Lethal Balance: Sons of the Survivalist: 2 Page 14

  When she looked up, Bull frowned slightly, his gaze moving from his brother to her. And back. Gabe was looking at her and Caz the same way.

  Major oops. She needed to remember to keep her distance from Cazador, mentally and physically and every other way.

  * * *

  At midnight as she’d warned them, Lillian called the evening to a halt. Tucker and Guzman disappeared to start the trip back to their backwoods cabins. Bull and Dante were straightening up the dining room—and JJ got the distinct impression that Dante would be spending the night. The Okie and the Brit were so very different, yet watching them together was simply lovely.

  As JJ helped carry dishes out to the kitchen, she smiled at her hostess. “Thank you so much for inviting me tonight. I had a great time.”

  “It was wonderful to have you—and how fun that another woman enjoys poker nights. I tried to get Audrey to join us, but she said absolutely not.” Expression filled with laughter, Lillian stacked the dishes in the sink. “She was delighted to stay home with Regan instead.”

  Gabe handed over his glass. “When I left, they were deciding which chick flick to watch.”

  JJ felt a stab of envy. Her time of movie watching with other kids had ended when she had to work after school and evenings.

  “Look at that face—she wants to watch chick flicks, too.” Caz covered the appetizer tray and tucked it into the fridge, obviously knowing his way around Lillian’s kitchen. “Don’t worry. With you living at the Hermitage, there’ll be other opportunities.”

  Gabe’s keen eyes narrowed, then he smiled. “Actually, Audrey doesn’t like being alone in the cabin when I’m working late. She’ll love having someone to hang with.”

  Someone to hang with. A female friend. Because Audrey was coming to be that. JJ couldn’t keep from smiling.

  “Yo, Gabe, let’s go, bro,” Bull called from the dining room. “Lillian, you do excellent poker nights—thank you. See you in a month.”

  Gabe kissed Lillian’s cheek, raised his hand to Caz, JJ, and Dante and strode out after Bull since the two had come together.

  “Is there anything I can help with?” JJ asked.

  “No, love. Everything is tidy.” Lillian motioned to Dante. “Can you see her to her car, dear?”

  JJ shook her head. “I don’t need—”

  “I’ll take her, Dante. I parked near her car,” Caz said. “Thanks, Lillian, for the night—and the fudge.”

  JJ frowned as she picked up her coat. “Thanks, again, Lillian. Bye, you two.” She headed out the door, not waiting for the doc. Being near him wasn’t the best of ideas. Besides, she didn’t need an escort—she was the law, for heaven’s sake—and certainly not from the man who’d won most of her fudge with the last hand.

  She’d been looking forward to indulging.

  As she stepped off the porch, something cold brushed against her cheek, so she stopped. Looked up. Fat flakes of snow were spiraling down, white against the dark night sky. A light film of white already covered the grass and the gravel road in front of Lillian’s house. So beautiful.

  “It’s pretty, isn’t it? We might even get enough to make the roads slick.” Caz trotted down the steps and stopped beside her. “You got your snow tires on just in time.”

  “Because you and Gabe made sure I did.” They watched out for her so carefully. And she loved it. She smiled up at the sky. Snow. “Weiler didn’t get more than a couple of tiny snowfalls a year. What happens when you get a lot? Who clears the roads?”

  As they strolled along the side of the gravel road, he put a hand behind her back, not in a controlling way, not like Nash, but simply keeping her close. “The borough hires local contractors for the highways, but they don’t bother to plow until there’s, maybe, half-a-foot of snow on the road. The town handles snow removal within the city limits, so Lillian’s street will be plowed. I think Chevy and Knox picked up a contract to shovel the downtown sidewalks. They used to work winters on the North Slope ice roads, but this year, they have enough work to stick around.”

  Chevy and Knox were the local handymen. “Don’t they live outside of town? How will they get in?”

  “Snow machines. You call them snowmobiles in the Lower 48. In winter, our transportation here shifts to ski planes, snow machines, and snowshoes.”

  “Oh.” She walked beside him, her hip brushing his. His hand created a small circle of warmth on her back under her jacket. “How about the Hermitage?”

  “Our road is private, but we keep a small tractor to clear enough snow that we can get out. We have snow machines, too. You’ll be able to get to town.”

  “Oh, good. I guess I should keep more food in the house. You guys seem awfully well prepared for the winter.”

  “You have no idea, chica.”

  At her curious glance, he grinned. “Mako was a survivalist and paranoid, always expecting a war or disaster. We have solar panels to supplement the electric power, and there’s enough food stored we won’t starve for…mmm, maybe a year or so, even without hunting or fishing.”

  “That’s actually pretty cool.” Then she stopped. “Wait. Social services let a paranoid survivalist adopt four boys? How old were you?”

  “I was eight.” The corners of his eyes crinkled. “He didn’t exactly ask the government for permission to take us.”

  “He didn’t ask…he stole you from a foster home?”

  “Mmmhmm. We were willing participants though.”

  “That’s just wrong.” Her law-abiding heart was outraged, but she went for the bottom line. “Was he a good father?”

  “He was.” Reaching her Toyota, Caz leaned against it. “He had PTSD with some bad spells of paranoia. Years in the military made him hard as nails and expecting one hundred percent from his”—he grinned—“soldiers, no matter how young.”

  She could hear the grief in his voice. “But you loved him.”

  “He expected a lot but gave as much or more. We never doubted we were wanted, that we belonged, and that he’d die to keep us safe.” As Caz looked up at the falling snow, a nearby porch light illuminated his lean face, the jaw shadowed with a day’s growth of beard. His expression had softened at the memories.

  A hard childhood, a hard father, yet this man remembered the best parts. He didn’t whine—in fact, she’d never heard him whine. Even at the card table where behavior often deteriorated, he’d lost with a laugh, won with a grin, obviously there more for the company than the competition. Had she ever met anyone so completely confident in himself?

  Why the heck did she have to like him so much?

  His gaze met hers. Setting his fingers under her chin, he kept her face turned up toward his. “Such a frown. What’s the matter, mamita?”

  She didn’t want to answer that. “What’s mamita mean?”

  “Ah, it’s short for mamacita—little mama.”

  Patronizing, condescending term…yet, when he called her that in a voice like melted chocolate, she melted, too.

  “Tell me what is bothering you.” His smile was slow. “Mamita.”

  The words slid from her. “I don’t want to like you this much.” Even worse, she was sliding into more than like, and the knowledge scared her spitless.

  His grin was white in the darkness, then his voice dropped, so smooth and masculine. “I feel the same.”

  His fingers on her skin were slightly rough…and so warm. She remembered the touch of his hand, the way his lips had felt, brushing against hers as if each sensory detail had been sewn into her soul. Her gaze dropped to his mouth, and her voice came out way too husky. “It seems we have a problem.”

  His lips curved up. Then he slid his fingers into her hair, cupping the back of her head as he kissed her forehead, her temple, her cheek. His lips were so warm.

  Slowly, his grip on her hair tightened enough to tilt her head back. His mouth came down on hers.

  This…this was what she’d wanted, hoped for, craved, from the moment the evening had begun. Need pooled low in her
stomach.

  “More,” he murmured, lifting her arms to his neck, and pulling her firmly against him. His lips were firm, teasing over hers, coaxing her to open. He took her mouth with devastating control, leaving her thoughts scattered in fragments around her.

  * * *

  Dios, her lips were soft. The way she responded was turning a simple kiss into something so erotic that every resolution he’d made to leave her alone was driven right out of his head.

  When he tried to pull back, her arms tightened around his neck. She pressed against him, her lower belly rubbing on his throbbing erection.

  Maybe one more minute… Or more.

  He cupped her ass—so very female despite the hard muscle—and pulled her tighter against him. Her small breasts flattened against his chest, tantalizing him. Begging him to touch.

  When he started thinking about where they could go to finish this, he remembered he had a daughter. Audrey was babysitting Regan in his cabin. And he shouldn’t, couldn’t, mess around with Gabe’s officer.

  “JJ, we must stop.” With an unhappy sigh, he gripped her wrists and pulled her arms down between them. The backs of his fingers brushed over her hard pointed nipples and made them both inhale sharply.

  Had he ever wanted a woman this much? Not even Carmen had tested his control like this.

  “Cazador.” JJ shook her head, as if to regain her senses. Her voice had turned even more beautifully contralto. “I forgot what—”

  “Now who could that be out there, making out like teenagers?” The woman’s sharp voice split the quiet night like jagged lightning in a dark sky.

  “Looks like our new police officer, doesn’t it?” Another woman answered.

  Caz turned and saw two women on the lighted porch across the street.

  “A la verga,” he cursed under his breath. One was Brooke, a woman he’d been with years before, who now worked up at McNally’s Resort. Next to her was Giselle, also from McNally’s, who’d been after him since she arrived in Rescue a couple of months ago.

  Tipping his head down, he gave the woman in his arms a rueful smile. “Sorry. This is, perhaps, a bit too public.”

  JJ’s laugh huffed out. “It is. Even if it wasn’t, it’s still not a good idea.”

  Rather than answer, he opened her door for her, touched her cheek, and brushed away the snowflakes glinting in her curly hair. “Drive carefully, princesa.”

  “You, too, Doc.”

  As he walked to his car, he watched the tail lights of her car disappear in the falling snow. No, being with her wasn’t a good idea. Nevertheless, the attraction between them kept growing.

  Chapter Twelve

  Flank your adversary when possible; protect your own. ~ Marine Corps Rules for Gunfighting

  * * *

  In the exam room of the health clinic, JJ leaned against the wall and texted Gabe that she was back in town. Just in time, too, since the Wednesday night Halloween activities were starting.

  Intent on his job, Cazador cleaned away the blood from the ugly gash in Guzman’s shoulder as the woodsman talked.

  She couldn’t keep from watching his lean, tanned hands, so capable and careful. His white lab coat sleeves were rolled up, and the scattering of dark hair couldn’t conceal the hard musculature of his arms. She remembered how those arms had felt around her. How thoroughly he’d kissed her—and God, now she was staring at his mouth.

  Lethally attractive men like him should be outlawed. Well, no, maybe that was a bit drastic. Maybe make them available only by prescription. Like narcotics. Because, damn, he was totally addictive.

  Just watching him tend to his patient was heating her blood.

  “Yeah, it was lucky for me our new cop showed up.” Guzman stroked his chest-long beard and gave her a grin, snapping her back to reality. “Even if she is a card shark.”

  She grinned at him.

  During the poker game last weekend, Tucker and Guzman had told her where their cabins were. Today, she’d been familiarizing herself with that area when she’d almost driven right into a tree that’d fallen across the road.

  Slamming on the brakes, she’d seen something move and spotted Guzman lying on the ground and bleeding like a stuck pig. He had been lucky. If she hadn’t slapped a pressure dressing on the wound and brought him in, he might’ve bled out.

  “What happened, anyway?” the doc asked.

  “Eh, I was cutting up a tree that’d fallen across our dirt road, and the damn trunk rolled. I jumped back—far enough it didn’t flatten me, but one of the branch stubs ripped right into my shoulder. I went down—and hit my fucking head on a fucking boulder. Went a bit fuzzy after that.” Guzman lifted his chin in her direction. “Thanks, Officer.”

  “You’re very welcome.”

  Her phone dinged. Gabe had texted her to join him at the end of Main.

  Dammit. She wanted to stay, to watch Caz work, to just…be around him. Oh, admit it, she totally wanted to ignore good sense and drag him into bed. She couldn’t. After those two women had seen her kissing him—clinging to him—doing more would be the stupidest thing she could think of.

  She held up her phone. “I have to go provide a police presence at the Halloween carnival. Are you two all right?”

  Caz gave her a glance from dark eyes. “We’re fine. If you see Regan, tell her I’ll be out in a bit.”

  “I will. Guzman, you said you had a ride home?”

  The old logger nodded. “Tucker’s coming in. We’ll have a beer, enjoy the kiddie parade, and he’ll take me home.”

  “Have fun, then.” She headed out of the clinic and paused at the lobby desk.

  Pointed teeth on full display, vampire Regina grinned. “Officer JJ, are you ready for the insanity?”

  “Absolutely.” Through the windows, the twinkling white lights along Main Street were coming on, brightening the twilight. “I can’t believe it’s already getting dark. It’s barely past six.”

  “This is nothing. Wait till December. You’ll get out of bed in the dark, go to work in the dark, and come home in the dark.” Regina waved at the street. “The short days are why the street—and a lot of houses—put their Christmas lights up now and leave ’em up until spring. Life’s just too dark, otherwise.”

  “I should have looked for jobs in Florida.”

  Regina laughed at her. “Girl, we all know you’re loving it here.”

  Once out of the station, JJ found Gabe at one end of the paved section of Main Street, helping Knox position sawhorses to keep cars out of downtown. Rescue was having a costume parade—all of two blocks worth of parade. “Are the other streets blocked off?”

  The lanky handyman shoved a lock of his bushy red hair out of his face. “Should be. Chevy’s getting the other end of Main. We’ve already blocked off Grebe.”

  “What’s with the blanket?” JJ motioned to a blanket spread out on the ground.

  He grinned. “For the ones who want to parade without being bundled up. I’m the coat pile guard.”

  JJ laughed, knowing Regan’s coat would be tossed there. The girl was very proud of her costume and dying to show it off.

  “Here they come.” She pointed to the line of children walking from Queen’s Rest, the Victorian B&B on the corner of Sweetgale and Swan.

  “Damn, they’re cutting it close. Can you tell Lillian to announce them?”

  “Got it.” JJ set off at a fast pace back to the center of town. A token stage with sound equipment had been built in the middle of Grebe and Main, and that’s where she found Mayor Lillian, chatting with Sarah from the coffee shop.

  “Jayden, my dear.”

  “Happy Halloween, Lillian. The kids are on the way from Queen’s Rest. Can you announce them?”

  “Indeed, I can.” Lillian climbed the two steps onto the stage and leaned into the mic. “Attention, please. The costume parade is going to begin in just a minute. The children will parade up Main Street and stop here. Be prepared to vote for your favorites. After that, do take a tour
of Main Street. Each shop has a Halloween booth inside—there is fortune telling and face painting, a bean-bag-toss, guessing games. So much fun. Down on Swan, the Queen’s Rest B&B is celebrating their opening with our first annual Haunted House.”

  A spatter of cheering was the response.

  As people began to gather on the sidewalks, Lillian stepped away from the mic and sat down on the edge of the stage beside Sarah.

  JJ smiled at the older woman who could make black jeans and a dark red jacket look like the height of fashion.

  Sarah was bundled up in a long purple coat that couldn’t hide her pregnancy. A matching purple stocking hat covered her dark hair.

  “This should be fun. We have lots more children. And doesn’t the town look magnificent?” Lillian gave the street a pleased survey.

  Each store had a themed display in the window or on the sidewalk. The art gallery’s skeleton stood at an easel, paintbrush clasped in bony fingers. In front of Dante’s Market, two skeletons sat on a blanket with a picnic basket between them. One held a sandwich with a desiccated lizard carcass between the slices. The post office had a ghost with a bag of mail at its feet. The sport-outfitting store window showed a witch fishing with a black cat at her feet.

  “Those two are my favorites.” Sarah pointed to the municipal building where straw-stuffed figures sat on each side of the door, one in a police uniform with a gorilla mask, the other in a white lab coat with a plastic stethoscope…and wearing a vampire mask. A sign at its feet announced, “I vill drink your blood.”

  “The doc’s sense of humor is quite nicely warped,” Lillian agreed.

  “He’s not the only one.” JJ motioned toward the pharmacy. A zombie stood in the window, arms outstretched, and rather than the drawn-out BRAIIINS, the cartoon cloud over its head said DRUUUGS. “I’m a little surprised there wasn’t a pumpkin carving contest. Or any jack-o-lanterns at all.”

  “I think that was our first tragedy here in Alaska.” Sarah shook her head sadly. “Uriah and I had made awesome pumpkin carvings—and set them out for the neighbors to admire.”