Carol Finch (8 page)

He stared at her hand as if she’d offered him a scorpion and he was trying to decide if he wanted to get stung. Eventually he clasped his hand around hers. To her surprise, he tugged her toward him until she was sprawled inelegantly across his lap.

She studied his chiseled features and stared too long into his lustrous blue eyes. “Is this a double-cross? If you plan to shackle me to another blasted tree I’m going to curse you to high heaven.”

“This isn’t a double-cross, but there’s one more stipulation,” he murmured, his face inches from hers. “I want to speak privately with Solomon and your father. That means you have to lie low and stay exactly where I tell you, for as long as I tell you.”

She pulled a face. “I’m not agreeing to let you set all the rules. I don’t tolerate men telling me what to do. They never have my best interest at heart. Except for my father.”

“You sure about that?
My
father sure as hell didn’t have my brother’s and my best interest at heart when he lit out.”

He curled his upper body forward so that he practically surrounded her. She could feel him beneath her, beside her, above her. His face was a hairbreadth from hers and his unique eyes were boring down on her. Sexual attraction struck like lightning bolts. Her nerves were jumping alive and white-hot sensations sizzled into her very core. She opened her mouth to defend her father’s integrity, but no words came out. His nearness affected her so intensely that she could barely breathe, much less speak.

“I mean it, Savvy,” he whispered so close to her lips that she silently begged for his kiss. “I need to be able to trust you explicitly. I have to know where to find you if things go to hell. I have to be able to count on you. Without question.”

All she could do was to nod jerkily. He’d enveloped her with his sensual presence. His scent had infiltrated her senses so completely that she was momentarily hypnotized, paralyzed.

“The last partner I had, and not by choice, was Grady
Mills,” he told her, his voice quiet and husky. “He tried to shoot me in the back after I cornered two train robbers and confiscated the stolen money… And there was this woman who…”

Savanna saw the play of emotion on his face and felt his body tense. She waited with bated breath for him to continue.

“She was…” He stopped talking again, as if choosing his words carefully, taking time to bury emotions unearthed by a haunting memory. “Elaina hailed from a well-to-do family in Denver. She decided she wanted me, even if I wasn’t the kind of man her parents approved of. I knew I was a novelty to Elaina, but I was still flattered that a woman of her beauty and social status was interested in me. I knew we were doomed from the onset, but I ignored common sense.”

Savanna searched his eyes, seeing the torment flickering in those azure depths. He might not understand why a woman would fall in love with him, but Savanna knew. He exuded appeal. She could feel helpless attraction radiating through every fiber of her being. Fletcher’s compelling aura was too potent to ignore.

“Elaina followed me against my orders. She stationed herself discreetly in a copse of trees while I secured the prisoners and collected the loot.” He paused briefly and a muscle clenched in his stubbled jaw. “Grady decided he didn’t want to split the reward or to return the shipment of stolen money to its rightful owners. When my back was turned, he crossed over the line from detective to outlaw.”

Savanna inwardly winced. She had the unshakable feeling that she knew what happened. “Elaina took a bullet for you when Grady tried to dispose of you,” she presumed. “She loved you that much?”

Fletch nodded and the intensity of his emotion caused him to involuntarily clutch her tightly to him. “I
owe
her. She
died
protecting me. I swore I’d make Grady Mills pay for his sins. I made her that promise before she collapsed in my arms, and I damn well intend to keep it.”

Savanna reached up to trace his stony features, offering comfort and compassion. “I have no intention of shooting you in the back. And if this is your roundabout way of telling me not to take a bullet for you then you can rest easy, Ranger/Marshal. I wouldn’t dream of it.” She smiled sympathetically. “I can see that you’re sensitive about such things. Now I understand why.”

She levered herself up then scooted back to her original position beside the fire. “You must have loved Elaina deeply. Her memory has made a lasting impact on you.”

She glanced away, disappointed that she’d developed this ill-fated
entendre
for a man whose heart belonged to the woman who had made the ultimate sacrifice to spare him.

Savanna watched Fletch rise agilely to his feet. Without further comment, he strode into the darkness. To grieve in private, she speculated.

No wonder he kept his emotions bottled up. No wonder he was determined to keep their association strictly professional. Well, except for the previous night when unusual circumstances had them clinging passionately to one another during the storm.

She understood that she’d never be more to Fletcher Hawk than the place he came for temporary release of masculine needs. He was tied to the memory of a life-altering event. No woman could take Elaina’s place in his heart. Savanna would get her heart broken if she made the foolish mistake of falling in love with Fletch.

It won’t happen because I refuse to let it,
she reassured herself while she finished her meal.

She had refused to let her mother’s abandonment destroy her and she wouldn’t let herself care so much for Fletch that he had the power to hurt her.

Having witnessed the failed marriage between Robert Cantrell and Glorianna Bennett, Savanna wasn’t sold on matrimony to begin with. After hearing Fletch’s story, she didn’t think star-crossed affairs sounded too appealing, either. Besides, she was a woman on a mission. She didn’t need complications. She was committed to investigating Willow’s disappearance and exonerating herself from the murder charges. Afterward, she’d help Fletch apprehend the man who’d killed the love of his life.

Savanna marveled at Fletch’s unfaltering devotion to Elaina. Her parents hadn’t shared such deep-seeded affection. She couldn’t imagine how it felt to love and be loved with such intensity. She doubted she’d ever find out. She was twenty-five and she was long past the usual marrying age.

She’d spent the past few years teaching at the all-girl academy that she and Willow had attended. Aside from her long-time fondness for Parmicho, the Chickasaw police chief, no one had come along to touch her heart. She’d never been tempted…until she’d encountered a brawny, blue-eyed Texas Ranger who was a bad risk for several reasons.

“Well, that explains why Fletch is the way he is,” she murmured as she headed to the stream for a good, long soaking.

Fletch swallowed several expletives and skidded to a halt when he saw Savanna gliding gracefully across the water. Silver waves rippled around her—and lust hit him
so hard and fast that it nearly drove him to his knees. When Savanna twisted sideways to backstroke across the moonlit pool, Fletch felt like throwing his head back and howling in torment.

Seeing Savanna naked for the second time, and yearning to have her, was almost more than he could endure without reducing himself to a smoldering pile of unappeased need. He didn’t want to ogle her, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. His gaze transfixed on the full swells of her breasts and desire throbbed so heavily inside him that he had to brace an arm against a nearby tree for support.

Good gad, talk about your favorite fantasy come true! He couldn’t have dreamed up a more erotic scene than the one he was witnessing here and now. Water droplets danced on her flawless skin like beads of mercury, and he wanted to lick them away one at a time. When she arched backward and dived underwater Fletch forgot how to breathe, forgot to spin around and walk away from forbidden temptation. He stood there drooling, his body so hard and aching that it was all he could do to prevent ripping off his clothes and joining her in the shimmering pool.

Criminy, how much temptation was he expected to endure? How much more mental torment must he undergo? He was haunted by the memory of the woman who’d loved him unselfishly and he was tortured by his desire for this beguiling fugitive. He still wasn’t sure Savanna was telling him the truth about her connection to Roark Draper and her knowledge of Grady’s whereabouts. It might be a clever ruse to gain his cooperation.

Despite all that, despite all the trouble this woman had caused him—and probably would in the near future—he still wanted her like hell blazing. He wanted to sink into
her luscious body and forget the past, the present and the future. If only for one night. He needed a mental and physical reprieve so badly that it was driving him
loco.

Savanna’s quiet gasp broke into his thoughts. “Who’s there?” she called.

“Just me,” he muttered as he lurched around and forced himself to walk in the opposite direction. “I’m going downstream to bathe. I’ll see you back in camp later.”

Fletch strode briskly along the creek bank, pulling off articles of clothing and tossing aside his arsenal of weapons as he went. He and his erection needed time to cool off. He needed time to compose himself mentally and physically before returning to camp—so he could go on pretending that his maddening need for Savanna wasn’t eating him alive.

A
fter a long day of travel, Fletch was relieved that he’d finally reached his destination. “Stay put,” he ordered when Savanna tried to dismount a hundred yards from the isolated cabin. Even in the moonlight, Fletch could see displeasure written on her exquisite face.

“This is my home,” she reminded him. “I refuse to believe that my own father plans to turn me in.”

“Maybe not, but we don’t know who might be lurking about.” Fletch stepped down from the stirrup. “Plus, Bill Solomon might very well be your father’s oldest and dearest friend, but I only have
his
word on his intentions for this case.” The fact that Solomon might have a double-cross in mind had been at the back of Fletch’s mind since their first encounter. Trust didn’t come easily for him and he wasn’t taking any chances of letting Savanna walk into a trap.

“I recommend that you flash both of your badges,” she murmured quietly. “My father is cautious by nature and habit, too.” She dug into her pocket then handed Fletch a gold locket. “He will recognize this as mine.”

He tucked the locket inside his vest then peered somberly at her. “You’ll be here when I come back for you?”

A hint of a smile flitted across her lips. “I promised I would, didn’t I? Do you want a sworn statement written in my blood, too?”

“Yes, since you asked.”

“You aren’t getting it. Too many men are out for my blood. I might not have enough to go around. A verbal promise is all you’ll get from me. So be satisfied with it, Mr. Ranger.”

“Anybody ever tell you that you have a smart mouth, Paleface?”

“Why, suh, you offend me,” she said with the heaviest Southern accent he’d ever heard. “We, who are the proud descendents of
The
Bennetts from Georgia, should not be addressed in such a disrespectful manner.”

Fletch chuckled. Her comment was amusing and sad at once. He had the unmistakable feeling she was impersonating her hoity-toity mother. The one who’d abandoned her to return to the bright lights of high society.

Pivoting on his heels, he led his horse toward the quaint log home that sat five miles west of Tishomingo. Golden lamplight glowed in the curtained windows. Fletch wondered what it would be like to have a place to call home. He’d spent half his life living like a tumble-weed, setting up crude campsites and checking into nameless hotels.

His brother, however, seemed to have adjusted to putting down roots like a potted plant. Logan Hawk had remained in the same place for the past five years. He was part owner in a Texas ranch and he’d gained an impressive reputation as a horse breeder and trainer. Of course, Logan was crazy in love with his spirited wife, Shiloh, and he was devoted
to their two sons. He had plenty of incentive to settle down and remain so.

As for Fletch, he had a long-standing vow to fulfill. Plus, he was trying to remain
un
involved with the lively female who was wanted by every bounty hunter, lawman and posse in Indian Territory.

“You are a master of impossible situations,” he told himself as he approached the cabin.

As a precaution, Fletch checked for posted lookouts. The coast was clear so he peeked into the window. He couldn’t see much because of the thick curtains, but he sighted two silhouettes and he heard the quiet murmur of voices.

Sure enough, Robert Cantrell wasn’t alone. Fletch hoped Bill Solomon was his guest. He also hoped Bill was on the level. He was going to be disappointed if Bill turned out to be a corrupt law officer looking to make a small fortune by hauling in a high-profile fugitive. After all, every man had his price—especially with so much money at stake. Solomon could live comfortably on the reward.

With both pistols drawn, Fletch tapped on the front door then shifted sideways—in case someone decided to shoot through the door and attempt to blast a few holes in him while he was standing on the stoop.

It wouldn’t be the first time that happened.

Thankfully, he wasn’t greeted by gunfire.

The door inched open. A rifle barrel protruded. “Who’s there?”

“Fletcher Hawk. I’m a Texas Ranger.”

The door swung back to reveal a sturdily built, gray-haired man who looked to be in his early fifties. Fletch noted that not only was a rifle aimed at his head but a Peacemaker was aimed at his belly. Of course, the two weapons
perfectly countered the pistols Fletch pointed at Robert Cantrell’s forehead and gut.

Never can be too careful, was Fletch’s creed.

Apparently, Cantrell lived by the same code.

The man sent him a squinty-eyed stare then surveyed the two badges pinned to Fletch’s vest. His wary gaze darted every which way to make sure he wasn’t about to become a potential ambush victim.

“So you’re Fletcher Hawk,” Robert said, his voice thick with a Southern drawl that indicated he’d been born and raised in Georgia, just like his estranged wife.

“I’m looking for Bill Solomon.” Fletch looked past Robert’s broad shoulders. “I’m going to fish Savanna’s locket from my pocket, so don’t get twitchy. She told me to show it to you because you would recognize it as hers.”

Robert backed up a step when he spied the familiar locket. He motioned Fletch into the foyer. “Is Savvy all right?”

“She was five minutes ago, but you know your daughter. She has trouble staying in the same place for long. Too much energy and restless spirit is my guess.”

Robert grinned slightly and Fletch noticed the family resemblance. Same expression around the nose and mouth. Same dark, luminous eyes. Same shade of auburn hair—except that Robert’s wasn’t as thick or curly and it was turning gray.

“When the Lord passed out spunk and spirit, Savvy cut in line twice,” Robert remarked as he slid his Peacemaker into the holster on his hip. “The Lord made her hard to handle.”

“Amen to that,” Fletch mumbled in agreement.

“I raised her to have a mind of her own and to use it. So I guess I have to shoulder part of the blame. But I’ve had
my fill of swooning, helpless females and I vowed my daughter wouldn’t be one of them.”

Fletch shifted sideways to see Deputy U.S. Marshal Solomon lounging on the elegant brocade couch in the parlor. He had elevated his leg on a cushion, suggesting that his foot was still paining him.

Or so maybe he’d have everyone believe.
Fletch tucked the suspicious thought in the back of his mind. So far, Solomon appeared to be sincere. But Fletch didn’t know him well enough to vouch for him, so he decided to reserve judgment.

“’Bout time you showed up,” Bill rumbled. “I was starting to sweat. Rob was getting a mite nervous, too.”

“Hell of an assignment you gave me.” Fletch put away his pistols, closed the door and scanned the well-tended home. It wasn’t as fashionable and affluent as the one where Elaina had lived, but it had a homey feel to it. “Savanna wasn’t all that easy to track down,” he added. “You could have warned me.”

“I haven’t seen her in years,” Bill declaimed. “Didn’t know she’d be a handful.”

“Now there’s an understatement if I ever heard one,” he said under his breath before taking the seat Cantrell offered him.

Savanna shifted impatiently as she stared into the distance. How long did it take Fletch to contact her father? Had someone pounced on him and left him lying unconscious in the bushes? Was her father at home?
What is going on?

Her thoughts scattered like a covey of quail when she heard a rustling sound in the bushes behind her. She clutched her pistol and half twisted in the saddle, hoping Fletch would materialize from the shadows and signal an all-clear.

No one approached.

Alarm streamed through her when she heard the unexpected hiss of a rope swish through the air. She reflexively ducked but she was a half second too slow. The loop settled around her shoulders and someone tugged fiercely on the other end. Savanna cartwheeled inelegantly off the saddle, despite her attempt to anchor herself to her horse.

She tried to shout Fletch’s name, but a gloved hand clamped over the lower portion of her face. A masked man jerked her roughly to her feet and yanked the pistol from her fist before she could turn it on him. The ruffian had his hat pulled so low on his forehead that she could see only his dark mask. She tried to bite down viciously on his fingers, but he kept shifting his hand so she couldn’t latch on to it.

“You shoulda stayed hidden, bitch,” he swore beside her ear. “You shouldn’t have poked your nose in this business in the first place. Now you’re gonna be damn sorry.”

When she tried to kick, claw and bite anything within striking distance, another assailant pounced. He stuffed a rag in her face and she gasped for breath. The scent of chloroform overwhelmed her. She tried to avert her face, but her assailant held the cloth securely over her nose.

“Put her back on her horse,” the second man ordered.

Savanna struggled valiantly to keep her wits about her. She wanted to be able to recognize the two voices, even if she couldn’t identify the faces behind the black masks. When a shadow shifted in the near distance, she felt the presence of a third man but he stepped behind a tree before she could see him. Was it Oliver Draper? Was he overseeing her capture? The thought sent panic pounding in rhythm with her pulse.

Although Savanna tried not to breathe too deeply, the chloroform was too overpowering. With each passing
second, her struggles became sluggish and ineffective. A sense of hopelessness settled over her as her captors dumped her across the saddle like a feed sack. Damnation, she thought groggily. After all the effort she’d made to elude captivity, here she was in her own backyard—jackknifed over her horse and led away. She’d let her guard down when she got close to home. Now she was going to pay dearly for her negligence.

Vaguely, she wondered if she’d still be sedated when a lynch mob strung her up to a tree. Fletch had
tied
her to tree trunks several times. Now she’d be
hanging
from a sturdy branch, waiting to flit off to the pearly gates. She’d make history as the first female hanged in Indian Territory.

That depressing thought whirled off in the darkness as Savanna slumped motionlessly over the saddle.

“Is Savanna the worse for wear after being on the run all this time?” Cantrell asked anxiously.

“She’s fine.” Fletch poked his head inside the spare bedroom of the cabin to make sure no one was lying in wait. “But we need to find a place to hide her until I figure out what really happened the night Roark Draper was shot.”

Robert’s face puckered in a resentful scowl. “That son of a bitch got what he’s had coming for years. I suspect he was somehow involved in Willow’s disappearance, but I can’t prove a damn thing. That bastard’s father covered for him and bailed him out of every jam he’s been in for years. I swear that ranch operation is corrupt, too. You can’t trust either of them.”

Fletch waved off Robert’s tirade. “You can fill me in on the particulars later. Right now, we need to figure out where to stash Savanna. It can’t be here without involving you.”

Bill Solomon levered himself upright to test his tender foot. Then he pulled on his boot. “Rob, any idea where your daughter can stay while me and Fletch investigate?”

Cantrell nodded as he wheeled toward the door. “Mineral Springs,” he decided instantly. “The isolated area in the foothills of the Arbuckles is sacred ground to the Chickasaw tribe. Whites are restricted from entering the area, but it’s hard to enforce the law. Still, there are far-flung caves and ravines. Savvy is familiar with the locale. We’ll stock her with supplies and she can hold out as long as necessary. I made damn sure that she isn’t as helpless and incompetent as her mother.”

Outside, Fletch grabbed Appy’s reins and led the way through the darkness, following the meandering creek. “There is nothing helpless or incompetent about Savanna,” he agreed. “She gave me fits and outfoxed me more times than I care to count.”

“That’s saying something.” Cantrell’s irritation with his estranged wife was momentarily forgotten. “Bill has been singing your praises and spouting about your legendary reputation as a Ranger and tracker.” He glanced this way and that. “Where is Savvy?”

Fletch growled in outrage when he realized Savanna wasn’t waiting by the clump of willow trees. Damn that woman! He should have known she’d planned to double-cross him. He’d provided extra protection and brought her back to the area she’d wanted to go and—
wham!
—she’d taken off, making him look like an imbecile again! She’d staged that melodramatic scene, claiming she was anxious to go home, but it had been an act to throw him off track.

Dark eyes blazing, Cantrell rounded on Fletch. “You’ve already lost her? And you call yourself a Ranger? Obvi
ously the stories Bill heard about you were lies, not legends. You can’t even keep track of one female for thirty minutes!”

Cantrell took another furious step forward and bared his teeth. “Or is there some reason why Savvy might be too ashamed to reunite with
me
after spending the past several days with
you?
” His voice rose to a roar. “Is there something I should know about what happened while you two were unchaperoned? You untrustworthy bastard!”

As he stepped forward, Fletch thrust out his hand and planted it squarely on the man’s heaving chest. “I did not take advantage of your daughter,” he snapped right back.

He’d wanted to, but he wasn’t about to tell Rob Cantrell that while the man was bristling with suspicion and paternal indignation. “I brought Savanna in, just like Bill Solomon asked. I had a job to do and I did it. End of story.”

“Rob, my friend, you need to calm down,” Bill insisted. “You’ll give yourself a stroke. You’ve been fretting and stewing about Savanna and this is making it worse.”

Robert backed up a step and settled his ruffled feathers, but he still stared accusingly at Fletch.

Wheeling around, Fletch strode toward his horse. “I’ll contact you when I track down Savanna.”

Moonlight reflected off a crumpled cloth lying at the base of the underbrush. An uneasy sensation skittered down Fletch’s spine as he bounded from Appy to retrieve it. He scooped up the cloth and took a whiff.