Sleepless in Montana (6 page)

But the night was too much like that night,
and with the horse straining beneath him, Hogan fought the sound of
Carley’s screams....

*** ***

“I will have Carley Kodiak as my bride,” the
man at the top of the stairs murmured. Killing the old man had made
him high with power. It was always such a thrill to kill....

A dentist and an amateur mystery sleuth, the
old man presented a potential problem and had to be eliminated. Now
the fragile old man lay broken like a rag doll at the bottom of the
stairs.

The old man could have led the Kodiaks to
him, and that wouldn’t do. Not when Carley was on his menu... when
she had that terrified look on the street, shaken badly after he’d
sent her the panties.
She was his and she knew it....

The Kodiak family together had always been
powerful, though the killer was much smarter and in the end, he
would have Carley for his Celestial Virgin, his sexual slave.

As teenagers, the Kodiak brothers had dreamed
of finding the legendary cave where the Chinese women were taken
when they were of no more use to the frontier prospectors. The
Kodiaks imagined they could ease the restless maidens’ spirits,
returning their bones to China. The Kodiaks thought they were
smart, but they weren’t, the killer decided firmly.

He took one last look at the old man as he
passed, satisfied by that trickle of blood from his nose and mouth.
He stared at the man’s neck, the beautiful odd angle that said it
was broken. He inhaled and relived how the old man had begged for
his life.

He smiled coldly. Carley’s screams had been
much better. Beautiful, richly filled with terror...his Celestial
Virgin.

The Kodiaks hadn’t found the cave, didn’t
believe it existed. But it did, and it waited for Carley....

He’d have the prize of the Kodiaks, their
precious little sister. Hell, why not, he thought, his smile
growing. He deserved Carley.

They’d had everything, the Kodiak golden
gods— each was talented, successful, charming. As high school
sports stars, they were untouchable, and Hogan’s dark sensuality
drew women— The Kodiak brothers had swaggered through town, showing
off at rodeos.

He wasn’t jealous, of course, because he was
superior to them. They’d had girls, but he would have what none of
them had ever attained, a virgin. He would also have Carley— and in
the cave, no one would hear her screams of pleasure.

He clutched the file folder he’d made the old
man give him. He lit the old kerosene lamp, and tossed it into the
cluttered office where it would catch on cloth drapes, quickly
setting the house on fire. It would look like the old man was
running for help and tripped, falling down the stairs.

The murderer laughed wildly and spotting an
antique carved jade Buddha, swept it into his coat pocket— after
all, old Doc Medford wouldn’t need it anymore.

*** ***

“I can handle this; everything is going just
as planned. There’s plenty of time to get everything right.” Jemma
circled the light plane over the Seattle runway approach.

Morning sunlight skimmed the clouds below her
as she automatically checked the instruments and waited for
permission to land. She was too tired, badly needing rest, but all
the pieces were in place.
She could trust the Kodiaks to act as
a family to protect Carley. With Hogan in the mix, Carley was
safe....

Carley would accept that Ben wanted his
family together as he wound toward death. Mitch would come back
from his social services work in Chicago; Aaron would fly in from
his brokerage firm in New York. They’d put their lives on hold to
protect Carley, and Ben would try to be less— just Ben, demanding,
bitter, hurting.

“There isn’t any place safer for Carley than
with her father and brothers,” Jemma stated firmly, believing it
with all her heart and soul. Still, she liked repeating the litany,
reassuring herself. “Hogan isn’t ruining it. He knows it’s for
Carley.”

Hogan was the same as he’d been when she’d
seen him five years ago at Dinah’s home in Seattle. But he was
harder, more stoic, as if he’d held in his storms too long, and
they had eaten too much of him. He still resented his father, and
hours ago, in his house, the fiercely bitter waves had slammed
around her almost instantly.

She ached for him, not wanting to leave him.
Maybe that was why she called back, taunting him, just to hear his
voice. Despite the wars within Hogan Kodiak, he always seemed
strong, secure. She hadn’t wanted to move into his arms, but
instincts told her that she’d be safe there, that he wouldn’t
refuse to hold her. A safe harbor, Hogan was one delicious-looking
contrary male, with a maelstrom going on inside, bitterness against
Ben, love for his family.

She could count on Hogan to help play this
bastard, stop him from getting to Carley.

Jemma slashed away tears. She blamed her
unsteady emotions on the tension of flying over the mountains in
bad weather. She’d had to sweet-talk an aging playboy flight
controller, land on an icy runway to refuel, and battle mountain
currents with a small plane.

She was in no mood for Hogan to be tearing at
her senses, for making her ache for him. “Damn him. Hogan still
gets to me. He just always looks so lonely and brooding. I’m a
sucker for that look, though I know he hasn’t a bit of softness in
him.”

He’d had to be tough, surviving and caring
for all of them through the years. He was always there, always
calling— at graduations, sending presents, and he’d gotten a little
colder each time, appeared more lonely, despite his success. A
whole big piece was missing from Hogan, and she’d die for a real
smile from him— just one really warm smile that reached those
lovely, veiled black eyes.

She wiped away the tears streaking her cheeks
and checked her instruments again.

At six-feet three inches, Hogan towered over
her, and when he’d held her, there wasn’t a bit of softness in that
hard rangy body. Always a man who liked to touch, drawing textures
and images into him, Hogan’s body moved gracefully within his silk
clothing as if it could be shed at any moment, as if he was
accustomed to roaming his lair without it. He had smelled like—
like Man, a clean, arousing scent that she associated only with
Hogan.

His face seemed chiseled, planes gleaming,
shadows defining his harsh features, that almost sensuous mouth.
Except for his anger about Carley’s past and the new threat, and
obvious distaste for Jemma, she couldn’t define what thoughts
lurked in those black, black eyes guarded by the long sweep of his
lashes.

“No man ought to have lashes like that. Not
when I spend a fortune on high-priced mascara,” Jemma muttered.

Holding her close against him, Hogan’s body
was hard and safe. His loose silk pants were worn without
underwear, and she’d felt his sex nudge against her stomach. But
she hadn’t been thinking of anything, anyone, but Carley and the
danger to her.

The black silk had flowed around him, the
shirt open and loose. She’d been aware of how beautiful he was,
gracefully padding after her, that nettled, hounded look almost
shielded from her.

Dedicated to her finances, Jemma had few
entertainments, but one of them was upending Hogan’s famed
control.

He’d known how to hit back and had gone right
to the barb— “You were married, weren’t you? About four years
ago?”

“You knew I was. You just like playing
games,” she batted back into the empty cockpit.

“What was that, Pilot Jemma?” the flight
controller asked sharply, cutting into her dark thoughts about
Hogan— the brother who pretended to be an outsider, when he loved
the family deeply.

Hogan loved Ben, though he didn’t know it—
the layers of fighting and coldness ran too deep. For his part, Ben
had dug in, refusing to relent, and the Kodiaks were at an impasse,
each locked in his own cave.

Jemma intended to change the rules where Ben
and Hogan were concerned. They were going to relate if it killed
her. “Dysfunctional, stubborn, mule-headed bulldogs tearing at each
other—”

“What was that, Pilot Delaney?” the
controller asked again.

“Just checking my instruments. They’re
fine.”

Jemma wasn’t about to explain to Hogan the
sordid, embarrassing details of her marriage. She hadn’t wanted
love, but respect and security would have filled the gap.

Donald Gillis ultimately gave her neither.
The son of a banking family, he quickly pointed out her lack of
society training and respectable background.

“I’m the daughter of migrant workers who had
ten children. How much time between tending babies and moving from
shack to shack did Donald think there was for classes on how to
entertain?” she muttered.

But Donald was what she’d wanted— classy,
connected in society, wealthy, and malleable. She liked having
things her own way, and Donald had been easy enough to manage
without too many problems— until it came to her acting as a proper
hostess.

Once married, he’d laid down too many laws—
including no flying and no business wheeling-dealing and no
independent woman as his wife.

She could do without a husband and marriage
tethers; she had always done just fine on her own.

Jemma glanced around the neat interior of her
small Cessna jet. She’d traded a neat little stationery business
she’d started for the jet; later, she’d trade it for a customized
travel camper van.

She’d always been able to piggy-back
money-making ideas. She’d already set the first step in action, to
rope Hogan into her plan. Oh, he’d do it. Good old dependable
Hogan—at least when it came to his family. He wouldn’t like getting
along with Ben, but he’d do it.

Jemma’s nimble mind churned on, balancing the
pluses, checking out the avenues.To protect Carley was on Jemma’s
top shelf, but there was no reason she couldn’t fill her time at
the Kodiaks by making a few dollars.

She couldn’t afford to have a Kodiak battle
explode while she was promoting her fly-fishing idea to the
producer. She knew how to bargain, and she wasn’t letting anyone
make her feel incapable and dumb again.

“I thought marriage might be worth the try.
Win some, lose some,” she muttered, aware of the bitterness in her
tone.

She fastened her mind on Les Parkins, the
producer of a men’s outdoors television program. Attracted to her,
he wanted an affair. Les wasn’t having her, of course, but she
wasn’t blocking any doors to financial opportunity. By July, she’d
have him hooked on the idea. A mild flirtation with Les wouldn’t
hurt, not when Jemma stood to gain a television series. “He’s
coming along nicely.”

Hogan’s image seared back to Jemma’s mind.
Trust Hogan to look as he had, dressed in a black-silk shirt, open
to reveal his tanned chest and the ridges of his stomach.

His expression had been arrogant, disdainful,
but his body had moved gracefully within the flowing silk. The
firelight had gleamed upon his smooth chest, reminding her of a
polished metal statue. She’d wanted to place her hand on those hard
layered ridges, to smooth her palm down to....

Jemma glanced at a DC9 passenger plane
gliding through the blue sky, preparing to land. That smooth white
trail in the blue sky was like Hogan, tearing across her life.

Firelight had touched his cheekbones, on that
blunt masculine line of his nose, those black fierce eyebrows,
scowling at her as they always did.

Jemma smiled tightly. She knew how to get to
him, dig at him, torment him until he responded, some of that calm
torn away to reveal the heat.

Hogan had the effect of a fire that needed
fueling on her. She delighted in pushing him, the layers cracking
just a bit before all those wary angles locked into place.

Her leather gloves gleamed as she gripped the
controls tightly, her thoughts veering back to Hogan. Always Hogan.
Aloof, distant, dark, swirling in emotions about his home place and
his past. The protector of the Kodiak family when Ben came undone,
when Dinah left, Hogan could rally the others around him, even
Ben.

His father respected Hogan as a man who could
match him any day. He saw himself in Hogan, and understood him.
Wary opponents, they’d coldly slashed at each other through the
years, and forgiveness was eons away.

Aaron hid his bitterness for Dinah, for
leaving Ben, but it was there. Carley’s defenses were a mile high,
despite the warmth running beneath those drab, loose fitting
clothes and her too-serious expression. More than anything, Jemma
wanted Carley to have the best, to have a life that filled her.
Jemma dreamed of Carley smiling, free and happy— before that
night.

Jemma considered the stormy dynamics of the
Kodiak family. To her, they were dysfunctional pieces in a puzzle,
never quite fitting exactly right. Hogan clung to his outsider
status and fought Ben, who was powerless to escape the grip his own
father’s harsh ways had upon him.

Then there was Dinah, loving them both, and
her children. Touched by a rawhide past and Ben’s accident, they
were a family of high pride and warring emotions, a hard family to
understand, but Jemma loved them.

They were hers. Her family.
Even
Mitch, the street orphan, who loved them all, was hers; and Dinah
had protected her, fought for her. Growing up, Jemma practically
lived with Dinah; the Delaneys hadn’t noticed, continuing to have
other babies.

Dinah.
A strong woman, Dinah still
loved Ben, and she looked forward to having all of her family— and
her family included Hogan— together.

“This is going to work. They are going to be
a family again, whether Hogan likes it or not.”

Jemma slashed away another tear. She hated
crying; it was only because she was too tired. She regretted
grabbing Hogan like a lifeline. She’d never let him see her fears,
shielding that unscarred part of her heart, because Hogan could
hurt her.