Authors: Sharon Sala
King lay quietly,
absorbing the rise and fall of Jesse's breasts beneath his hand, and watched
the first ray of morning lighten the shadows in his room. He raised up on one
elbow and propped his head in his hand so he could watch her sleep.
Her lashes lay
like thick, curly fans on her wind-burned cheeks, and King felt a fierce wave
of protectfulness sweep over him at the thought of anyone, or anything, ever
hurting Jesse again.
She was so small
and fragile in appearance, yet King knew what a strong, fierce spirit she
possessed. She was more than a match for his physical strength. She'd proven
that over and over throughout the night as King would take her to the brink of
passion, pushing her right to the edge of reason, and then, just before she
felt herself fly into a million pieces beneath his mouth and hands, he'd gather
her into his arms, and with one wild thrust send them both falling through
mindless space.
He leaned over,
gently ran the tip of his finger along the line of her slightly swollen lower
lip, humble with the knowledge of what Jesse had saved, then given to him last
night.
Please
God, may I never make her sorry.
He inhaled
sharply at the quick, intense reaction of his body as Jesse rolled over and
buried her face against his chest. He was instantly hard, throbbing with a need
he knew only Jesse could fill. Her arms slid around him as she pulled herself
against the thrust of his body, and King felt himself lose it as she opened her
mouth, nuzzled against his chest, took a hard brown nipple between her teeth
and pressed lightly.
"Does that
feel as good to you as it does to me?" Jesse whispered.
King's sudden
intake of breath told her what he could not. She did it once more for good
measure, and found herself on top of his hard, aching body. Jesse had one swift
look at the wild flare of passion in his eyes before he groaned and slid into
her.
"Does
that
feel as good to
you as it does to me?" he asked in return, and pulled her hips down
tightly across him.
Jesse gasped and
moaned, as he began moving beneath her in a soft, tantalizing thrust.
"Yes, yes,
yes," she mumbled. And then she forgot why she'd answered as King took her
on a ride she'd never forget.
It was some time
later before either of them could move, and even later before they could think.
Finally the phone rang, ending their lethargy. King reluctantly released Jesse
and rolled over to answer.
It was Maggie and
she was on her way home. That message had them both on their feet and hurrying
to dress. Maggie would know soon enough about the new turn of events between
them, but they wanted to tell her not show her. By the time Maggie arrived,
they had coffee brewed and breakfast waiting on the table.
"My
stars," she announced as she came through the front door. "Are you
two all right? It looks like the place nearly went up in flames
yesterday."
She was referring
to the huge, blackened swath covering the hillside. Before either King or
Jesse could answer, Maggie took another, closer look at the expressions on
their faces. She smiled slyly. "Or maybe it wasn't the Double M that went
up in flames last night. Is there something you two want to tell me?"
Guilt painted an
embarrassed blush on King's face. He stuttered. Then he started to explain,
grinned sheepishly and pulled her into his arms, whirling her around the
living room floor, much to her surprise and glee.
"You're not
the only love of my life, woman. Put your bag down and come to breakfast. We'll
fill you in on what you think you've missed." Then he added, "At
least part of it."
The last dish was
washed and put away as King came back through the door. He'd been outside,
overseeing the damage they'd sustained, and issuing orders for the day.
"Jesse
Rose," he called, slamming the door shut behind him. "If you're
barefoot, grab your shoes. We're going to Tulsa to pick up the cattle check at
the stockyard."
"But I was
going to help . . ." she started to say, when he pulled her off her feet
and into his arms, fixing her with an unwavering stare.
"If you
think I'm leaving you here alone again, you're crazy, woman. You can't be
trusted, and I'm too tired to rescue you again today. Okay?"
Jesse smiled,
placed a kiss in the vicinity of his left ear, and whispered softly so that the
grinning Maggie couldn't overhear, "How come you're so tired?" she
teased. "Was it something I said
...
or was it something I did?"
"Witch,"
he growled, and set her down before he embarrassed them both. "Get your
damn shoes."
King pulled the
Lincoln carefully between stock trailers and semi-trucks that were loading and
unloading droves of milling, bawling, cattle. He parked between a Cadillac and
a rusted-out pickup truck.
There was less
class-consciousness among farmers and ranchers than any other group of working
men in America. Whether they ran a big spread or a nickel-and-dime operation on
weekends only, they all faced the same frustrations and joys, and at one time
or another they all wound up with manure on their boots. Ranching had a way of
equalizing men.
"My check
will be at the office, Jess," he said, as he parked. "Come with
me."
"I
know," Jesse chided, as she scooted across the seat. "You don't trust
me."
"I love you,
baby," he whispered, and dipped his head to steal a kiss from her pouting
lips. "Trust
me,
okay?"
The hot breeze
whipped the skirt of Jesse's light green sundress around her legs and outlined
her slim body in a tantalizing caress. King jammed his hat down on his head and
guided Jesse between the parked and moving vehicles.
"Whew,"
he muttered, as they stepped quickly inside, shutting the wind and heat and the
ever-present smell of manure and diesel smoke outside. "You can sit here,
Jesse," he said, indicating a row of assorted wood and metal folding
chairs outside the cashier's window. "It may take a while. They may not
have the check ready. I don't mind telling you, it's just luck that I hauled that
herd off to market when I did. The fire would have taken some of them for
sure."
Then, realizing
what he'd just said about the fire, he frowned. Ignoring any curious stares or
whispers from anyone present, he cupped her face in his hands and tilted it
toward him.
"I wasn't
lucky yesterday, Jesse. I was blessed. But not because the stock was
saved." His voice was low and husky; his dark eyes filled with promise and
regret.
"I know,
King," Jesse said, and caressed the hand cupping her cheek. "It's
okay. Go on and get in line. I'll just wait here." She took a seat between
two grinning women who'd witnessed their interchange.
Lynch couldn't
believe his eyes. It was the boss, kissing the same woman he'd hired him to
snatch.
"What the
hell is goin' on here?" he whined to himself, and slipped behind the pair
as they hurried toward the offices.
He'd been trying
ever since daybreak to sneak aboard an empty cattle truck, but so far had
remained unsuccessful. The drivers were careful to search their empty trailers
before taking off. They had no desire to haul hitchhikers. It was dangerous,
and it was illegal.
Now Lynch
wondered if it wasn't fate that made him miss a ride. Maybe he could still get
some money. McCandless wouldn't want to cause a scene in front of the woman. He
rubbed his hands together gleefully, and stayed just out of sight as King and
Jesse entered the offices. Now all he had to do was wait.
"Hey,
boy!" a loud, boisterous voice boomed out behind King and Jesse as they
left the sale barn on their way back to the car. "How 'bout a loan?"
King grinned and
turned to see one of his dad's old friends.
"You
need a
loan?" King teased. "Not in this lifetime, Booster. You could loan
money to the federal government and never miss it."
The grizzled old
cowboy's cackle was nearly drowned out by the noise of a truck pulling away
from the stockyards.
"Here,
honey," King said, as he handed Jesse the car keys. "Go on and get in
out of the heat. I'll just say 'hi' to Booster."
"Okay,"
Jesse said. "Give him my love."
"I'll tell
him you said 'hi', too," King growled. "Your love's all mine."
Jesse felt her
face flame along with an answering fire in the pit of her stomach.
Lord have mercy,
she thought, as
she headed for the car's cool comfort.
I've created a monster.
And then she grinned
to herself.
And he's all mine.
King was
momentarily trapped between two long, semi-trailer trucks, one coming, one
going. He stepped back against the bumper of a parked truck and ducked his head
as the dust boiled up his nostrils and into his eyes. When a man behind him
began to speak it startled him. He didn't even know anyone was around. He
turned sideways, blinking rapidly as he tried to see past the film of dust
coating his vision.
"Hey,
Boss," the man whined. "What's the damn deal? I saw you kiss her. If
you was on them kinda terms, how come you wanted her snatched?"
King couldn't
believe what he was hearing, nor could he believe who he thought he was seeing.
"What in
hell?" he muttered as he rubbed his eyes, anxiously trying to remove the
dirt and grit. The man was still there . . . and he looked just like . . .
"I need some
dough," the man said, and hitched at his pants as they slid down his
skinny hips. "Don't tell me again that you're broke. I just saw you go in
the office and pick up that big fat check. All I need is a little to get me out
of town. I swear you'll never hear from me again. I won't tell no one about our
deal. I swear it. I know I screwed up, but you should have told me that LeBeau
woman was no sissy."
It was when he
mentioned Jesse's name that King was certain who was talking to him. But he
couldn't get past the horror building inside his mind. Why did Lynch think he
knew him?
"Lynch?
Wiley Lynch?" King growled huskily, and started toward him.
"What the
...
?" Lynch muttered, and felt with
certainty that he'd just made a terrible, terrible mistake. He didn't know
that deep, unfamiliar voice. He knew the face, but not the voice.
"Who are
you?" he asked, and began to stumble backward. "You're not
McCandless!"
"Yes, I am,
you son-of-a-bitch," King growled. "I'm the one who was going to
cough up the half million. And I know who you are, too. You're dead."
Wiley Lynch took
one last, wild look at the big man, and began to run. He didn't have to look
behind to see if McCandless was following him. He could hear him. He knew it
would take a miracle to escape the wrath of the big man who was quickly closing
the distance between them.
"Miss
LeBeau?" a man asked, as he stepped from behind King's Lincoln and flashed
his badge.
The sunlight
caught and held on the shiny metal as Jesse looked up, startled. Suddenly she
was afraid. The man, so out of place in suit and tie, took her firmly by the
elbow.
"Oklahoma
State Bureau of Investigation," he said, as they walked quickly toward
another group of men all dressed in similar fashion. A familiar, short, stocky
figure emerged from the men and took Jesse by the hand.
"Miss
LeBeau," he greeted her. "It's been a while. You look much better
than the last time I saw you. Would you please come with me? The men here have
a job to finish, and need you and McCandless out of the line of fire, so to
speak."
"Captain
Shockey?" Jesse said, stunned to see the Missouri policeman here in
Oklahoma.
The implications of
his presence began to dawn on her, and she spun around, frantically searching
the crowded parking lot for King.
"We got a
tip last night that Lynch might be here," he said. "Couldn't believe
my eyes when I saw you two come out of the offices. Fate plays funny tricks
sometimes."
"King,"
she asked, and clutched his arm in fear. "He was right behind me, and now
I don't see him."