Tennessee Takedown (12 page)

He kissed her there once, twice, before pulling away. The bed creaked and bounced as he leaned over and reached for something.

“What are you doing,” she whispered. “Come back to me. I want—”

“Not half as much as I want, believe me. But I have to protect you.”

She lifted her head and saw he’d grabbed his wallet. The moonlight glinted off the foil packet in his hand and she dropped her head back on the pillow. Thank goodness one of them had stopped to think about protection. She’d been far too gone to care.

Before her heart had even slowed from her climax he was back, his sweat-slicked skin sliding against hers as he trapped her mouth again for another earth-shattering, wet kiss. The length of him rubbed against her thigh and she whimpered against him. She sucked his tongue and he groaned.

He reached down between them and positioned himself at her entrance, and then he pushed himself into her, slowly, stretching her, filling her, until she whimpered against him and drew her knees up, desperate to pull him all the way inside.

He withdrew again, then pushed deeper, withdrew, then deeper still, his every movement so exquisite, so delicious it was the sweetest form of torture.

“What are you doing to me, Dillon,” she gasped.

“I think...it’s...the other way...around,” he rasped, his breath coming in choppy pants as he thrust into her over and over. “You make me...burn.”

He buried his face in her hair and his mouth did sinful things to the side of her neck. Impossibly, he brought her even higher and higher, her every nerve ending centered on where they were joined.

The first fluttering of her climax began deep in her belly. She strained against him and he clamped his mouth down on hers, ravenous, devouring her whimpers as he pumped into her so deeply she cried out and exploded around him. He thrust again, once, twice, his entire body stiffening against her as his own climax claimed him.

He collapsed on top of her, crushing her into the mattress. But she didn’t mind. They could have lain there forever with their limbs entwined and she wouldn’t have ever wanted to move—except that she couldn’t breathe.

“Dillon, I can’t catch my breath.”

“Me, either. You wore me out.”

“Dillon!”

He laughed and pushed himself up on his forearms. He gave her a sleepy kiss, then flopped onto his back. “That was...”

“Incredible?”

“Amazing. Hot. Mind-blowing.”

“Mind-blowing? Really?”

“Really,” he mumbled, sounding as if he were drugged. “Now scoot over here and let’s get some sleep.”

She snuggled up against him, feeling content, secure. “I can honestly say you’re the best thing that’s happened to me since I came to Destiny.”

He chuckled and rubbed his hand up and down her bare back. “Considering everything that’s happened to you so far, I’m not sure that’s a compliment.”

“Oh, it is. Before you, I could count on one hand the things I liked about small towns. I grew up in one. Without much to do except explore caves in the woods or make mazes in cornfields. I detest everything about them.” She shivered dramatically. “Everything except you, of course. When I go back to Nashville you’re the one memory I’ll treasure from my time here.”

His hand stilled on her back. “What exactly do you detest about small towns?”

She drew small circles in the light matting of hair on his chest. “The way everyone knows your business. I couldn’t stand the lack of privacy, and the way gossip spreads so fast. In the city, I can do whatever I want and no one cares.”

“Sounds like a lonely way to live.”

“I have friends. They just don’t butt into my personal business, or tell my parents every time I sneeze.” She yawned and closed her eyes, drifting off to sleep with a smile on her face.

* * *

D
ILLON
LAY
AWAKE
long after Ashley’s deep breathing turned into soft snores. For a few minutes after loving her, he’d held an idyllic picture in his head, of Ashley staying in Destiny with him and exploring the attraction between them long after this case was resolved.

For a moment he’d forgotten how fragile life was, and how long it had taken him to climb out of the dark pit he’d fallen into after his sister died. He’d barely survived her loss, and knew that it would be agony experiencing that type of loss again when his parents eventually died, or his friends. There was nothing he could do to protect himself against that kind of hurt from the people he already knew, but he’d vowed not to let anyone else close enough to him to make him even more vulnerable.

Until he’d met Ashley, he’d kept his romantic relationships casual, without any promises or hope for something deep and lasting. He preferred it that way. But then he’d held Ashley in his arms and experienced a soul-shattering closeness he’d never felt with any other lover. And suddenly he was thinking about the long-term possibilities of a life he’d never dreamed he’d want.

But that brief glimpse of forever was now a bitter taste in his mouth. He and Ashley didn’t want the same things in life. That was clear. He treasured living in a small town, and she despised that type of life. What she thought of as lack of privacy, he thought of as caring and concern. Everyone in Destiny was family to him, and he couldn’t imagine any other kind of life.

He sighed and feathered his hands across her satiny-smooth skin, imprinting the way she felt against him in his memory, because he knew he’d never hold her like this again.

Chapter Twelve

After using the walkie-talkie to talk to Chris early the next morning to update him on their theory about Lauren Wilkes, Dillon led Ashley out on horseback before the sun came up. He told her it was because he didn’t want to stay in one place too long, in case Iceman was actively looking for her. But really, he didn’t expect anyone to find them up in the foothills of the Smokies, not this far from the farm. On horseback he had an excuse not to talk to her. Because really, what else was there to say?

His plan was to head southeast toward Walland because there was plenty of tree cover that way and when that thinned out, more cornfields to hide in. Once they put enough distance between them and Destiny, he’d call in a favor and have another friend put them up somewhere. Hopefully by then Chris would have convinced Special Agent Kent that Ashley wasn’t guilty, and he would have found the evidence to corroborate their theory. Even better, if they caught Iceman by then, Ashley would be safe and could do what she wanted most.

To go home, leaving Destiny, and Dillon, far behind.

He turned in the saddle to check on her. But as expected she was hot on his tail, easily keeping up. She was an expert horsewoman. Too bad she’d decided to give up that part of her life. He couldn’t imagine a life without horses in it. Riding was relaxing, a way to get away from anything bothering him. And sometimes, if he rode long enough and hard enough, he could almost escape the past.

The sound of hooves clattering against stones echoed up ahead. Dillon swore and clawed for his gun, but he was too late. The silhouette of a man sitting on a horse, aiming a rifle directly at him, sat squarely in their way, fifty yards ahead.

Dillon hauled back on the reins and turned his stallion sideways to block Ashley. Her mare hop-skipped to a stop right behind him.

“Hands up where I can see them,” the man up ahead called out, his face still in shadow with the sun behind him.

“What do we do now?” Ashley whispered, holding her hands up.

“I’ll let you know once I figure that out.” He swore again and held his hands up in the air.

“Toss the gun,” the man yelled.

Dillon hesitated.

The man in shadows jerked his gun up toward the sky and the bark of the rifle filled the air.

Dillon’s stallion reared up and snorted, violently tossing his head, trying to get the bit between his teeth, fighting the reins. Dillon spoke to the horse in low tones to settle him down, and glanced back at Ashley. Her mare’s eyes rolled white with fear but Ashley was keeping her under control.

“Toss the gun,” the man repeated.

This time Dillon didn’t hesitate. He removed the clip from his pistol and ejected the loaded round before tossing it into the bushes so it wouldn’t accidentally fire when he threw it down.

“All right. The gun is gone. What do you want, Kennedy?”

“I’m not Kennedy.”

The man urged his horse forward and tilted the rifle so it was pointing up at the sky. As his face passed from shadow to light, Dillon let loose a string of curses his mother would have tanned his hide over. Ashley’s reaction was a bit less dramatic, but her gasp of surprise was loud enough for him to hear it. But when another figure rode out of the shadows, Dillon cursed even harder.

“
Et tu, Brute?
Did he happen to give you thirty pieces of silver, too?”

“I think you’re mixing metaphors,” Ashley whispered.

Dillon half turned in his saddle and gave her an incredulous look.

She shrugged. “Just saying.”

He turned back around as Griffin and Special Agent Kent stopped a few feet away.

Griffin reddened. “Sorry, boss. He threatened to arrest me if I didn’t help him track you up into the mountains.”

Dillon sighed heavily. “It’s okay. Forget it. Kent, what kind of dangerous game are you playing? Firing a gun around horses is asking for trouble.”

“No game. I wanted to make sure I wouldn’t get shot. That’s what fugitives do when they’re trapped. They shoot people.”

Ashley urged her mare up beside Boomerang. “We’re not fugitives,” she said. “Dillon’s on vacation and I’m a protected witness.”

Dillon grinned. “Yeah. What she said.”

“Now who’s playing games?” Kent demanded. “That stunt you pulled back at the station only managed to put Miss Parrish in more danger. Kennedy is still out there somewhere and he’s not the type to stop until he gets what he wants. You two need to come back with me right now so we can sort all this out.”

“Why, so you can arrest me? Put me in jail for something I didn’t do?” Ashley demanded.

“If putting you in jail will keep you safe, then yes. That’s exactly what I’ll do.”

“Ashley isn’t guilty,” Dillon insisted. “Someone stole her identity, and we believe we know who that might be.”

“Let me guess. Lauren Wilkes?”

“You knew?” Dillon demanded. “The whole time?”

“No. I suspected. But my suspicions were confirmed only a couple of hours ago. I’ve got an entire team looking into this case back in Knoxville and they haven’t let up since day one. When they got a lead late yesterday that Wilkes might be involved, they stayed on it until they got proof. They called me and I knew I needed to find you, fast, and get Miss Parrish in protective custody.”

“What kind of proof are you talking about?” Ashley asked, her voice shaky.

Dillon held his left hand out and she immediately entwined her fingers with his. Kent’s gaze followed that action, his brows rising, but Dillon didn’t care. Ashley had been through hell these past few days, and finding out her childhood friend had betrayed her so horribly had to be tearing her apart. If holding her hand helped her, so be it.

Griffin sat on his horse slightly back from Kent, his eyes wide with confusion.

“Griffin, go back to the farm,” Dillon urged him. “Everything is okay. I’ll call you later, all right?”

His face relaxed in relief. “Okay, Boss.” A swift kick on the side of his horse and he was trotting back toward the farm.

“What kind of proof do you have against Lauren?” Ashley repeated, her voice impatient this time.

“We followed the money—some of it, anyway. We have bank security camera footage proving she used the Ashley Parrish identity to withdraw a large amount of money. Unfortunately, most of the money is still unaccounted for. We’d very much like to talk to Miss Wilkes, but she’s disappeared.”

“She went on a cruise to Jamaica.”

Dillon squeezed her hand. “Honey, I think we both know she didn’t. She’s been lying to you for a long time.”

Ashley’s face fell and she looked away.

“So what’s it going to take?” Kent asked. “Are you two coming back with me of your own free will, John Wayne and Daisy Duke? Or do I have to get a posse together?”

Dillon laughed. “You heard about that, huh?”

“Billy the Kid isn’t very good at lying. He caved quicker than Griffin did.”

“You can’t find good help these days.”

Kent smiled. “Now that you sent my trail guide away, I’m a bit at your mercy. How do we get back to town?”

“Going back to Harmony Haven is the shortest way.”

“Lead on, then. I’ll follow—”

A loud bang echoed through the trees.

Kent flew off his horse as if a battering ram had hit him in the side.

Ashley screamed.

“Go, go, go!” Dillon yelled. He slapped the mare’s rump, sending her at a full gallop into the cover of trees. He kicked his stallion and galloped after her just as another rifle boom exploded through the hills.

* * *

“W
E
HAVE
TO
go back for him,” Ashley yelled as she tried to pull her mare’s reins out of Dillon’s grip.

“He’s dead. Stop fighting me. We have to get out of here.” He maneuvered his horse over a fallen log, wincing when his arm felt as though it was about to come out of its socket from pulling the mare’s reins behind him.

Ashley kicked her mare again, trying to pull the reins out of Dillon’s hand. “You don’t know that he’s dead. We can’t just leave him there. Oh, my God. Oh, my God.”

Dillon jerked both horses to a stop. He’d finally realized there was no reasoning with Ashley right now. She was in hysterics. He couldn’t blame her. She was in denial over what they’d both seen, and he wished he could somehow block the memory out, too. But it would be a long time before he forgot the sight of what that gunshot had done. No one could survive a shot like that to the head. He didn’t need to turn around to confirm that.

His heart ached for the terror Ashley was feeling, but he couldn’t take the time to try to soothe her. Iceman, or whoever had fired those shots, could catch up to them any second. Dillon leaned over and swept Ashley off her horse and into his arms. He settled her on his lap, draping her thighs over his, and wrapped one arm around her waist. He dropped the mare’s reins, leaving her to find her own way back to the farm, and kicked the stallion into a fast canter through the woods.

* * *

I
T
HAD
BEEN
a couple of hours since Dillon had heard any sounds of pursuit, but it had also been hours since they’d seen any signs of civilization. His walkie-talkie was out of range to reach Chris, his phone had zero bars of service, and they were as deep into the mountains as he dared to go at this time of day. In a few more hours the sun would set, plunging even these foothills of the Smokies into much colder temperatures. With half their supplies gone with the mare, not to mention his gun, because Kent had made him toss it, they weren’t prepared for staying the night up here. He had to get them out of the mountains and get help.

He turned his horse as close to due east as he could judge by the position of the sun and kicked him into a trot. Ashley didn’t say anything. She hadn’t spoken since he’d yanked her onto the saddle with him.

“Ashley,” he whispered close to her ear, “I’m heading back toward town now. If I’ve got my bearings right, we’ll end up right at my parents’ farm. We can hunker down there and call for backup. We’re going to be okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

He waited, but when she didn’t say anything, he sighed and leaned back.

She mumbled something.

He leaned back down. “What did you say?”

“We’re going to your parents’ house?”

“Yes. They’re out of town, visiting—”

“Your brother. In Montana. I remember.”

When she didn’t say anything else, he straightened again. Relief swept through him that she was finally talking again, even if she wasn’t saying much.

* * *

A
SHLEY
BLINKED
AND
looked down at Dillon’s outstretched hands.

“Slide off the horse and I’ll catch you.”

Her mind was a fog and she felt as though she was waking from a horrible nightmare. Only she knew the nightmare was real. Special Agent Jason Kent had been murdered, brutally and horribly murdered, right in front of her. She shivered and looked around.

She was sitting on top of Dillon’s stallion and he was standing below her, urging her to dismount. She surveyed where they were. They’d made it out of the foothills and were at the edge of another endless field of dried-up stalks of corn, ready for harvest. In the distance, the only sign of life was someone slowly driving an enormous combine in the middle of the field, perhaps two hundred yards away.

“Ashley, hurry. If Iceman’s still on our trail, we’re totally exposed now. We need to get out of his line of sight.”

She mentally chastised herself for hesitating and putting him in danger. She immediately swung her leg over the back of the stallion. Dillon’s hands came up around her waist and gently lowered her to her feet.

“I’m sorry. I know I totally checked out back there. I’m okay now.”

He kissed her forehead. “Glad to have you back.” He moved past her and yanked the duffel bag down from the back of the saddle. Then he loosely secured the reins around the horn and slapped the stallion’s flank. The horse whinnied but didn’t need further encouragement. He took off in a gallop back toward the foothills.

“Why did you let him go?”

“We’re close to my parents’ house now, just a hundred yards or so, at the end of the cornfield. I’m counting on Boomerang’s training and homing instinct to get him back to Harmony Haven. That could buy us some time by creating another trail in the opposite direction from where we are.”

He took her hand in his and tugged her into the edge of the cornfield until the mountains fell away and all she could see was corn.

“I hope you’re right, and Iceman follows the other trail.”

“Me, too.”

In a few minutes they emerged from the cornfield and climbed through the rails of a weathered gray wooden fence. A small gray-and-white wooden house perched fifty yards away, with graceful oaks leaning over it. A faded porch swing hung from a chain out front. An old tire moved in the breeze at the end of a rope hanging from one of the oak trees. And nestled a hundred yards behind the house was a pond with a little fountain in the middle.

“Reminds me of
my
parents’ home, in Sweetwater. Minus the fountain,” she said as they hurried to the front porch and paused at the door.

“Good memories?”

She hesitated, then smiled. “Yes. Good memories.”

He ran his hand on top of the doorframe and pulled down a key and unlocked the door.

“I wouldn’t dare keep a key there in the city,” she said.

“I tell them all the time not to, but Dad’s always losing his keys and Mom got tired of always calling me to come let them in. Half the windows are probably unlocked, too.” He held the door open for her to enter the kitchen and locked the door behind them. “Call nine-one-one.” He pointed to the phone hanging on the kitchen wall. “Tell them what happened to Special Agent Kent, and tell them to get a unit out to my parents’ house. I’ll check all the locks and get my father’s gun.”

“Wait, what’s your parents’ address?”

He grinned. “You don’t need it. Everyone knows where they live.” He hurried through an archway into the adjacent family room.

Ashley made the call, her hands tightening around the phone as she watched him checking the sliding glass doors and windows in the next room before disappearing down a long, dark hallway.