Primal Obsession (12 page)

FOURTEEN

Sam popped up beside her, sleek as a seal, and grinning.

She slapped water at the jerk. “Very funny. Not.”

“Used to do that to my brother, except he got wedgies too. I can hold my breath longer than most.” The water was shallow enough for him to stand, but she had to tread. “You did great. Took us to third base in fine style.”

“We’re not home free?”

“You wish.” He planted a kiss on her mouth, at first a peck tasting of the fresh water, then firmer, molding his lips to hers and tasting of desire.

She didn’t want to feel the sizzle, but resistance floated away on the current. She kissed him back with enthusiasm. They were hidden from sight by the canoe, private for the moment.

She drank him in with the water dripping from his caramel-colored mustache. She grasped his shoulders and let him hold her up as the slick sensations of wet lips and wet bodies threatened to take her under. He tasted of humor, chocolate cookies, and masculine hunger. When he cupped her breast through her wet suit, she stifled a moan of need. Pulling away was more difficult than she wanted to acknowledge.

“Admit it” He grinned. “You enjoyed that.”

Baffled, she said, “The kiss?”

“That’s written all over you. And not just your face.”

At his sensuous tone and the direction of his heavy-lidded gaze, her nipples tightened. She narrowed her eyes at him. “What then?”

He swiped a dripping lock of hair from her cheek. “I mean navigating those rapids. You got as big a rush as I did. You enjoyed the hell out of the white water.”

She sputtered, ready to deny his assertion, but the lie stuck in her throat. She might not have enjoyed it the way Sam did, but she felt good. Powerful. Proud. Pumped.

“Smartass. I’ll admit nothing except relief.” She boosted herself up and into the canoe.

Stubborn woman, Sam told himself as he returned to his seat. After they opened their sandwiches, he was ready to take stock of their problem.

“You have something more to tell me,” he said around a mouthful of cheese sandwich.

Annie swallowed the bite she was chewing. “Not really. I tried to probe while we fixed breakfast. Guess I’m not much of a detective. Nora shrugged off the setbacks, and Carl carped about everything, as usual. What about you?”

He recognized the delay tactic. “You heard Ray. He insisted he covered both coolers.”

“He probably did. Ray’s nothing if not precise.” She nibbled more of her sandwich.

Sam wanted to nibble her. Her sweet-tart scent tormented him. “I found out how the chipmunk was caught.”

Her eyes widened at that.

He explained about the spring snare in the woods. “Poor little critter liked Frank’s handouts. Made him easy prey.”

She gave a shuddery shake. “Except for you, who knows how to make such a thing?” Her eyes darkened to the same brooding expression he’d seen last night.

He had no answer for that, but he had more questions. “There’s something more to this. You know or suspect something you’re not telling me. Spill.”

“You’ll think I’m nuts. Paranoid.”

He waited.

On a sigh, she stuffed the last of her sandwich back in her day bag and wiped her mouth. She folded the paper towel she’d used as a napkin as she seemed to plan her words. “The Hunter. I can’t get my mind off the Hunter. I keep wondering if he followed me somehow, if he’s out there.” She waved a hand at the forest. “If he’s the one tormenting us, like the hornets, but one sting at a time.”

He crunched a big bite from his apple. The Hunter—or anybody—following them seemed as likely as a bus lumbering through the forest. “Why pull these dumb pranks? Just to spook us? Tell me about this Hunter. You think he’s after you because you wrote about him?”

“It may be just the opposite.” She trailed a finger in the stream. “He telephoned me three times. The last was just before this trip.”

Sam nearly lifted off his seat. “Telephoned
you
? At home? Where were the cops? Does Justin know about this?”

She put up her hands in defense. “Easy, big fella. Yes, Justin even tried a phone tap, but the Hunter moved too fast. The police wanted to stash me in a safe house, but I refused.”

If she was his sister, he sure as hell wouldn’t let her go haring off unprotected. But if the Hunter was in the city, maybe Justin figured this wilderness was the safest place. Nothing short of tying her up could have stopped her. “Could you recognize his voice?”

“He talked in a muffled, sort of mechanical whisper. I doubt I’d know his normal voice. The police techs might be able to do something with the recordings though.”

“So what did he say to you? What did he want?”

“Mostly he wanted me to get his story straight. He seemed proud that I was writing about him in such detail.” She leaned toward him, her elbows on her knees. “See, I think he may be upset that I’ve left town, that I’m no longer covering him.”

“Why the hell should he care who writes about his dirty deeds as long as someone does it?”

She shrugged. “It’s just a feeling. He seemed to think I understood him. I wish I did.”

He blew out a breath. “Him following this expedition makes no sense. We’d have spotted a plane or another boat. How could he get here ahead of us? Other than rescue helicopters, Boomer’s the only pilot who flies to Gomagash Wilderness, and he’d have told me if he brought anyone else.”

Her lips curved in a shaky smile. “Thanks. That’s sort of what I thought too. It puts us right back where we were.”

“That one of
us
is the saboteur.” He didn’t like that answer, but it beat having a killer tracking them.

Her complexion paled beneath her golden tan. “Or one of us is the Hunter.”

It took him only a flash to get over the shock of her statement. “You mean your buddy the Hunter could be Ray or Carl?” He scratched at his scarred fingers. “No way. Both those men signed up from out of state. They flew in Monday at the earliest.” His head shot up. “Unless you think—”

“It’s you?” His heart froze before her lips formed a tremulous smile. “Sam, I suspect you of many things, but being a murderer? No. Besides, you haven’t been back in the state until recently.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” He slipped over the side. “I need another dip and then we’ll head downriver.” To the others, he called, “Okay, folks, get ready to move out. We’ve got one more at bat—one more set of rapids to make home plate.”

“You are so corny, Sam Kincaid.” Laughing, Annie joined him in the stream.

He splashed around the canoe, letting the clear water refresh him. He heaved himself into the bow.

“Hey, that’s my seat.” Annie flipped water at him.

“Not this time.” The woman could use more challenge to take her mind off the Hunter. He pushed her paddle toward the stern and retrieved his longer one. “It’s your turn to steer.”

She sputtered and fumed, but, in the end, she had no choice without a crane to lift him from his seat. With bad grace, she plied the paddle to steer them downstream.

“You know what to do.” He mentally crossed his fingers as he moved a duffel bag to rebalance the canoe.

“Hey, Annie,” Frank called. “Want me to show you the J-stroke?”

“Thanks,” she said. “I watched you earlier. You can coach me if I mess up.”

Sam settled his Sox cap once again. “The kid’s doing all right.”

“
He
is, yes,” was her terse reply.

Sam grinned. She might snap at him, but she was unfailingly patient with the kid.

In the third canoe, Carl and Ray had switched positions, with Ray now taking the steering seat. With his rubicund features twisted into a glower, Carl looked like he thought Sam had placed the rapids there to aggravate him personally.

Sam eyed the waterline of the men’s canoe. “Yo, Carl, you two might want to redistribute the cargo. You’ve changed the balance. You could tip or have trouble steering.”

A few minutes later all three were paddling downstream toward the last set of rapids. “Here we go. I hear the white water ahead.”

“You order this up just for me, Sam?”

“I live to torment you, princess.” He could think of other, more pleasurable ways to torment her. The water should have cooled him better than this.

He and Annie led the way to the bubbling, churning shallows. “There it is. Dead ahead.”

“I wish you wouldn’t use that term,
dead
.” Every word sounded as if it was forced from between her teeth.

“You’re steering us right for the vee. Here we go!” He dug his paddle in and powered them to it.

Right through the middle.

“Like a champ,” he yelled as they coasted to a sand bar. “Better to wait there for the others. Make sure everyone comes through.”

“Sam, we did it. We did it!” Annie whooped. She lifted her paddle in triumph.

“No, sweetheart,
you
did it.” Sam turned the canoe around to face upstream. It wouldn’t hurt to monitor the other canoes’ progress through the rapids. This set of rapids was shallower, with more rocks scattered below the surface.

Having taken longer to start up, the others were strung out farther upstream.

Annie’s curves were outlined by her swimsuit and wet shirt. Her pink cap dripped like her hair, and she glowed with pride in her success. She looked so soft and touchable his whole lower body clenched. “Remind me later to give you that signing bonus.”

Her shoulders sagged. “No, Sam, no more kisses.”

“No harm no foul. What’s wrong with a little fooling around? We’re adults, unattached. At least,
I
am.” He raised an eyebrow in question.

“There’s no one. But I’m not in the market for a vacation fling. Especially not with a major jock.”

“What’ve you got against jocks? Some jerk broke your heart? Is that why you left New York?” From her widened eyes, he saw he’d hit the mark.

“I was engaged. All right? And yes, he broke my heart. I don’t mean to lump all professional athletes together, but I’m not ready to trust any man, and certainly not an arrogant, macho jock.” She gave him a small smile that didn’t take the edge off her words.

“Some damn Yankee hurt you, so you avoid relationships altogether. Closing yourself off won’t make you safe, won’t make you happy either.”

“I didn’t say forever. But it’s how I feel now.” She removed her hat and wrung it out. Pulling her otter-sleek hair back, she twisted it into a stretchy pink thing. “This whole nature thing is tough for me. I have to focus on that and on my notes on the Hunter. Maybe I can figure him out. For Emma’s sake. I need no distractions.”

“At least, I’m a distraction.” That story had her so boxed in she couldn’t see anything else. He’d been like that after his hand accident. “Tell me more about your friend.”

“It’s a long story.”

“We have time. No sign of our compadres yet.”

She stared at a swirl of water, then smoothed the cap brim to hide her eyes. “Emma made top grades at Colby, but studying wasn’t her life. She was outgoing, gregarious, and ready for any adventure. Sky diving, kayaking, rock climbing—if it was an outdoor sport, she was up for it. I didn’t participate, but she loved to tell me about her escapades. When I moved back to Maine, she and her mom helped me deal with the... transition.”

“Transition from New York? From the damn Yankee?”

She nodded. “Emma gave me a shoulder to cry on. She listened without complaint when I yelled and screeched about him. Then she’d make me laugh and order me to get back into life. I miss her terribly.” She dabbed her eyes with a corner of her shirt.

Sam tried to imagine his reaction if that monster had gutted someone he knew and cared about, someone in his family. Anger. Fear. Helplessness. At least, a reporter could do something like investigate and prod the cops.

Wishing he could gather her into his arms, he waited while she collected herself.

“The police found her body in April,” she continued. “I guess I already told you that.”

He considered the date. “Early spring. That was before anyone knew about the Hunter.”

“The state cops suspected, Justin included, but by withholding information from the public, they were keeping their conclusions from the killer. And they didn’t want the public to panic.”

“How did you figure it out?”

“I did what reporters do.” She managed a weak smile. “Since it looked like the same person had killed Emma and the other woman, I wondered if there were more. Some checking of police records uncovered two more unsolved murders. Two young women whose nude bodies had been found in the woods—one in Grafton Notch State Park and the other just across the state line in the White Mountains.”

“So when you broke the story, you named him the Hunter.”

“I thought the cops were wrong to keep the danger a secret. If women knew, they could protect themselves better.”

“Then you set out to find Emma’s killer.”