No Mercy (11 page)

she felt more secure and cared for than she could remember—since leaving him all those years ago.

She cried harder, trying to hold back sobs, but failing.

He held her and held her.

***

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It was like the years slid backward, to another place and time, as Dylan held Belle in his arms

again. He pressed his face against her dark hair, breathing in her feminine scent as he did his best

to comfort her. She felt sweet and soft and perfect in his embrace.

He rubbed her back, feeling the tension in her muscles and wanting to ease it. He moved his

hands in circles, her face against his chest, her tears soaking through his cotton T-shirt.

“I’m sorry.” She sniffed and drew back. “I don’t know why I broke down like that.”

“Nate’s death was a big blow.” He held her by the shoulders. “I have a feeling you also have a

few things you need to work through and get off your chest.”

“It’s been a hell of a week.” She searched his gaze. “I think one of the hardest things is seeing

you again.”

He brushed his knuckles along her cheekbone. “Why is that?”

“You should know.” She sighed. “I left you without an explanation. I just ran, and I know I hurt

you.” She held her hand to her heart. “I didn’t want to leave. If I thought there was any other way, I

never would have. And I never would have hurt you.”

He tucked hair behind her ear. “I would have done anything for you.” He stil would, but he wasn’t

sure that was something he should say aloud.

“Like I said before, that’s one of the reasons I left.” She looked down, staring at his chest before

she looked up at him again. “Promise me you won’t go to see my stepfather.”

Dylan said nothing as anger burned in his chest. He couldn’t make that kind of promise.

“Dylan?” She searched his gaze. “Please.”

A stirring of longing took hold of him. He cupped her face in his palms. “God, how I missed you.”

She gripped his T-shirt in her fists and raised her tear-stained face to his.

He couldn’t help himself. He lowered his head, slowly, giving her a chance to say no, to push

him away.

She did neither. Instead, she rose on her toes, her fists still gripping his T-shirt, and brushed his

lips with hers.

The groan that rose inside him came from missing her for what seemed like a lifetime. He took

her mouth, kissing her with an intensity that he’d never felt before. Her lips were so soft, and when

he slid his tongue into her mouth and tasted her, it was like going back all of those years and tasting

her again for the first time.

The intensity of her kiss matched his own and a low groan escaped him. She was so soft in his

arms, a memory come to life. He wanted to take her to bed and make up for all of the loving they

had missed.

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He struggled to think clearly as need and desire burned bright. She moved her palms up his T-

shirt to his shoulders and slid her fingers into his hair, knocking off his Stetson. It hit the floor with a

soft thump.

Each movement she made seemed as urgent as his, if not more so. It was as if she’d been

craving this ever since she’d left and she wanted to make up for lost time. Just like he did.

Her low purr vibrated through him. He remembered her making that sound every time they’d

made love and he almost followed through with his desire to sweep her into his arms, lay her on the

bed, and cover her body with his.

She had filled out, and no longer had a girlish figure but the real curves of a grown woman. He

wanted to explore those curves with his hands, his mouth, his tongue. He wanted to taste her again,

to hold her, to make love to her.

It might have been the hardest thing he’d ever done, but he took her by the shoulders and put

just enough space between them so that their bodies weren’t plastered together. But he continued

to keep a grip on her, their gaze holding and not breaking.

God, she was beautiful. He’d always thought she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever known.

From childhood through high school he’d been in love with everything about her. He didn’t think she’d

known it until their freshman year in high school, when he’d taken her for a walk under the bleachers

at a football game.

Her chest rose and fell, clearly breathing as hard as he was. She swallowed. “That was probably

not a good idea.”

He studied her for a long moment. “You’re going through a lot. I can see it in your eyes.”

She looked down before meeting his gaze again. “Thank you.”

Despite the fact that he wouldn’t take advantage of her when she was so vulnerable, he couldn’t

help the disappointment that swelled within him when she’d agreed. He moved his thumb to her

cheek. “I missed you.”

Her eyes glittered and he thought for a moment that she would cry again. “I missed you, too.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. He had to change the subject or he’d take her in his arms

again and this time he wouldn’t let go. “Why don’t you show me that postcard?”

“Oh.” She went to the antique writing desk and picked up a bag on the desk chair. She dug

inside and drew out a postcard. She looked a little teary and choked up as she did.

When she handed it to him, he read it through. “It’s similar to the others.”

Belle seemed to compose herself and her voice was steady. “The part that was off on mine was

about my dog biting him.”

Dylan stared at the card. “Your dog was pure white and he refers to it as brown.”

She nodded. “Yes.”

He read it a second time. “He was trying to tell us something.”

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“I agree.” She smoothed her hair away from her face. “The sooner you get all of the postcards,

the better.”

“Yes.” Dylan looked up from the note. “You and I have a lot to talk about that has nothing to do

with Nate.”

She let out her breath. It was clear that she wanted to avoid any discussions, but she said, “I

know you’re right. It will just be…difficult.”

“I need to drive to Sierra Vista to stop by Leon’s office and pick up his card.” Dylan slid Christie’s

and Belle’s cards into his shirt pocket. “Why don’t you come with me? His kids are older than Marta’s

and a couple of them work for him. They might be there.”

A touch of surprise flickered over her features. She paused, as if not sure what she should do,

then nodded. “I’d like to see him again and perhaps meet his family.”

Dylan scooped up his hat that had fallen to the floor and waited for her to slip on her black blazer.

The blazer covered the cream sweater that hugged the soft curves of her breasts, and he loved the

gentle way her waist flared out to her hips. She lifted her dark hair, pulling it from where it had caught

in the collar of her blazer, and then picked up her purse.

He opened the door for her and followed before using the big brass key to lock the door behind

them. He handed the key to her and she dropped it into her purse before swinging the strap over her

shoulder. Finding any excuse possible to touch her, he put his fingers to her lower back as he

escorted her out of the hotel. Even through the blazer, he felt a shiver go through her.

They walked across the street to the plaza, then headed to the parking lot behind the building.

When they reached his truck, he unlocked it and helped her into the passenger seat before climbing

into the driver’s side and starting the vehicle.

His cell rang and he left the truck in park as he un-holstered his phone and saw from the screen

that it was Trace.

Dylan answered the call. “What’s up?”

“Edmund’s Salcido’s blood at Nate’s place, along with his disappearance, got us the warrant to

search Salcido’s home,” Trace said. “We’re on our way now.”

“Text me the address.” Dylan glanced at Belle. “I’l be right there.”

“You’ve got it.” Trace disconnected the call.

“I need to make a detour that’s part of the investigation related to Nate’s death.” Dylan

considered dropping Belle off back at her hotel, but decided he’d prefer to keep her close. “Mind

tagging along? You’l need to stay in the truck, but I don’t know how long it wil take. I could be in and

out or it could be an hour.”

Belle appeared to be considering his question. “I don’t have anything else to do, and I want to

see you get to the bottom of what happened to Nate.”

His phone vibrated and he looked down at the screen to see the address Trace had texted. He

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started to have second thoughts when he saw where the home was located, and he looked at Belle.

“The house is in Galena.”

Her face paled. The Galena subdivision was where her stepfather lived, and where she had

lived before she ran. “What’s the address?” she asked quietly.

Dylan gave it to her and she visibly relaxed. “That’s on the opposite side of the subdivision.”

“You don’t have to go.” He studied her. “I can take you back to the Copper Queen.”

She shook her head. “I’l be fine.”

Despite his growing misgivings, he put the truck into gear and headed away from Old Bisbee,

on the road that hugged the fenced-in pit mines, on around the traffic circle, and then to Galena.

During the drive, he was incredibly aware of her sitting next to him, a familiar sense that he’d

missed all these years. When he glanced at her, he saw her watching him and wondered if she was

feeling the same kind of connection.

It didn’t take long to reach Salcido’s home. A number of law enforcement vehicles fil ed the street

in front of the house as agents performed their duties.

Over the years the neighborhood had fallen mostly into disrepair. Dylan pulled up behind a black

DHS SUV in front of the home. The house was one of the few that were in good shape. It had a white

exterior and green shutters that looked recently painted.

A Hispanic woman stood on the porch next to a swing, talking with Trace. She looked furious

and was making angry gestures with her hands as DHS agents went in and out of the home.

“Hang tight.” Dylan looked at Belle as he opened the door of his truck, letting in the sound of

voices. “Hopefully this won’t take too long.”

“No worries.” Belle pul ed a flat device out of her purse and held it up. “I have my e-reader. I’l

just continue where I left off in this mystery I’m reading.”

“Lock your door.” Dylan gave her a quick kiss and squeezed her arm. “You have my number in

your phone from yesterday. Call me if you need me,” he added before he climbed out of the truck,

shutting the door firmly behind him. He waited for her to lock her door before turning away.

He strode past agents carrying boxes of paperwork and computer equipment out of the house.

When he reached the top of the stairs, the woman was still yelling at Trace, rattling off her anger in

Spanish.

Trace put his hands up in a “slow down” gesture. “Mrs. Salcido, we have a warrant.” Trace spoke

in fluent Spanish. “As I explained, we need to find out what happened to your husband.”

“Why are you taking my husband’s belongings?” Her Spanish was rapid, almost hard to keep

up with. “You are destroying my home.”

She started to go into the house, but Trace stepped in her way. He continued speaking in

Spanish. “You cannot go in. You must wait out here.” He gestured to Jennie Ortega, a young DHS

agent. “This is Agent Ortega. She will stay with you, Mrs. Salcido.”

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Mrs. Salcido swung around to face Jennie and started in on her. Jennie was tough and never

put up with anyone’s B.S. She, too, spoke in Spanish. “If you do not calm down, I will put you in the

back of one of our vehicles and you wil wait there.”

At that point Mrs. Salcido burst into tears and dropped onto the porch swing.

“I’ve got this.” Jennie spoke to Trace as she switched to English and gestured to the front door.

“Go do your thing.”

Trace gave Jennie a nod. “Thanks.” He and Dylan walked into the house.

Dylan wasn’t surprised that Mrs. Salcido was upset. Agents were going through the house,

leaving no stone unturned. He walked with Trace through the house, passing agents who were busy

combing the place. “Hopefully we’ll find some answers here.”

“What we’re finding are more questions.” Trace led Dylan to a closet, its door ajar. An open safe

was in one corner on the floor. “The safe wasn’t locked, and inside we found a slip of paper and

approximately ten thousand in one hundred dollar bills. Presumably for Mrs. Salcido. According to