Authors: Debbie Macomber
“Cain,” Linette pleaded, raising her hips, silently demanding that he make love to her.
His hands stilled her efforts. When he spoke, his voice revealed the effort it demanded not to give in to her command. “Not this time,” he whispered, panting for control. “We’re going to do this slow.”
“I can’t wait.” She writhed mindlessly against him,
clenching his shoulders as she worked the lower half of her body against him.
Cain found he couldn’t wait, either. He possessed her with a love and tenderness unlike anything he had experienced with other women. She carried him to paradise and back, until he was convinced he would have gladly died right then and there. It might have been hours or only minutes, Cain could only speculate, before he floated back to earth.
Linette lay beside him quietly, cradled close against his long, muscled length. Their legs were entwined, their arms wrapped around each other. Cain brushed a kiss across her cheek. Her eyes were closed, and she smiled dreamily.
“A woman could become accustomed to this kind of attention,” she whispered.
Cain grinned. “I wonder when I’m going to have time to learn about cattle ranching. I’d much rather spend time in bed with you.”
Linette smiled lazily. “You’ll learn. We both will.”
Cain understood what she was saying. This was a change of lifestyle for them both. They’d relinquished the past and grabbed hold of the future without looking back, without regrets. At least not yet. Linette had sold her knitting shop to Bonnie. She hadn’t said much about letting go of the business, but Cain recognized the sacrifice it had entailed. Wild and Wooly had given her purpose following Michael’s death. She’d funneled her energy into the business. The shop represented the life she’d built stone upon stone, one day at a time, after losing her first husband. Yet she’d freely relinquished this part of herself in order to marry him. It had been no small sacrifice.
She was the prettiest woman in the cantina, and Jack Keller swore she’d been watching him from the moment he’d arrived. He’d come to quench his thirst, but if a saucy señorita was interested in adding a bit of spice to his afternoon, Jack wasn’t opposed. He didn’t have anything better to do with his time. Killing an hour or two in bed was just the tonic he needed, he mused.
Murphy had sent him on assignment to this godforsaken stinkhole. If Cain had been the one issuing the orders, he wouldn’t have minded, but this was Murphy. It didn’t seem right to be taking orders from anyone other than Cain.
As far as Jack was concerned, the new owner of Deliverance Company had a lot to learn. It would be a long time before Murphy was the caliber of leader Cain McClellan had been.
Cain married. Mallory, too. Disgusted, Jack shook his head. It didn’t sit right with him or the other team members. What was this world coming to, when two of the best fighting men he’d ever known allowed themselves to fall into the worst trap of all? Marriage.
This new lifestyle was inconsistent with everything Jack knew about his colleagues. He couldn’t speak for the others, but he was hoping that after a few months of pandering to a wife, Cain would come to his senses and return to Deliverance Company. This was where he belonged. Try as he might, he couldn’t picture Cain with a ring through his nose.
Jack took a deep swallow of the cold beer and wiped
the back of his hand across his mouth. Carrying the chipped mug with him, he strolled over to where the young lady sat.
“Care if I join you?” he asked her in Spanish.
She fluttered her eyelashes and shrugged one delicate shoulder. “Feel free,” she responded.
Jack pulled out a chair, twisted it around, and straddled it. He took another drink of his beer and called for the bartender and ordered two more, one for him and the other for the girl.
“You got a name?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he teased. “What about you?”
“Zita.”
“Pretty name for a pretty lady.” That had to be the oldest line in the book, but one look told him she wasn’t interested in his wit.
“Thank you.”
The bartender delivered two more mugs, and Jack paid him. Zita reached across the table for the beer, and Jack noticed that she bent low to be sure he received an ample view of her wares. Her breasts were large and lush, the size of cantaloupes. Jack wished more women were inclined to wear blouses with elastic necklines. It made access to their breasts easier than fiddling with all those silly buttons.
“How much?” he asked, getting to the point. There was no need to be coy. He knew what she was.
She cast him a hot look. “You insult me.”
He laughed, and wanting her to think he didn’t have much time, he checked his watch. “I doubt anyone’s capable of offending you.”
Keep your pants zipped
. That was something Cain had
said often enough and loud enough. Only Cain wasn’t running the show any longer, Murphy was.
“Another time, then,” Jack said, setting aside his beer.
“Wait,” Zita said quickly, and slipped her hand across his thigh, her long nails digging into the hard muscle there. “Don’t go. Not yet.”
Jack cast her a half smile. “Then give me a reason to stay.”
She slid her hand slightly forward toward his crotch and splayed her fingers like a cat flexing its claws. “I’m very good,” she said under her breath.
“I believe you.” Already Jack could feel the hot blood racing through his veins.
“I don’t come cheap.”
“I didn’t think you did.”
“I have a place with a clean bed close by.”
He hid a smile. “That’s a plus.”
“You’ll pay me first?”
Jack hesitated. “Half now. Half later.”
She grinned and nodded. “Follow me.”
Jack stood and followed the woman out of the cantina. Her hips swayed as she hurried across the courtyard. “Hey,” Jack said, calling after her, “what’s the hurry?”
“No hurry,” she assured him, placing a hand on her hip and tossing him a slow, sexual smile.
Impatient to sample her wares, Jack caught her by the shoulder and turned into a nearby alley. Her back was against a wall as she looked up at him with deep chocolate eyes. Slowly Jack lowered his mouth to hers. She tasted of warm beer and passion. He could live without the stale taste of beer, but the passion excited him.
Entwining his fingers in her thick dark hair, he kissed her again.
She squirmed against him. “Not here,” she said, pushing against him.
“Why not?” He looked around, and not seeing anyone close, he reached under her skirt and slid his hand over her bare buttocks.
“My house is very close,” she promised.
The way Jack was feeling just then, “very close” wasn’t near enough. Rarely had he been this hot for a woman, but it had been a good long while since he’d given in to his baser needs. Apparently too long.
“Please, Señor,” she pleaded softly.
Jack dragged a cooling breath through his lungs. “All right,” he mumbled.
She relaxed against him and kissed him long and hard. Then, taking him by the hand, she led him down a narrow side street. Jack was in too much of a rush to notice much about which way they were headed. He was fairly certain he’d find his way back to the cantina without a problem.
Smiling up at him, she unlocked the door and threw it open. Once more Jack reached for her, turned her into his arms, and kissed her lustily. His hands were on her breasts as he eased her through the doorway. His intention was to steer her toward the bedroom and have his way with her. Heaven would testify she was willing enough.
Jack opened his eyes, and it felt as if the breath had been knocked out of him. There, sitting at the rough wood table, was a man, eating casually with one hand. In the other was a pistol pointed directly at Jack’s heart.
“Welcome to hell, Jack Keller,” he said with a sick laugh, licking the fingertips of his free hand. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
Jack backed away from Zita, his blood turning cold. He did recognize the other man. The last time he’d seen this gunman, the desperado had been standing in the belly of a helicopter with his weapon trained on Cain McClellan.
“Trust me. Before the day is over, you will remember everything,” the man said. “You will curse God that your friend didn’t die the first time.”
“
If you’re going to be a real cowboy
, I suspect I should teach you the code,” John Stamp said casually to Cain.
“Code?” Cain shifted his weight atop the large sorrel and studied the rolling snow-covered hillside, hoping to familiarize himself with the landscape.
“To the best of my knowledge it’s nothing that’s formally written down. It’s a way of thinking and acting. You’d pick it up sooner or later.”
“Be easier if you told me outright, wouldn’t it?” Cain commented. He’d been working with John every day for the past three weeks, harder, he swore, than he’d ever worked in his life. Each night he returned to Linette with his head crammed full of things he’d learned about his land and his herd of cattle, his head buzzing with the certainty he could work this land for the next fifty years and still be a greenhorn.
“I believe you’ve already figured out how important it is to close gates.”
Cain snickered at the memory of his first day riding with John. “I’ve got that one down pat.”
“Good.”
“Also, it’s not a good idea to keep someone waiting for you.”
Cain eyed the foreman speculatively. “You told the women that? I swear it takes five minutes longer after Linette claims she’s ready to leave.”
“So the honeymoon’s over, is it?” John said teasingly.
Actually it wasn’t. Cain had adjusted with little trouble to married life, which surprised him. He’d expected they’d need to adapt more to each other’s ways than they had. Naturally, being crazy in love helped. As for the honeymoon part, he felt as frisky as someone fifteen years his junior. Cain had never considered himself especially oversexed, but that had changed since his marriage. It amazed him how frequently he needed his wife.
“What’s so funny?” John asked.
“Nothing,” Cain said, his hands tightening around the sorrel’s reins. “Go on with your list, I’m listening.”
John seemed to require a few moments to think. “If Linette hasn’t said anything yet, she will. Remember to remove your spurs before going into the house.”
“The slang for spurs is ‘can openers’?” Cain had heard one of the other hired men say something along those lines recently.
“You got it.”
Cain had soon learned that cowboys had their own lingo. He was picking up a few words here and there, but there were several he hadn’t quite figured out. The
day before, he’d heard Pete, a wiry fellow in his early fifties, talk about a gelding who was cut proud. Cain still hadn’t figured out what that meant. Ah, well, he’d learn soon enough.
“Anything more?”
“Plenty,” John assured him. “This one’s important. Don’t ever cuss out another man’s dog.”
“You make it sound like writing a check without any money in the bank.”
“It’s worse than that.”
“They throw you in jail for bouncing checks.”
“You don’t want to know what happens to someone who cusses out a neighbor’s dog. You can say what you will about his wife, but leave his dog alone.”
That wouldn’t hold true with Cain, but he didn’t want to be teased about being a newlywed, so he kept his mouth closed. Glancing at his watch, he calculated how long it’d be before they’d head back to the house.
The day before, he’d arrived home just as Linette was taking a loaf of freshly baked bread out of the oven, and the earthy scent of yeast had filled the house. Her eyes had lit up when she’d seen him, and his heart had done a little flip-flop just knowing she was his. Cain had never suspected life could be this good.
“Another thing,” John said, cutting into Cain’s musings. “Always drink upstream from the herd.”
Cain chuckled. “I suppose the next thing you’re going to tell me is that a horse in the barn is worth two in the bush.”
John rubbed his hand down the side of his face as if testing to see whether he needed a shave or not. “You’re
learning, McClellan. Won’t be long now before the creak’s out of your saddle.”
Linette hummed as she polished the cherrywood end table. Soon she was meeting Patty Stamp and the two were driving into town. Generally they made the drive only once a month, and the men tagged along, but this trip was special. Something Cain didn’t know about. A surprise of sorts, although it shouldn’t have been.
Linette suspected she was pregnant.
She didn’t want to say anything until she was positive. The test kit Patty Stamp had provided read positive, but Linette wouldn’t believe it until she heard it directly from the physician himself.
Other than missing her period, she suffered none of the obvious symptoms heard about. No morning sickness. Nor was she overly tired. Perhaps it was too soon. They’d been married less than six weeks. From what she’d heard, it wasn’t supposed to be this easy.
The sound of an approaching vehicle prompted Linette to set aside her dusting rag and look out the front window. A large oversize pickup barreled down the driveway.
Thinking something must be wrong, Linette reached for her jacket and stepped onto the porch. She wrapped her arms around her to ward off the cold wind, which howled like a stray calf.
Her heart staggered at the sight of Murphy, Cain’s former colleague, who leapt down from the cab. He stood with his feet braced apart as if he expected to do battle with her.
“Where’s Cain?” he asked, and the wind howled louder behind him.
“On the range.”
“Can you reach him?”
A chill raced up Linette’s arms. “Would you care to come inside? We may have had our differences in the past, but that isn’t any reason to stand here in the cold and shout at each other.”
He nodded once, giving the impression he was lowering his standards to do as she requested. Linette gritted her teeth to keep from saying it didn’t hurt her any to leave him outside to freeze if that was what he wanted. To her credit, she managed to swallow the sarcastic comment.
Murphy took the porch steps two at a time. “How long will it take to reach Cain?” he demanded.
Linette ignored the command in his voice. The mercenary might be accustomed to issuing orders and having them obeyed, but she wasn’t one of his men.
“Would you care for some coffee?” she asked instead.
Murphy glared at her. “I asked about Cain.”
“And I asked if you’d like some coffee.”
“I don’t want coffee, I need to talk to Cain,” he said with a decided lack of patience.
“All right.” Linette left him and headed for the kitchen but was saved the effort of contacting her husband. Just then Cain walked in the back door, looking dusty, tired, and so damn loving that it was all she could do to keep herself from running into his arms.
“You’re early,” she said, forcing a smile.
“Yup.” He devoured the short distance between them and took her into his arms. He kissed her before she could tell him about Murphy. Once her husband’s
mouth was over hers, it demanded every ounce of will she possessed to remember the other man herself.
“How about taking a shower with me?” he whispered close to her ear.
“Cain—”
“How long has it been since we last made love?” he asked, then answered the question himself. “Too long.” He kissed her so thoroughly, she felt her knees would go out from under her.
“Cain—”
“I believe she’s trying to tell you I’m here,” Murphy said from the kitchen doorway. One hand held open the door and the other was braced against his hip, his eyes disapproving.
“Murphy.” Cain stepped away from Linette, and the two men exchanged hearty handshakes. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“We’ve got a problem.”
Linette noticed the reference to “we” even if Cain didn’t. Her husband had promised her his warring days were over. He’d given her his word of honor. Never again, he’d said.
Linette forced herself to relax. She was leaping to conclusions. Just because Murphy showed up unexpectedly and announced he was in trouble, even if he had prefaced the problem with “we,” that didn’t mean Cain would become involved.
“What’s wrong?” By tacit agreement the two men moved to the kitchen table. Linette took down three mugs and poured them each a cup of coffee. Unwilling to be excluded from the conversation, she pulled out a chair and sat next to Cain.
Murphy hesitated when Linette sat down.
“You can speak freely,” Cain assured him.
Murphy began, “Does the name Enrique mean anything to you?”
Cain frowned. “Just the one name?”
Murphy nodded.
“Should I know it?”
“He was the man who shot you.”
“Ah, yes. Pretty Boy.” He wasn’t someone Cain was likely to forget, Linette suspected, although she wasn’t sure he’d ever known the other man’s name.
“He’s back in action,” Murphy said, and his mouth thinned just saying the words.
“Another CEO this time?”
As Linette watched her husband, a knot began to form in the lower part of her stomach. His eyes lit up, and a half smile touched his lips.
“No. This time he’s got Jack.”
“Jack Keller?”
Murphy nodded.
Cain frowned fiercely. “What the hell does he want from Jack?”
“I don’t know.”
“Has he demanded a ransom?”
“That’s the funny part. He hasn’t asked for a dime.”
“You’re sure Jack’s alive?”
“No.”
“What are your plans?”
“Rescue Jack if I can, then kill Enrique. Either way the bastard’s taken his last man. The problem is I’m going to need help.”
Linette stiffened. The two men talked about life and
death with stark indifference as if neither was of any real consequence.
She wanted to stand up and shout at them to look at themselves, to listen to what they said, to really listen. It might have been her imagination, but it seemed to Linette that Cain, the man she loved, the man she shared a bed with each night, the man who was the father of the child she suspected she carried, became a stranger to her. His heart grew hard and cold before her very eyes.
“When are you leaving?” Cain asked.
“Within the week.” The other man’s eyes held Cain’s. “I want you with me.”
Cain hesitated and looked to Linette.
“You promised me never again,” she whispered, her voice sounding scratchy and weak.
“This is Jack,” Murphy exploded, and stood. “If it wasn’t for Jack, Cain wouldn’t be here now. None of us would be. Jack’s a good man. He doesn’t deserve to die friendless. You know damn good and well that if the situation was reversed, he’d be the first one to volunteer to go in after you.”
Still Cain hesitated. “Let me talk to Linette.”
Murphy glared at her, then turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving the door to swing in his wake.
For a long moment neither spoke. Linette knew what Cain wanted. He was waiting for her to absolve him from his promise. Waiting for her to tell him that these were extenuating circumstances and it only made sense that he be the one to rescue his buddy.
Linette, however, wasn’t willing to be that generous.
“Honey?”
“It doesn’t matter what I say. You’ll do what you want anyway.”
“It does matter,” Cain insisted.
“We haven’t been married two months and already you’ve got an excuse to go back into the field.”
“This isn’t like any other operation. This is for a friend, a man I’ve worked with for years. This sort of thing has never happened before. It won’t again.”
“You promised me before we were married that you wouldn’t go back.”
Cain forcefully expelled a sigh. “Under normal circumstances I wouldn’t. But this is for Jack. I owe him my life.”
Linette closed her eyes. It might have been paranoid of her, but she wondered if Murphy had his own agenda as far as Cain was concerned. She wouldn’t put it past the mercenary to bring Cain back into Deliverance Company little by little.
“Why does it have to be you?” she asked.
“Because I’m good. Jack’s chances are better if I’m the one heading the mission. Sweetheart, Jack’s a friend, a good friend. And Enrique’s the bastard who shot me.”
“In other words you want to go?”
It took Cain a long time to answer. “Yes.”
Something died inside of Linette.
If it hadn’t been for the gunshot wound and his close brush with death, Cain would have been content to leave matters between them as they were. His injuries had reminded him of his mortality. He was lucky to be alive, and given a second chance, he wanted to make the most of it. For a time he’d managed to convince himself he could change his stripes.
“What about your other promises?” she asked, staring straight ahead. She discovered she couldn’t look at him and focused instead on an inanimate object on the counter.
“What promises?”
“Love, cherish, the vows we spoke in church. Do you want me to absolve you from those as well?”
“Linette,” Cain said on the tail end of a sigh that revealed his exasperation with her. “You’re making more out of this than necessary. A friend of mine is in trouble. He needs help, and I’m in a position to rescue him. It doesn’t mean I’m going back to Deliverance Company.”
“What is it you want from me?”
“I was hoping we could talk about this sensibly.”
“You’re looking for me to release you from your promise. Admit it, Cain. Be honest enough to own up to the truth.”
“All right, if that’s what you want me to say, then I will. You’re right, I did promise you I wouldn’t go back into the field, but then I didn’t count on one of my best friends being taken captive, either.”
There was a knock at the back door and Patty Stamp stepped into the kitchen. “You ready, Linette?” she asked cheerfully, then hesitated when she saw Cain. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”
“You didn’t,” Linette said, forcing a smile. “Let me get my coat and purse and I’ll be ready.”
“I’ll wait out in the car,” Patty said.
“I’ll only be a moment,” Linette promised, and headed out of the kitchen.
“Linette.” Exasperated, Cain called after her.
“Yes?” she answered lightly as if not understanding why he would delay her.
“What about Jack?”
“I’ll tell you what, Cain. I’ll leave the decision in your hands.”
“No,” he said forcefully. “I refuse to accept that.”