Against the Wind (24 page)

“I'll call him right now.” Jackson hung up the phone, thinking he was lucky to have two brothers he could count on no matter how tough things got.

He phoned Dev at his Scottsdale home. After the third ring, the phone went to voice mail. “This is Dev. I'm hard at work or doing something fun. Leave your number and I'll call you.”

“It's Jackson. Ring me when you get the chance.”

An hour later, Dev returned the call. He sounded sleepy—or satisfied. Jackson had a feeling it was the latter. Which was an irritating reminder that he could
have had Sarah this morning before he left the Gramercy Hotel, that he wanted her fiercely right now. The feeling put a grouchy note in his voice.

“I called an hour ago. I hope you were enjoying yourself.”

Dev chuckled, then yawned. “The lady had to go to work early or I'd still be enjoying myself. I gather you're back in Wyoming. How did your trip go?”

Jackson exhaled deeply. “You'd better make yourself comfortable. This is going to take a while.” Even over the phone, Jackson could feel his brother tense.

“Tell me,” he said.

For the next half hour, Jackson relayed the events of last night, starting with the stakeout at Ace, following the truck to Hollister's abandoned mine, the trip back at gunpoint and the conversation with Vincent Spalino.

Dev whistled into the phone. “Now you know why I'm mostly retired.”

“You aren't retired—which is the reason I'm calling. I need you to see if you can find out what Hexel's dumping and why. If it's nothing that will do any harm, we'll leave things the way they are. Unfortunately, considering the pressure they've been putting on Sarah, I'm thinking whatever it is, it's probably not going to be good.”

“I'll see what I can do. That it?”

“There's one more thing…a detective named Ed Mercer. He's LAPD. Showed up at the house this afternoon. It's his second visit. He's convinced Sarah killed her husband and he's determined to prove it. It seems personal, Dev. I want to know why Mercer's made Sarah his personal target.”

“I'll get started first thing in the morning.” He
yawned again. “Meantime, I think I'll get some sleep. I'm damned well worn out.”

Jackson grumbled a curse and hung up the phone.

He sighed into the quiet of the study. He had bought himself a handful of trouble when he'd let Sarah stay in the cottage. But right now, all he could think of was climbing back into her bed.

 

Sarah left the real estate office on Friday afternoon, a rental flyer clutched in her hand. She had gone to the office after work, spoken to a Realtor, and the woman had shown her a small house for rent at the edge of town that she could afford. It wasn't as nice as the cottage on Raintree Ranch, but every day she spent with Jackson, the harder it was going to be to leave him.

And there was Holly to think of. Her daughter was beginning to think of Jackson as the father she'd never had. Sarah couldn't let that happen. Not when it all might come to a crashing end.

She had to move. Mercer had left her no choice. In truth she should leave Wyoming entirely. Maybe in time, she would.

But she loved her job and she loved this town. She was beginning to make friends and so was Holly. Her grandmother was here and they were becoming a family again. She would stay for as long as she could. She was making her way along the boardwalk toward the parking lot when she heard someone calling her name.

“Sarah! Sarah, wait!” Nan Hargrove waved. Strands of red hair brushed her flushed cheeks as she hurried across the street.

“Nan, it's good to see you.” The two women hugged.

“You, too.” Nan settled in beside her, the two of them strolling together along the walk. “I hear you've been traveling. Jimmy said you and Jackson went out to California. I hope you had fun.”

Fun?
Sarah inwardly shuddered at the memory of the man who'd held a gun against her head. “It wasn't exactly fun. It's a long story, Nan. Problems left by my late husband. I just can't seem to escape him, even now that he's dead.”

Nan shifted her Wilkin's Mercantile bag from one hand to the other. “I guess in some ways, I was lucky. Ron and I are friends. Well, not exactly friends, but we get along. We don't try to hurt each other the way some divorced couples do.”

They walked past a small shop called Mountain High, a new winter clothing store that was just getting ready to open. The town was growing, but slowly. Which suited Sarah just fine.

“So how are things going with you and Jimmy?” she asked.

Nan smiled dreamily. “I'm crazy about him, Sarah. And I think he really likes me.” She stared down at her feet. “We, uh, spent the night together last weekend.” She looked up and grinned. “It was fantastic. But then I always figured it would be.”

Sarah couldn't help thinking of Jackson. He made her feel womanly and sexy. She had never really understood desire until she met him. And even as she had made the arrangements to move away from the ranch into the house in town, she'd wanted him. She wanted him now.

“What about you and Jackson? You guys moved in together yet?”

Sarah paused on the boardwalk. “I'm moving into town, Nan. My husband's been dead less than six months. I'm not ready to get serious with a man.”

Nan's red eyebrows arched up. “You told me you and your husband had been estranged for years. It's not like you had any kind of real marriage.”

“I know.”

Nan's shrewd gaze searched her face. “To tell you the truth, I thought…well, I thought you two were in love. I mean, the way you looked at him…and the way he looked at you.” She rolled her eyes. “You could start a fire with a look like that.”

Sarah smiled, but it was tinged with regret. “What I feel for Jackson doesn't matter. I'm just not ready, that's all.”

Nan gently caught her arm. “Hey. I'm your friend, no matter what happens between you and Jackson, okay?”

Her chest squeezed. She treasured what few friends she had. She was grateful to have Nan as one of them. “Thank you. You can't imagine how much that means.”

Nan leaned over and hugged her. “Maybe you just need a little more time.”

“Maybe.” But Sarah didn't think so. Not with a murder investigation hanging over her head.

Not with a bloodhound like Mercer digging and digging, determined to put her in jail.

I
t rained through the night, a light, soothing patter against the roof. On Saturday morning, Sarah fixed breakfast for Holly then began to sort through her belongings, what little she had left after her move from California. She had been bringing home cardboard boxes, enough to make the move into town.

Her luggage sat open on the bed, some of her clothes neatly folded inside. She carted a couple of the boxes into the living room. It was warm this July morning, a little damp from the mist that still hung in the air.

In concession to what would likely be a hot summer day, she had left her feet bare and dressed in a sleeveless white blouse and a pair of cutoff jeans. She was trying to decide whether to start in the living room or go back to the bedroom when a familiar knock sounded at the door.

She peeked out the window to see Jackson standing
on the porch, handsome as sin in his jeans, hat and boots. A memory surfaced of the last time they had made love, and a jolt of heat slid low into her stomach. She took a deep breath and opened the door, wishing the coming confrontation could be postponed for a couple more days.

Beneath the brim of his hat, his dark eyes ran over her face. “Good morning,” he said.

She smiled back as he took off the hat and held it in his hand. “Good morning.”

He looked past her into the living room, saw the string of open boxes and his eyebrows drew together. “What's going on?”

She thought how much she was going to miss him. How much she loved him, how hard it would be to explain.

“I'm leaving the ranch, Jackson. Holly and I are moving into town.”

His frown deepened. “What are talking about?”

“I—I'll be closer to my work, and Holly…Holly will be closer to school when it starts. She'll have a better chance to make friends—we both will.”

Jackson looked at her as if she had punched him in the stomach. He looked past her to the boxes, looked into her face again. He didn't say a word, just stepped into the living room and closed the door firmly behind him. Sailing his hat onto the table, he moved toward her, slid a hand into her hair and dragged her mouth up to his for a long, scorching kiss.

Her insides melted. Oh, God, the man could kiss. His tongue found its way into her mouth and heat and need broke loose inside her. He tasted male and sexy. His clothes carried the scent of leather and hay. Jackson
deepened the kiss. Sarah felt the hardness of his erection pressing against the fly of his jeans, gripped his shoulders and just hung on.

She was way past stopping him. Instead, her tongue slid over his and everything inside her went liquid and warm.

Sarah heard him groan. Drawing her even more firmly against him, he deepened the kiss, and desire rose fierce and hot. He backed her into the bedroom, kicked the door closed with the heel of his boot, but didn't stop moving till her shoulders came up against the wall. The curtains were closed. He must have seen Holly outside playing.

“Jackson…”

“Maybe this will convince you to stay.” He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her again then unbuttoned the front of her blouse and filled his hands with her breasts. His tongue ringed her nipple, turned the end diamond-hard.

Her knees started shaking as he sucked in the fullness, laved and tasted, grazed her nipple with his teeth. Capturing her lips, he kissed her as he worked the zipper on her cutoff jeans, shoved them down over her hips, along with her white thong panties. They slithered down her legs and pooled on the floor and he lifted her out of them.

Sarah whimpered as he unfastened his belt buckle, unzipped his fly and freed himself, wrapped her hand around his powerful erection.

“This is how much I want you.”

He was big and hard and pulsing. “Dear God…” He felt hot in her hand and when her fingers tightened, he hardened even more.

Jackson parted her legs and began to stroke her. One of his big hands caressed her breast, and pleasure tugged low in her belly. How could she have forgotten how good he was at this and how much she loved it?

Lifting her, propping her back against the wall, he wrapped her legs around his waist and filled her with a single deep thrust.

Sarah softly moaned.

“We're good together, Sarah—you know how good. How can you think about leaving?”

Beneath his shirt, the muscles in his shoulders moved and tightened. Bands of muscle bunched in his chest. Sarah grabbed the front of his shirt and popped the snaps, pressed her lips against his hot, sun-darkened skin, and Jackson hissed in a breath.

Cupping her bottom in his hands, he began to move, driving himself deep inside her. Pleasure merged with the love she felt for him, heightening the sweet sensations. Her head tipped forward onto his shoulder and goose bumps feathered across her skin.

“You don't want to go, Sarah.” He nipped the side of her neck and thrust deeply again. “You know you don't.”

It was true. Leaving was the last thing she wanted.

Jackson drove into her, eased out and drove into her again, and a deep, sucking orgasm hit her. Moaning, she buried her face against his shoulder, but Jackson didn't stop until she came again. Then a low, growling came from his throat and he followed her to release.

Long seconds passed. Limp and sated, she held on to him as he lowered her to her feet. He zipped his jeans and fastened his buckle, bent his head and very softly kissed her.

He handed Sarah her discarded garments. “I don't want you to go.”

Sarah turned away from him and began to put on her clothes, needing a moment to compose herself.

Once she was dressed. she forced herself to turn and face him. “I have to go, Jackson. It's something I just have to do.”

“Even if you want to leave, you can't—at least not right now.”

“Why not?”

“Vincent Spalino is dead.”

“What?”

“That's what I came to tell you. Dev called this morning. Apparently one of the people in his L.A. office saw it on the news. Spalino's secretary found him this morning sitting at his desk, dead of a heart attack.”

A shiver went through her. She read the worry on his face. “It wasn't a heart attack, was it?”

“Dev doesn't think so. Neither do I.”

“Hexel makes pharmaceuticals. They would know what to do to kill someone and make it look like a natural death.” She raised her gaze to his face. “Oh, God, Jackson, what am I going to do?”

He moved toward her, eased her into his arms. “After our trip to the mine, I'm also on Hexel's radar, which means the question is the same as it always has been—what are
we
going to do?”

Sarah moved away from him, trying to think things through, trying to stay calm and failing. She saw him through a film of tears. “This is all my fault. I never should have come here.”

“But you did, and I'm glad, and somehow we'll get through this.”

“How?”

“I don't know yet.”

She raked back her hair and glanced over at the empty cardboard boxes. “I should leave. Maybe if I did, they'd forget you're involved.”

He chuckled but it wasn't with mirth. “Those guys at Hexel aren't going to forget. We have to find a way to stop them.”

“Maybe it's time to call the police.”

“Maybe. In that regard, it might interest you to know the reason Ed Mercer has it out for you is because you were Hollister's wife. Apparently, he got divorced about eight months ago. His wife took him to the cleaners. She got custody of his two kids and he got minimum visitation. He can't get to her, but he figures to make you and every other woman pay for what she did to him.”

“Mercer may have had troubles in his marriage, but he couldn't begin to understand what it was like living with a man like Andrew. He couldn't begin to know the fear—not only for myself but for Holly.”

“The good news is most of the cops think he's gone off the deep end. He hasn't got any real evidence and apparently they aren't giving much credence to his theory.” He reached out and stroked her cheek. “For now, let's not worry about Mercer. Let's just figure out what to do about those guys at Hexel.”

“Before they kill us, you mean. Just like Vincent Spalino.”