What She Saw (18 page)

He sighed. “I want you,” he murmured into her ear. “But we could get interrupted if someone calls.”

Her arms tightened around him. “I don’t care.”

At that moment neither did he.

He lifted her, carrying her, loving the way her body curled into his, the way she clung to him and softened, giving him the ultimate trust. She made him feel like a very different man from the hardened one his past career had forced him to become. She made him feel as if it was okay to be other things, too. Tender things. Kind things. Good things.

In a way it was easier this time. They knew one another, shyness was gone. They undressed themselves quickly, then slid beneath the coverlet to embrace. Twining together, skin against skin, had never felt so good to him.

She had slipped past barriers he had built a long time ago, and he swelled with a huge need to give to her everything he could.

But the cell phone he had dumped on the table beside her bed couldn’t be forgotten. He had no idea how much or how little time they had, and he didn’t want these moments to be shattered by a phone.

It seemed she felt the same way. Their earlier experience had taught her a lot, and her impatience matched his. No time to worship or adore, no time to linger and discover. Hands flew over one another, mouths followed eagerly. And when he lifted her over him so that she straddled him, she simply looked down at him with hazy delight.

He captured her hanging breasts in his hands, kneading them until her nipples turned hard and rosy. Then he lifted his head and began to suck. A deep groan escaped her, and her hips began to rock against his, her already-damp sex cradling his, driving him up the slope of passion as if he were riding a rocket.

He would have liked to draw it out, would have liked to drive them both as close to the edge of madness as he could, but that damn phone remained at the back of his mind, a reminder that time might be short.

When he struggled to get a foil packet from his pants, she grabbed it from him, gave him a delightfully impish look and insisted on rolling the protection on him herself.

That was sweet torture, and he looked down between their bodies to watch.

“Like this?” she asked as her hands enfolded him.

“Exactly,” he managed to say thickly.
Exactly
.

Then she lifted her hips and he reached down to guide himself into her. She sank onto him with a soft moan of pleasure. He drew her down, one hand on her hips to encourage her movements, the other on her shoulders to bring her breasts near enough to lick and suck.

Her hands clenched the pillow on either side of his head as their hips rocked together, each plunge to her depths drawing a soft cry of pleasure from her.

He kissed her, licked her, nipped her everywhere he could reach, and the movement of her hips told him just how good she was feeling. Faster and faster she moved, as if straining toward the goal, and each of her movements carried him higher with her.

Then, just as he thought he was going to crest without her, he felt the shudders begin to run through her, heard her moan of pleasure, and the paroxysms of her body swept him over the top with her.

She collapsed on him, sweaty and warm, and he wrapped his arms and legs around her to hold her tightly as the aftershocks tore through them both.

Never had he felt so good or so drained. Or so much like he had finally come home.

* * *

“The guy’s getting anxious,” Jim said into the phone. “The stuff is on the road. Having it sit around is causing him problems. He owes people. That Devlin guy needs to go.”

“He has to if he ever wants to drive a truck again. Just a few more days. Tell your guy we’ll go as soon as we can.”

“I want out of this.”

“Then you should have stayed out of my wife’s honeypot.”

Jim closed his eyes, furious that he had fallen into that snare. Furious that Claire had basically set a trap for him once she had guessed he had money. Furious that she had wheedled enough information out of him to give it to her husband, and then her husband had threatened him with telling Betty Liston things Jim didn’t want his mother to know. “Keep your woman happy and she won’t be looking to leave you.”

“She wanted money,” Bertram said. “I’ve got money now. But that’s all she wanted
you
for, you idiot.”

As if Jim cared. One stupid affair on his part and he’d been paying ever since. It had to have been a setup.

This mess had even cost him his brother, not that he cared that much. Ray had always been an ass to him. But he wasn’t going to let anything happen to his mother. “I’m out of this after the next load. You can work it yourself.”

“Will the guy agree?”

“I’ll make him. I’m not wasting any more time up here to make you rich.” Tough words. He wished he was actually as certain as he sounded, that he could turn the course of this fast-moving locomotive.

Silence. “We’ll see. What about the Martin girl? You’re sure about her?”

“She doesn’t know anything. Both your wife and I agree on that.”

After a moment, Bertram spoke again. “Devlin will be gone in a couple of days, if not sooner. I’ve got the company ready to turn the screws on him.”

“Okay, then. A couple of days at most, but that means unless we can find a way around this, a shipment is going to make it to Denver in the morning. Do you have any idea how much trouble that could cause? I’ll tell my guy he needs to get someone on it there. But you better be right. This is one dude you don’t want to make mad.”

Bertram laughed. “I’ve made him a lot of money. I can make him even more. Tell him to stuff it.”

Right,
Jim thought as he hung up the phone. Right. Tell the guy to stuff it? When he’d already sent three men up here to deal with the problem if it didn’t go away fast? Bertram had no idea who he was dealing with.

But Jim did. He had a dead brother to prove it.

Chapter 15

T
he first call was from Ransom Laird. He’d stopped by the Bertram place to talk about getting into alpacas himself since the wool market was down.

“I was right, he’s got about eighty grand in the alpacas he has and he’s thinking about buying more. He explained being able to buy them by saying he used his savings.”

“But you don’t believe it?”

“No.”

Another piece snapped into place. Bertram was it. The question now was how the Listons were involved, and when he thought of Jim Liston’s big, fancy and very expensive sports car, he could see a huge link.

Jim knew people in L.A. and apparently was making a lot of money. One guy with money, and another who needed it.

It was a long way from proving a court case, but the puzzle began to look nearly whole.

Gage called a while later. It was possible to ditch the cab. One of his deputies would help.

“We’re having a fight tonight,” Buck said reluctantly to Haley. “Almost as soon as you get to work, while there are enough people around to take note of me roaring out of town. I’ll be back, but I don’t expect action tonight.”

He didn’t add that the appearance of those three men today might mean someone was planning to take him out before the night was over. He could deal with them if he needed to.

Haley nodded, her face tightening. “Okay. But what if there is?”

“Then I’m going to have to move really fast.”

“You’ll be careful?”

“All I want to do is follow the box truck, find out where it’s going. That’s all I
can
do. I’ll leave the rest to Gage.”

Something in her eyes said she didn’t quite believe he would do nothing but follow. But that was his plan. He needed to scope things out so Gage would know what he was up against, not play superhero himself. Doing that might only blow the whole thing. All he needed to do was get concrete information to the sheriff.

Nobody needed to know how badly that chafed him.

* * *

Haley was nervous, even though she knew she didn’t have much to worry about tonight. Buck had been pretty certain that if they’d been delaying shipments because he was poking around, it would take them at least a day or two to respond to his departure. So nothing had to happen tonight except their fight.

“I’ll have to stay in hiding until this is over,” he said again. It must have been the third or fourth time he’d mentioned it. It almost sounded like an apology, as if he didn’t want her to think he was truly going away, or that he wanted to be away from her.

She understood. She wasn’t happy about it, but she figured they were running fast toward the end, whatever it would be. As sweet as he’d been to her this afternoon, as close as he had held her, she was just a stop on the road. She couldn’t regret it, even though his leaving would hurt.

“Quiet argument,” he reminded her as they approached the motel. “I’ll come in when it’s still light enough for anyone who’s interested to see me drive away. I’ll be back here well before dark.”

“I’ve got it,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t sound nervous. A low-voiced conversation that nobody was supposed to actually hear, her sounding angry, him getting angry, to wind up with a slap... God, she was worried she might not be able to carry it off.

He’d checked to make sure his number was in her cell phone and hers in his. If there was a transfer, she was to press his number, then hang up as soon as the call connected. His caller ID would identify her and he’d know the exchange was coming down.

It sounded so simple. And it wasn’t supposed to happen tonight. She drew a couple of deep breaths. There was only one thing she had to worry about, and that was getting through their little scene.

Then tomorrow and the next few days she could worry about the rest.

“You’ll do just fine,” he said as she let him out at the motel. “Just fine.” He squeezed her hand before climbing out of the car, but offered no kiss. Of course not. Things were supposed to be getting rocky between them.

She remembered what he’d told her, and didn’t follow him with her gaze as he climbed out and walked to his room. Instead, she did the first part of her job: she hit the accelerator so hard she tossed gravel with her tires, then stopped just long enough to scan the state highway before squealing her way across it and into her parking space at the back of the diner.

Angry. She had to look angry, as if they’d had a fight.

She slammed her car door loudly when she climbed out. There were only a few rumbling trucks in the lot, but the slamming of her door was even louder. She could see heads in the restaurant turn her way.

Angry,
she told herself.
I’m angry. Furious. Buck is a scumbag.

She felt her face tighten into something like anger as she forced herself to stomp inside.

“Whoa!” said Hasty as she brushed past the counter to the lockers in back. “Wanna talk?”

“No.” She made sure to bang her locker door, as well. The stage was now set.

When she emerged, tying her apron into place, she was surprised. “Claire’s not on tonight?” she asked. They always worked the same nights. Instead she saw Meg at the far side of the place.

“She called in sick. Are you sure you feel well enough to work?”

“I’m just mad,” she said. “I’ll get over it.”

Then, before he could question her any further, she grabbed an order pad and headed toward the tables in her section. The girl she was relieving was a new hire she didn’t know all that well. “I got it, Jo,” she said tautly.

Jo took one look at her and scrambled to hand over her order pad so Haley could deliver the bills.

Fear ate at Haley, making it hard to hang on to the pretense of anger. Buck was so sure he could take care of himself, but she kept remembering those three strangers. One man couldn’t stand up to three, could he?

Around six-thirty, a wave of trucks began to pull into the lot. She glanced out, saw nothing unusual, but caught sight of Buck coming across the highway. Only a short time now. It was as if a fist clenched everything inside her.

She glanced out the window again as she wiped a table beside it and down the road a distance saw that blue pickup again.

Her heart slammed. What if they were here to take care of Buck? Put him out of the way? But daylight protected him for now.

She turned away from the table and went to take an order from a couple of familiar drivers who always ate together. They joshed with her, and finally asked if she was feeling okay. “Boyfriend problems,” she said shortly. “I’ll be fine.”

“Well, take it easy,” one said kindly. “These things work out if you let them.”

“I’m not sure I want it to work out.” Which effectively put an end to that conversation.

She heard the bell over the door and knew without turning that it was Buck. Showtime. God, how was she supposed to do this?

Then she remembered Maude and Mavis at the City Diner, and the way they slammed things down. Holding the image in her mind, she went get a cup and a napkin-rolled set of utensils. Her mouth drawn tight, like Maude’s, she stomped over to Buck and slammed the mug and silver down. Maude would have been proud of her.

“What do you want?” she asked rudely.

“Coffee, biscuits and gravy,” he said, his face flat.

She turned without another word, calling the order out to Hasty as she scribbled it on her pad and stuck the duplicate to a clasp for Hasty. Then she grabbed a pot of coffee and returned to Buck’s table. She poured carelessly, letting some of it splash.

“Now,” he muttered, then before she knew what was happening, he grabbed her wrist.

From there it got easy. She glared at him. “Let go of me!”

“Not until you calm down.” He kept his voice low, and she was sure almost nobody could hear him.

She yanked her wrist free and he let go, probably a good thing, because she could see some nearby drivers stirring, as if they were about to come to her rescue. That wasn’t part of the plan.

She leaned down, keeping her voice tight and low. “Eff you,” she said.

“Do it,” he answered in the same low, tight voice.

Straightening, she drew her arm back and slapped his face hard. “Get out of here, Buck Devlin! I never want to see your face again, not ever. You lowlife, lying...” She ran out of words as her voice rose, but thank goodness she didn’t have to come up with any more of them.

He rose instantly, tossing a bill on the table as if it were trash. “Trust me,” he said, his voice level and tense, “if I ever see you again it’ll be too soon!”

With that he turned and stormed out.

To her horror, she realized the entire restaurant had gone dead silent. Feeling just awful and equally embarrassed, she darted her gaze around to see a lot of gaping faces. Then one of the drivers actually started to applaud.

All of a sudden the place was full of hand-clapping and whistles of approval. “You tell him, Haley,” someone called.

She shook her head. “Sorry,” she said, her voice thickening for reasons that had nothing to do with anger, and everything to do with having made a public display of something she didn’t feel, from having made Buck look bad to his fellow drivers. “I’m sorry.”

She certainly hadn’t anticipated this reaction and didn’t know what to do about it. But no one seemed to feel she needed to apologize.

“Get the lady a dinner on me,” another driver called to Hasty.

But Hasty had another concern. He motioned her over because he couldn’t leave the food cooking on the grill unattended. “You need the night off?”

“I’d rather work.”

“Then sit a minute until it quiets down. You sure you’re gonna be okay?”

“I’m going to be very okay in just a few minutes. Really. It’s going to feel good once I stop shaking.” A lie. When had she become so good at lying?

So she slipped onto a stool, Hasty put a piece of pie and cup of coffee in front of her, and the restaurant quieted back to normal. Then she heard a cheer and looked.

Buck was leaving. There was no mistaking his big cab roaring out of the motel parking lot. A couple of the drivers clapped and one gave her a thumbs-up.

Done. Now she just had to live with the sick feeling.

* * *

Buck roared out of town with mixed feelings. On the one hand, he wanted to grin at how well Haley had carried that off. On the other he hated leaving her behind, especially when he roared past the blue pickup truck. Only one guy was visible now, but he was sure the other two were around.

He’d have to take care when he made his way back.

Then he realized he’d have to take even more care. Damn, the truck had pulled a U-turn and was following him. He hoped all they wanted to do was make sure he was going for good, but the farther they followed him, the more difficult they were going to make his rendezvous.

He settled in a little above the speed limit, as if he was still angry, and waited. His concern built, but a little more than four miles passed and they finally dropped off and turned.

Not good. Yes, he wanted them to assume he was headed back to Seattle, but he wasn’t happy that they were heading back to town. What else might they intend to do?

He finally reached the road Gage had told him about. No one was in sight, so he pulled onto it and bumped along for nearly another mile. Then he saw a sheriff’s car with Gage and Micah waiting beside it.

Pulling up alongside them, he parked and climbed out.

“Okay,” Gage said. “I’ll take you back and drop you off just a mile outside of town. Micah here will take your truck to a motel down the road, in case they’ve got the LoJack on.”

Buck nodded. He liked the plan. “We’ve got a wrinkle.”

“Three guys in a blue pickup,” Gage said. “We didn’t miss them, believe me. So far they seem to be mostly interested in you, though, so I’m not expecting any trouble now.”

“At least not until another switch comes.”

“Tomorrow, right?”

“That’s my guess,” Buck agreed. “I doubt they want anything to go through to Denver because they can’t off-load here.”

“You better let your boss know you’re on the way home as soon as you’ve got signal.”

“Yeah.” He did that, lying on the backseat of Gage’s car as they drove toward town. Meanwhile his truck continued west with Micah at the wheel.

“Bill? Yeah. I’m on my way back. What the hell do you care? The lady didn’t want me.” He listened to the yammering from the other end. “Right now I’m feeling too damn mad to drive far, so I’ll probably crash for the night. I’ll let you know when I’ll be there.”

“I’m glad you’re coming, Buck,” Bill said. “I’m getting hell for having one truck off the grid.”

“Well, you won’t get much more hell.” Buck disconnected and lay on the seat, thinking about that brief conversation. Bill had sounded relieved, but he’d also sounded sincere about getting hell for having a truck out of action. So maybe it wasn’t Bill. Maybe it was one of the suits.

For now he could only wonder.

Gage dropped him at the appointed place, a woodsy turnout. No one else was in sight. Grabbing his duffel, Buck thanked him and began to slide out.

“Remember,” Gage said. “You can follow them, but that’s it. Any trouble, give me a call.”

“Thanks again.” Then Buck melted into the woods and began to trot toward the truck stop. Not that he expected anything else to happen tonight, but being so far from Haley was making him nervous.

It didn’t even ease his mind to know that she was surrounded by people right now, that nothing could happen to her.

He’d always found it hard to trust, and right now he was having trouble trusting himself and his own instincts.

He was too worried about Haley.

* * *

The truckers, Haley realized, had a grapevine as good as Conard City’s. She had no idea what had passed among them, but they seemed to handle her with kid gloves even when the next wave arrived.

She felt the cell phone in her pocket vibrate once, Buck’s signal that he was back near the truck stop. Some of the tension slid away and she found it easier to chat with her customers. Still, even as she relaxed, it seemed they were all going out of their way to be extra nice. Once or twice she had to remind herself that she’d just
pretended
to have a fight with Buck.