Runner's Moon Trilogy Megabook Series (7 page)

"Hey, Jamison."

Carl looked up bleary-eyed at the man who plopped down on the barstool next to him. As the guy ordered up, Carl turned back to the longneck he had been nursing for the past hour.

With Hannah gone, so was the tip money he used to go drinking. Emmet, the barkeep and owner of the place, was letting him run a tab—for the time being.

"How's the hand?"

The remark made him lift the cast. "Fuckin' hurts. What d'ya think?" he muttered. It was bad enough he had no money to get decently drunk. It sucked worse he couldn't get drunk enough to even dull the pain. The prescription for the painkiller the doc over at the clinic had given him was going to cost over thirty bucks to fill. Carl Jamison didn't have that kind of money. Not with Hannah gone. He winced and took another swig of his now-warm beer.

"Pretty sorry, that Morr guy running off with her."

Swinging his eyes toward the man, it finally dawned on him who the guy was. "You knew him?"

Manuel Rosas shrugged. "Guy didn't talk much. He was a loner, but he did his job and kept in Bennetson's good graces." He chugged back a long swallow and smacked his lips when he was done. Rosas was part of the regular 91

construction crew. Had been for the past three years. "I never woulda guessed the guy would have taken her like that."

It had taken Carl nearly an hour to finally make it over to the clinic to have his hand x-rayed. The prognosis wasn't good. The bones weren't just broken; they had been crushed to the point where two doctors examining the slides were doubtful he would ever have the use of that hand again. Still, they had tried to reset it as best they could since Carl refused surgery. The cast would have to stay on for a full six weeks.

After that they would x-ray it again, but there was no telling where they would go from there.

In the meantime, he had refused to file any kind of charges. He had a lot of reasons for not doing so. The biggest one being that if the sheriff did manage somehow to find Hannah, she would tell him about how seriously he'd beaten her up. With a domestic violence charge already on his record, this incident would violate his probation.

Secondly, he wanted a clear shot at Mr. Jeb Morr. If the authorities got to the man before he did, Carl would probably never get the chance to thank Mr. Morr properly for running off with his woman.

Still, his reasons didn't stop him from spreading the news that Hannah had ditched him for the ex-construction worker.

In addition, he put out the word that if anyone had an idea where they might have headed, he would be mighty appreciative if they'd let him know.

It never occurred to Carl Jamison that the majority of the townsfolk were reluctant to help him in any form or fashion.

Hannah was a sweet girl, and hard working. She had never 92

been one to complain. In the short time the couple had been living in Laughlin, gossip had quickly spread how the man used the young woman as his personal punching bag. The man may have been a native Laughlinite, but most of them abhorred his viciousness.

They would tolerate him, and that was all. If Hannah had run off with another man, God bless her. Jamison deserved it.

So let the guy fend for himself.

"You still looking for some word about them two?" Rosas inquired softly.

Carl froze. Dipping his head a bit, he swiveled it in the man's direction. "You know something?" His voice was low, soft, and flat, but definitely curious.

Rosas gave a shrug. "Could be nothing. Could be something."

"Spit it out, Manuel."

"I was in Bennetson's office this morning, getting my insurance changed. The door to his office was open, and I heard him on the phone. He was talking to Tom Mallon. You know, his cousin up in Tumbril Harbor?"

"The lumbermill guy?"

"Right. Anyway, I heard Bennetson say something along the lines of, 'Yeah, he's a damn fine worker. I hated to let him go. I asked him to stay on but he wanted to head up to Clearwater. So I gave him your name in case he made it up your way.'"

"Clearwater?" Carl repeated to make sure he heard right.

Nodding, Rosas took a drink, setting his bottle back on the bar with a thump. "I'm thinking he didn't stop in Clearwater.

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My guess is Morr drove all the way up to Harbor and applied at the mill like Bennetson suggested. Why else would he be talking to his cousin unless the guy was checkin' out Morr's references?"

In his pain and alcohol-fogged brain, Carl tried to roughly calculate the distance. "What kind of drive would that be?

Five hours? Six?"

"Umm. Yeah. Five and a half or six. Sounds about right."

Rosas squinted at the man next to him. "You heading up there tomorrow?"

Carl straightened up. "Thinkin' about it."

"Whatcha gonna do if they're there?" the man asked cautiously. Already he was regretting having told the guy, but—hell—Hannah was his woman. His common-law wife.

How Carl would handle the situation wasn't his problem.

To his relief, Jamison didn't seem too upset. "I just want to make sure she left of her own free will, and the guy didn't force her or anything. Know what I mean?"

"Like kidnap?"

"Yeah. Like kidnap." Finishing his beer, Carl dropped his bottle on the bar and slid off the stool. "Let her tell me face-to-face that it's over between us, and I'll leave. Plain and simple. It's the least she can do after pulling such a stunt.

She owes me that much." Giving the man a weak grin, Carl added, "Thanks, Manuel. I owe you one."

* * * *

Rosas gave him a little salute with his beer and watched as Jamison left the bar. It was clear by the way the man walked 94

that Carl was nowhere near drunk. In fact, it looked like Carl was walking with a purpose now.

Giving a little belch, Rosas got off of his barstool and headed for the back where the pool tables were located, hoping to catch some action. Carl Jamison never crossed his mind again.

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He could smell something cooking before he got out of the truck. His stomach fluttered as he detected eggplant and tomato sauce. Eggplant Parmesan. Damn. How did she know it was one of my favorites?

When he entered the lodge, the odors hit him like walking into a wall. A silly grin crossed his face as Jeb stood in the doorway to watch her work.

It only took Hannah a moment to realize he was behind her. She glanced up from the salad she had been tearing to give him a wide smile. "How did it go today?" she asked brightly, unaware of the effect she was having on him. She had on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt that almost covered her bottom. Her long legs were bare, as were her feet. Her sunflower-yellow hair was pulled up into a ponytail. And despite the dark bruises and swelling that marred her face, she looked happier and more beautiful than he had ever seen her.

"Great! Mallon phoned Bennetson to check on my references. I was hired on the spot."

A grin turned up the uninjured corner of her mouth. "I figured that was what happened."

"Oh?"

It was taking everything in him not to walk over and pull her against him, and feel the softness of her body along his.

She had never been far from his thoughts as he had gone 96

through the workday, learning a new craft, new rules, new responsibilities.

She turned to place the bowl of salad on the tiny table.

"Yeah. If you hadn't gotten the job, you would have come and told me. Then gone off to look somewhere else."

"Am I that predictable?" He chuckled.

When she shook her head, her hair swayed behind her in a way he enjoyed watching. "I know practically nothing about you, Jeb Morr, except that you're considerate of others. Now, go wash up. Dinner's ready." She sighed as she glanced over the meal. "It isn't much. I did the best I could with what you picked up yesterday and..." Her voice trailed off as she gave him a wary look. "And with what Mrs. Newburg loaned me."

Jeb froze. "Mrs. Newburg? She saw you?"

Hannah's hand went up to touch her purplish jaw. "I figured it was the best thing to do. I'm sorry, Jeb. Don't get mad at me. But if we're going to stay here a week, chances are she or someone else is going to see me. I figured that if I took the bull by the horns and confronted her, it would save us a lot of explanations in the future." Again she gave him a cautious, almost fearful look, wondering how he would take the news.

Immediately he understood why she seemed ready to bolt for the door. As she had said earlier, she knew practically nothing about him. And the only relationships she had ever been in had been abusive.

Pulling his lips into a smile, Jeb held out his arms to let her know he was not angry. To his relief, she walked straight into 97

his embrace and hugged him. "Tell me what happened," he murmured into her hair.

She moved against him as she cuddled. The scent of tangy lemonade momentarily overrode the mouth-watering smell of dinner. "I wanted to have dinner ready for you when you got home. I called the mill to see when you would get off work.

Then I debated on what to fix. I saw the eggplant you'd bought, but I needed cheese and tomato sauce." She shrugged lightly. "I didn't think it would be wise to walk to the market. That's when I went to the office."

"How did you know Mrs. Newburg was there?" He didn't remember telling her.

"I watched you register us. I could see you through the rear window." Hannah shifted slightly, lifting her arms from where they had gone around his waist. Her hands slid up his back with slow, almost deliberate motions, as if she was seeing what he felt like.

It was then Jeb realized he was holding her for the first time. Unlike the other time when he had carried her to the truck as she fought pain, she was now lengthwise against him.

She was curved in places that notched her almost perfectly along his chest and abdomen. Curves he wanted to touch and explore. It was agony to keep his hands flat against her back and not let them roam. Because he knew that once he started to touch her, he would not be able to stop until he had melted into her body and taken her with his manpipe rapidly growing stiff against her belly.

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Hannah moved again, and the feel of her warmth suddenly blanketing his engorged member as she held him tighter squeezed a soft moan from his chest. She lifted her face to look at him. Her eyes were innocent. Questioning. Expecting.

He was not aware of lowering his face until he brought his mouth down over hers.

The fire that raced through his blood frightened him. He had never kissed a woman before, but he had seen it done on their television. Ruinos didn't kiss, yet he had always wanted to try it. To experience it.

Her lips caressed his, filling him with brighter heat.

Instinctively he returned the movement, then sucked gently on their softness. She shivered in his arms, sending more sweet, lemony waves into the room.

Her scent was in every molecule of air he drew into his lungs. He breathed her in, tasting her warmth and her essence in the roof of his mouth as though she were an intoxicating drink. A tongue tentatively probed between his teeth. Opening his mouth, he let her explore that part of him that had never before felt a woman's touch. There were tiny aftertastes in her saliva from when she had been nibbling as she fixed the salad. Her breath was a garden of deliciousness.

Tongue met tongue, danced briefly, then touched. Stroked.

Jeb was unaware he had pressed her closer against him until she moaned into his mouth, a sound nearly identical to the one he had made.

He felt her slowly pulling away, but it was with reluctance.

If they didn't stop, there would be no dinner. Instead, it 99

would be the two of them dining on each other throughout the night.

"Jeb." Her voice was deep and guttural. Her breathing was labored. "Thank God you're not gay."

"On the contrary. I'm very happy right now," he argued as his hands slid down to her hips before releasing her. Opening his eyes, he noticed the expression on her face. Without warning, Hannah broke out laughing. "What? What did I do that was so funny?"

The giggles wouldn't stop. "No. You didn't ... oh, Jeb.

You..." She started laughing again, but this time she gave him another quick hug before completely releasing him and turning back to the tiny range.

"What?" he persisted. Whatever he had done, it had obviously tickled her. In a way, that was a good sign. Still, it would be nice to know what he had done, in case he needed to do it again sometime in the future.

They had spent the weekend in quiet companionship, either watching television or going for long walks in the forest where others wouldn't see Hannah's bruises and come to the wrong conclusion. Often they had held hands, and every time Jeb had felt a rush of absolute perfection flood his senses.

Hannah was the one. He knew it as truth with every atom of his being.

Then, at night, he had made certain she took the medicine with the sleeping agent in it. After that, it was just a matter of waiting for her to fall asleep before he shed his outer layer.

Yes, he could have tried to keep his human disguise, but in the past when he had, he had awakened to find himself back 100

in his true form. It was a possibility he could not risk as long as Hannah was unaware of what he was. So he trusted the chemicals in her system to help keep his secret safe.

Shaking her head as she took the casserole dish out of the oven, Hannah gave him another warm look. "Let's eat before it gets cold," she suggested with a smile.

Jeb rolled his eyes, an affectation he knew meant exasperation, and took his seat.

The first time Hannah had cooked for them, he had been both surprised and grateful. By not eating out as much, he would be able to stretch their current monies until his first paycheck. He really didn't want to hit any of his bank deposits unless he was forced to. In the meantime, she tried to make the bungalow as cozy and homelike as possible.

"Now ... tell me all about your new job," she demanded playfully.

Briefly Jeb told her what he did. It was all manual labor, but he preferred it that way. What he didn't mention was his Ruinos strength allowed him to lift and haul objects that many times would have required a mechanical loader. Although he would sometimes resort to pulling on a particularly stubborn tree trunk with his bare hands, he did so only when he was certain others would not be able to see him. Needless to say, it was the end results that made an impression with his new boss.

"Mr. Mallon told me if I stayed on until the end of the year, he would see that I got a bonus, plus an increase in pay."

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The scent of vanilla came to him. He looked up from his plate to see Hannah staring down at her own half-eaten meal.

"Hannah? What's wrong?"

A single minute stretched into eternity. Jeb remained patient, knowing she would tell him why her need swirled around her like a pungent cloud. When she swallowed, it was almost a dry, brittle sound. "You're thinking of staying?" she finally whispered.

"I might. I don't know yet. Depends."

"Depends? On what?" She raised her eyes at him. "On me?"

The door was opening. At any moment Jeb would have no choice but to walk through it and confront her with the truth.

He wasn't ready for it. Not yet. Certainly not now. He wanted a few more days to bathe in her lemonade scent when she knew he was nearby. He wanted to come back to the cabin, which had become the closest thing to a home in more than eleven years, to find her there.

He wanted to come back to find Hannah waiting for him with a smile in her eyes and tenderness shining from her face. To find her lying in bed, asleep but aware of when he joined her because she would instinctively cuddle against him.

Or to find her in the kitchen fussing over whatever she was cooking.

It wasn't the right time to tell her about himself, but he could tell her the other truths.

"Jeb?"

"Yeah, Hannah. It depends on you."

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She lifted her quivering chin. Despite her disfiguration, the sight of her drawing her courage about her like it was a solid entity sent a rush of protectiveness through him. She was trying to find the words and the strength to be honest with him. The thought made him smile. It was time for him to take her fears away. All of them. Finally.

"This is a good place to live, Hannah. I can already tell I will be happy here. But will you be happy here as well?" He cocked his head at her and gave her time to absorb what he was asking her.

Her jaw dropped as she began to understand what he was saying. "You want me to stay with you?"

Her scent had gone from vanilla to the freshness of clean, spring rain. Jeb took in a lungful, tasting it. Wanting more of it.

"Yeah. I do."

"Why?"

This time his eyes widened. Why? That was a question he hadn't expected. Or maybe he had and didn't want to admit it. Again he tried one of those inconclusive shrugs, hoping it would conceal his growing nervousness. "I already told you. I can't bear the thought of someone hurting you again."

The air sparked with a slight acidic scent. Hannah was becoming angry, and he had no idea why.

"You want me to live with you out of pity?"

Pity? "For heaven's sake, no," he replied sharply. Maybe too sharply. "I want you to stay with me because I care about you. Because I'm hoping there can be a future for us.

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Together. Because I want tomorrow to be as wonderful as yesterday was. And today."

The sharp scent left as quickly as it had appeared. As a tear appeared on her lower lash and fell onto her cheek, the smell he had been seeking reached outward as if to hold him.

That tangy, lemony scent of her love.

"Jeb? Do you..." She tried to take a deep breath, but she was on the verge of crying.

"Do I what?"

"How ... do you feel about me?"

Closing his eyes, he clenched his hands into fists. This time was meant to be. Still, it was so damn hard after years of running and hiding. And being so hopelessly alone.

"Are you wanting to know if I love you?" he whispered, opening his eyes to see her reaction. "Yeah, Hannah. I do. If what I feel is love, then I love you, Hannah. I'm tired of running. I'm tired of facing each day by myself. I have no right to ask you to stay. I have no right to expect you to share the kind of life I live but I can no longer imagine a day without you. I need your smile. I need to hear your voice. I need to have you with me."

He had no recollection of her getting up out of her chair and walking over to him. There was no memory of her kneeling beside him and putting her arms around his waist so she could press the undamaged side of her face against his chest. He could only remember the moment when her irresistible lemonade smell was everywhere in the room, coating his skin with her acceptance. His arms pulled her tighter into his embrace.

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"I love you, too, Jeb," she whispered back. "You don't know how hard I've been praying you would let me stay with you."

"Then stay." He buried his face in her hair where the lemonade smell mixed with the vanilla of her need. Edging around them was the unmistakable richness of her sexual hunger, growing stronger with every passing second.

"Hannah."

"What?"

"At this moment, I am very gay."

A shriek of laughter surprised him. Jeb jumped at the sound as Hannah goosed him playfully in the ribs.

"Jeb Morr! I am definitely going to have to teach you about American slang!"

"What? What did I say wrong?"

"Nothing," she giggled, staring up at him.

"Then—"

"Hush," she ordered sternly, pressing a finger to his lips.

"Don't say anything more. Don't ruin this moment. Just ...

kiss me again. And this time, show me you mean it."

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