Secret Delivery (14 page)

“I’m not really hungry.”

Neither was he, but they hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and here it was almost dinnertime. It wouldn’t help Joey or the investigation if they starved.

Jack led her to the family-style kitchen, but when he reached the doorway, he frowned. The room was huge, sixteen feet by twenty, and had a fireplace at one end. It also had five floor-to-ceiling windows. Because those windows gave him a great view of the ranch, he’d never
considered them a negative, but they were now. If Thatcher managed to get in rifle range, he’d be able to shoot right through that glass.

He went to each one and closed the blinds. Because the sun was already low in the sky, that plunged the room into near darkness. But instead of turning on the overhead light, he only switched on the dim light over the stove. It would cast fewer shadows on the blinds so it’d be harder for a shooter to pinpoint them.

“You’re worried that Thatcher will use his sniper rifle again,” she mumbled.

Jack didn’t answer. She’d already had a too heavy dose of the truth without him confirming it.

Alana didn’t look too steady on her feet, so Jack plopped her down on one of the high snack bar stools that were positioned in front of the granite counter. She caught his hand when he started to move away. Even in the darkness, he had no trouble seeing her worried eyes.

“Tell me everything’s going to be all right,” she said, sounding a little desperate.

“Everything will be all right.” He wished he could make that true.

He brought her hand to his mouth, kissed it and placed it back in her lap. Their gazes met again. Uh-oh. Since this could quickly turn from a kiss on the hand to a real kiss, Jack stepped away.

“Juice, milk, water, iced tea?” he asked, heading for the fridge. “Or something stronger?”

“Hmmm. I’d prefer something stronger, but I’d better settle for juice.”

They would both need a clear head. Still, that didn’t stop him from grabbing a longneck bottle of Lone Star
beer. He poured Alana a glass of orange juice and got to work on making them some sandwiches.

“You were raised here?” Alana sipped her juice and glanced around the room.

He glanced around, too, trying to see it for the first time through her eyes. It certainly wasn’t fancy with its rustic floors, pine cabinets and table, but he’d added the granite counters to spruce things up a bit.

“Yes. My grandfather built this house back in the fifties, but the land has been in the Whitley family for over a hundred years.”

She smiled. “The place suits you.”

“Thanks. I think.”

“It was a compliment. This place feels like family. Like tradition.” Her smile faded when she saw the change in his expression. “What’s wrong?”

He followed her gaze around the kitchen until their eyes met again. “If it feels like family, it’s because of Tessie. She made this place a home for both of us. And then for Joey, too.”

“Not your parents?” she questioned.

He debated how much he should tell her. “My dad’s serving a life sentence in Huntsville prison. He’s been there for twenty-one years. Since I was ten.”

She put her hand on her chest. “I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “I’m sure you’ll eventually hear talk around town. My father murdered my mother.” Jack tipped his head in the direction of the west pasture. “He took her riding one day, and when they got to the creek, they got into an argument about a man he thought she’d been seeing. He got really angry and hit her in the head with a tree limb. She died instantly.”

“My God.”

Yeah, that’d been his reaction, too. When he’d seen it. Even now. “I’d gone for a swim that day. My father didn’t know I was there, that I’d witnessed the whole thing. He told everyone my mother had died when she fell off her horse.”

Obviously stunned, she leaned closer. “You actually saw him kill your mother?”

“I did.” Jack had to take a deep breath. “And I testified against him. That day, I lost both my parents, and Tessie moved in so I wouldn’t have to go to foster care.”

He didn’t have to guess what she was thinking. He knew what it was like to be abandoned, and that’s why he’d been so quick to step up to take Joey.

Since this was beyond an uncomfortable situation, and one that touched on too many raw nerves, it was time for a change of topic. “I guess you were raised in a fancy house, huh?”

She just stared at him. And blinked back tears.

Great. Now he’d made her cry. “I’m sorry,” he told her.

“Don’t be. I’m glad you shared that with me. It gave me insight into the kind of man you are.”

“I’m the kind who puts justice above all else.” He cursed. That comment was a knee-jerk reaction, caused by years of overheard whispered comments. “Some people thought…think,” he corrected, “that I shouldn’t have turned my father in. Especially since it came out that my mother really was having an affair.”

“That doesn’t matter. You did the right thing,” she said without hesitation.

“Yeah.” He wasn’t disagreeing with her, but it’d been
a damn hard decision to live with. “So, back to you,” he tried again. “You were raised in a fancy house?”

For a moment, Jack didn’t think she was going to let it drop. But she did. “More like middle class. My mom was from money, but her folks disapproved of my dad. When she married him, they disowned her and put their money in trust funds for Sean and me.”

Jack nodded, and kept the subject going. Not just because he didn’t want to discuss his parents, but because he genuinely wanted to know more about Alana. “So, how did your brother get so greedy for money?”

She took a deep breath. “I think it’s because he saw how our maternal grandparents lived. And how we lived. He didn’t like the disparity, and I think it made him hungry for success.” But then she shook her head. “Still, there’s no excuse for what he’s done.”

No. There wasn’t. Sean had hurt her to the core.

Alana snagged his gaze again. “After we catch the person responsible, will you let me stay here awhile, so I can get to know Joey?”

“Sure. There’s a guest room right next to the nursery.” He waited for a pang of discomfort, jealousy or whatever emotion might come at his having to share Joey. But it didn’t happen. The thought of having Alana under his roof was suddenly very appealing.

For all the wrong reasons.

To get his mind off the idea, he gulped down some beer and slid the plate with her sandwich across the counter toward her.

“Thanks,” she said, looking at it. Then she looked at him.

It got so quiet that he could hear his own heartbeat pulsing in his ears, and every one of his senses seemed to home in on her.

“The sandwich,” Alana mumbled. She was apparently trying to put her focus back on anything but him.

Jack tried to do the same. He thought of Thatcher. And the ranch hands who were patrolling the grounds. Of Joey. Of how close Alana and he had come to dying today. He even thought of the emotional conversation they’d just had.

None of that got his mind off Alana.

She stood slowly, and set her juice aside. She stepped toward him, brushing against the counter edge as she came to him. Alana might have started off slowly, but those last few steps were more like a leap.

She landed in his arms.

Jack took things from there, kissing her. Hard. Knowing full well that it was a stupid thing to do. And also knowing exactly where it would lead.

F
INALLY
!

That was Alana’s first reaction when Jack’s mouth came to hers. She’d been waiting for this. Wanting this. And even though it was wrong and reckless, she no longer cared. For now, for this moment, she needed Jack.

And Jack needed her.

He hooked his arm around her waist and snapped her to him. He kissed her until Alana felt as if she were about to melt.

Everything moved quickly, and neither of them tried to slow it down. The kiss was deep, hungry and intense. As was the embrace. It was a race to find some relief
from the pleasure that was building inside them, a powderkeg of emotions ready to go off at any moment.

Their bodies pressed against each other, they shifted, maneuvered, tried to get closer. Off-balanced, they landed against the rim of the counter, and they bumped the plate that Jack had placed there. It went sliding across the slick surface and clanged into the granite backsplash.

He lowered his hands from her waist to her butt. Jack lifted her slightly, putting her right against his erection. She hadn’t thought her need could get any stronger, but that did it. That contact was more than enough to make her feel like live fire in his hands.

“If you’re going to stop—”

Alana didn’t let him finish. There wouldn’t be any stopping. Not on her part, anyway. Judging from Jack’s reaction, he wouldn’t be stopping, either.

He turned, moving her out of the kitchen and into the hall. Toward his bedroom, she realized. However, the kisses didn’t stop just because they were on the move. Nor did the intimate contact. Jack scooped her up, Alana wrapped her legs around his waist and he took those wildfire kisses to her neck.

She heard herself moan. It was heavy with need. Jack moaned a little, too, when she kissed his neck. That made her wonder what else she could do to turn up his temperature.

Soon, she’d find out.

But probably not now. Her need was too frantic for foreplay or anything that involved slowing down.

He bashed his shoulder into the bedroom door to open it and stumbled toward the bed. They crashed onto the mattress with Jack landing on top of her.

“I’ll do better, later,” he promised.

Alana didn’t know how it could get better. Every inch of her was burning for him. She hadn’t felt this alive—nor this wanted—in her entire life.

Jack shoved up the stretchy top she was wearing. He flicked open the front clasp of her bra and took those melting kisses to her breasts. Even more heat blazed through her. Alana made a sound of raw pleasure that she hoped would spur Jack on.

It worked.

While he tormented her nipples, he used his knee to push up her skirt. His right leg landed between hers, right at the juncture of her thighs. Right where she wanted some pressure. And he gave it to her. He had her begging for him to do something to relieve the heat he’d built inside her.

Alana had to get off some of her clothes. Her breasts were already bare. Jack caught her panties and pulled them down her legs. But he was still fully clothed. She wanted to torment his naked the body the same way he was tormenting hers.

She fumbled with his shirt buttons, but her hands were shaking. She was shaking. Her body was screaming for her to do something. So she took a shortcut, pulled his shirt from the waist of his jeans and went exploring. She put her hands on his chest. He was solid. All man. His body was sinew and muscle built from years of working on his ranch.

He was perfect.

When her hands went lower, to his toned and rock-hard stomach, she saw pleasure flicker through his jaw muscles. He made a husky, throaty sound.

She went lower still, and since he was driving her crazy kissing her nipples, she decided to turn the tables on him. She somehow got his belt undone and his jeans unzipped.

Before she could get her hands in his boxers, however, Jack upped the insanity. He shoved aside her panties, made his way down her body and gave her a kiss she was certain she would never forget.

Alana saw stars.

She couldn’t wait any longer.

She grabbed him and pulled him back up. She got her hand inside his boxers, and touched him. He was huge, hard and just as ready as she was. Her touch made him curse.

He was a little rough and obviously in a hurry. She didn’t care. Alana shoved her heels against the mattress so that she could help Jack maneuver them toward the headboard. Except that wasn’t his goal. He was after the nightstand. And after fumbling around in the drawer, he produced a condom. Good thing. She certainly hadn’t remembered the concept of safe sex.

They didn’t even take off the rest of their clothes. Every second was torture.

Until he pushed inside her.

Alana stilled, to savor the moment and the sensations that speared through her. But the stillness didn’t last. It couldn’t. Her body demanded satisfaction.

They found a rhythm that was as old as time and yet it felt to her as if this was too intense, too special to have been experienced by anyone before.

His eyes met hers. He continued to move inside her, one long thrust after another. She watched his face and saw what this was doing to him. Alana was certain that
her own out-of-control need was mirrored in the depth of his gunmetal-blue eyes.

She said his name on a rise of breath. “Jack.”

“Alana.” It barely had sound, and yet she could feel his emotion as he plunged them both closer and closer to the edge.

Mercy, she wanted to let go. To feel. To fly.

He didn’t make her wait long. He moved faster. Deeper. His eyes, narrowed. His breath gusted against her face.

And when Alana took that leap, when Jack pushed her over the edge, she didn’t hold anything back. She let herself go. Felt herself close around him.

Felt herself shatter.

Jack lowered his head. He kissed her so gently that it stunned her even more than the raw pleasure that was coursing through her body. That kiss cut right through the passion-induced haze, and she saw everything clearly. Too clearly.

Oh, no.

She’d let herself fall in love with Jack.

The question was—what was she going to do about it?

Jack stood in the shower and hoped the scalding hot water would help the knotted muscles in his neck and back. It was too much to hope that it’d help the rest of him relax. He needed a head examination. He’d hauled Alana off to bed and had sex with her.

Great sex.

He’d known it was inevitable, that they would eventually give in to the heat that flamed between them, but he also knew that it would complicate things beyond belief.

What the hell was he supposed to do now?

Invite Alana to move in? That would solve their custody issues temporarily, but it wouldn’t solve anything else. Willow Ridge was a small, conservative town, and while no one would begrudge him having an affair, it was a different thing entirely to have Alana live with him. He didn’t want Alana, Tessie or Joey subjected to that kind of gossip. Which led him back to his original question.

What was he supposed to do?

Before he could go through his slim options, he
heard a knock. He reacted fast, because he’d told Alana to alert him if there even a hint that something might be wrong.

He jumped from the shower, reached for a towel and stopped in midreach when the door flew open.

It was Alana.

She had the phone in her hand. “Sorry. It’s Sheriff Tanner. He wants us to know that they all arrived safely.”

That was good news, and he was glad she’d delivered it right away.

But she was looking at him as if she wanted him all over again, and even though he’d just had that argument with himself, Jack wanted her again, too.

“The sheriff, uh, wants to talk to you,” Alana said, passing him the phone.

Jack grabbed a towel and draped it around his waist before taking the phone. What he didn’t do was move away from Alana. She didn’t move away from him, either. She stood, just inches away. So close he could take in her scent.

This was going to get hot fast.

“It’s Jack,” he answered. “Alana said you arrived.” He didn’t mention the location and wouldn’t, just in case someone had managed to tap into the conversation, but Jack knew Sheriff Tanner had taken Joey and Tessie to a safe house.

“Everything went as planned,” Tanner assured him. “Just call when you’re ready for me to bring ’em back.”

“Oh, I will. Thanks, Beck.”

Jack considered drawing out the conversation, just so it would keep his mind off sex. But that wasn’t go
ing to happen. Not with Alana so close he could practically taste her.

So that’s what he did.

He clicked the end-call button. With the phone in his right hand, he curved his left hand around the back of her neck and eased her to him. The towel fell, leaving him with very visible proof of how much he wanted her.

He kissed her, slow and easy. Something that’d been sorely lacking in that crazy frenzy on the bed. He took his time, savoring her, letting the taste of her slide right through him.

She pulled back and ran her tongue over her bottom lip. “Hmmm. That was nice,” she murmured.

Yeah, and he was about to make it a lot
nicer
.

But Alana didn’t exactly cooperate. She pulled back, stared at him and opened her mouth to speak. Judging from the suddenly serious expression that swept over her, this wasn’t going to be something he wanted to hear.

Then she stopped and glanced around. “I think I smell smoke.”

Jack lifted his head and sniffed. Alarmed, he sniffed again. There was definitely a trace of smoke in the air.

“Did you put something on the stove?” he asked, hoping she had.

“No.”

There was no need to panic—one of the ranch hands could be burning some brush—but he couldn’t stop that jolt of adrenaline.

Alana turned toward the door. “I’ll check the kitchen.”

But Jack caught her arm. “Wait. I’ll go with you.”

He was certain that he’d frightened her, but he had no choice. In case something had gone wrong, he didn’t
want her out there alone. He grabbed his clothes and dressed as fast as he could. He was strapping on his shoulder holster just as his cell phone rang. He snatched it from his pocket.

“It’s Deacon,” his ranch hand said. With just those two words, Jack could hear the concern in the man’s voice. He didn’t have to wait long to understand why. “You need to get out of there now! The house is on fire.”

“A fire? Where? How?”

“Don’t know the how part yet, but it’s on the west side of the house.”

The kitchen was on the west side. Jack still held out hope that this was caused by something electrical. But with Eldon Thatcher on the loose, he had to anticipate the worst.

“Make sure no one’s out there with a rifle,” Jack ordered, though with the darkness, that might not be possible.

“Will do. I’ll also call the fire department,” Deacon said. “You just get yourself out of there.”

Jack stabbed the end-call button, shoved the phone in his pocket and drew his weapon. With his left hand, he caught Alana’s arm and got them moving. There were plenty of ways to exit the house, but Jack wondered if any of them would be safe.

It certainly wasn’t safe to stay put.

There were already wispy coils of smoke in his bedroom and in the hallway, and when he glanced in the direction of the kitchen, he could see that the smoke was considerably thicker there. He could feel the heat, too, which meant the fire was probably already eating its way through the house.

“Stay behind me,” he instructed Alana and hoped she wouldn’t give him an argument. She didn’t. Like him, she was aware of the possibility that this could be some ploy by Thatcher to draw them out.

Unfortunately, it would work.

He couldn’t keep Alana inside, but by God, he could do everything within his power to keep her from being an easy target.

“We’re going out the back door?” she asked when he took her in that direction.

“Yeah.”

It was a gamble. But he wanted to get Alana out and to the nearest barn so she’d have protection.

He thought of Joey and was damn glad he’d sent his son away. As bad as this could be, he wouldn’t have wanted Joey anywhere near this.

Alana coughed from the smoke, and Jack used his hand to whip it away. It was a lost cause. The smoke was thicker in the back of the house, and he felt as if it were choking him. Still, he got them to the back door.

He stopped and pressed his hand to the wood. It was cool to the touch, which meant there wasn’t a blaze on the other side. But the fire wasn’t his greatest fear. Outside, there were plenty of places for a shooter to hide. If Thatcher had made it onto the ranch—and that wouldn’t be that hard to do if he’d come in on foot—then he could be anywhere.

“Your home,” Alana mumbled. “It’s being destroyed.”

There was nothing he could do about it now.

The ranch hands were no doubt assembling so they could use a hose to try to battle the flames. Deacon had already called the fire department, but Jack had to be
honest with himself. The ranch wasn’t close to town. It could take the volunteer fire department at least twenty minutes to get to them, and if the blaze was as big as he thought it was, a hose wasn’t going to do much.

Jack eased open the door and looked out. There were floodlights on at the corners of the house, and there was another light on the front exterior of the barn. Those along with the moonlight made it possible for him to see. But he didn’t see the gunman, only the ranch hands scrambling to the fire.

“When we get out, run,” Jack instructed. “I don’t want you out in the open any longer than necessary.”

She nodded and because he knew they both could use it, he pressed a quick kiss on her mouth. In the same motion, he tightened his grip, took a deep breath and barreled down the steps.

They didn’t even make it to the bottom before a bullet slammed into the porch pillar next to Alana’s head.

A
LANA HEARD THE BLAST
.

Her first thought was that the fire had blown out a window. But a split second later, her fears were confirmed. Jack pushed her to the side, practically tackling her, and they both crashed hard onto the porch.

Another bullet slammed into the wall.

If Jack hadn’t reacted so quickly, she would have been shot. Or worse.

Latching on to her, Jack scrambled behind one of the white round porch pillars. Some shrubs were the only other cover they had. She turned her head and looked at the house to see if they could make it back inside.

Not a chance.

The orange and red flames were licking against the kitchen windows. The fire hadn’t consumed the house yet, but the smoke would have already made the air inside unbreathable. Still, they couldn’t stay put, because the fire would eventually reach the porch.

They’d be caught in the middle. Death by fire. Or death by bullets.

Alana didn’t want either.

They had to survive this for Joey’s sake. She refused to let whoever had done this take away her son’s chance at having a good life.

From the west side of the house, she heard the frantic shouts of the ranch hands. She didn’t know how many of them there were, but hopefully they were all armed. She could also hear water running. Someone was spraying it onto those flames.

Another bullet fired at them. This one broke the window just above their heads and showered them with glass, ash and smoke.

“He’s on the roof of the barn,” Jack called out, so the ranch hands would know where to aim. Within seconds, someone on the side of the house was shooting at the barn.

“Can you see who’s on the roof?” she asked.

Jack shook his head. “I know he’s there because of the direction of the shots.” But they both knew it was probably Thatcher, and he wouldn’t stop until they stopped him.

More shots slammed into the porch, one of them skidding across the wooden planks. It sent splinters flying everywhere. As dangerous as the bullets, splinters and glass were, however, it was the fire that would
soon be the most deadly threat. Flames shot out of the gaping holes in the glass, and a gust of black smoke wafted right at them.

Jack adjusted their positions, pushing her facedown onto the porch, and he hovered over her so that he was using his body as a shield. Alana didn’t approve of him putting her life ahead of his. She wanted to do something to help.

But what?

“Can you throw us a rifle?” she called out to the ranch hands. She couldn’t see them. They had taken cover on the side of the house, but if the guys could get them a rifle, they’d have some way to return fire and protect themselves.

Several moments later, a rifle skittered across the porch toward them. Jack reached for it but had to jerk back his hand when a bullet slammed right next to them.

The ranch hands retaliated. She heard at least two shooters take aim at the barn. The bullets smacked into the side and the metal roof. It was just the diversion they needed. Jack rolled to the side, thrust his gun into her hand and snatched up the rifle.

“Fire now!” Jack shouted to the ranch hands.

They did. Jack, too.

The blasts were deafening and nonstop.

Jack came up on one knee, took aim and fired.

Alana wanted to grab him, to pull him back on the porch floor where it was safer, but just like that, the shots stopped.

Terrified, she scrambled so she could see Jack and make sure he hadn’t been shot. But relief flooded through her when she didn’t see any blood.

Jack didn’t move. He knelt there, aiming at the barn. A moment later, she realized why.

She lifted her head just slightly and saw the man. He was dressed like a ranch hand, but even from the distance and near darkness, Alana could see that it was Eldon Thatcher. And unlike Jack, he was bleeding.

Thatcher staggered, and somehow got to his feet despite his injury and the pitched angle of the roof. Alana watched in horror as Thatcher lifted his rifle and took aim at Jack.

“No!” she screamed.

But it was too late. As the sound blasted through the air, she felt everything inside her go numb.

“Jack?” she called out.

“I’m fine,” he assured her.

And he was. Thatcher hadn’t fired. Jack had.

She snapped her attention back to Thatcher in time to see the rifle drop from his hands. He crumpled into a heap, and as if in slow motion, his body slid from the roof and plunged to the ground below.

Alana didn’t have time to feel any relief.

“Come on,” Jack said. He grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet.

Her legs were wobbly. Her lungs felt clogged and heavy. Every step was a challenge, but she somehow made it off that porch.

It wasn’t a second too soon.

The fire blazed across the porch, and the roof that had protected them just moments earlier came crashing down right at them.