Heston (In the Company of Snipers #25)

Chapter Thirteen

“Where are you taking us?” Heston asked, his head up and his bleary eyes quartering the dreary landscape ahead.

With no sun in the forecast and heavy, moisture-laden clouds hanging like sopping wet blankets over the Cascades, it was important to get him warm. Somewhere London could get some hot soup into him, maybe a cup of coffee. Where she could chew him out and… and…

Love him for the rest of the day and night and—forever? Was that even in the cards for them? Yes, once upon a time, they’d been good together. Make that great. But they were both strong-willed individuals, who had higher purposes in life than just working nine-to-five jobs, owning a rambler with a white picket fence in the ’burbs, and ‘two cats in the yard,’ like that old Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young song from the 1970s.

“M-my place. I mean, my camper,” she stuttered, her voice so damned meek and weak she wanted to kick her own ass. “The Forest Service retrieved their RV. You guys’ll have to bunk with me tonight.”

“I need to report in,” he answered. “TEAM protocol.”

“Understood. You can do that from there. It’s got a queen bed and two pull-down bunks. You’ll be warm, and you can use my sat phone.” And I need to put my hands on you again, you big jerk.

London could barely keep her hands off Heston as it was, much less walk calmly beside him while she led them to her camper. He’d risked his life! And for what? A couple stupid brackets and bolts? The impossible notion there were fingerprints on those stupid pieces of hardware? Not likely.

He could’ve fallen in that white water! Could’ve been lost forever! Not allegedly lost like Kelsey Stewart had been, but the once and forever, never seen again version of lost. It was all she could do to not scream when he’d jumped under the bridge and muscled his way beneath it. By his fingertips. With his long legs dangling in the wind. One wrong move. One tiny mistake. One rotten plank. That’s all it would’ve taken. He would’ve fallen and she wouldn’t have been able to save him. She would’ve been sentenced to watching him die. The nerve! The nerve!

Half of her wanted to kick his arrogant, muscular ass. The other fifty-percent wanted to kiss it. Her poor heart hadn’t slowed down enough for her to collect her thoughts since he’d taken that first leap, and she was shaking so much her teeth were chattering as much as Heston’s. Darn him for always having to be the hero. Not that she wanted Asher to have taken that chance and risked his life. But why’d it always have to be Heston? Why’d he have to be so damned ready to die for everyone else? Why couldn’t he be more like the sheep he protected all over the world? Why’d he have to be the damned sheepdog?

He’d kissed her. Finally. A real, wet kiss that had thoroughly stoked the embers she’d been trying to squelch for years. Out in the open. In front of his buddy. London wanted more, but she refused to back down and give in. She was every bit as good as he was, just not as stupid.

London had returned to the mountain early this morning, retraced her steps, trying to recall what she’d thought she’d known. She’d moseyed around the campground and talked to the few diehard campers weathering the storm. She’d run into Tom Landry. He’d filled her in on how he’d known Alex, and how he’d given Alex supplies to tide him over, as well as a pistol. He’d also noticed the derelict trailer and had seen it explode. He had his theory, that some joker had abandoned it, might’ve rigged the propane tanks to explode for the insurance payout. People did crap like that.

But after London explained her theory, that the trailer exploding with Kelsey Stewart in it was part of the shooter’s plan to coerce Alex into working for him, Tom wholeheartedly agreed. Especially once he understood Alex had been tagged to be the next vice president. It made even more sense after London explained that Alex had been particularly vicious with the Irishman when they’d last met. Who could blame Alex? But because of that confrontation, the Irishman might’ve decided to teach Alex a lesson by killing his wife or that getting Alex to work for him wasn’t worth the trouble. Torching the trailer was him cleaning up loose ends. Mafia bosses didn’t care who they hurt, especially not the wives of the men they couldn’t recruit.

London wished she could’ve gotten better photos of the men she’d seen earlier, the guys she suspected were the Irishman and his buddy. But she’d been too far away, darn it. And she’d only had her cell phone. The close-ups of the cattle guard were crystal clear, but that alone wouldn’t indict anyone. She needed better evidence.

“Hey, you,” Tom called out from his camper steps.

“Hey, yourself,” London called back. “How’s the Landry family?”

“Great!” He headed her way with a foil pan of goodies in his hand. “Here. Suzy thought you could use some hot food. It’s going to be another cold one.”

“Aw, that’s so nice. Please tell her thanks for me,” London exclaimed. Thank heavens her gloves were thick. He’d brought piping hot cinnamon rolls over when she’d first pulled in and was leveling her rig with blocks and jacks. “Honest, you don’t have to keep feeding me. I do know how to cook.”

“Agent Contreras,” Heston barked, his hand suddenly stuck in front of London, blocking her progress forward like damned wishbone crossing gates at train tracks, like a barrier between her and Tom. Hes could be such a dick.

Tom didn’t seem to notice his grandstanding, just grinned, grabbed Heston’s hand, and gave it a good, solid shake. “Agent Contreras, glad to meet you. London told me you’d be back. How’s Alex? Kelsey’s going to make it, right?”

Heston released Tom’s hand, stepped back beside London, and pulled her against his hip. “Alex is as good as can be expected with his wife on life support. We won’t know anything until she wakes up.”

London stood firm, refusing to acknowledge Heston’s territorial display of stupidity.

“So London said.” Tom ran a hand over his bare head, ruffling his dark brown, longer than Army hair. “Every day she hangs on is a day closer to full recovery. Hope Alex knows that.”

“We all hope,” London cut in, elbowing Heston before he did something totally stupid, like pee on her to mark her as his property. He’d do that, too. The oaf!

“Former Delta?” Heston asked.

Tom grinned. “Navy SEAL. Can’t let Army have all the fun.”

Asher snorted. “SEAL, huh? Knew you looked familiar.”

“We do all look alike, don’t we?” Tom replied evenly. Which made London smile.

“If you mean you all look like shitheads, yeah.” Asher barked out a laugh.

London turned in time to catch the competitive glint in his eyes. “Don’t slam my friends, Ash.”

“Can’t slam a frog, ma’am. They tend to squeak when someone hurts their feelings.”

Tom tipped back his head and laughed at the sky. “And everyone knows you can’t housetrain Rangers. They pee on everything. Anytime. Anywhere. Come on in, guys. Wife’s cooking breakfast, but stow the language. My boy’s still sleeping.”

“Another time,” London intervened, grinning at that very apt description of former Ranger Heston Contreras. “Heston has to report in.”

“Door’s always open,” Tom said as he took a step toward his camper. “Later, London.”

“Later, Tom,” she agreed sweetly. Honestly, this was why she’d loved working for the Forest Service. Everyone changed into friendly, neighborly people like Tom Landry and his family once they were out of the city and in Mother Nature.

“Later?” Heston hissed as she unlocked her rig.

“Yes, Agent Contreras. Later, you moron. Didn’t you know? I always hook up with married men when I’m working.” Cold, injured or not, Heston was on his own from now on. She was sick of his macho bullshit.

“I’m doing it again, aren’t I?” he asked quietly.

“Yes, Heston, you are,” she bit out as she tugged her keys out of an inner pocket. Climbing the three steps to her camper door, she unlocked her rig and swung the door open so quickly, it would’ve smacked Heston in the face if he hadn’t taken a step back.

London pulled herself up into her camper to get away from him. Stepping to the side, she waved them in and pointed to the angled door at their left. “Bathroom’s there. My bed’s up top over the cab.” And no, you’re not joining me, Hes.

She stabbed a finger at the queen-bed-sized nook over the extended cab of her truck and set the hot food Tom had given her on the counter next to the gas stove. “The high cupboards on the walls are bunks, not storage. Unlatch and use them to sleep. They might not be long enough for you guys, but whatever. I’m fixing soup and toasted cheese sandwiches. Oh, wait.”

She’d peeled back the foil on Tom’s offering. Hot damn. Chicken enchilada casserole covered with fresh chopped green onions, sliced black olives, and heaps of melted cheese. Yum. “Belay that menu. Chicken enchilada casserole coming right up. Heston, get your call made while I dish up. You guys are doing dishes.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Asher exclaimed, his coat and gloves already off and on his way into the tiny restroom. “Washing my hands. Be right out.”

Heston had yet to speak.

London turned on him ready to fight for herself, damn it. “You can’t keep acting like ‘Me Tarzan, you Jane.’ Tom’s a nice guy. He and his son were part of the Search and Rescue teams that looked for Kelsey. He’s the guy who pulled Alex out of that damn river. What is wrong with you?”

“I’m an ass,” Heston admitted quietly. “Can’t seem to help myself. I get over-protective when I see you with another guy, and I—”

“I’m not with another guy. I’m not with anyone. It’s embarrassing. Tom’s right. You act like you want to pee on everything you think you own. News flash, Ranger Rick. I don’t belong to you anymore. Not sure I ever did. You had your chance and you blew it. Now get out of my way so I can set the table. Go wash your hands!”

London couldn’t help herself. As mad as she was at Heston, man, she wanted him. Body and soul. Every kiss. Every breath. Any damned way she could get him. And with Asher in the bathroom—

They were still wearing their jackets and she had a weapon strapped under her left arm, but who cared? She jerked Heston into her face and opened her mouth and kissed the hell out of him. “What am I going to do with you? I can’t have you running my life, Hes,” she mumbled into his mouth while she devoured his lips and tongue.

“That’s the thing,” he mumbled back. “I can’t seem to breathe without you. I don’t want to. Not anymore.”

“Oh, Hes,” she grumbled, her fingers mapping those rock-hard shoulders, sliding under his parka, needing skin against skin. Body to body. The fire he’d always ignited in her belly roared out of control. She had food on her counter, but she needed more than physical sustenance. She needed this man. It had only ever been Hes, and damn him for ruining her for other guys. Because he had. And now, he was going to ruin her again, and break her heart, and—

“I can’t do this,” she whined, coming to her senses and pulling away. Out of his arms. Drawing back into herself, to save herself. Yeah, that was why she’d pulled back. Not because she was scared, but because she was smart. She’d learned her lesson. Hadn’t she?

But the devastation written all over his face? The bleak pain in his liquid-brown eyes? The way her decision slashed her own heart to ribbons? She hadn’t expected to get bitch-slapped for being smart. London clenched her fingers into fists to keep from putting her hands on this handsome, ruthless, terribly kind man again. She’d seen him with Kelsey and Alex. She, more than anyone else, knew the honorable, honest, and too loyal for his own good man Heston was.

But if she faltered now…

If she conceded the fight…

If she gave in and gave up…

Every inch of independence she’d gained would be lost.

“No more. I need to live my life, not yours.”

He nodded. “I understand. I do. And I’m trying. But it’s hard to walk away.”

She saw the shadow flit over his countenance. What he meant to say was, “Walk away like you did.” Damned if he wasn’t right. She had walked away. But she’d done what was best for her, and she’d do it again. “Sometimes a person has to walk away to save themselves. You can’t have it both ways. You get to live up to your potential, while I have to stand by and play Donna Reed .”

“Who?” His expression turned quizzically sad and still so damned sweet.

Instinctively, to comfort him, London cupped his scruffy cheek. The moment she touched him, her senses flared to life. Her nostrils sucked in every male pheromone shimmering in the air between them. Her pupils dilated and her focus sharpened, taking in every last detail of the man who had once been everything to her. The tiny laugh lines at the corners of his dark brown eyes. The thickness and curl of his sooty lashes. The black hairs of his brows, so perfectly curved, they looked like they’d been plucked. The sexy black scruff shadowing his chin and cheeks. Heston had always been lean and trim, and his body was pure marble. He’d always been cleanshaven, his hair, long or short, parted and combed. But the days-old scruff made him look deliciously dangerous.

She knew and loved how dedicated he was to his parents and country. She also knew how physically strong he was, that he’d never had a problem holding her full weight in the shower or against the wall—any wall—whenever the mood hit. There was no better lover than Heston Contreras. He was tactile and generous, always touching her in places she hadn’t expected to feel so good, pleasing her before he pleased himself. Understanding when she laughed or giggled through her orgasms. Tenderly cleaning her afterward. Holding her while she jabbered his ears off. Petting her. Whispering the sweetest nothings into her ear, into her hair. Into her heart. Until she fell asleep.

How often had they lain together, just hugging and holding, rubbing up against each other? Loving each other? She couldn’t begin to count all of those precious moments. Which was why she had to let him go now. Before she lost herself in him. Again.

“Nevermind who Donna Reed is. I can’t do this again. I won’t.” Her hand dropped from his face.

He took a full step back and released her, left her standing by the counter, swaying like an untethered kite in the wind. She hadn’t expected him to withdraw that easily or so quickly. London smacked a palm to the countertop to keep from falling and making a bigger fool of herself. She was dizzy, breathing hard, and wishing she could trust him again. Wanting to. Loving Heston had never been the problem. Loving herself enough to say no to him, was.

He stood there with his lips pursed, as if he were trying to control his breathing, too.

“You two are the dumbest smart people I’ve ever seen!” Asher roared from the bathroom doorway, startling London, making her jump. “Get a clue! Look at each other for once, why don’t you? Really look!”

London stared at Asher. Either he was uncharacteristically intuitive for a man and could see right through them, or Heston had talked. Which she found hard to believe. Heston was as loyal a man as she’d ever known. He didn’t gossip.

“Shut up,” Heston growled. He stuck a hand out at London, and she honestly thought he wanted her hand until he snapped, “Phone. Please. Now.”

Oh, yeah. Alex. He worked for Alex and… yeah. London stalked around Heston, grabbed the satellite phone and its charger off the end of her bed and handed it over.

With a grumpy huff, he sat at the table, jerked the phone from the charger, and thumbed a number. He didn’t look up. Didn’t say anything else.

“Stupid ass,” Asher hissed. “Stow your gawddamned pride, Contreras, and see what I’m seeing for a change, would you? It’s obvious you two have some hot chemistry between you. Damn it, get over your—”

“Mark?” Heston’s head came up, his gaze fixed on the paneling across from him. “Yes, Heston here. Did Mother get the photos London sent?” Pause. “Good.”

Asher slammed the door on his way out. The camper shook but Heston never blinked. Didn’t act like he’d heard Asher at all. “Hoped she could sharpen the clarity… Right.” Pause. “I’m glad London didn’t take unnecessary chances, too.” Heston went on to explain London’s theory of how Kelsey had been caught by the cattle guard, then dragged out of the river before she could drown. He told Mark he’d retrieved the brackets and bolts that held the cattle guard in place, and that the entire bridge needed to be fingerprinted. But Heston never said how dangerous retrieving the brackets had been or the risk he’d taken. When he was done speaking, he stuck the phone in London’s face and said, “Mark’s on the line.”

“Hello?” She answered with her heart pounding a zippy salsa beat.

“Excellent job, London. Mark Houston here. Girl, you’re one in a million.”

“I am?” His earnest praise made her chest swell and her eyes blink. Mark’s deep baritone was hot-damned sexy over the phone. He was also married and one of the kindest, most level-headed men she’d ever met.

“I know the Forest Service fired you,” he went on. “Sorry about that, but their loss is our gain. Alex wants you on his payroll, possibly as an agent, maybe in a support role, he didn’t say. Can I interest you in coming in for an interview when everything settles down?”

“M-me?” she squeaked. “But I…” She cleared her throat and tried again. “But I…” Aye, aye, aye…

“Think about it, London.” He made thinking sound easy. “No hurry. Just wanted you to know your dedication to locating Kelsey hasn’t gone unnoticed. Hell, even now when you’re unemployed, you’re still working to solve our problem. On your own dime. Aren’t you?”

“Yeah, well… yeah.” She swallowed hard, lost as how to respond. “I, umm, really like Kelsey and Alex, and anyone can see how much he loves her. How could I not help them? They were in trouble. Helping was the right thing to do.”

“Yup. One in a million. Listen, Alex is damned choosy. You’d be one of less than a hundred operators on his payroll. Like I said, think about it. Take your time. Let me know what you decide.”

“Okay, um…” Geez, she couldn’t think. This was the job Heston had hinted at, working for a hardass. For Alex. With men. Other men, not only Heston. Men like Mark. Wow. “Y-yes, sir, Mr. Houston. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can think straight.” London cringed. Did I just say that last part out loud? To the man who might someday be my boss? Talk about cringe worthy.

A rumbly chuckle came over the connection. “No worries, kiddo. The pictures you took are running through our facial rec program right now. Mother thinks we’ve got a good chance of nailing the guys who shot Kelsey.”

“I sure hope so.”

“Put Heston back on. Again, thanks for everything you’ve done. And please, think seriously about my offer. Okay?” Mark was so, so nice.

“I will. Here’s… here’s Heston.” London’s fingers were trembling when she handed the phone back to Heston.

He took it without so much as a touch or a glance. “Hey, Mark...” Pause “He’s what? Wow. I guess that’s good, but…” He ran a hand over the top of his head. “I’ll call Deck for a ride. Yes, tonight. No reason to stay now that I’ve got what I needed from that cattle guard. Can’t check them for prints up here, can I?”

London had to turn away. With a snap of his impatient fingers, he’d changed back into the driven Army Ranger who’d only had room in his life for his CO and his country. Not for her. Not for the real her. He might have room in his heart for a brainless woman who loved cleaning, waiting at home, and chumming around with husband-approved girlfriends. But she refused to live in the stone ages.

“Say again?” Hes barked, then, “You’re shitting me? The Irishman wants Alex to accept President Adams’ offer? He wants Alex to be Vice President? Why?”

He paused while Mark replied.

“Shit, no. Alex will never do that. Not after what they did to Kelsey. Hell to the no.”

“What?” London was dying to know what the Irishman wanted Alex to do.

But Heston ignored her, looked down at his boots, and told Mark, “Copy that. I’ll see you as soon as I contact Deck...” Pause. “Sure thing. Three hours, maybe less. Yeah. Thanks.” And he hung up the phone.