The Coyote's Cry (9 page)

Her whisper was the most sensual sound Bram had ever heard, and he couldn't stop himself from tiptoeing over to her bed and kneeling beside it to answer.

Much to Jenna's surprise, he put his mouth very close to her ear and whispered, “I don't want to wake Gran. I stopped at the sheriff's station and…and there was some work I had to do.” The scent of her hair and the warmth he felt emanating from her brought his blood to life so fast he actually got dizzy. “Jenna,” he whispered brokenly. “Oh, Jenna, if you only knew.” He slid his hand under the blankets to touch her, and she took his head between
her
hands and looked deeply into his eyes.

“If I only knew what, Bram?” His hand was caressing her body under the blankets, first just her waist, and then her breasts. She suddenly couldn't breathe very well. “You're only going to regret this later,” she whispered. But when he managed to reach under her pajama top and stroke her nipples, she attempted no more sensible words of caution. Instead she closed her eyes and savored the
incredible sensations running rampant through her body. Her fingers twined in his hair and she brought his head down so their lips would meet, and then, when they did, and he was kissing her as though he might never stop, she knew she was his forever, to do with whatever he wanted. She could never deny him anything, especially this.

He finally broke the kiss long enough for her to whisper raggedly, “We can't do this in here. Let's go to your room.”

He nodded in agreement, but couldn't stop touching her long enough to make the move. And he slid his hand under the waistband of her pajama bottom and found what he needed to touch so badly he hurt.

“Bram…not in…here,” she gasped as quietly as she could, but she spread her legs farther apart for him.

He kissed her lips again while his fingers circled and tantalized her most sensitive spot. She felt the needful pleasure building in the pit of her stomach and knew if he didn't stop she would finish without him. She worked her hand down between Bram and the edge of the bed and began stroking the bulge in his jeans.

“That's what I want,” she said thickly. “Inside me, Bram. Filling me.”

Her boldness thrilled him so much he wanted to shout, and knew he didn't dare. “Come on,” he whispered feverishly, and got to his feet.

Together they stole from the master bedroom, and once away from the door they raced through the house to Bram's room. He switched on the light and shut the door.

“I want the light on. I have to see you,” he said.

She answered by kicking off the bottoms of her pajamas and unbuttoning the top. He was undressing so fast it was almost funny, but she wasn't in a laughing mood. Her mood, in fact, was one she'd never quite experienced before. Not in the same way she was feeling it now. Her
desire was so powerful it was overwhelming. She threw back the covers on his bed, lay down and reached for him.

“You are the most beautiful woman alive,” he said hoarsely. He was down to his jeans, and practically tore them off, along with his underwear. Naked then, he fell upon her and kissed her with such hunger they both lost the last shreds of control either might have been trying to maintain.

“I should use protection,” Bram groaned.

Somewhere in the far recesses of her mind Jenna wondered why he hadn't stopped for protection the first time they had made love. But she knew, even though it was a thought blurred by intense sexual desire, that they should do so now.

“Yes,” she managed to whisper. “Do you have it?”

“Yes. Don't move.” Bram reached into the small drawer of the nightstand and fumbled around. “I'm sure I put them in here when I changed bedrooms.”

“Hurry,” Jenna said breathlessly.

“Jenna, they're not in here.” Groaning again, he buried his face in the pillow next to her head. He was so hard he was in agony, and Jenna wanted it all, same as he did. But the condoms he'd thought he had put in that drawer weren't in it, so obviously he'd put them somewhere else. But where? There was no way he could get up and start searching the bedroom for them.

Jenna moved her hips under him, creating a friction that brought each of them to the brink. Bram knew then that Jenna wasn't going to let him stop, nor could he, even though he should. His goose was cooked for sure when she whispered, sounding sexually frenzied, “Now, Bram, now!”

He did it—pushed into her—and they both forgot all about being sensible and using protection. His movements in and out of her hot, velvety depths were blowing his
mind. He could think of nothing but her and how perfect they were together. Maintaining his rhythmic thrusts, he kissed her mouth and deemed it perfect. He lowered his head to kiss and suckle her breasts and deemed them perfect. He felt her fingernails lightly scoring his back, and the rise and fall of her hips moving in tandem with his own, and deemed her responsiveness perfect. She was perfection itself, every part of her—everything she did and said, her physical beauty and her tender care of the sick—and he would worship her till the day he died.

The realization wasn't new, it just wasn't permitted to surface very often. Making love to her with so much heat and passion between them removed all the self-protective measures he'd devised since he'd first seen her—the most incredibly beautiful, desirable woman in all of Oklahoma—and known at once that he could never make her his. He'd done his best to avoid her, and fate or some damn thing had intervened. How could he ignore her when she was everywhere he looked, in his own home yet? He was, after all, a mere mortal, strong in some ways, weak in others. Where Jenna was concerned he couldn't be weaker.

“Jenna,” he mumbled. “Jenna…Jenna.”

She wrapped her legs around his hips and drew him deeper inside of her. “Tell me what you're feeling,” she whispered, longing to know what he was so efficient at concealing. Did anyone really know Bram? Even any of the Coltons? He bore much of the same dignity as George WhiteBear, but his handsome face and strong, muscular body were all his own. Dazed from all they were doing, all they were sharing, she could easily say right now, “I love you…I've
always
loved you.”

But even without clarity of mind, she knew that saying something like that out loud would scare Bram to death,
and that the best way to lose him forever was to even mention words like
love
and
commitment.

But she knew now that she could have him in bed. She could have his physical side, and maybe, given the strength of her feelings for him, sex would be enough. But it was painfully hard not to say what was in her heart and causing her body to tremble from head to foot. For her, making love with Bram wasn't just for sexual pleasure, and she knew it never would be.

“Tell me,” she whispered again.

“You know what I'm feeling. Aren't you filled with the same excitement?”

“Excitement,” she echoed, with a disappointed tear in her eye. If he had even hinted at having special feelings for her, she might have blurted her own. But he couldn't, and she couldn't, and almost roughly, in a mild form of vengeance, she yanked his head down and devoured his mouth with hers, wondering if a woman had ever
made
a man fall in love with her through sex alone.

That wild, ravenous kiss was the finish line for Bram. Riding her harder, faster, he brought them both to a mind-boggling completion that left them breathless and gasping. They lay entwined for a long time, and finally their heartbeats slowed to normal.

Drained and exhausted, Bram could hardly lift his head to look at her. “You're fantastic,” he said softly.

“Not without you I'm not.”

Bram probed the dark depths of her eyes and became concerned at what he thought he saw in them. She couldn't fall for him, she just couldn't! Granted, the sex was great between them, but it was all they could ever have.

“You know how things are, same as I do, Jenna. Let's not talk about it,” he said almost gruffly, and rolled off her.

Jenna's first reaction was fury, but what good would
fighting with him do? Arguing about his blood versus hers was never going to change his attitude. Maybe loving him as much as she could without actually saying it was much smarter.

She moved over until she was nestled against him, and then she laid her head on his chest. It took Bram by surprise, but he couldn't push her away, and his arm rose to encircle her. When he felt tears on his chest, though, his heart began hammering.

“Don't cry, sweetheart,” he said softly.

She loved the endearment, but it only made her cry harder. “There's a lot to cry about,” she managed to say between sobs. “Bram, I tried to give you the impression that I sleep around, but I don't. And your Gran is fading away right before our eyes and everyone seems to just be taking it in stride. You're not, are you? Say you're not.”

She felt a tear that wasn't her own and knew it had come from Bram. “Love for one's family is the same in my world as it is in yours,” he said huskily. “No, I'm not taking Gran's ill health in stride.”

“And this…you and me? Are you taking us in stride?”

“I can't do anything else. Jenna, I can say one thing, and please believe it's heartfelt. You and I might never be able to build a bridge between your life and mine, but I can't deny my need of you.”

“It's all sexual for you then.”

“It's all it
can
be. Can you accept that, live with that? If you know right now that you can't, tell me and I swear I'll never touch you again.”

Jenna wept quietly, then whispered, “I can live with it.”

“Oh, my sweet, sweet Jenna.” Teary-eyed himself, Bram wrapped both arms around her and held her close to his aching heart. “I don't want to hurt you. You have to believe that.”

“I do.” In her heart, Jenna was saying that “I do” to
a minister. In her heart she was committing herself to Bram forever. It would have to do for now, she thought sadly.

But somehow, some way, she was going to rid Bram of prejudice, for that was all it was. Prejudice as strong and indestructible as the garbage her dad clung to.

She felt Bram's hands glide down her back and cup her buttocks, and when he brought her closer still she felt his renewed arousal.

“I can't hold you like this and not want you,” he said.

“I'm glad.”

“Are you, Jenna? Are you really glad?”

“Kiss me and let me prove it.” Her hands crept up his chest to lock behind his head.

“How about my kissing you like this?” He started dropping kisses on every part of her he could reach, and soon the blankets were bunched at the foot of the bed and he was kissing her breasts, her abdomen and then the inside of each thigh.

“Got enough strength left for one more?” He shifted back on top of her and brushed his mouth gently over hers.

“Anything for you,” she whispered weakly.

He entered her and moved slowly and gently, and she was astonished when she felt heat and thrills coalescing in the pit of her stomach again. Never had she reacted to a man like this before, and her love for Bram became so huge in her chest that she thought she might burst.

They reached fulfillment together, and almost too exhausted to keep on breathing, Bram rolled to her side and immediately fell into a comalike sleep.

Utterly amazed at her intense response to Bram's intimate attentions, Jenna lay still until her heart stopped pounding. Then she propped herself up on her elbow and looked at him. He was sleeping so soundly he appeared to be unconscious. She touched his face with her fingertips
and whispered, “I love you more than I can say. Please love me back.”

She wanted to snuggle down and sleep with him for the remainder of the night but she knew she couldn't. Getting up quietly so she wouldn't disturb him, although she doubted a tornado ripping off the roof would do so, she pulled on her pajamas and tiptoed from the room.

She went to the master bedroom, peered at Gloria to make sure she was sleeping normally, then went to her little bed and lay down.

She fell asleep with a soft smile on her face. She was in love, and nothing and no one, not even Bram himself, could change her feelings.

D
espite getting very little sleep, Bram woke up at his usual early hour. For the first time since Gran had begun occupying his master bedroom, Bram didn't go into that room first thing after getting dressed. The omission was deliberate. He simply did not want a confrontation, friendly, sensual or otherwise, with Jenna this morning. In fact, he was going to do his best to avoid even thinking about her.

Before leaving for work he checked on his horses and then filled Nellie's food and water bowls in the small barn. All the while he rued the fact that he hadn't allotted even a minute's time to the breaking and training of his young horses for weeks, and with all that was going on in his world he wasn't apt to have any free time in the near future.

Bram wore a grim expression while tending to chores. He hated what was happening in his town—robbery, arson
and now murder. What's more, he didn't much care for what was happening in his own home. Last night he had sensed that more than sex was happening in his bed; Jenna was burrowing into his very soul. And considering the things she'd said to him, even though he knew she hadn't confided
everything
in her heart, she was becoming much too attached to him.

It was his fault, all of it. He never should have touched Jenna, never kissed her, caressed her, buried his face in her glorious golden hair to breathe in its magical scent. Never taken her to bed. He would pay for his loss of control, make no mistake. He didn't know exactly what form punishment would arrive in, but it would come, and it wouldn't be pleasant.

Hell, he thought as he tossed a half bale of hay over the pasture fence, he was already paying through memory alone.
Avoid thinking about Jenna? So much for good intentions,
he thought in wry self-denouncement. He might as well face the truth: he would
never
be able to avoid thinking about her. What's more, anytime he dared to feel happy or lighthearted about something long into the future, an image of any segment of last night with Jenna would be enough to destroy his good mood.

Finished with chores, and with his mind stuck on Jenna and the incredible highs of last night, Bram absently put his hand in the pocket of his jeans and took out the coyote medallion. He'd had it checked for fingerprints at the station yesterday. All that had been found on it was dirt, without so much as a minute smudge proving contact with a human hand. Frowning, Bram had studied the coinlike object, pondering its reason for existence. Some person or company had forged it, but for what cause? Bram felt certain that it wasn't made of a precious metal, certainly none that he recognized at any rate.

Officially established as worthless as far as evidence
went, Bram had cleaned off the dirt and closely studied the medallion with its raised configuration of the head of a coyote. It wasn't thin and weightless, rather it felt substantial in his hand, and without its former layer of grime, it gleamed bright as polished pewter. For some deeply rooted reason Bram didn't quite comprehend, he had put it in his pocket instead of the trash.

Now, turning it over and over in his fingers, vaguely aware of its smooth surface and weight, he questioned his ability to do anything right anymore. In retrospect, life had been pretty darn sweet not too long ago. He'd had this ranch, which couldn't be a finer home, in his estimation. He'd had a job that he was good at, and a clear conscience. Now he had criminals running all over town, a sick grandmother, no time to give to the ranch
or
his livestock. And the only woman who had ever gotten under his skin was actually living in his house.

Not that he blamed Gran for anything; people didn't become ill because they wanted to. But the hospital was full of nurses. How come Jenna had been the one chosen to take care of his grandmother?

“Aw, hell,” Bram muttered, and dropped the medallion in his front shirt pocket. He felt tired and stretched too thin. If things were normal, he would hang around the ranch for a few hours and work with the horses, which had always perked him up. But that was before Jenna, and hanging around now would just dig him into an even deeper pit.

Bram finally got in his rig and drove from his ranch to town. His jaw was granite hard and determined. He might not be able to do much of anything about Jenna right now, but he could work like crazy and clean up Black Arrow.

Seated at his desk an hour later, Bram began going through the papers and reports filling his “in” basket. He made quick work of everything until he came to a hand
written memo from one of his older deputies. It read: “Bram. Sheila at the Crossroads Café told me about a guy asking questions about the Colton family. Thought you should know. She described him as tall and well dressed, with dark hair and blue eyes. Around thirty years old. She added that he was a ‘classy guy'—her exact terminology, if that means anything. Maybe you should talk to her yourself. Fred.”

Since Bram hadn't yet had breakfast, he decided to eat it at the Crossroads Café and told the duty officer where he would be for the next hour or so. Then he drove to the café and went inside. He waited a moment before choosing a booth to make sure he sat in Sheila's station.

She walked up with a big smile. “Morning, Sheriff. What can I get you?”

“Coffee, scrambled eggs well done and whole-wheat toast.” Bram looked up at Sheila. “And when you have a minute, I'd like to talk to you about the ‘classy guy' asking questions about the Coltons.”

“Sure thing. I'll get your coffee.” Sheila whisked away and was back with a large mug of coffee in seconds. “Your breakfast will be ready in about five minutes.”

“Thanks, Sheila.” Bram sipped coffee and stared out the window on his right. The café was busy and numerous cars were parked outside. He thought of staking out the place, putting a deputy in regular clothes and having him watch for that “classy” guy. With so much traffic in and out of the café, a stakeout was feasible.

Sheila delivered his breakfast, refilled his coffee mug, then sat across from Bram in the booth, with a mug of coffee for herself. “I have a ten-minute break. This place has been crazy all morning.” She took a sip of coffee. “I told Fred all about the guy, Bram, but I don't mind repeating the story to you. Anything in particular you'd like to ask?”

Bram had started eating and he lowered his fork. “Does he come here regularly?”

“You mean like some of these guys who are in and out of here almost every day? No, I only saw him that one time. I just thought his questions were odd, which was the reason I told Fred about him.”

“Well, I appreciate your concern. Sheila, do you remember the gist of his questions, what exactly he was trying to find out?”

“Well, let me see. He sat at the counter, which I was working that day, and only ordered coffee. He was real friendly and made a remark every time I walked past him. Finally I had a slow minute and so I talked to him. I said something about his being a stranger to Black Arrow, or at least I hadn't seen him before, and he said yes, he was a stranger to the area, but it sure was a nice little town. We chatted about that for a bit, then he asked if I knew any of the Coltons. I said, ‘Heavens, yes, the county's full of Coltons,' or something like that. Just a wisecrack, you know. He's a good-looking guy and, well, I'm not exactly tied down, if you know what I mean.”

Bram smiled. “Go on. What else did he say?”

“He asked for some names. No, wait, first he asked if I knew Gloria Jones. I said, ‘Who in the heck is Gloria Jones?' and he said, ‘Apparently you don't know her by that name. How about Gloria WhiteBear, or Gloria Colton?' Well, of course I said yes, and I was about to tell him she wasn't well and was staying at your ranch, when he asked if I knew Thomas. I couldn't say yes. Although I certainly know who Thomas Colton is, I've never met him.”

“Did he say why he was grilling you?”

Sheila looked surprised. “Was that what he was doing?”

“What would you call it?”

“I…don't know. Should I be worried? I mean, he seemed really nice, but so do some serial killers, I've heard.”

Bram rushed to reassure her. “I don't think the guy was asking about Coltons just to put you off guard, Sheila. And you're not the only person he's talked to about my family.”

“I'm not? Well, that might not be good news for you, but I'm relieved. Gosh, you just never know who might come walking in when you're working in a public place. Guess I shouldn't be quite so friendly to people I don't know.”

“Don't be
un
friendly, Sheila. Your personality is what earns you the good tips.”

“Yeah, right, like I'm rolling in big tips.” Sheila got up. “If I think of anything else he said, I'll let you know.”

“Thanks, Sheila. Oh, one other thing. Did you happen to see what he was driving?”

Her eyes widened. “Yes! Bram, he got into a gorgeous pale gray Lincoln. I remember thinking that not only was he good-looking and charming, he must have money.” She grinned rather feebly. “A girl alone thinks that way a lot of the time.”

“Don't apologize for being yourself, Sheila, and thanks for the information.”

Sheila went back to work, and Bram finished his breakfast. He had a solid lead on one of the strangers nosing around town about the Colton family, and he felt considerably better when he left the café than when he'd gone into it.

Before returning to the sheriff's station, he drove past several of the motels. The driver of that Lincoln had to be staying somewhere, and his car would be easy to spot in any parking lot in Black Arrow.

But Bram had other things to do, and after an hour or
so he put his search on hold for the time being and went back to his desk and the much more serious crime of homicide awaiting his attention.

 

Jenna smiled a lot that morning while caring for her patient, even though she wasn't altogether floating on air from overwhelming happiness. But even with a noticeable helping of fear tainting the joy that seemed to have taken up residence in the vicinity of her heart, Jenna couldn't help smiling. Yes, she was torn. One second she was positive Bram loved her, and the next she was wracked with confusion and indecisiveness. But weren't actions stronger than words? And hadn't he proved his feelings for her with his passion last night?

Right after lunch, Willow arrived. As always, she brought something good to eat with her, and today it was a homemade chocolate cake with fudge frosting for Jenna and Bram, and tapioca pudding for Gran.

“She always loved tapioca pudding, Jenna. Do you think she can eat it without too much trouble?”

“I'm sure she can…if she wants it,” Jenna replied quietly.

“She—she's still not showing signs of improvement then?” Willow looked downcast.

“I'm so sorry, Willow.” Jenna wondered if Jared or Bram or someone else in the family had told Willow about her great-grandfather's prediction, but decided not to mention it unless she did. Jenna's heart went out to her childhood friend, and she said in as cheerful a voice as she could manage, “I'd love to try that cake. How about some tea? I'll make it while you see your grandma.”

“Yes, thanks.”

“But don't hurry, Willow. We can drink tea together anytime. Spend as much time with Gloria as you'd like.”

“I will.”

In the kitchen Jenna wiped away a tear and put the teakettle on the stove. She had always liked Willow so much, and she knew how her friend had to be suffering over this terrible blow to the Colton family. It was much too reminiscent of those awful months prior to Jenna's mother's death, unquestionably the worst period of Jenna's life.

And yet something good had come from that heartbreaking tragedy—her decision to become a nurse. She loved her profession and was extremely relieved that she hadn't pursued the art history career that had once seemed perfect for her. Jenna sighed. If only her dad would realize how much caring for people who so desperately needed professional nursing meant to her.

But he never would, she thought sadly. Nor would he ever give an inch on his biased attitude toward Native Americans. Why he believed he was so much better than people who weren't a hundred percent white truly eluded Jenna. It was so unreasonable, especially when she thought of the fortune he had made—and was
still
making—from the very people to whom he felt so superior.

The teakettle whistled and Jenna prepared a pot of tea. She wouldn't cut the cake now, but a cup of tea wouldn't hurt. She sat at the table and sipped hot tea, and immediately became dreamily immersed in memories of last night with Bram. Gazing into space, she wondered exactly when she had fallen in love with him. She had been profoundly attracted to him since her teen years—she knew that—but physical attraction wasn't necessarily love.

“Oh, well,” she said under her breath.

Willow walked in and Jenna jumped to her feet. “I'll get you a cup of tea,” she said. “Go ahead and sit down.”

“Thanks,” Willow said wearily, and gladly took a chair at the table. “She doesn't even seem to care anymore that I come to see her. Why has she given up? And what's maybe more frightening, why did she give up so quickly?
Jenna, Gran was always a fighter, stronger than all the rest of us put together.”

“It's possible that's the very reason she can't accept being an invalid,” Jenna said gently. “I've explained to her at least a dozen times that she could regain strength and mobility and even her ability to speak legibly if she would just cooperate and try. She doesn't want to hear it.” Jenna set a cup of tea on the table in front of Willow. “Be careful. It's very hot.”

“Thank you.” Listlessly, Willow picked up the cup and took a sip.

Jenna resumed her chair and picked up her own cup. “You're looking a little peaked yourself, Willow. Haven't you been feeling well?”