She nodded, still not looking at him. “Yes, born and raised. I loved shopping at a corner Italian market, a small quaint, family owned grocery you don’t find in big cities anymore. Alessandro Carmichael always greeted me by name and tossed a handful of gran gelees citrus fruit candies into my bag at checkout.” The aching fondness in Leslie’s voice and devastation reflected in her now clear eyes threatened to tear a hole in Kurt’s gut “They’re orange and lemon flavored soft Italian candies that I used to crave.” She released a wistful sigh before wiping all expression off her face. “I haven’t had one since I saw two spoiled rich teens put a gun to his head for no other reason than drug-addled kicks.”
Now it was his turn to shake inside in both fear for her and fury over everything she’d lost. He couldn’t imagine the shock and trauma of witnessing such a thing. “Jesus, sweetheart, no wonder you freaked out at the sound of a gunshot. What happened? Did they get off and threaten you?”
“No, they just died in a prison fight. It’s their father who threatened me after I testified and who we suspect is behind the attempted hit on me now. My liaison in the program informed me of a breach into their protected files not long ago. They’re working on connecting all the dots.”
The house came into view and he paused, turning her to look at him. “You don’t trust they’ll find proof to arrest this guy?”
“No, since they haven’t done so in the last four years,” she returned in a clipped tone, resignation on her face.
“Then it’s a good thing you have me, isn’t it?” Because he sure as hell wouldn’t let anything happen to her. Kurt hadn’t needed a mule to kick him in the head to force him to admit sometime within the last two weeks, his feelings had taken a dive off the deep end. Love left him no choice but to keep Leslie glued to his side for the next forty years or so.
Chapter 11
“Can I help you?” Alan strolled towards the man who appeared uncomfortable walking the hall of an elementary school after dismissal. With the exception of a few teachers and the office staff, the classrooms and halls stood empty.
“I hope so,” he replied with a rueful smile. “I’m trying to find an old friend from college, Leslie Collins. I’ve been unable to get hold of her by phone to let her know I was coming through this way and she hasn’t been home the two times I stopped by her place. The last time we spoke, which I admit has been awhile, she mentioned teaching here. I was hoping to catch her before I have to head out.”
“Sorry.” Alan shrugged. “She surprised everyone by taking a sudden leave of absence a few days ago for a family emergency.” Even though Leslie had politely turned down his date invitations, he couldn’t suppress his disappointment when she’d left without a word. He knew little to nothing about her other than she was an excellent teacher, the kids adored her and her smile always stirred up a warm, pleasant sensation inside him. The regret etched on the man’s face mirrored his own when he realized her smile wouldn’t brighten his days for an unknown time period.
“That’s too bad. I hadn’t heard that and I have to leave first thing in the morning.”
It would be a shame if Leslie missed seeing an old friend and Alan could think of only one other person who might have more information to help him. “She’s been seeing a man named Kurt Wilcox, a local rancher and large property owner. If you can find a way to get hold of him, he might know where she’s at.” As soon as he’d seen the possessiveness stamped on Wilcox’s face that afternoon in the parking lot, Alan had accepted he didn’t stand a chance with her. It didn’t matter she hadn’t appeared happy with whatever they were discussing; her body language spoke volumes in the way she leaned toward the other man, the flush on her face and look in her eyes she’d never bestowed upon him.
“Hey, thanks.” He held out his hand to Alan, an expression of gratitude erasing the letdown on his face.
“Good luck.”
As soon as Clayton Mahoney returned to his motel room, he opened his laptop and looked up the Wilcox Ranch, somehow not surprised to find its location wit
hin a few miles of where he’d ambushed his mark’s car. His client’s rage over his failure to take her out a few days ago had blistered his ear through the phone. Normally he would walk away from a job when the customer came across as unhinged, but the extra one hundred thousand he’d dangled in front of him on top of the quarter million already promised was too tempting to turn down.
Before calling in with this latest information, Clayton scouted out the ranch where he suspected the Collins woman was hiding out. After discovering the risk of breaking through the tight security at the front gates, he returned the next day to check out the perimeters of the seemingly never-ending acreage. It took him hours of non-conspicuous driving where he spotted rifle-toting men on horseback, driving trucks or riding ATVs, depending on the terrain they were patrolling, to conclude this wouldn’t be an easy feat. Executing the job on a horse was out since he’d never ridden, and the trucks driven by the employees were all etched with the ranch logo, eliminating that option once he breached the security. But an ATV he could handle, and when he picked up a hat and covered his lower face with a bandana as he’d seen some do to keep the dust out of their mouths, anyone spotting him wouldn’t know he was trespassing. Not until he’d completed the contract and was long gone, he hoped.
Picking up his phone, Clayton wasted no time relaying his news as soon as his employer answered. “I have a location where I suspect she’s hiding. I’ll need time to stake it out and verify while I research the best way to break through the security.”
“Make it fast, damn it. I want the bitch gone,” he barked without a hint of gratitude for Clayton’s progress.
“Don’t push me, Glascott.” Dead silence greeted his knowledge of Glascott’s identity. “Yeah, you son-of-a-bitch, I know who you are. It was worth spending a few thousand of my fee to have someone follow the money trail of my down payment, so do not fucking push me. I’ll be in touch.” He hung up, satisfied with the day’s work.
Kurt struggled to get the image of Leslie walking in on a murder out of his head but failed miserably. Waking the next morning after a long sleepless night, the first thing he did after dressing was check to see if she’d fared any better. Finding her in the kitchen making a stack of banana and nut pancakes, a cup of coffee within reach and swaying to whatever song was playing in her earplugs, he realized he needn’t have worried.
She jumped when he snuck up behind her, gripped her hips and pulled her back against him. The hand flipping a pancake on the griddle stilled as she turned her head and glared at him. Yanking out the earplugs, she grumbled, “You could’ve let me know you were there.”
“I could have but this was more fun.” Lowering his head, he nipped her earlobe and she shivered against him. “You’re up early, and look well-rested. No problem sleeping after your flashback yesterday?”
She shook her head. “No, I’ve had plenty of time to learn to adjust when that memory pops up. I’m sorry if I freaked you out.”
“You didn’t, just caught me by surprise and I’m still working my way toward coping with what you went through.” Sliding his hands upward, he watched her face as he skimmed his thumbs over her nipples, her light sweater and bra not enough to hide the instant pucker.
“In case you didn’t notice, I’m still struggling with coping. I’m not sleeping with you, Kurt,” she reminded him in a breathless rush.
“Not asking you to, sweetheart. When I’m touching you, sleeping is the last thing on my mind.” Satisfied, he stepped back and moved to the opposite counter to pour a cup of coffee. Over his shoulder, he asked, “Why are you making breakfast? Babs leaves casseroles in the refrigerator for the weekend.”
“I told her not to make one for breakfast. I need something to do and enjoy cooking when I have the time. Right now, I have too much time on my hands. I’m going stir crazy.” She set a platter with a tall stack of golden brown pancakes on the table where he noticed three place settings. When she saw his questioning look, she sighed with a shake of her head. “I thought Leland would join us but he declined. He wasn’t happy when I refused to bring him a plate.”
“He’s not happy no matter what anyone does,” Kurt retorted as he took a seat. “But thanks for trying.” Digging into the fluffy pancakes, he knew he needed to tell her more about Brittany’s death, but opted to wait until he took her riding. Having a view of the wide-open prairies backed by the snow-capped mountains with the endless blue sky above him and a fresh breeze to stir his senses helped distract from the melancholy talking about his sister always produced.
“Since you’ve tabled our Dom/sub relationship, we’ll stay home tonight from the club. Looking at your head, I’m guessing the rest of your bruises are in the same sickly greenish/yellow stage and still a little sore, so that’s just as well, but are you up for a slow ride this afternoon?”