Two Cowboys in Her Crosshairs [Hellfire Ranch] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (7 page)

She nodded and turned away. She was only a few steps out of the kitchen when she heard the low mutterings of their voices.

They sounded heated, and she wondered what they were talking about.

She found the bathroom and shut the door. Olivia leaned against it for a long moment as she studied her flushed face in the mirror.

“Get a grip,” she ordered. Twisting on the cold water tap, she pumped soap into her palms and scrubbed at her fingers. Logically she knew they were fine and perfectly clean. But whenever her stress levels rose, all she could see was sand and blood.

Being with Jake definitely had her blood pressure on the rise. She splashed cold water on her face and patted dry with a towel.

Pausing, she pressed the cloth to her mouth and nose as she inhaled. Her nostrils were filled with musk and spice and a little hint of Irish soap.

She wondered who the scent belonged to.

Finally, she lowered the towel, made sure her long, curly hair was secured and tugged at the buttons of her dress shirt. She’d wanted to project an air of confidence and absolute control. So far, she didn’t think she’d done such a great job. She smoothed a hand over her skirt and checked her reflection again.

“There, now I’m ready.”

Her voice trembled as much as her hands did.

Who am I kidding? I’m nowhere near ready to face Jake again.

She didn’t have a choice in the matter. Her commanding officer Captain Arlen Strong had been gracious enough to give her a two-week furlough to get to the bottom of the mysterious package she’d received and the death of an old squad mate.

When she pulled open the door, both men were lounging outside. They stood shoulder to shoulder against the rustic wood paneling of the hallway.

Hudson grinned and winked.

Jake’s face was as solemn as a gravedigger’s.

“Ready to talk?”

No.

“Yeah, sure.”

Hudson motioned her into the living room, and she took the time to study the space. A large picture window dominated the far wall. The view of the front yard and its huge oak trees was breathtaking. Dark-brown curtains were pushed to either side of the window, which made the glass seem even bigger. Two huge leather chairs stood at one end of the living room and a matching couch sat on the other. In between was a large glass-and-wood table that looked like it had been hewn from one tree. She peered into the glass and saw a multitude of rings lining the inside of the base.

“My grandfather made that.” Jake answered her silent question. “He made almost all the wood furniture in here. I’d had it in storage while I was in the military. When we bought this place, it just seemed to fit.”

“It’s beautiful.” She traced one of the rings through the glass.

“That glass has been broken a few times,” Hudson said as he settled into one of the chairs.

Olivia saw Jake grimace as he took the other chair. “Yeah, well, these things happen.”

She was learning a lot about Jake that never came to light before—first baseball and now childhood hijinks. Jake Logan was becoming more human and less of an enigma. Olivia wasn’t sure she was ready for that. “You broke it, Jake?”

He remained silent, and she lifted a brow at Hudson.

“Twice,” he said with a chortle. “First time we were playing football and he dove to catch a pass.”

“That
you
threw,” Jake muttered.

Olivia couldn’t believe he was squirming. She’d never seen anything rattle him before. With one notable exception, she’d never seen Jake as anything less than stern and composed.

“He came crashing down on top of it, and the thing shattered like a teenage girl’s heart,” Hudson said.

“Sounds painful.”

“I was fine.”

She doubted that. “What happened the second time?”

Hud leaned forward and rubbed his hands together in devilish glee. “He was trying to prove how strong he was.”

“Hudson,” Jake said. “I don’t think Olivia wants to hear about this.”

“Yes, I do,” she said swiftly.

Hudson winked at her. “Well, Susie Ball was the homecoming queen that year, and Jake had the biggest crush on her. Grandma and Grandpa had a big party that night and invited all the kids over. Susie stopped by and was going on about how strong and smart and handsome her college boyfriend was.”

Hudson pulled a face, and she laughed.

“So old Jake here decides he has to show off and grabs the base of the table to move it so we could dance. He was looking right at her as he lifted it up.”

“Hudson.” Jake’s voice held retribution.

“Fact is fact, man. Own that shit. Anyway, if he would have stopped there, everything would have been fine. But no. Jake keeps lifting until the thing is over his head.”

Olivia gasped and looked at the table. It was massive. The trunk was easily as big around as a Smart Car and nearly as tall, but it probably weighed twice as much.

“Yeah,” Hudson chortled. “The table kept going backward and so did Jake. They both crashed into the floor, and glass went shooting everywhere. Grandpa roared like a lion.”

“Were you hurt?” she asked Jake.

“No, I missed most of it.”

“What happened with Susie?”

“She screeched at the top of her lungs that he’d gotten glass all over her brand-new party shoes.” Hudson’s grin turned just a little feral. “That was when Grandma told her that if she were more concerned with her shoes than Jake’s injuries, she could see herself out. Except that Grandma was not nearly so polite. The woman loved to chew tobacco, you know.”

Olivia stared at him slack-jawed then snapped her mouth closed. “You’re bullshitting me.”

Hudson placed a hand over his heart and fluttered his gorgeous, lush eyelashes at her. “I wouldn’t.”

“He would,” Jake said.

Olivia nodded. “In a heartbeat.” She couldn’t stop the grin that crossed her face. She loved hearing about Jake’s childhood exploits, but getting them from Hudson was even better. He was personable and charming and a total rascal. She loved it. She also suspected something much deeper lurked behind his flirtatious façade and roguish green eyes. He made her want to investigate further.

She hoped she had the time while she was here, but that was doubtful. She looked at Jake, and his expression morphed from abashed chagrin to determined steel.

“Okay, Olivia. What’s going on?”

Her reprieve was obviously up. She looked at Hudson and set her own face in tight lines. “What I say here goes no further.”

Hudson quirked a brow and smiled widely. “Oh, sounds all top-secret and important. You won’t have to kill me when you tell me, will you?”

Her muscles spasmed. She’d killed enough men in her life. “No,” she said softly. “I won’t, but this is very serious. Not necessarily top-secret, but it could be close.”

Hudson’s face snapped from jocular to intense in one breath. The change startled her, and she lost her train of thought.

She gazed at Jake as she tried to corral her racing mind. “You were surprisingly easy to find, Jake.”

“Wasn’t trying to hide.”

“No, I see that. Plus, the name of your ranch is sort of a giveaway.”

Sorrow arced in his eyes before he looked away and drew in a deep breath. When he returned his gaze to hers, his barriers were once more raised. “It seemed to fit.”

Hellfire Ranch was a direct salute to their brethren of the Hellfire Battalion. That and the anguish in his eyes told her he still held himself responsible.

It seemed they had more in common than just a once-upon-a-time attraction. Although, if she were honest, he still revved her engines.

“This has something to do with Afghanistan,” she blurted out.

Hudson drew in a swift breath and half rose from his seat. “Should I leave?”

Jake shook his head, but he stared at her as he replied. “Hudson knows just about everything that happened over there. I trust him implicitly.”

Does he know we made love?
The question quivered on the tip of her tongue but she held back. Jake said
just about
everything. She’d be willing to bet he kept mum about their interlude. She was distinctly aware of Hudson’s sudden, piercing gaze, but she didn’t take her eyes from Jake’s face.

He’d paled and the muscle in his lean jaw worked like he was chewing an entire pack of bubble gum.

“Go on,” he said hoarsely.

“I received a letter from Shag. He told me to come see you.”

“Why?”

She licked her lips and spoke very carefully. Captain Strong suggested she not give up the information about the statue until she was positive Jake had nothing to do with Shag’s death, but she
knew
he didn’t. He couldn’t have been involved. Jake was a soldier turned cowboy. He was
not
a cold-blooded killer. Still she hesitated. “He wanted me to look up you and a few friends. Sort of a welfare check, I think.”

His brow knitted, and puzzlement raced over his roughly hewn features. The last three years had not been easy on him. New, deep lines bracketed his mouth and forehead. His eyes held an even deeper wariness, and he’d lost a good twenty pounds he could ill afford. Though still muscular, his body was now wiry and near-gaunt in places.

“You look surprised,” she said.

“I am. I just talked to him.”

Her pulse kicked like a mule. “Oh? When?”

“Five or six days, maybe. Why?”

Olivia swallowed and pressed trembling hands together. “What did he say?”

Jake sat straighter and his hands fisted. “Just checking in. We did a couple times a month.”

She didn’t know that. Of course, why would she? She’d cut the guys off as soon as she was mobile again. Despite the attempts most of her squad mates, including Jake, had made to contact her after the accident, she’d deflected them all. Eventually, they’d given up.

“You talk to anyone else regularly?”

Jake cocked his head to the side and shared a long look with Hudson. “What the hell is going on, Olivia? Shag didn’t send you down here. He would have told me.”

She still didn’t know which side he fell on, but Olivia refused to believe this man capable of cold-blooded murder. She was going to have to trust him.

“Shag’s dead, Jake. He was shot in the head two days ago in his apartment.”

Jake surged to his feet. Hudson quickly followed. Both men advanced on her, wearing identical looks of horror and fury.

“What in the hell are you talking about?” Jake demanded.

Not about to be left in a vulnerable and submissive stance, Olivia also leapt up. “He sent me a package and a letter telling me to bring it to you. I went to talk to him first and found him dead in his bed. One gunshot wound to the back of his head.”

“My God,” Hudson whispered. He looked shaken, and she wondered if he knew Shag and how.

Jake reclaimed her attention. “Who?” he asked, voice cracking.

It looked as though the stern and dispassionate façade he strived to maintain was also dissolving. Wildness raved in his blue eyes.

“Who killed him, Olivia?”

She scrubbed her palm over her face and inhaled the sharp Irish scent again. “I don’t know, Jake. I was hoping you could tell me.”

“Me?” Jake nearly shouted. He clenched his jaw and counted to five as he struggled to contain his shock. Grief washed over him, but he couldn’t afford to let it consume him. Not now when he had to learn why and who had killed his old friend. “Why would I know who killed him?”

Olivia’s normally bronze complexion was as pale as flour. Tension knitted fine lines into the supple skin around her mouth. Wariness showed bright in her brown eyes.

He slowly sank back into the leather chair. Hudson remained standing, and Jake leaned to the left to look around him. “I didn’t do anything to him, Livvie.”

Hudson started and whirled around. “Livvie? You call her Livvie?”

Jake scowled and waved him back to his own seat. “Later,” he muttered. He knew his friend was going to give him a large ration of shit for calling his horse by Olivia’s nickname. He just never figured anyone would have the opportunity to make the connection.

Hud wavered for a long, silent moment. “Damn skippy you’ll tell me later.”

“Tell you what?” Olivia asked.

“Not important. What else aren’t you saying?”

She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth—the same way she always did when her quick brain was madly thinking and sifting through information.

“No bullshit, Olivia. Shag was my friend. Where’s the connection that brought you here?”

“All right, Jake, I’m going to trust you.”

He flinched at the reluctance in her voice. Not that he blamed her. Trusting him had not only gotten her heart broken, but it cost her an eye. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he rasped in a weary attempt to joke.

Her responding smile was strained at best. She dug into her purse and pulled out a wrinkled envelope. The outside was black with what he assumed to be fingerprint powder. With a stretch, she tossed it to the table between them. “That’s part of what he sent.”