best way to approach it. Logic seemed the best course. “The way things are here in Winnimocca and Ralston don't exactly make for a prime setup for what you want to do here. I know this is family property, and you have your heart set on building something good here, but—”

“Donovan,” she interrupted.

He paused, looked at her, waited.

“What are you asking me? Just ask me.”

And so he did. Holding her gaze, he said, “Come back to Virginia with me. Build your camp there. Give us a chance to…be.”