Cooper’s Redemption (Crimson Romance) (24 page)

He came toward her, weaving. Was he drunk? On drugs? Maybe dangerous? Did she need to go for the gun?

“Some … body … tried …” He swayed again.

“You need to sit down.” What kind of idiot thought a truck and horse trailer could come to an instant halt? Didn’t he know she couldn’t slam on her brakes when hauling horses? “I truly didn’t see you.”

“Obv … ‘sly,” he growled, leaning a little.

“I couldn’t see — ”

“Fast. Goin’ too fassst.”

“I was not driving too fast. Why were you standing beside the road?” Looking over his shoulder, which wasn’t easy considering he towered her own five-nine by at least four or five inches, she searched for a vehicle. “Where’s your car?”

“I need,” he swayed like a tree about to come crashing down, “help.”

Castaña slipped by the stranger so she was standing in the road, and gave him a gentle push so he leaned against the truck. She considered his brightly sunburned face, neck and arms. He looked like hell. The slurred words meant he was about to wilt. She’d lived in hot, dry climates long enough to recognize signs of heat stroke. He could still be dangerous, though. She and Martin had spent most of their childhood roaming the woods and no one had ever harmed them, but times had changed.

He didn’t look like a serial killer, but by most accounts Ted Bundy had been clean cut, even handsome. For a minute, she wondered if she was making a terrible mistake not getting away from this guy. She glanced around. There was nothing out here but Martin’s ranch and the forest surrounding it. Because there was no public access or camping, almost no one traveled out here. The gun against her back reassured her. “What do you want from me?” she asked.

“Phone.”

“You don’t have one?” Going into the mountains alone with no phone seemed foolish.

He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a familiar model. “No … ser …visss.”

She reached in her front pocket and pulled out her cell. Handing it over her said, “Here. Help yourself.”

He looked at it and slowly shook his head.

She took it back and examined it for herself. She should’ve known there wouldn’t be any bars out here in the middle of nowhere. “I can call someone from my brother’s ranch, but I can’t go back to town right now. I’m kind of in a hurry.”

“How fa … r?”

“About fifteen miles to Payson.” There wasn’t time to run this stranger back to town, but she couldn’t let him collapse out in the Arizona sun either. “I can give you a drink and a lift to the ranch where you can wait for help. But I can’t do more than that.”

He swayed a little. “Thanks.”

Why couldn’t she just drive away and leave him to deal with his own problems? That’s what Pop would’ve done. But she was nothing like her father. She straightened her shoulders. “I’m Castaña.” She didn’t offer her last name. There wasn’t any reason for him to know because as soon as someone picked him up she’d forget about him.

“Cas — ?” His chapped lips couldn’t form the word.

She sighed. Why hadn’t her parents named her Jane? Because Ramon and Magdalena Castillo were too traditional for a name like Jane, that’s why. “Castaña. Run
Cas
and
Tanya
together. Fast.” She demonstrated. “Castaña. And you are?”

“Jake.” Like her, he didn’t mention a last name. He held out his hand, and when she took it, his skin felt clammy. His sage blue eyes met hers squarely and her stomach twisted a little. Sunburn aside, this guy was sexy as hell.

“That’s an ugly burn, and I bet you’ve got blisters, too.”

He glanced at his feet and grimaced. “A drink … be fine.”

Was he kidding? He looked like a piece of meat someone had overcooked twice and all he wanted was a drink? “I have water and soda inside the trailer.”

“Gre — ” His eyes rolled back in his head, and before she could react, he slid down the truck’s fender, landing at her feet.

“Crap!” Castaña dropped to her knees and shook his shoulder. “Jake? Jake? Wake up.”

His eyes slowly opened and found her face. “Wha — ?”

“You fainted. Can you get up?”

“Yeah,” he grunted. He struggled to stand, but fell back. “Dizzy.”

“Let me help.” Wrapping her arm around his waist, wobbling under his weight, she wrestled him into the truck. He was solid as a side of beef. She breathed a huge sigh of relief when he collapsed in the seat. “We’ve got to get you cooled down.”

Eyes closed, he nodded.

• • •

In less than half an hour, Castaña pulled into the ranch and killed the engine. Even in twilight, it looked as if the place hadn’t changed much since the day she drove away six years ago. Blinking back tears of regret, she took in the familiar wood hewn ranch house with its wide porch that offered shade even on the hottest day, the small barn and the attached corrals. Farther, she saw horse pasture, and surrounding it all the Apache-Sitgreave National Forest. Up here, on the rim, it was forest, not desert. A lump formed in her throat and she fought to swallow. The day after her eighteenth birthday, she’d packed up and set off for Dallas planning never to look back.

The last place she wanted to see ever again was this dusty old ranch that held very few happy memories and less opportunity. After a lifetime of being told by her father she wasn’t good enough, she was beginning to make something of herself as a horse trainer in Texas. Martin had been the only child her father wanted, or desired. Men in the Castillo family didn’t rely on women for anything more than physical pleasure.

Wouldn’t Martin be horrified to know she was the one he depended on now? But no matter how much he’d rejected her in the past, she couldn’t just leave her brother to die. Finding him safe and sound was all she asked. She knew better than to hope for acceptance from him. A low moan to her right reminded her she had another headache. She shot a glance toward her passenger. He rested, half slumped against the door, eyes closed.

Jake.

Sighing, she opened the door and stepped out into the baking Arizona evening. As she walked toward the house the front door swung open and a young, very pregnant blonde stepped out. Was she Martin’s girlfriend? He hadn’t mentioned a serious relationship in any of their infrequent talks. But they hadn’t spent a lot of time talking about relationships; their discussions nearly always ended up with them arguing about horses. Specifically, wild horses.

Castaña wrinkled her brow, remembering the last time she spoke to her brother. Christmas. She told him to give up trying to save the mustangs and come work with her in Dallas. He hung up angry she wouldn’t support him; she hung up hurt by his refusal to give up a lost cause.

Taking a few steps closer, she waved. “Hello. I’m Castaña Castillo. I think we spoke on the phone a couple days ago.”

The girl didn’t reply.

Castaña could barely stifle her impatience. “I’m Martin’s sister. Is he back?”

The girl rubbed her belly with both hands. “Uh … no.”

Castaña went back and opened the truck door. The girl appeared at her shoulder, peering at the stranger. “Can you tell me where to put this guy once I get him inside?”

Jake’s mesmerizing eyes fluttered open for a minute and focused on them, but he wasn’t seeing them. He needed to cool down immediately.

After Castaña tugged him out, she staggered under his bulk. As the girl led the way, Castaña half supported, half dragged him into the house and into her old room. Stark white walls replaced her posters of Garth Brooks, Toby Keith and Charmayne James, but the bed was made with the same flowered quilt Castaña used during her childhood. Wrestling Jake onto the bed took a huge effort, but somehow they managed to get it done. He moaned once or twice, but he didn’t open his eyes again.

“He weighs a ton,” Castaña muttered.

A faint shadow crossed the blonde’s face. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Heatstroke, I think. My cell phone doesn’t have any service right now. Can you dial

911 from the house phone?”

The girl shook her head. “There’s no landline here. And my cell doesn’t work either.”

“Damn.” Castaña moved toward the bathroom at the end of the hall. She found a washrag and ran it under the cold water. The blonde followed her and located another rag under the sink.

“Thank you.” Castaña rang out both cloths. “And you are?”

The girl hesitated for a moment. “Briar Rose.”

Castaña wasn’t up on her Disney movies, but she was pretty sure Briar Rose was a character’s name from one of the animated films. She smiled, but the girl didn’t return the gesture. Her big blue eyes were shadowed, haunted. Castaña let her gaze rest on the girl’s belly for a minute. “Are you married to my brother?”

Another pause. The girl looked down and fiddled with her orange wrist string. “No.”

Castaña didn’t have time for twenty questions right now. Getting the stranger out of her hair was her first priority. She hurried back to her patient, the girl trailing her, and sat on the bed. “Can you help me undress him?”

The blonde’s eyes widened. “Uh, okay.”

Together, they managed to pull off his T-shirt, jeans and hiking boots that appeared to be new. He wore tight undershorts, and she averted her eyes from the enticing bulge there to the puckered red scar on his right shoulder. How had he gotten a mark like that?

Whatever this guy did, he was in excellent shape. Castaña swallowed as she ran the damp rag over his cut pecs and abs. Then, lower, over his flat belly and strong, muscled thighs. A trail of dark hair led from his chest to under his shorts and she looked away again.

He was something.

She reached for another washrag. There wasn’t any time to waste on ogling the guy. Carefully placing the rag on his forehead, her thoughts turned back to Briar Rose. Martin had always been so traditional. Castaña had a hard time picturing him having a baby out of wedlock, especially with a Caucasian girl. Blue eyed blondes weren’t his normal taste. He must’ve changed a lot in six years. “Do you know where Martin is?”

“No.”

Castaña waited for the girl to offer more information. “So, did you fight?”

“Um.”

Again, one word. Castaña began to wonder if Briar Rose was on some kind of illegal drug. She looked like a flower child from the sixties with her long braids, flowing spaghetti strap top and ragged jeans. It wasn’t difficult to imagine her smoking pot or gobbling shrooms.

“And you called me because he’s been missing since you argued?” Castaña shot a glance over her shoulder at Briar Rose. She sat cross-legged on the floor, staring into space. Slowly, her gaze rose to Castaña’s face. Castaña fought her rising frustration. Why was Briar Rose stonewalling?

“Yes.” She twirled the orange string tied around one bony wrist.

“How long has it been since you saw Martin, exactly?”

Briar Rose dropped her gaze to her dirty bare feet, which she seemed to find fascinating. “A while.”

Not shaking her took all of Castaña’s considerable willpower. “Could you be a little more specific? A day? A week?”

After a long silence she mumbled, “At least a week.”

Castaña’s heart sank. She opened a bottle of aloe lotion and smoothed it over Jake’s seared skin. The minute he woke up, she had to get rid of him so she could find her brother.

• • •

Jake Breton woke up alone, his heart pounding.

For a minute, he couldn’t breathe. He was afraid he’d been left for dead. His heartbeat slowed as he looked around. Not a dark, stench-filled alley. He wasn’t lying in a pool of his own blood, just undressed and in a warm, soft bed. A quilt lay under him, and he absently stroked the worn material. Not St. Francis Hospital. No strong antiseptic smells, no beeps from machines. And no hovering nuns.

His breathing eased back to normal.

He turned his head. The skin on his neck cried in protest.

Just a lone dresser and plain, log walls. The floors were hardwood, polished until they gleamed. A long runner that matched the quilt lay by the bed. Nice place. Bare, though. Nothing like his apartment back in Phoenix with its leather couches and modern art.

He shifted a fraction of an inch, and when his blistered arm slid across the quilted fabric, a moan slipped from his throat. How far had he walked? Miles. Why the hell had somebody trashed his camp? Nobody up here had any way to know he was FBI.

After setting camp early this morning, he’d hiked out to the place where Bureau of Land Management agents Stevenson and Wright had been shot in cold blood. When he came back late in the afternoon, he’d found his tent torn down and his supplies strewn about. At first, he thought a bear might’ve done the damage. But when he saw his slashed tires, he knew it had been a human attack. Worst of all, the culprits poured all his water on the ground. With no cell service in the forest, he’d had no choice but to walk for help.

Damn it, anyway.

He rubbed the puckered scar on his shoulder.

If Jake called his boss in Phoenix and told him he’d been taken by surprise, he might as well hang up his badge now. He’d screwed up a simple arrest. The first job he’d been trusted with since the shooting.

He thought about the woman who picked him up from the middle of the road when he was almost unconscious. Her long brown hair looked like a burning fire as she bent over him silhouetted in the dying sun. He remembered the way her breasts pressed into his back when she helped him into her truck.

Too bad he hadn’t been awake when she undressed him.

He closed his eyes at the wave of regret that flooded him. He couldn’t get close to her. Making a mistake like that before had nearly cost him his career, his life.

A light tap sounded on the door and his rescuer stuck her head in. “Are you awake? Hungry?”

Jake shook his head, wincing. “Not much.”

“I have Jell-O salad and a slice of watermelon. It might cool you down a bit.” She stepped inside, and now that he felt a little more human, he studied her as she placed the food on the dresser. All leg in worn Levi’s, long walnut-brown hair, hazel eyes. A knockout in a plain white T-shirt and figure hugging jeans.

She placed a gentle hand on his forehead. He closed his eyes, liking the way her palm soothed his feverish skin. Her unique scent mixed leather and something flowery. A nice combination.