Seeing their faces didn’t make Meg feel any safer. Still, she committed all to memory. Martin Bledsoe looked every bit the stereotypical G-man—clean-cut, medium-brown hair, medium build. Jedediah had a barrel chest, a square jaw, and small dark eyes. Caleb was balding, shorter, and with a hint of a beer belly. The passed the folder on. “So, what happens next?”

  Monica and Fetch shared a glance.

  Wolf stiffened.

  Meg glanced sideways at him.

  “Only way to get around the pesky rules,” Fetch said, “is to catch them when they’re up to no good.”

  “Which means set a trap,” Wolf bit out.

  “You’ll need bait,” Meg said softly.

  Wolf shot her a glare.

  She shrugged. “Makes sense.”

  “We’ll work out the details,” Monica said. “Whatever we put in place has to be kept among us.”

  “How long are we talking here?” Meg asked. “I’m on administrative leave, but at some point, the sheriff will want me back at work.” Hopefully, she thought, aware that her actions to investigate on her own had angered him.

  “I have your phones back at the office,” Fetch said. “If he tries to contact you, we’ll figure out how we’ll respond. For now, just continue to lay low.”

  * * *

  After Monica, Felicity, and Fetch left, Meg retrieved her weapon from Reaper then retreated to the living room and turned on the TV. She felt unsettled, itchy, and needed a distraction, but nothing on the screen held her attention.

  Frustrated, she turned off the TV and headed back to her bedroom to gather her laundry. Maybe a little housework would help. She needed to be active. How she wished she could go for a run but going anywhere out of doors would be unwise. She might be spotted. Already, all the blinds and curtains in the house were closed to prevent anyone seeing inside. She was as much of a prisoner as Tobin had been, albeit with comfortable surroundings and a better class of company.

  For the thousandth time, she wondered what had happened the night of the fire. She had no doubts he’d started it. Accelerant had been on his hands and clothing, but she was pretty sure he hadn’t been alone by the way he’d kept looking over his shoulder. Had those who’d been there to see the job done decided he needed to die? Had they shown their hands and spooked him into fleeing?

  Made sense. If his body had been found inside the burned warehouse, no one would have questioned the narrative of Tobin torching the place for no other purpose than to watch it burn, but then tragically being unable to escape.

  A warehouse empty of anything, except for charred old file cabinets, wouldn’t have raised an eyebrow.

  Tobin’s continued nervousness after his arrest had to have been concerning the leadership. What might he blurt to authorities? The guards had likely suggested he should run, offered him the opportunity, and then hunted him afterward, making sure to wrap up a loose end that could have unraveled and led to the congressman and the militia group.

  “You’re thinking too hard,” Wolf said behind her.

  Meg turned to find him leaning against the doorframe as she stood with her dirty clothes clutched against her chest.

  “I was thinking about Tobin.”

  His gaze fell away. “Yeah, I keep thinking about him, too. He was so scared his whole body shook.”

  “It’s not right what they did—getting him to fire up the warehouse, and then turning on him.”

  He nodded. “Makes sense. They’d want his body there, so they could pin it entirely on him.”

  “You came to that conclusion, too?”

  “Like I said, makes sense. Poor idiot thought his militia buddies were his friends. They took advantage of the fact he wasn’t that bright.”

  She patted her bundle. “I’m doing laundry. Want to throw yours in with mine?”

  He smiled. “Sure.” He stepped past her into the bathroom.

  Meg looked away from the bed as she headed down the stairs. Sure, she needed a distraction, but she did have a little pride left. She wanted to keep what they had private from now on. Although last night had been exactly what she’d needed.

  * * *

  After watching Meg start the laundry, he followed her back into the living room. “Want to watch a movie?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Not especially.”

  “Hmmm.” He walked to the bookcase then reached to the top into a selection of board games. “How about Battleship?” he said over his shoulder.

  “Ugh, too much strategy.”

  “Monopoly?”

  “Takes for-freaking-ever.”

  “Checkers?”

  When she didn’t answer, he glanced at the sectional and laughed. She sat with her arms crossed over her chest and her eyebrows lowered.

  He figured if she felt as hemmed-in as he did, she must be going stir-crazy. He narrowed his eyes as he considered other options to alleviate her boredom. “Want to run?”

  She rolled her eyes. “We can’t step outside this cabin.”

  “Doesn’t mean we can’t get our hearts going. Come on.”

  At his wave, she gave an exaggerated sigh and pushed up from her seat.

  He waited until she drew near then reached for her hand and led her to the stairs.

  “Look, I know we’d get a workout, but—”

  He tasked. “Deputy, you have a dirty mind.” Then he raced up the stairs, turned, and raced downward again.

  When he reached the bottom, she laughed. “Dammit, I hated running bleachers in high school. What makes you think—”

  “Just a few rounds. Enough to feel like we accomplished something. Come on.”

  When he turned to run up the steps again, she was right on his heels.

  * * *

  “Jesus Christ, what was all that noise?” Reaper said, as he strode into the house. “Sounded like a herd of stampeding elephants.”

  Winded, Meg bent to brace her hands on her knees and gave him a huge smile. “We…” she said, indicating between herself and Wolf, “were…working out.”

  Wolf wasn’t breathing nearly as hard. He stood on the first step, his shoulder against the wall. His smile was lazy as he glanced at Reaper. “The stairs,” he said pointing upward. “Twenty rounds.” His gaze went back to Meg. “You’re out of shape, Henry.”

  “Sure didn’t know it,” she said, still dragging in deep breaths. “But damn, that felt good.”

  Wolf grinned, happy her mood was lighter.

  Reaper grunted. “Glad someone’s having fun,” he grumbled. He moved along, heading toward the kitchen.

  Meg’s gaze followed the other bounty hunter as he moved away.

  “Admit it,” Wolf said. “That was fun.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I’ll admit that I’m not feeling nearly as grumpy.”

  He straightened from the wall and walked straight toward her.

  Her glance swung back toward the kitchen, where Reaper had disappeared, then she lifted her chin.

  He arched one eyebrow then bent toward her. The second his mouth touched hers, she slipped her arms around his neck and leaned into his body. When he broke the kiss, he settled his forehead against hers. “I’d rather be upstairs,” he whispered.

  She pulled her lower lip between her teeth then sighed. “I would love nothing better than to be there with you, but…”

  He gave her a hug, and then set her away from him. “Even though I know the guys would be gentlemen, I’d prefer more privacy, too.”

  She gave him a crooked smile. “Maybe later?”

  “I’ll take that raincheck.” He pulled her against his side then slipped his arm around her waist. It felt natural touching her, holding her. Like he had the right. “Shall we join Reaper?”

  She rubbed her belly. “I barely choked down that donut at breakfast. I’m hungry.”

  “I saw a rotisserie chicken in the fridge…”

  “Yum. I get the skin.”

  He chuckled and shook his head. “I have to work out to keep the calories off my belly.”

  She reached over and patted his stomach. “Now, why don’t I believe that? I have a wonderful metabolism. I eat pretty much what I want.”

  Inside the kitchen, the two went to work cutting slices off the chicken and cutting bakery bread into thick slices, which they slathered with mayonnaise.

  Reaper stood at the stove, heating yet another can of stew. When they raised their eyebrows, he frowned. “I like stew,” he growled. “Doesn’t mean I won’t chase it with a chicken sandwich—after.”

  Feeling lighthearted, Wolf took a seat beside Meg. “So, you from around here?”

  “Jesus, man,” Reaper said. “How many hours did you two spend in each other’s company yesterday?”

  Meg’s nose scrunched as she laughed. “We didn’t get into each other’s life stories, beyond comparing our military histories.”

  Reaper lifted his chin toward Wolf. “He’s a Marine, like me.”

  “Army,” Meg said, giving a nod.

  He made a face. “I’ll forgive you. Carly was Army, too—before she decided to be a writer. Though she doesn’t have a lot to time to write now that she’s hunting.”

  “Does that bother her?” Meg asked, tilting her head.

  Reaper grinned. “She gets to spend most of her time with me. What do you think?”

  Chapter 7

  That evening, Wolf talked Meg into watching a movie. He’d offered to watch a romcom with her, but she’d shuddered.

  He arched an eyebrow. “Don’t all women love them?”

  “You know what they say about people who ass-ume…” She lifted her chin. “My favorite movie’s Die Hard.”

  He grinned. “You serious? You like Bruce? My favorite’s Armageddon.”

  “Wow. We do have something else in common.”

  He laughed and settled on the seat beside her. “Something else?”

  Her cheeks flushed a deep rose. “Well, you know…we do pretty well…together.”

  Warmth filled him. Damn, he couldn’t wait for this to be over, so he could get serious about making this woman his. Placing his arm over her shoulder, he tugged her against his body and settled deeper into the plush seat. He raised the remote. “He’s got Netflix. What’s your pleasure, babe?”

  Midway through the latest Keanu Reeves thriller, Mace joined them. “Reaper’s making the rounds outside.”

  “Checking in with the guys from RIP?” Wolf asked.

  Mace grunted. “Doubt it. Damn ghosts keep moving positions. And they have cameras covering the road and the front and back of the cabin. They’ve got the perimeter covered.”

  “We’re more than willing to do our part…” Meg said.

  Mace shook his head. “You know your orders. You’re housebound for the duration.” His gaze went to the TV. “Cool. John Wick: Chapter Two. Loved the first one.” He glanced at Meg. “This guy making you watch this? Maybe you should reconsider your choice of boyfriend.”

  Wolf laughed. “This is her choice. My vote was for The Equalizer.

  “The decision was so hard—Denzel or Keanu?” She sighed. “Keanu’s had my heart since Speed. And hey, it’s kind of sexist of you to think I wouldn’t enjoy the genre.”

  Mace held up his hands. “I’m just jealous. Last girl I dated made me sit through that damn singing circus movie.”

  Meg pressed a hand over her heart. “Ah, Zac and Hugh…” Her teasing glance went to Wolf.

  He groaned and shot Mace a glare.

  They were all laughing when Reaper walked into the room. “What’d I miss?”

  * * *

  Later finally came.

  Meg and Wolf undressed in the dark and met in the middle of the bed.

  “Mmm…” Wolf hummed as he smacked her lips. “You taste like buttered popcorn.”

  Her mouth stretched beneath his. “Swear I brushed my teeth.”

  “No, love the taste.” Fact was, he loved everything he’d learned about her so far, but especially loved the way he felt when he held her against his body—her soft curves cushioning his hard frame. The warmth of her skin. Her natural scent—not the buttered popcorn, which he’d only been teasing her about.

  She was turning out to be the perfect woman for him. Which concerned him just a little bit. Would he be disappointed if he discovered something about her that didn’t sit well or mesh with his life? “Do you like fishing?”

  “Love it. But I don’t like to handle live bait.” She gave an exaggerated shiver. “Blech.”

  So, not perfect, but he thought her distaste was cute. “I’m okay with baiting your hooks.”

  “What are you doing?” she asked, stroking a fingertip from his forehead and down the length of his nose. “Trying to figure out if we’re compatible?”

  Well, put that way, in that wry tone of voice, maybe he was being ridiculous. “No harm in looking for deal-breakers,” he drawled.

  “Ah…” She chuckled. “What if you don’t like feet? I like a good foot massage.”

  He dipped down to kiss her, silencing her. Whatever incompatibilities they might have, this wasn’t one of them. And he was okay with feet.

  He settled with his torso to the side of her, supported on an elbow, then began to glide his palm over her breasts. “When this is over…”

  “Uh huh?” she said, then gasped when he tweaked a breast. “I’m listening…” She placed her hand over his and guided it slowly down the center of her belly, not stopping until he roamed over the soft ruff atop her mound. “You were saying…?” she whispered.

  What the hell had he been about to say? His focus was on combing his fingertips through her soft, springy hair. He gave it a tug. “I like you.”

  She opened her legs. “Glad to hear it, or this would be all kinds of wrong,” she said, humor in her voice as she bumped up her hips to invite him to touch her between her legs.

  He gave a low growl. She was deliberately trying to distract him, and her sex was already glazed with moisture. He traced the edges of her inner folds, counting in his mind how many foil squares still remained in Fetch’s stash. “I don’t want for us to be over.”

  “Is there a reason it would be?” she said, sounding as though she couldn’t catch her breath.

  He dipped a finger inside her and swirled it, and then slid another in and scissored both digits as he drove them deeper inside her. “It might be tough. Finding time.” He hissed a breath between his teeth when she wrapped a hand around his dick and gave it a stroke.

  “We want this bad enough,” she said, her tone huskier, “we’ll work it out.”

  “You’re in Amity. I’m in Kalispell…”

  “My place just burned down. I could find something closer.”

  Or you could move in with me, he almost said aloud, but thankfully, the rough tug she gave him froze his vocal cords.

  “Any rubbers left?” she gasped.

  “Yeah. Second.”

  He rolled onto her chest to free his arm and reached. The second he had the strip of condoms, he tore one off with his teeth.

  She took it out of his mouth. “Gimme room.”

  He came fully over her and raised himself on his arms and toes, giving her as much room as she wanted, as much as he’d allow.

  A tear, the rustle of latex, then she reached for him, and urgently rolled it downward, giving him a full stroke to the base of his cock. Then she pulled it, guiding him toward her center.

  The moment he felt the soft, hot cushion of her folds, he groaned. He slid easily inside, not stopping until she fully gloved him. “I want more of this,” he said, this time with conviction.

  Her hands smoothed over her buttocks. “Me, too. Much, much more.”

  He withdrew and made space again. “Roll over.”

  “Oh?”

  He smiled at the way her voice rose at the end. “Yeah. Now, baby.”

  She did so, slowly, likely trying her best not to hit him with an elbow or a knee. Once on her stomach, he let her figure out what he wanted rather than moving her into position himself.

  She came up on her knees, her back flattening against his chest and belly.

  “Now I’m regretting turning off the light,” he murmured.

  “Yeah…I’m not.”

  He straightened behind her, gripped her hips and moved in, nudging his cock along her folds until he found her entrance. Then he rolled his hips to take her. This was heaven. The heat. Her inner grip. Pure heaven.

  She let out a long, “Ohhhh…” Her back sank.

  Which slightly changed the angle of his next stroke. He began to sweat. The way she wriggled her ass and her pussy clenched tightly around him, he wasn’t going to last long. Knowing he had work to do first, he reached around her body and palmed her breasts.

  * * *

  Meg’s nipples spiked against his rough palms. “Calluses. God, I love the way they scrape.”

  “I’ve been renovating my place,” he said, his voice tight as he drove in and pulled out, slowly.

  “A handy man. Good to know.”

  “Like where my handy hands are now,” he rasped, giving her breasts a squeeze.

  “You don’t have to be gentle,” she whispered.

  Her encouragement earned her twists, which stung the hard tips. “Yes!”

  His hands continued to massage and tweak, and then he braced himself on one and glided the other down her belly to the top of her folds. One finger toggled her clit.

  Her pulse pounded, and her body trembled. She widened her stance, moving one knee at a time, and sank her belly. He roughly clutched the corners of her hips and quickened his strokes. Now, he drove deeper, and his balls slapped.

  The sounds they made, flesh pounding moist flesh, were dirty and lush. She fisted her hands in the bedding to brace against his powerful thrusts.

  Heat built inside her, and she began to keen. Again, he rubbed her clit, and this time, the pleasure was too much to resist. She exploded, shivering, rocking against him. He fisted her hair and bent over her back, still driving deep. His mouth and tongue glided against her cheek, and she turned her head to accept a messy kiss while still held in the thrall of a powerful orgasm.

 

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