His breath escaped through his teeth in an angry whistle that matched the wind curling down the rocky face of the hill. He took his phone from the breast pocket of his coat and used speed dial. His call was answered on the first ring. “They’re not here.”

“What! Are you sure he meant this shack?”

“Yes, Dad. The SUV is here, but Trapper and Kerra Bailey aren’t. You can come on up.”

In a matter of seconds the sheriff’s unit, which had kept just out of sight, appeared on the horizon. Glenn sped toward the shack and, when he reached it, got out of his car, stormed past Hank and through the open door.

Immediately, he came back out, hands on hips, breathing fire. “How could they’ve left while that SUV is still here?”

“Well,” Hank said, “I don’t believe Trapper was raptured.”

“Son of a bitch.” Glenn’s angry gaze swept the open landscape. “Where the hell is he?”

Chapter 17

The seedy motel was on the frontage road of eastbound I-20.

Trapper was lying on his side in bed next to Kerra, watching her sleep. He was outside the covers, she was underneath, a stipulation she had insisted on after Carson had brought them here in the wee hours and checked them in. He’d used fake names and paid in cash. The desk clerk was one of his clients, currently on parole. He asked no questions.

Kerra had demanded separate rooms. Trapper had told her to forget it. She capitulated, Trapper figuring because she’d been too exhausted to argue further. But when they entered the room and saw its one bed, she’d made him swear that he would behave himself. He solemnly swore that he would.

Minutes after Carson left, she had removed only her shoes before climbing in and pulling the covers up to her chin. She fell fast asleep. Trapper had checked the bathroom window and determined that it was too small for an adult to get through. He tested the door lock, slid the chain into place, and wished for sturdier of both. He switched off the light. Then for half an hour, through the pair of ratty curtains, he watched the parking lot to make certain that, by some miracle, no one had followed them.

Finally satisfied that he’d thrown Glenn off track—because surely Hank would have informed him that, come morning, he was meeting Trapper at the line shack—he’d removed his pistol from the holster at the small of his back and set both on the nightstand, pulled off his boots, and lay down as close to Kerra as he could get. He fell asleep immediately.

Now, six hours later, she must have sensed that he was awake, because she stirred, then opened her eyes and looked at him drowsily. His cock went from semi-hard to battering ram, decimating his vow to behave himself. He leaned over her.

“Trapper, we had an agreement.”

“We’re not nekkid.”

“You promised to behave.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re crowding me.”

“You’ve got all the covers. I’m cold.”

“You’re a furnace.” Suddenly she tensed against him. “Where’d that come from?”

At first he thought she was referring to his erection, but seeing that she was looking beyond him, he glanced over his shoulder at the nightstand. “I don’t think the Tooth Fairy left it.”

“You’ve had a gun all along?”

“All along.”

“Oh.”

“I told you I had one.”

“I thought you were just being a jerk.”

“I was. But it was also the truth.” He ran his finger between her eyebrows to smooth out the worry line and pushed aside a strand of hair lying across her left cheek. “You never asked what I was thinking.”

“When?”

“In my office while you were sitting across the desk from me looking all prissy and disapproving. Did you ever figure out what was going through my mind?”

Sounding prissy and disapproving, she said, “I didn’t want to know.”

He grinned. “I was thinking about your beauty mark.”

“That’s it?”

“Disappointed?”

“Surprised. I thought it would be something crude.”

“No. I was focused on your beauty mark, thinking it looked like a speck of dark chocolate and wondering if it would melt against my tongue.” He dabbed his tongue against it now, then a second time. “Hmm. Still there. Guess I’ll just have to keep testing it.” He did once again, then moved his mouth down to hers.

The kiss was long and languid, openmouthed and evocative, and ended only when he closed his hand around her breast. But whatever her protest would have been, it was replaced by a whimper when his fingers caressed her nipple. Even through layers of cloth it hadn’t been difficult to find.

“I might’ve been thinking about more than just your beauty mark,” he whispered. He shifted closer, covering half of her, and used his nose to nudge aside the collar of the tracksuit jacket so he could nibble her neck, then lowered his head and nuzzled her breast, rubbing his open mouth against the hard tip, taking love bites of it through her t-shirt, pushing at it with his tongue.

“You’d blush to know all the places my wandering mind has taken me. I’ve touched you, tasted you …” He wedged his hand down between them and cupped her sex. “… everywhere.”

Urged by gentle pressure, her thighs parted. She adjusted her hips to his advantage. He removed his hand only long enough to slide it into her waistband, over smooth skin and lace panties, then inside them where the hair was damp, and beneath it his fingers found her pliant and wet, more honeyed than she’d been in all his daydreams.

He slipped his thumb inside her. She arched up, inviting another stroke, and he obliged her, then he withdrew and with the slippery pad of his thumb traced small, teasing circles over the sensitive target. He kept that up, and sent two fingers deep, and God, she felt too incredible to be believed, so he tested just how good she felt by withdrawing his fingers before sliding them in again.

Her breath caught. His thumb added pressure. Another catchy breath, another clench around his fingers. She gasped his name.

“Wait. Don’t come yet.” He levered up and began working open the buttons of his fly.

To his utter shock, Kerra shoved him off her, kicked away the covers, and got up. She stood beside the bed, he lay sprawled on it on his back, and for the next several seconds, they just gaped at each other, breath rushing through open mouths, she looking as startled as he by her action.

Then he shouted, “What the fuck?”

Kerra yanked the sides of her jacket together and zipped it over her t-shirt so the damp spot molded to her nipple wouldn’t show. “I won’t be one of your ‘fuck anythings.’”

His eyes were blank, but when he realized what she was referring to, he got up and faced off with her. “That’s what this interruptus is about?” He flung his arm out to his side. “I only said that to make a point.”

“Oh, so it’s not true?”

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His arm dropped to his side.

She laughed softly, but there was no humor behind it.

He pushed his fingers up through his hair and walked a tight circle of frustration. He looked down at the bed. He looked at her breasts as though he could see the damp spot through the jacket. When his eyes lifted to hers, he said, “It’s not like that.”

“No?”

“No, dammit.”

“What sets me apart, Trapper? What makes me special?”

He copped an attitude. “I don’t know. Let’s see. Could it be your face? The silky hair I want to feel sliding across my belly? The hot body I want to finger paint? The way you move? Your voice? Name something. All I know is, ever since I laid eyes on you I’ve been one big boner.” He took a step toward her. “And forgive me for pointing out that you—”

“Don’t.” She held up her hand, palm out. “Please don’t say something vulgar that’s going to make me angrier.”

“Hold on. You’re angry at me?”

“No, at myself.”

He smoldered, all six feet four of him rocking slightly, as he waited for her to elaborate.