Hot Licks (2 page)

“Yeah. I’m here. In which direction are the tracks
heading?”

Direction? She looked about, getting her bearings.

“Northwest and they’re on the west side of the cabin.”

“James with you?”

“No. He went to check the west side in preparation for
the hike tomorrow while I took the north.” Sweat gathered
between her breasts as she stood under the full, late
summer sun. Waiting for Porter’s response, she caught the
front of her t-shirt between her fingers and flapped the
material rapidly, trying for a fabric breeze.

“Is the cabin secure?”

She scanned the stone and wood, suddenly wondering
if someone could possibly scale the wall, especially since
Porter sounded as if he hadn’t made the prints. If that was
the case, then she could very well be out here, alone, with a
crazy man who ran around in the rain. Possibly naked. She
blanched as an image of Bigfoot popped into her head.

“Yes. Well, in that the padlock is in place and nothing
appears to be tampered with.”

Rustling and two slamming doors accompanied his
next words. “You have a key, right?” The sound of an engine
turning over.

Gwen frowned. “Yes. What’s going on, Porter?”

More murmuring. “I was about to tell you to get inside
the cabin, but Rome pointed out the idiocy of that since the
lock is on the outside, not inside. Talk about a brain lapse.”

All the breath left her body and she actually felt
lightheaded. “Rome?”

“Yeah. He drove straight through and got home early.

Not even an hour ago. We’re now on our way to you.”

“To me?” Good Lord. Was that her voice all high and
squeaky? She cleared it. “Why?”

“It looks as if we have squatters.”

“Barefoot squatters? Not real smart in the middle of a
forest.” She told Porter, raising a hand to check the thick,
single braid she habitually wore down her back was
smooth. Realizing what she was doing, she shoved her
hand in the front of her jeans and headed toward the cabin.

“Unless they simply don’t have shoes to begin with.”

Porter responded.

“Surely there are easier places to squat than the
middle of a forest if you don’t have any shoes.”

“So maybe they lost their shoes.”

“Porter? Seriously? Think about what you’re saying.”

“And think about what you’re not saying. First there
was the mysterious jaguar and now what? Bigfoot?”

Gwen winced because, yeah, that had crossed her
mind. “So what do you want me to do?”

“We’ve just reached the gate. Call James and both of
you head back. We’ll meet you in five minutes.”

Five minutes? No way could they run, much less walk,
the distance between the gate and the clearing where she
stood in five minutes. It took twenty to walk, maybe ten at a
jog, and that would be only for the surest of feet. Any faster
along the uneven trail would be a disaster waiting to
happen.

“I’ll call him,” Gwen promised, eying the padlock. “But I
want to check the cabin first.”

“No. Just head back.”

Gwen rolled her eyes. “I’m not a novice, Porter, and
poachers and squatters are nothing new. I’ve had to deal
with that and more in my eight years as a ranger. You
wouldn’t have hired me if I couldn’t take care of myself and
your land.”

“Yeah, but...”

Static cut out the rest of Porter’s words and after
calling his name a few times, Gwen hung up to dial James.

“Where are you,” she asked when he picked up.

“On my way to the clearing to pick you up. I don’t want
to be late to Matt’s birthday party.”

Oh yeah. Gwen could picture James’s big, ruddy face
lighting up about the upcoming event. The man was
married with three kids and his oldest was having a sleep
over. And while she liked kids, wanted several of her own,
eight fourteen year-old boys sounded a little daunting, but
she knew James was excited. Matt was his only son and he
doted on the boy.

“Well hurry up. I found some footprints here and
Porter’s on his way.”

A soft chuckle came over the line. “Don’t suppose
they’re jaguar.”

Would the teasing ever stop? “No, smarty pants.

Human. Barefoot.”

James paused, all serious now. “Squatters?”

“That’s what Porter believes.”

“Barefoot, though. Strange.”

“That’s what I say.”

Brief silence that was filled with bird call from both
sides of the line. “I’m just leaving the rock garden so I
should be there in ten.”

The rock garden was an odd assortment of massive
boulders ranging from two to eight feet tall and lay in a
much smaller clearing in the reserve. A few of the boulders
were nice and flat along the top, making Gwen think, not for
the first time, that they’d be a perfect place to stretch out on
for a nap. When it wasn’t so sticky hot out that was.

“Porter wants us to...”

More static. Gwen looked down at her phone in
exasperation. She’d rarely had problems before and now,
within minutes, she’d had two dropped calls. Thinking they
might need to start using the old walkies again, Gwen
clipped her phone back and reached for her keys. Not
having the chance to relay Porter’s order to James, she
decided to wait for her fellow ranger, and check the inside
of the cabin at the same time.

Finding the proper key, Gwen fit it in the lock. Or tried
to. She twisted the key, thinking it went the other way.

Nope. Black brows furrowed, Gwen went through every key
on her chain. None of them fit.

“That’s odd.” Did the family change the lock?

Or did someone else?

A shiver of uneasiness slithered down her back to mix
with the sweat. The dark blue t-shirt bearing Olivia’s
Orchard emblem that all the rangers wore as part of the
dress code along with jeans or khaki shorts and hiking
boots, was sticking uncomfortably to her back. She pulled
the strap of the shotgun off her shoulder, making sure to
keep the muzzle pointed down. If whoever made those
prints decided to come back, Gwen wanted to be ready.

It was then she caught a flash out of the corner of her
eye. An orange and black blur that snagged all her
attention. The jaguar was back! Sprinting across the
clearing, she fumbled to unhook the cell with one hand while
keeping a tight grip on the gun with her other. She didn’t
want it accidentally going off.

Unfortunately, with all of her focus on the disappearing
feline, she left her rear unguarded. A heavy weight, hard,
large and hot, latched onto her back and suddenly the
ground was rising for an intimate kiss.

With one arm tightly wrapped around the waist of his
prey, Rome Felix grasped the woman’s wrist with his other
hand, dislodging the rifle and twisting in mid-air to land on
his back. Giving the delectable female no time to move, he
rolled over, letting the majority of his weight press along the
length of her backside. Faster than a snap, he shackled her
wrists above her head and pressed his face into the warm
curve of her neck.

His eyes practically crossed at the heady scents of
heaven, sex, sin and sweetness tangled together to muddy
the logical part of his brain. Rome didn’t think about how
this spontaneous attack countered his usual slow, stealthy,
analytical manner. He was not a clear thinking man at the
moment, but a predatory male full of satisfaction and rising
hunger at fleshing out that which had been driving him to
madness since he first stepped foot back into his childhood
home.

The decision to leave the ATF and return to the house
he’d grown up in had been surprisingly easy to make.

Feeling stifled from all the travel and disillusioned by things
he’d witnessed, Rome had come home, with only the
expectation of finding peace and a rejuvenation of his spirit.

Yet one deep breath past the front door and the barest hint
of cinnamon and lime had alerted his jaguar to an
unexpected and completely enticing presence. The fierce
pull to hunt down the origin of that tantalizing scent had
distracted him from his mother’s joyful hugs, his father’s
exuberant delight at his return and the warm welcome from
the two of his three brothers living on the estate.

Rome had scanned each room he passed as he was
all but dragged into the large kitchen to be fed as if he were
some bedraggled cub, and that scent had drifted from
every corner to tease him into a near frenzy. Then Porter
had received a message on his cell phone and promptly
hauled Rome out to the wildlife reserve the family owned.

Outside, the scent had faded to almost nothing and his cat
had lunged for freedom. Without the tight reign Rome held
on his other half, he might have shifted right then and there
and looped throughout the main house wrapped in nothing
but three hundred pounds of fur and muscle.

Which would have made all the unknowing humans
scatter like rats. Amusing maybe, but not smart.

As a cat shifter, Rome’s life was full of control verses
instinct. Human intellect verses animalistic desires.

Rationality and sensuality all bound together in one
package. Normally, life as a shifter suited him. His senses
were sharper than a human’s, serving him well both in the
military and in the ATF. Both man and beast were logical,
patient and stealthy, yet needed the soft touch and warm
comfort of familiarity, which had been sorely lacking in his
travels.

Under the thick canopy of the forest, as he and Porter
had raced down the trail at top speed, that enticing scent
once again reached deep inside and fried his brain,
providing him with a burst of supernatural speed. At the
edge of the clearing he’d caught sight of a lone female, her
back to him, and to his right, movement from deep within
the trees. He might have been okay, except she began to
run from him. Predatory instinct had kicked in, and,
combined with the renewed hunger to touch and taste, well,
he’d pounced.

Now, with her soft body beneath his, Rome couldn’t
resist trailing his lips along the graceful line of her neck, her
taste only a flick of his tongue away. And since cats licked
what appealed to them, Rome opened his mouth for a
sample.

“What the hell are you doing?” An indignant demand
from the spitfire in his arms.

The question made Rome hesitate and blink back the
hazy fog of lust.

Just what the hell was he doing?

“I’d say my brother has lost his ever-loving mind.”

Porter’s dry comment came from somewhere above Rome’s head.

“Porter?” Gwen couldn’t see him, not with Rome’s larger mass covering her.

“Yep. And the man flattening you in the dirt is my brother Rome. Bad dog.” Porter added on an incredulous chuckle. “You took down our damsel in distress.”

“Could you tell him to get off me? I can’t breathe.”

Rome squeezed his eyes shut and figured his little brother was right. He had lost his ever-loving mind.

Gingerly, trying not to rub against her any more and reveal his thickening erection, Rome rolled off the female and rose to his feet in one fluid motion. Porter caught his gaze, the questioning amusement not something Rome was ready to answer. Instead, he flicked his eyes to Gwen as she flipped over and sat, drawing in gulps of air. Wary dark eyes, tilted slightly at the corners, narrowed as she stared at him.

Rome did some staring of his own. In the span of a heartbeat, her features were branded in his mind. Long hair, blacker than midnight, was pulled back into a thick braid, leaving her square-shaped face unframed except for the few strands that slipped free. Dirt streaked along one cheek and over the front of her shirt, making him wince.

Instead of taking the time to kick his own ass, he held out a hand.

“I apologize,” he said, the gruff quality of his voice a reminder that his cat was near the surface, still eager for a nip. “I’m running on no sleep and, well, when I saw the gun in your hand I reacted instinctively.”

He didn’t explain the instinct was at taking what he wanted before it escaped, or another took it from him. Even now he kept Porter in his peripheral vision, ready to swipe at him should he get too close to the female sitting on the ground. “Please.” He wiggled his fingers in invitation to take his outstretched hand, and to accept his apology.

A stubborn chin with the most adorable little dent he wanted to lick rose as she considered his words. Gwen slanted her eyes to Porter who seemed to be struggling not to laugh.

After some hesitation, Gwen laid her smaller hand in Rome’s. Once on her feet, she pulled free and took several steps back. Rome couldn’t blame her. He didn’t like it, but he understood a woman’s need for caution towards a man who’d quite literally jumped her.

Great first impression
, he grumbled at the cat prowling in his head.
How am I supposed to fix this?

Lick. Taste. Take
. The jaguar responded.

Like that’s going to help.

“Here.” Porter handed Gwen her shotgun. “You have my permission to shoot him should he act like a raving idiot again.”

Rome glared at his younger brother, the stupid grin on Porter’s face only making Rome feel more on edge.

“I’m hoping that’s not necessary,” Gwen stated calmly, frowning at the dirt on her t-shirt. She attempted to clean herself off, making Rome bite back a groan when her hand brushed over her breasts.

Spinning on his heels, Rome turned his back, struggling to get his body, and head, back under control.

Never before had he such a visceral reaction to a woman.

Right out of the blue and
bam
. Like being hit by a mack truck. Or lightening. One second sane, the next, not so much.Keeping one ear tuned to the conversation behind him, Rome put his hands on his hips and took in several deep breaths, doing his best to concentrate on the scents of the forest rather than on the seductive perfume that Gwen radiated.

A sub-vocal growl, so low that only those like Rome and Porter with sensitive hearing could perceive, reached his ears. The sound made Rome look up and to the far right, the direction Gwen had been running. There, high in one of the Sycamore trees and shadowed by the foliage as to be near invisible, lay a large, male jaguar. One that appeared to be extremely amused by the antics of the twolegged creatures below him.

Santos. The ass. Rome’s jaw clenched as he realized where his older brother had disappeared to after welcoming Rome home. Out for a run. And right to Gwen.

Rome’s hands tightened into fists as an unwelcome thought invaded his mind. Just what was his brother’s relationship with Gwen? It was dangerous enough for Santos to go out for a run while humans were in the reserve, and as cats stalked what they wanted to catch, did that mean Santos wanted to catch the female ranger?

Possession, blinding and hot, swept over Rome.

Vaguely, he felt his claws break the skin of his fingertips, his gums swell and burn as fangs threatened to descend. A growl rose in his throat, an aggressive reaction to the idea of another male having any interest in the darkhaired beauty.

Whoa! What the hell?

It was the sharpness of the unprecedented response that snapped him back into focus. Taking another minute to pull himself together, he buried the beast’s raw hunger under the calm professionalism he was known for and turned back to the arguing duo.

“I know I told you to head back towards the gate,”

Porter was frowning at Gwen.

Gwen lifted her eyes to the heavens before replying.

“You also told me to call James who was already on his way to me. Before I could say anything else, the call dropped. I decided to wait, otherwise he might wonder what happened to me and start searching.” She looked over at the cabin, her eyes widening as if she remembered something. They flew back to Porter, after a brief landing on Rome. It was the kind of look that didn’t make a man feel six feet tall and bullet proof. “Oh. Did you change the lock?”

Porter flipped his thumb at the cabin door. “That lock?

No. Why?”

Gwen shrugged. “My key doesn’t work.”

“Sure you tried the right one?” Rome interjected.

The look she shot him was somewhere between irritation and distaste and he wished he’d kept his mouth shut. “I tried every key I had.”

Porter held out his hand, his fingers waving.

“Seriously?” Gwen asked.

“What can I say? I’m male.” Porter’s grin split his face and Gwen rolled her eyes, handing him her set of keys.

Porter and Gwen headed toward cabin door, but Rome hesitated, the scent of an approaching male hanging in the air. His lips curved as James appeared on the trial leading to the rock garden.

“Rome, my man.” James smiled, his hazel eyes sparkling with surprised delight. “Heard you were coming back. It’s great to see you.”

The welcoming handshake preceeded a manly hug.

“And you.”

“Dare I ask, here to stay this time?” James clapped Rome on the shoulder.

“So it would seem.” Rome answered with a wry twist of his lips.

“It’s for the best. We all worried about you.”

Rome’s forehead wrinkled with bewilderment.

“Whatever for?”

“All that travel, all those cases. All the ugliness you dealt with on a daily basis.” James shrugged the powerful shoulders that made him a desired asset to professional football scouts, until he’d blown out a knee during his junior year of college.

“Yeah, well.” Rome scrapped a hand over his chin, the thick stubble making him realize he hadn’t shaved since leaving Texas the day before. One of the perks of being unemployed. “I have to admit being shot at was getting old.”

“You were shot?” Gwen’s question rang out, telling Rome she’d been listening to their conversation.

He turned his head to see her staring at him, eyes wide. Next to her, Porter tried another key. “Couple of times.” His brother informed her pleasantly. “He’s slow like that.”

Rome’s mouth firmed as Gwen’s eyes rounded even more. Great. No doubt her opinion of him reached a whole new low. His sarcastic thanks never made it past his lips.

“What happened to you?” James wanted to know, staring at the dirt on the front of Gwen’s jeans and shirt.

“Uh.” Gwen paused, flicking her gaze to Rome and back to James. “I tripped.”

“You need to be more careful, honey.” James walked to Gwen and rubbed a finger over the dirt on her cheek.

“You could have hurt yourself.”

“She’s got my brother for that,” Rome heard Porter mutter under his breath just before he turned and asked James for his keys.

“Sure. What’s going on? Gwen said something about footprints.”

“Yeah. Which I’ll take at look at as soon as I get this door open. Damn. That’s just strange. When was the last time either of you unlocked this door?”

Gwen looked from James to Porter. “About two weeks ago. Normally I just yank on the padlock. It’s not like anyone can scale the walls.”

Porter made some noncommittal remark before turning to James. “You?”

James considered the question. “A bit longer than that, and for the same reason. We’re not out in this area every day, and when we are, we just verify the lock’s secure and not been picked.”

Porter shot Rome a hard look. “We’ll have to get a pair of bolt cutters.”

Actually, either Porter or Rome could give the lock a good yank and pull it open. Just not in front of Gwen or James. Luckily, as habit would have it, Rome was prepared.

Reaching down to snap open the small tool kit he kept on his belt, Rome said, “I can pick it.”

One of Gwen’s dark brows quirked. “A skill you acquired with the ATF?”

Ah
, Rome thought. So at least she knew more about him then that he was a raving lunatic. Though a lock picker could be construed as a vice rather than a virtue. He had a lot of those either/or skills. Lips twitching, Rome glanced over at Gwen. “Marines. But it’s come in handy in many ways since I left.”