Twice A Target (Task Force Eagle) (12 page)

Maddy followed suit, guiding her mare close behind
him.

Weaving among clumps of aspens and smatterings of
pines, they chased the creek’s course. Then they crossed the second of the
three hills and entered a long valley. Aspens rimmed the creek banks and the
other verge, but stubbly greening grass was the only other cover. The sun warmed
the morning so both wore their jackets open to the fresh mountain air.

“An old dirt track follows the base of the foothills.”
Holt pointed west. “Staying with the creek the entire distance will take too
long. At the end of the valley, we’ll meet the track where it swings toward the
Circle-S. We can follow it the rest of the way.”

“Okay. Let’s take a break and water the horses.” Maddy
headed for a clearing by the rushing stream.

They dismounted and led the animals closer to the
creek bank. The clear water careened over its rocky bed.

She stretched and opened her arms to the scenery. The
blue T-shirt lifted enough to give him a glimpse of her smooth, pale stomach.

Tempted to slide his palm over that creamy skin, he
forced himself to turn aside to oversee the animals drinking the icy water.
“After the branding, I’ll move the herd here for the summer. Better feed where
it’s not such scrubland. Plenty of water.”

“Up there, isn’t that Ghost Mountain?” she said. “And
the old silver mine?”

“Yup.” He didn’t have to look to know she was right.
To the northwest, a jagged, treeless ridge heaved itself above the surrounding
pine-spiked hills. Buried in one of Ghost Mountain’s convolutions was the
played-out silver mine they had invaded as kids. It had sat dormant for a
hundred years.

“The stuff of legends, and a damned dangerous hole in
the ground. I keep meaning to board the place up to prevent accidents, but I
never get to it.”

“Ranching is non-stop work.”

She sounded so damned cheerful about it that he turned
around to see if she was laughing at him. But she was again snapping a photo,
this time of the mysterious mountain.

Grinning, she aimed her lens at him. “So, Rancher
Donovan, turnabout is fair play. What are your future plans? What will you do
with the Valley-D?”

Chapter 12

His jaw tightened at the question. “First job is to
pay off that damn equity loan. If the herd does well this year and cattle
prices are up, I can put a big dent in it. I should’ve helped Rob out more.
It’ll be awhile before I can build the place back up.” He led the gelding away
from the creek and ground tied him beneath a tall aspen at the clearing’s edge.

Maddy followed suit, letting her mount’s reins dangle.
She removed her hat and placed it on the saddle horn. The breeze fluffed her
feathery hair. One corn-silk strand blew across her cheek.

He had an urge to brush it back, to feel its sleek
texture. He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets.

“Why didn’t you stay here and run the spread with
Rob?” she asked.

“You don’t know?” When she shook her head, he went on.
“When Dad died, one of us had to work to pay medical costs. I was the logical
one, and the DEA liked my two years of law school.”

“I know you always had an interest in the law, in law
enforcement. Why the DEA? Why not Denver Police?”

Back then, he’d wanted to get away, see more of the
country. He could hardly say that to the woman he’d criticized for having jet
fuel in her blood. Besides, it was more complicated than that.

“The federal job paid better, and I knew if I lived
too close, I’d second-guess Rob, tell him how to run things. We didn’t usually
agree on ranch management. Or much else.” With Rob gone, it pained him to admit
that. It seemed shameful, disloyal, but somehow he expected Maddy to
understand.

“I don’t doubt you two were at odds. Rob the
fun-loving extrovert and Holt the serious problem-solver. You were always
bossing us kids around.” Humor flicked across her liquid gaze, replaced by compassion.
“So, you couldn’t be there to take charge, but you sent money now and then?”

“What is this, an interrogation?”

She folded her arms and waited. The set of her full
mouth meant business. “I’m an old friend. And I care. And yes, I’m nosy. Well,
did you send money?”

Holt stalked in a circle. What the hell did she think
he did? He sighed, staring into the distance, across the valley. Beyond the
line of trees that hid the dirt track, something moved. Probably mule deer.
Hard to tell at a distance as far as three gridiron lengths.

“Dammit, of course I did.” He faced her again, faced
her probing. Nimble perception lurked in her questions, but he let her herd him
anyway. “Every month. The Valley-D was half mine. Rob worked the place, but I
helped pay the bills.”

“And you came home to help out whenever the DEA gave
you leave. I’ll bet you never took a real vacation or went anywhere but right
back here.”

How could she read him so well? “Pretty clever, aren’t
you, McCoy? Roping me in and dropping on the hackamore.”

“You did the best you could, Holt. You had no choice.
Don’t beat yourself up about not having done more. You can’t always be in
charge. You can’t fix everything. Rob bore much of the responsibility.” A shaft
of sunlight gilded her hair like gold in an old painting, just as her questions
illuminated his assumptions.

“I can see you made a hell of a reporter. How’d you
learn questioning techniques?”

She smiled wistfully. “From an old newspaper hound in
San Diego named Pete Muñoz. I followed him around on countless stories until he
told me I was wasting my photography talent and booted me in the direction of a
travel magazine. I’ve been on the go ever since.”

“Not just photographing, but photo-journalism. He
taught you well. He did the right thing making you fly on your own. Suits you,
the international gig, does it?

“I’ve had a good ride.” She said it with a smile that
didn’t brighten her eyes.

At a loss, he said, “Maybe you’ll get a chance to use
that sharp digging at the Circle-S.” He handed her Chica’s reins. “We ought to
get going now.”

One minute she sparkled with excitement, and the next
shadows dimmed her eyes. The woman was a puzzle. If only he could get her to
open up. She’d popped him open like a beer can so his secrets came pouring out,
but he couldn’t work it the other way around. His interrogation techniques
fizzled where this blasted female was concerned.

Holt gathered Bandito’s reins and waited for Maddy to
mount up. She sat a horse well, comfortable, as skilled as any ranch kid. Which
she was, more or less.

She retrieved her hat and eased it on her head. “Guess
I’ll just have to ignore hat hair.” Grinning, she placed her left foot in the
stirrup.

With her long legs, she needed no assistance mounting
a horse, even a tall one like Chica. The faded denim of her designer jeans
stretching across her rounded behind drew his gaze like a lodestone.

Holt dragged his glance away, afraid he’d be tempted
to give her a boost, as an excuse to put his hands on her. No matter what he
thought of her, his desire for her only grew. Hell, he was getting used to
constant arousal. Sex with Maddy would be like the woman herself. Sensual.
Exhilarating. Nothing but trouble.

And he couldn’t stop wanting her.

A flash of light across the meadow caught his eye.
Sunlight reflecting on a mirror?

Or on metal?

He lunged for Maddy before she could swing her right
leg over the saddle.

“Get down!”

She gasped with surprise, falling into his arms like a
newborn colt, all long limbs and slender body. Her hat tumbled away to the
side. “What the hell!”

Something whizzed past them. The aspen branch above
exploded into splinters. The crack of a rifle shot echoed across the meadow.

Holt and Maddy dropped to the ground.

Both horses startled. The mare jolted away. Bandito
reared and hoofed at the sky. He bolted upstream after Chica.

Another shot slammed into the aspen’s trunk. Shattered
wood fragments sprayed them like pellets.

Maddy’s heart raced. Trembling, she clung to Holt.
“Gunshots,” she whispered, more to assess the reality of it than to state the
unnecessary.

Holt kept one arm around her as they crab-crawled
toward a scraggly cedar bush. “Stay down. This isn’t much protection, but we
have no choice. At least he can’t see us.”

“Who could be shooting at us?” Dried stubble beneath
their shelter pricked at her bottom. She huddled in his embrace, taking comfort
in his familiar smell and the heat of his hard body. Shifting for comfort, she
scooted closer.

“He’s over there on the dirt track.” Expression as
hard as the silver in Ghost Mountain, he peered across the meadow. “And I doubt
he mistook us for a deer. Must have a hell of a site on that rifle.”

Her discomfort flicked away, and a moment later, an
idea ramped up fear to full-blown panic. “It could be Rob’s murderer!”

“Similar weapon. Long range and powerful. If it
is
the same guy, it means we’re getting too close. Could be there’s something in
those pictures.”

She peeked around the shrub. “If there was only some
way to sneak around the meadow and catch him.”

He turned to her, his eyebrows boosted to disappear
beneath his hat brim. “You have a death wish, McCoy? Or maybe your travels to
mystical lands have taught you a way to make yourself invisible?”

Before she could respond to his smartass crack, a
distant internal engine coughed and rumbled. She closed her eyes in brief
thanks. “They’re leaving.”

“Stay down.” Holt squeezed her shoulders, although she
hadn’t made a move to rise. “He may figure he can’t get us without revealing
himself. Or it may be a trick.” Eyes flinty with intensity, he continued to
stare across the meadow.

Maddy stared also, but could detect nothing. She’d had
enough of death and destruction, but why the hell couldn’t they defended gotten
a look at the shooter?

“One of those bullets may still be in the tree. The
state lab can tell us if it’s from the same gun. Our killer may just have made
his first big mistake.” Holt’s smile was as cold as a north wind. “We’ll call
the sheriff from the Circle-S.”

“But the horses—”

“Are right over there.” He pointed to about fifty
yards away where both were grazing peacefully. “They’re too well trained to go
far.”

Her brain whirred, trying to puzzle out what she and
Holt could know, why the killer wanted them dead. Clearly his intention wasn’t
merely to frighten them. “If we get back early enough, I’ll drive to Fort Adams
to the photo lab. Maybe the enlarged prints will tell us what we need to know.”

Holt gave a noncommittal grunt, his laser focus
trained on the distance.

A few moments later, he stood and held out a hand to
her. “It’s okay. We can get going.”

She hesitated, then accepted the hand up. “Are you
sure? How do you know?”

“Look out across the meadow.”

She followed the direction of his nod. In the same
general area of the gunshots’ origin three deer grazed. Two of the graceful
creatures munched peacefully on new tender shoots while the third, a young
buck, stood watch. He flicked his tail and cast occasional wary glances at his
equine cousins on the near side of the meadow.

She exhaled the breath she was holding. Relief sent
adrenaline tremors through her, turning her knees to pudding. She gritted her
teeth to keep them from clacking. She’d ducked gunfire before but always she’d
had a job to do to distract her. This time it seemed her job had led to the
flying bullets.

Holt wrapped his powerful arms around her and held her
on her feet. He tucked her head beneath his chin. “Hey, McCoy. I’ve got you.
It’s okay. You did great. I guess it’s not every day you get shot at. You’re
entitled to let it get to you.”

She couldn’t speak, lost in the aftermath and the
heady sensations of Holt’s embrace. Enveloped in his sheepskin jacket, she
wrapped her arms around his middle. Soft fleece and his body heat warmed her
hands, icy even in gloves. Adrenaline must cause hypersensitivity, because with
her ear against Holt’s throat, she could hear the steady beat of his heart,
even the rush of blood through his veins. The curves and planes of his hard
muscles were hard and solid against her hardening nipples.

Almost imperceptibly, his heart sped up, and a fine
tension pervaded his muscles. The arousal prodding Maddy’s belly told her he
was as aware of her.

She had never before felt so thankful for a man’s
protection. In her profession, she’d had to be self-sufficient and independent,
relying on herself for everything, including safety.

She was getting too used to Holt’s protection and
strength. When her time here ended, she’d have no choice but to return to her
peripatetic life. Although he seemed to have forgiven her, he didn’t love her.
Worse, he still distrusted her. For now, she’d inhale his scent and savor the
feel of his arms. She’d commit those sensations to memory. Leaving him would
leave a hollow the size of Colorado in her chest.

Twice now he’d pulled her from harm’s way and
sheltered her with his body. He used his rugged strength to save her, yet his
handling of her was gentle and considerate, never rough. He was a protector by
nature and by training.

A powerful combination. A powerful aphrodisiac.

She turned to touch her lips to the rapid-fire pulse
in his neck. His scent—sun-warmed skin and horse and leather—made her giddy.
She pulled back and gazed up at him. “Holt?”

Laser-blue flames flickered in his eyes. He stared at
her a moment, a muscle in his jaw jumping. “Aw, hell, Maddy.”

Holt swept off his hat. Cupping the back of her head
with his left hand, he bent and pressed his mouth to hers. His lips were warm
and soft, and he kissed her with devastating skill. His tongue stroked her
teeth, her inner textures, her essence.

Pleasure rose through her in soft flutters. Heat
licked over her body. This was Holt, the man she’d run from for years. She
didn’t want to run any more. She drank in his taste and his desire. She
absorbed him with all the passion she’d bottled up for so long. Each caress of
his lips and tongue brought the blood leaping through her veins.

Suddenly her tee and lace bra were yanked up and one
breast cradled in his right hand. He bent her over his arm and lowered his
head. When his mouth closed over one puckered nipple, longing swept through
her, and she moaned in need. Excitement tingled through her, suspending her in
shimmering sensation.

Gradually he eased his grip on her. He gave each
breast a soft lick, then tugged down her shirt. “We ought to get going. Call
the sheriff.”

She trembled, not from fear but from wrenching,
primitive desire. Coordinating her clumsy fingers to readjust her bra was a
tough order.

“Damn. I was all over you like an animal. Just after
you could’ve been killed.” He hooked a finger beneath her chin and turned her
face. “I did shave this morning, but I’ve marked you.”

Her heart thumped wildly, and her breath came quick
and shallow. His kisses had nearly dissolved her knees and melted her insides
to syrup. She wouldn’t let him apologize for something they both wanted.

She gave him her best, most confident smile. “Beard
burn? Just what we need to convince everyone at the Circle-S that we’re
engaged. Phyllis has spread the story to every other ranch we visited. They
must’ve heard it here too.”

He stared at her blankly for a moment, then scratched
his head. Sometimes she drove him nuts. Looked like this was one of those
times. Or maybe he just realized again he would have to act engaged, even
accept congratulations.

He nodded his understanding. “I’ll get the horses.”

He strode across the field, all loose-limbed
confidence and male grace. Maddy had run from her attraction to him once. She
ached at the prospect of repeating that. What was she getting herself into?

Mentally shelving the problem until later, she stared
at the bullet-wounded aspen. The first jagged hole was almost too high for her
to reach on tiptoes.