Against the Wind (6 page)

His arm went around her waist and he hauled her flush against him, deepened the kiss, lost himself in the taste of her, the feel of her slender body pressed the length of his. Her breasts were even fuller than he had imagined, softer, the tips like firm little berries. It was all he could do not to rip open her blouse and fill his palms, to bend his head and taste them.

It took a moment before he realized she was pressing her hands against his chest, trying to break free of his hold.

Instantly, he let her go.

“God, Sarah, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for that to happen. I can't believe it did.” He ran a hand along his jaw, felt the roughness of his morning beard. “I know the kind of man you were married to, the things he did to you. I didn't mean to scare you. I don't exactly know what happened.”

The tension left her shoulders and a faint smile rose on her lips. “You're a man. I've learned to distrust them. You scared me a little, but I think I mostly scared myself.” She reached up and lightly touched the roughness along his jaw. “It's been a long time, Jackson.”

His erection pulsed. He ached to kiss her again. Instead he stayed where he was. “You don't have to be afraid of me, Sarah. Not ever.”

She studied him a moment, then turned away and started for the house. Jackson followed, not the least bit happy with his loss of control.

And aching for it to happen again.

 

The front door was locked when they got there, a small piece of yellow crime scene tape still attached to the porch. The tape was mostly gone now, but the sheriff had obviously been there. When Jackson got back to the ranch, he would call Ben Weber, tell him about the second break-in. Maybe the two law officers could piece something together.

They went into the house, saw that it looked pretty much the same as the cottage, the sofa cushions torn open, the chair upended, the lace curtains pulled down.

Sarah went over and examined them. “The curtains aren't torn. If I had a ladder, I could put them back up.”

Jackson walked over, reached up and did it for her.

She gave him one of those soft smiles that turned him upside down. “Thank you.”

The kitchen drawers had been pulled out, the contents strewn on the kitchen floor. Sarah bent and picked up the silverware, put it in the sink, and Jackson helped her. They worked for a while, Jackson searching while he helped Sarah straighten. As he walked out on the back porch, something dark and shiny caught his eye near the base of a flowerpot, the object partly covered by the blooms of a pink petunia. He picked up an empty matchbook, examined it in his palm.

“Look at this.” He showed the blue-and-gold matchbook to Sarah. “It came from a place called The Blue Parrot.” He turned it over, read the address. “It's in California, on Ventura Boulevard in Studio City. Ever heard of it?”

“No, but Marty Kozak is a smoker. Unfortunately he doesn't fit Gran's description of either of the men who were here.”

“Maybe he hired them.” He stuffed the matchbook into his pocket and finished inspecting the house, which wasn't torn up quite as badly as the cottage.

“I'm coming back to visit Gran tomorrow. I'll buy some throw covers for the sofa and chair. I don't think she'll mind. In fact, she'll probably be happy for the change. She's always been kind of adventurous.”

“I'd be happy to buy—”

“This isn't your problem, Jackson. It's mine. It isn't your responsibility to replace Gran's furniture, and I can't afford to do it myself right now. But I'm pretty good with decorating. And the men didn't do that much damage. As I said, Gran will probably like the change.”

He nodded. He was beginning to think he'd been wrong about Sarah. Or maybe she had just learned that money wasn't everything. Sometimes the price you paid for having it was just too high. It occurred to him that he could like this Sarah Allen.

And as he thought of the men who had put an old lady in the hospital, he was even more worried about her.

S
arah drove to Sheep River for the next two days to visit her grandmother in the hospital and put the little wood-frame house back in order. She took Gran home the morning of the third day and smiled at the surprised, pleased expression she received for the work she had done.

“Looks real nice, honey,” Gran said, assessing the dark blue flowered throws over the sofa and chair, the light and dark blue accent pillows. “Place has been needin' some sprucing up. I guess there's always something good comes from everything.”

Sarah wasn't convinced about that, but she didn't say so. “Are you sure you'll be all right?”

“Dr. Ellis says I'm good as new. I've got a couple of check-ups along the way, but Doc says, long as I take it easy, I'll be fine.”

Sarah hated to leave her there alone, but as Gran
reminded her, she had been living by herself for the past twenty-five years. And the men had already been there, searched and found nothing.

Satisfied Gran would be all right, Sarah returned to the office to finish the articles she was writing about the Memorial Day celebration coming up the end of the week.

Using memories from her childhood in the first article, combined with old photos from the 1980s she found in the newspaper's archives, she hammered out a piece she felt pleased with. She printed the pages at the end of her shift and set them aside, and headed for her pickup, parked in the lot down the street.

She had just reached the corner when a man stepped up beside her, tall, mid-forties, with a long, pointed nose and very smooth dark skin. He was wearing an expensive dark brown sport coat and tan slacks and looked as out of place in Wind Canyon as he actually was.

She stiffened as she felt hard steel shoved into her ribs. “Keep walking,” he said. “Make a sound and I won't hesitate to pull the trigger.”

Her pulse kicked into high gear. The man looked foreign but his accent was purely American. She had no idea who he was, but she knew he must be somehow connected to Andrew. She had known Andrew's business dealings bordered on illegal, but she hadn't believed they would haunt her from the grave.

He urged her around the corner, into the parking lot. “What…what do you want?”

“I want the disk your husband kept—the one he was using to blackmail his customers.”

“Andrew was…blackmailing people?”

He prodded her with the gun. “I want the disk. I think you know where it is.”

“I—I don't know anything. Do you work for Martin Kozak?”

He frowned, ignored the question. “Just tell me where to find the disk and you'll never see me again.” She gasped as he shoved her hard against the rough brick wall.

“If…if I had it, I'd give it to you.” She dragged in a shaky breath. “Andrew never trusted me with anything. He certainly didn't give me any blackmail list.”

His hard look sharpened. “Then how did you know it was a list?” he said smugly, not really expecting an answer.

Sarah wet her lips, tried to push him away, but his body was as hard as the wall behind her and the forearm he pressed beneath her chin felt like an iron bar.

“I want that disk. If you don't have it, you'd better figure out where it is.” He shoved her again, slamming her head against the wall.

For years she had let Andrew bully her, let him hurt her. “Get off me!” She shoved the man with all her strength but he moved barely an inch.

A slow smile curved his narrow lips. “I'll be back. You say anything to the cops, you won't like what happens when I get here.”

Turning away, he started walking and Sarah sagged against the wall. At least she'd fought back. She remembered the day she had been watching TV when an item came on about an online battered women's group. There were other women just like her, she had discovered, and the chat room they shared became her refuge.

And her strength.

She bit back a sob. She had no idea where Andrew might have kept a disk that apparently held information he used for blackmail, but she knew she had to find it.

The man had threatened her. He hadn't mentioned Holly, but there was no doubt Sarah wasn't the only one in danger.

She pushed away from the bricks and moved on shaking legs toward the pickup. From the corner of her eye, she spotted Jackson striding across the parking lot in her direction. Without thinking, she turned and ran toward him. When he saw her face, he hauled her straight into his arms.

“You're shaking all over. For God's sake, what's happened?”

Sarah clung to him. For a moment, she couldn't speak.

“Take your time,” he said. “I've got you. I won't let anyone hurt you.”

She lifted her head from his shoulder, saw by the hard set of his jaw he meant every word. “A man came…” She swallowed. “He…he had a gun. He said he wanted the disk Andrew was using to blackmail his customers.”

“Blackmail? That's what he said?”

“Yes.”

“Was he one of the men your grandmother described?”

She shook her head. “He seemed more…sophisticated than the men who ransacked Gran's house.” She glanced around the parking lot, but saw no sign of him. “I've got to find that disk, Jackson.” She felt the sting of tears and blinked to keep from crying. “Somehow, I've got to find it.”

Keeping an arm around her, he started walking her
back toward her truck. “We'll talk to the sheriff, tell him what's going on, see what he can do.”

She jolted to a halt in the middle of the parking lot. “No sheriff—not unless we absolutely have to. These men… Jackson, they're dangerous. And if they were associated with Andrew, they're powerful. I'm afraid of what they might do.”

Jackson made no reply, but a muscle flexed along his jaw.

“Can you drive?” he asked when they reached her blue truck.

She nodded. “I'm just a little shaken. I'll be fine.”

“We'll pick up Holly then I'll follow you back to the house.”

She opened the door of the pickup. “What were you doing in town?”

“I had some grocery shopping to do. You usually finish around three. I thought I'd buy you a cup of coffee or a soda or something.” His gaze shifted toward the brick building where the man had dragged her. “Too bad I didn't get here a little sooner.”

Her stomach churned. If Jackson had tried to rescue her, the man might have shot him. A sweep of nausea rolled through her. She didn't want him getting hurt because of her.

What on earth was she going to do?

 

Sarah pretended everything was normal. She picked up Holly at the day-care center, then turned onto the highway leading back to the ranch. Jackson followed to make sure she got there safely.

“Everyone is going to the parade tomorrow,” Holly said as they rolled toward home. For the past fifteen
minutes, she had been chattering away, mostly about the upcoming weekend. “Allie says her brother's going to be on the Boy Scout float. She says her dad's going to take her while her mom helps with the picnic.”

Holly prattled on, excited at the prospect of the big celebration. The thought of going made Sarah sick to her stomach.

What if the dark-skinned man were there? What if he threatened Holly?

“Mama, what time does the parade start?” Holly shifted in her seat. “Mama, did you hear me?”

Sarah forced herself to smile. “I'm sorry, honey, what did you say?”

“I asked what time does the parade start?”

She had to think. It seemed impossible to concentrate. “It starts at eleven.”

“Is Jackson going with us?”

Jackson.
Just the sound of his name sent her pulse up a notch. “I don't know.” But secretly she hoped he would. She didn't think the man would bother her if Jackson were with them.

She pulled up in front of the cottage and as soon as she turned off the engine, Holly unfastened her seat belt and jumped down from the truck.

She ran straight back to the big Ford pickup pulling up behind them. “Jackson!” It seemed her daughter and her landlord were now on a first-name basis, as Holly also was with Livvy. “Are you going with us tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” Bending down, he scooped her up in his arms and settled her against his shoulder. “What's going on tomorrow?”

Watching them, Sarah felt a pang in her chest.
Andrew had adored Holly, but he rarely had time for her. Jackson was just the opposite. No matter how busy he was, he always made time for Holly, or Jimmy's boys, Gibby and Sam.

“Tomorrow's the parade, silly. Everyone's going to be there—Mama said so.”

He set Holly back on her feet, cocked an eyebrow at Sarah.

“I'm covering the celebration for the paper,” she explained. “I have to go.”

He looked more resigned than excited. “Looks like we're going then,” he said to Holly.

“Yippee!” She jumped up and down, her ponytail bobbing. Jackson looked over at Sarah and smiled. He had the nicest smile, the straightest, whitest teeth. She tried not to think of the searing kiss they'd shared, but the image was crystal clear, and soft heat curled in her stomach.

She clamped down on the dangerous memory. “You don't mind going with us?”

“You think I'd let you go alone?”

She didn't answer but relief trickled through her. Though deep down, she had known he would insist on coming along.

“Why don't I see if Jimmy and the boys want to come with us? We'll go to the picnic, too, make a day of it.”

Sarah smiled and nodded, figuring he probably wanted Jimmy there in case there was trouble. The first time she'd met Jackson's big brawny foreman, Sarah had sensed the bond between the two men.

From the corner of her eye, she caught a flash of color and turned to see Olivia bustling up to them in a pale pink sweater and jeans.

Livvy set her hands on her plump hips. “I heard what you said. Tomorrow's the big celebration. Everyone in town will be there and don't think for a minute you're leaving me home.” She grinned. “I'll make us all some nice fried chicken and potato salad. We'll have a real old-fashioned family outing.”

Something sqeezed in Sarah's chest. If it weren't for the trouble that had followed her to Wind Canyon, she would be delighted at the prospect of a family outing—even if the family wasn't truly her own.

If it weren't for the trouble that had followed her…

Sarah's stomach churned.

 

Jackson left Sarah and Holly and headed for the house. Before he reached the back door he spotted his top hand, Wheeler Dillon, hurrying toward him.

Blond and gangly, Wheel was a cowboy in the truest sense of the word, a man who, at forty, had the suntanned, weathered features that came from spending most of his life out of doors.

“What's up, Wheel?”

“It's those damned loggers, Jackson. They had an accident up there along that new area they started working. Log pile broke loose, knocked down a big section of fence. The crew boss called, said some of our cattle got loose and were wandering around their equipment. I was just heading out with Shorty and Mac to round them up and move them down with the rest of the herd in Pine Meadow.”

“Where's Jimmy?”

“He's out on the south range. Ought to be back any minute.”

He spotted Jimmy's pickup just then, pulling up in
front of the barn. Jimmy jumped down from the driver's seat and started walking toward them.

“What's going on?” he asked, and Wheel filled him in. “I'll go with you,” Jimmy said.

“We can go up together,” Jackson told him. “I've got a couple of phone calls I need to make, then we'll take the ATVs and ride on up. I want to take a look, see for myself what's going on up there.”

Jimmy nodded, his long black ponytail blowing in the wind. “Sounds good.”

Wheel took off with the men, a trailer and three horses, and Jackson went into the house to use the phone. If they were going to find that disk, they would have to go to L.A. He picked up the receiver to make arrangements with Mountain Air for a trip to California.

As soon as his calls were finished, he and Jimmy headed out on the four-wheelers, taking the road to the top of the mountain to assess the damage that had been done.

“They'll have to pay for that fence,” Jimmy said as they pulled the four-wheelers to a stop in a spot that overlooked the upper pasture.

Jackson grunted. “You can be sure I'll send them a bill—but I won't hold my breath waiting for the check.”

Bannock Logging was notorious for the destruction it caused. It was the kind of company that took its profits, then filed bankruptcy to avoid any claims for financial restitution or having to replant any trees.

Jackson figured the two brothers who owned the company were just the sort Andrew Hollister would have had dealings with, the sort he had been trying to blackmail. No wonder the guy had been murdered.

Wheel sauntered up beside them. “We'll need more fence line and posts than I thought.”

“You and the boys get started with what you've got. Jimmy and I will go back down and get the rest of what you need.”

“You got it, boss.”

“The bastards,” Jimmy muttered, surveying the ugly sea of stumps that dotted what had once been dense, old-growth forest.

They called it fire protection.

Well, they were right about that. You didn't have to worry about a forest fire if you cut down all the trees.

Jackson and Jimmy drove the dirt road back down the mountain, loaded a flatbed trailer with posts and barbless wire fence line. As they worked next to the barn, Jackson explained to Jimmy what was going on with Sarah, about her murdered late husband, and the danger she and her daughter might be facing.

“We're going to have to go to L.A., try to figure out what the hell is going on.”

“If you have to go—then go. Things are pretty well under control around here, and Livvy and I can look after Holly. You just take care of Sarah.”