High Intensity (High Mountain Trackers HMT 2G #2)

Chapter 12

Twelve

Jillian

I’d been prepared to tell Wolff about Macy last night.

I never got the chance.

I’m the one who brought up full disclosure, but when Wolff responded in kind and said some really meaningful things, I didn’t have the heart to bring down the mood.

Then there was the kiss…

The brush of lips over the table was sweet but controlled. But the kiss in the hallway? My lips felt bruised, my skin on fire, and my knees went weak. Wolff always comes across as reserved—someone who has himself firmly in hand—but the man kissing me last night was on the verge of losing control.

It felt fantastic, and I would’ve loved a chance to push him over that edge, but he ended it before I could try. His promise there would be a follow-up kept me up half the night, fantasizing about what that might be like. Something tells me it’ll be phenomenal.

After a restless night’s sleep, in the harsh light of morning, I’m thankful things didn’t progress any further than they did. I would feel a whole lot better if he knows he’s starting something with someone who will always have a hole in her heart. The kind of hole no one can fill.

Not everyone can handle that. Chris couldn’t.

It’s still pretty early when Nugget and I get to the hospital. I was eager to get going this morning, curious to know how Hayley got through the night. I don’t know why, but I feel a sense of responsibility for her. Maybe because she clung onto my hand with both of her icy ones after I found her huddled in that crevice, looking at me like I was her savior.

The girl has no one else in her corner right now, at least not until her uncle gets here.

“Her night was a little restless,” the nurse on duty informs me when I inquire about Hayley. “She still hasn’t spoken. Nods yes and shakes no, enough to communicate, but that’s about it. It doesn’t look like she slept too well.”

“Poor kid,” I commiserate.

But when I start moving down the hall toward her room, the nurse stops me in my tracks.

“I forgot to mention, she’s no longer there,” she calls after me. “She was moved to a different room at the request of the sheriff’s office.”

Surprised, I swing around.

“Sheriff’s office?”

She nods. “Something about security.”

Security? For the girl? That has my mind spinning. Is she in danger? Is that why she was hiding out in that cave? My head is swirling with flotsam of information that is trying to slot itself into a scenario that would require security for an eleven-year-old.

Also, does that mean I won’t be allowed to see her?

The disappointment that thought brings with it comes with a few faint alarm bells. I barely know the child and am already feeling way too attached.

Still, I retrace my steps into the lobby and pull out my phone, looking up Junior Ewing’s number.

“Shit, I meant to call you,” is how he answers his phone. “You’re at the hospital, right?” he guesses.

“You would be correct. What happened?”

“Can you hang tight? I’m on my way.”

“Sure,” I tell him, even more confused now.

Whatever it is, he clearly wants to explain face-to-face. Which doesn’t feel very reassuring to me. I take a seat in the lobby so I can keep an eye out for him. Nugget is adaptable and curls up on my lap. He doesn’t care much where we are as long as he gets his snuggles in.

Ten minutes later Ewing stalks through the automatic doors, his hat in his hand and his face flushed.

“Sorry, it’s already been a crazy morning,” he huffs, dropping down in the seat next to me.

“So what’s going on with the security?” I prompt him.

Ewing glances around the lobby before responding.

“Precautionary. I got a call from Polman this morning, he’s the NTSB lead investigator.”

“Yeah, I met him.”

Something in my tone makes him smile. “Made an impression on you as well, did he? He must’ve skipped charm school, but at least the man is thorough. They found some evidence that could indicate the plane crash was not an accident.”

“Who would do that?”

The sheriff shrugs. “Your guess is as good as mine. You’d be surprised at the messed-up stuff people do for the stupidest reasons. Anyway, until they can confirm either way, he suggested we put security on the girl. Especially since it looks like her uncle will be stranded in Guatemala for the time being.”

“Stranded?”

I sit up straighter. That poor girl, she must feel so alone in the world.

“The Guatemalan government foiled an attempted coup yesterday morning, but there is ongoing unrest and fighting. They shut down all air travel indefinitely. Grant Vallard called me from the U.S. Embassy in Guatemala City where he’s been hiding. Apparently, it’s a mess down there.”

“So now what? What happens to Hayley in the meantime?”

“For now she stays in the hospital, we’ll have to take it a day at a time. If Vallard still isn’t here by the time she is released, we may have to place her in protective custody. Unless, of course, sabotage is ruled out, in which case it’ll likely be foster care.”

I don’t want either of those things for her. It would mean more strange people.

“Am I still allowed to see her?”

“Normally I’d probably say no, but she’s just a kid, and her doc says this guy seems to have a positive effect on her,” he says, scratching Nugget’s head. “Besides, she already knows you and could probably use a friendly face.”

I set Nugget down on the floor and get to my feet.

“In that case, where can I find her?”

He grunts as he gets up too. “I’ll take you.”

Hayley is staring out the window but her head swings around when we walk in the door. Her eyes immediately search for Nugget at my feet when she recognizes me.

“Hey, sweetheart. I see you’ve got new digs. Nice view.”

I pick Nugget up and deposit him on the bed. Then I walk over to the window, pretending to look outside, but from the corner of my eye I catch Hayley reaching for Nugget. By the time I turn my full attention back to the bed, she has him snuggled against her, his head propped on her belly, and her hand stroking his soft fur.

“I’ll let my guys know you’re an approved visitor, and I’m trusting you keep her location to yourself.”

“Obviously,” I return, a bit testy he feels the need to tell me that.

After all, I’m a professional, and it’s not like he hasn’t worked with me before.

He runs a hand through his hair before fitting his hat back on his head.

“Sorry. Of course that goes without saying. I’m feeling the pressure; Polman was ready to call in the FBI this morning and I pushed to hold off because I didn’t want?—”

I stop him with a sharp shake of my head when I notice Hayley is observing us intently. I’d almost forgotten she was there.

“Right,” Ewing catches on. “I’m going to leave you guys be. I’ve got things to do. We’ll catch up later.”

When the door closes behind him, I return my gaze to the window.

“He feels responsible for keeping you safe until your uncle gets here,” I tell her with my back turned.

I have a sneaking suspicion this girl may be more aware of what is going on around her than she lets on. In the reflection I catch her looking at me.

She’s definitely listening.

Wolff

“Wouldn’t take much to take out the tub and put in a shower like I did in mine.”

I got an early start this morning and had the horses loaded up by quarter to five before I realized I hadn’t seen Jackson yet. When I went to see what was keeping him, he just came walking out the door, pressing a towel against the side of his face.

He’d slipped in the tub and lost his footing, which isn’t that hard to do when you only have one foot to begin with. Whacked his elbow good on the way down and hit the side of the tub with his face, splitting the skin over his eyebrow. Hence the towel, which was to staunch the blood.

He’s a bit of a broody bastard, even on a good day, but today managed to stay quiet almost the entire drive to Dumas, Washington. I was pretty content to drive in silence, with good tunes on the radio and my mind on Jillian.

It wasn’t until we dropped off the horses and stopped for a quick bite just south of Spokane, Jackson brought up the old tub in his cabin. He reluctantly admitted he hadn’t been too steady standing in the sloped bottom of the tub and would hold on to the built-in soap dish to keep himself steady. Except, as it turns out, the soap dish was no match when his foot went out from under him.

“You put in a shower?”

I nod. “One of the first things I did is tear out that old tub. Not like I was gonna use it. Jonas was fine with it, he paid for the materials, and the guys helped me with the work. It took a three-day weekend to complete. I can show you what it looks like when we get back.”

“Yeah.”

He sounds a bit dismissive.

I glance at him from the corner of my eye. His jaw is tight and his knuckles white on the steering wheel, as he stares straight out at the road ahead. I don’t pretend to understand what he’s been through, either while serving his country or the resulting loss of his leg. I can’t imagine it’s been easy. But one thing I do know is, when you no longer fit the life you envisioned, you move on to build one that does.

Sometimes it starts with something as simple as a bathroom that suits your needs.

“Dan’s gotten pretty good at all the plumbing stuff,” I push a little. “I’m sure he’d be happy to lend a hand. Especially since you, along with everyone else, worked on his place.”

I add the latter because I suspect asking or accepting help is part of his problem. Doesn’t hurt to remind him everyone needs a hand from time to time, and it has nothing to do with the loss of a limb.

“I’ll talk to Jonas,” he finally concedes after a long silence.

I scoot down in my seat, pull my hat down over my eyes, and sneak a grin. Mission accomplished.

“What are you doing here?”

Despite the dubious greeting, she steps aside to let me in.

As soon as I step over the threshold, I’m instantly swarmed by the dogs. A good distraction while I try to come up with an appropriate answer. When I can’t find one, I opt for honesty.

“I’ve been thinking about you a large part of my day and I wanted to see you.”

That smug little half-smile I’ve seen her flash a time or two makes another appearance.

“I see.” She turns and leads the way into the living room, while I scramble to ditch my coat and kick off my boots. “You mentioned you’d be back late, so I kinda figured I wouldn’t see you.” She abruptly turns around. “Not that I’m complaining, but I might’ve put something else on.”

She’s wearing a pair of cutoff flannel men’s pajamas and an old slouchy T-shirt. I’m not complaining either; she looks relaxed, cutely rumpled, and extremely approachable. Which is why, instead of telling her so, I show her.

There is no resistance when I walk up and pull her into my arms, and I give myself an inner fist pump when she hooks me behind the neck and lifts up on her toes. That pretty mouth of hers smiles up at me, and I can’t resist.

God, I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of her taste. All five-foot whatever of her is pressed up against me. Soft skin and lithe muscle warm under my hands, as the modest swell of her breasts seems to beg for attention. After spending the better part of my day thinking about the feel and the sight of her, I’m already beyond resisting temptation.

I slide my left hand from the small of her back to her soft belly and up, cupping her perfect handful. Her deep moan vibrates against my tongue, and all I can think about is getting us naked.

So much for my slow seduction plans, with barely a hello, and no conversation of any value before ending up with a hand up her shirt, the other down the back of her shorts, and my tongue down her throat. From zero to high intensity, and my heart is about to beat out of my chest.

Classy, Lucas. Classy.

What snaps me out of my lust-filled haze is the feel of her small hand palming the rock-hard ridge behind my fly. I quickly trap her wrist in my hand before she finds her way into my jeans.

“If I feel your skin on my cock, I’m gonna make a goddamn mess,” I pant into her mass of hair, trying to will my body into submission.

I’m not looking for a quick physical release. Not this time, and not with Jillian. If we’re taking this step, I want to minimize the risk I fuck it up, and make sure she’s taken care of properly.

“Maybe I like things messy,” she teases, eliciting a pained moan from me.

Bending through my knees, I gently bite the tender skin where her neck meets her shoulder, while sliding my hand farther down her shorts to slip my fingers between her legs.

“Damn, and I sure like messy on you.”

I hear her breath catch as I dip a finger between her folds. It feels like warm, liquid silk.

“Hop up,” I instruct her, moving both my hands to her butt.

The moment she jumps, I start moving toward her bedroom, but instead of tossing her on the bed, I slowly lower her to her feet in front of the dresser. Then I turn her around so she faces the large mirror sitting on top.

“Look at you,” I mumble against the skin of her neck, my hands already busy sliding her shirt up.

Jillian’s face is flushed, her lips slick and swollen, and her eyes smoldering as they follow the path of my touch. My rough hands stand out in contrast against her delicate, pale skin. She voluntarily lifts her arms so I can slide the shirt off her, leaving her with only the flannel cutoffs hanging low off her hips.

Cupping both her breasts, I brush the pads of my thumbs over her pink, distended nipples. In the mirror I watch as she catches her bottom lip between her teeth and tilts her head to offer me her neck. I find her pulse with my lips, opening my mouth to suck on her skin while using one hand to slide down her shorts and cup the neatly trimmed patch of russet hair at the apex of her thighs.

She leans her head back against my shoulder; a strong, independent woman giving herself over to my touch, handing me her trust, and I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.

Suddenly I’m in a hurry to feel her skin to skin, and with an arm around her waist I gently bend her forward, urging her to brace herself on the dresser. Then I whip off my shirt and unbutton my fly. Her eyes follow my every move.

I retrieve a foil packet from my jeans before shoving them down my hips.

“Commando,” she whispers, a soft smile on her lips as she watches me roll on the condom. Then her eyes find mine. “A rebel after all.”

She’s already lifting her ass when I put a hand on her hip, and with my other hand, I guide myself into her body.

“Oh fuck,” she mumbles when I sink inside her, and I immediately freeze.

She’s small, I should’ve been more careful. But when I start to pull out, she reaches back and digs her fingers in the globe of my ass.

“Don’t you dare move,” she growls, as she does this roll with her hips that sends a charge of pleasure-pain up my spine.

Then she reaches her other arm up and around my neck, chest out and her spine almost unnaturally arched, as she tangles her fingers in my hair. With my mouth latched on to her shoulder, and my eyes fixed on her stunning reflection, I start powering inside her.

Her moans drive me deeper and faster, and as I expected, it doesn’t take long for my balls to draw tight against my body.

“Gotta come for me, Jilly,” I urge her on as I reach a hand between her legs.

Rolling her clit with my fingertips, I can feel the walls of her pussy flutter before they grab my dick in the most pleasurable vise. I buck a few times, and then my body goes rigid as every synapse fires in concert.

My knees buckle and I curve myself around Jillian’s trembling body, her dresser holding us both up.

“Holy smokes,” she sighs in a shaky voice.

“Pretty much,” I agree hoarsely.

So much for keeping my distance.