Cowboy to the Max Read online

  “I know.” She shrugged and worried the beads at her neck. “Besides, I didn’t really want to stay alone tonight.”

  Her eyes flickered with fear, then oddly something that looked like hunger and need—or maybe he imagined desire in her eyes because he wanted her to want him.

  He sure as hell wanted her. Just the thought of the two of them sharing a room had his body aching and tied in knots.

  A truck roared in, brakes squealing, and he jerked his attention from Sadie. Then a police car swerved up beside it and a cop climbed out.

  “Dammit.”

  Sadie hissed a breath, her gaze cutting toward the truck. “He’s after him, not us. Just act casual. Remember, he’s looking for you alone, not a couple.”

  Reminding himself she was right, Carter tugged his hat low over his head then he pulled out and drove to the end of the motel and parked. The police car remained in the lot, but he ignored it, feigning innocence. He and Sadie grabbed the bags, then walked up to the entrance of their room and slipped inside.

  As soon as she closed the door, he moved to the window and peered out the side to watch, waiting until the cop finally left. Seconds ticked by, agonizing in their slowness, as if he was walking a dead man’s walk.

  How much longer would his luck hold out?

  Sadie unloaded the toiletries and indicated the bathroom. “Why don’t you shave first, then I’ll give you a trim and dye your hair.”

  Carter scrubbed a hand through the shaggy mane, then headed to the bathroom. He unbuttoned his shirt and threw it on the bed, gritting his teeth at Sadie’s soft gasp. Undoubtedly she’d seen the jagged scars and knife marks on his back.

  “Like you said, we both have scars,” he mumbled. He shaved, then sank into the hard wooden seat without offering an apology. He was what he was.

  A scarred man on the run with nothing to offer.

  She knew the worst of him, so there was no need to pretend otherwise.

  He’d had sex with her once. He’d never expected love.

  Not a man like him.

  Sadie’s gaze met his in the mirror, but she lifted her chin, her deep brown eyes flickering with both compassion and a challenge that indicated she wasn’t about to run. “No wonder you don’t trust anyone.”

  A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “No wonder you don’t, either,” he said softly.

  Sadie surprised him by smiling in return. Sexual tension vibrated between them, then she grabbed a towel, spread it around his shoulders, wet his hair and began to snip the ends.

  Carter had never thought having his hair cut was erotic, but watching Sadie lift the strands and run her fingers through the layers sent fire through his blood. The pure intimacy of the act made him shift in the chair to keep from hauling her into his lap.

  When she’d evened out the layers, she opened the hair dye, donned the rubber gloves inside the kit, squirted the solution into his hair, then threaded her fingers into the layers and massaged his hand, working the strands all the way to his scalp.

  He closed his eyes and moaned. He was in heaven. He only wished it could last.

  SADIE WAS GRATEFUL for the momentary connection she felt with Carter. But when he closed his eyes and moaned, desire blazed through her, pummeling her with images of touching Carter’s naked back with her fingers and lips.

  Of stroking those scars, kissing his pain away and offering herself to him.

  He leaned his head back to give her more access, his gesture arousing her tenderness and need to love him more, and she massaged his head, his temple, then the sides of his face. Finally she removed the gloves, and ran her fingers along his neck and the top of his shoulder blades, rubbing at the knots and tense muscles, working her hands to give him a deep tissue massage.

  “Sadie,” Carter said gruffly. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Shh,” she whispered, her nurturing instincts mingling with the arousal humming through her. “Just relax for a moment.”

  He made a low sound in his throat, then dropped his head forward and groaned again. His gesture of submission touched her deeply and told her she was earning his trust.

  A trust she realized she yearned for more than anything now.

  She worked her magic, rubbing her hands together to heat them, then pressing her fingers deeper into his sore, knotted tissue and stroking the tension from his back. His skin felt hot to the touch, his muscles hard, his body so masculine that hunger splintered through her.

  For a second, she allowed herself to enjoy the foreign sensations, the need, the burning ache she had for a man to touch her the way she was touching him.

  She didn’t realize she’d lowered her mouth to his neck until a breath hissed between his teeth.

  “Sadie…”

  The passionate need in the way he murmured her name triggered a long-dormant hunger to burst inside her, and she trailed kisses along his neck, then lower to the jagged scar at his nape.

  Suddenly he jerked around and pulled her head toward him, then claimed her mouth with his. Sadie’s head spun as he deepened the kiss and probed her lips apart with his tongue. His hands tunneled through her hair, and he yanked her around in front of him and into his lap.

  His thick arousal pulsed against her hip, and fire seeped through her body. He growled deep and low as he plunged his tongue into her mouth and tortured her with his loving, triggering a hundred sensations to ripple through her at once.

  Then he began to slowly unfasten the top button of her blouse, his breath hitching as it slipped free and the fabric parted. Panic streaked through her, and she pushed at his chest, as desperate to stop him as she had been to have him moments before.

  Her lungs fought for air, and she felt like she was choking, so she turned away. The sight of the bed made her heart pound even harder, and she hurried to the door, flung it open and stepped outside, then leaned against the concrete wall, determined to compose herself.

  Tears pricked her eyes. She didn’t want to be like this. Afraid to let a man touch her.

  Especially when she had wanted, even craved Carter’s touch.

  CARTER’S BODY THROBBED with unspent passion. He wanted Sadie with a vengeance.

  But she had run from him as if he was some kind of monster. Was it him? Had he frightened her with his scars? Had he been too rough?

  His chest ached with regret, and he stood, tossed the towel on the bathroom sink, then strode into the bedroom. If Sadie didn’t want him, he’d accept that.

  And if he’d scared her, he’d apologize.

  But she had kissed him, dammit.

  Worried about her, he walked to the door. When he spotted Sadie plastered against the wall, trembling, her face ashen, tears glittering on her eyelashes, her hand pressed to the scar on her chest, his stomach heaved.

  Something was terribly wrong.

  “Sadie?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said in a raspy whisper. “I…”

  “You don’t have to apologize,” he said gruffly. “Just tell me what I did wrong.”

  A tormented sound tore from her throat. “It’s not you,” she said, her voice raw. “It’s just…I was smothering.”

  A sense of dread balled in his stomach. “I was too rough, too pushy—”

  “No,” Sadie said, whirling toward him. “Don’t you understand? It wasn’t you.”

  Anger churned through Carter. “Then it’s about Lester.”

  Her face crumpled then she nodded, pain in her eyes. “I…just…remember him being on top of me, holding me down…I was smothering.”

  Carter clenched his jaw and braced himself. “Did he rape you?”

  Sadie shook her head. “No, but he pinned me down and mauled me and I thought…he was going to. But then he…stopped…he…I think he couldn’t finish.”

  Son of a bitch. Carter wanted to pound his fists against the wall and vent his rage against the man, but acting like a maniac would only frighten Sadie more and prove he was the violent jerk the cops had deemed him
to be.

  So he forced his voice to an even pitch and stroked her arms gently. “Come on back inside, Sadie. It’s not safe out here. Someone could be watching.”

  Her labored breath tore at his heart. She looked so damn vulnerable that he wanted to pull her into his arms and reassure her that he would never let anyone hurt her again. But he simply lowered his hand and touched her fingers, letting her come to him. She took his hand, then stepped inside.

  Their gazes locked for a long moment, then she released a soft sigh of need and frustration that made his blood race. But when she glanced at the single bed in the room and clamped her teeth over her bottom lip, he knew he couldn’t push her. That she wasn’t ready.

  She might never be.

  “It’s okay,” he murmured. He traced a finger along her jaw. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

  A sad look washed over her face, then relief and a small, self-deprecating smile. “Thank you, Carter.”

  He didn’t deserve her thanks. She should hate him for putting her in the middle of this. “I’m going to wash this stuff out of my hair, then let’s drive out to Loretta Swinson’s tonight. The sooner we find her, the sooner we can end this nightmare.”

  Then she could be done with him and free to move on without this constant fear in her life.

  IMAGES OF CARTER NAKED, his big, strong body pulsing while water sluiced over him teased Sadie as she listened to the shower running. Her body throbbed with the need to join him while her fears held her locked inside her own private terror.

  Carter’s reaction to her fleeing his arms earlier surprised her. Just when she’d expected him to be angry at her, he’d shown compassion.

  Judging from his rough exterior, his constant scowl and brooding attitude, people thought he was the hardened criminal the law had portrayed him to be. But she had glimpsed beneath the surface years ago when she’d climbed into his bed.

  And tonight…tonight his tenderness had made her heart swell with longing.

  She wanted to be whole again, to be able to give herself to him.

  The water kicked off, though, and she turned away from the bathroom, knotting her hands in her lap as he strode out wearing nothing but a towel.

  Did he have any idea how sexy he looked with his hair damp, water droplets still clinging to that soft dark mat on his chest?

  He grabbed the shopping bag with the jeans and other clothing she’d bought, removed a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, then strode back to the bedroom seemingly oblivious to his effect on her.

  Five minutes later, he strode back out, dressed and combing his hair. It was lighter now, a sandy brown instead of the brownish-black, and the layers gave it a slight wave.

  He put one of the ball caps on his head, then glanced at her as he retrieved his gun. She missed his cowboy hat, but he still looked sexier than any man she’d ever met. “Ready to go?” he asked.

  She nodded and stood, then silently followed him out to the truck. He was cautious as usual, and she kept her eyes peeled for police cars or Lester as Carter drove from the parking lot out of town toward Loretta Swinson’s place.

  The city lights of Laredo faded in the distance, the country opening up. Laredo was one of the oldest border crossing points along the U.S.-Mexican border, and once again she contemplated the two of them running. In Mexico, they would be safe from the police.

  But not Lester. He wouldn’t care about jurisdiction or the law.

  Shivering, she studied the pastures, sandy, rocky areas and the flatland covered in grass, oak and mesquite. Night shadows plagued the horizon, and she searched for stars, but clouds covered them, lending a dismal feel that added to the loneliness gnawing at her. Carter veered down a side street into an area that resembled project housing with overgrown yards and dilapidated concrete homes that reminded her of the reservation houses.

  Beat-up cars and two trucks were parked in three of the driveways. The next two houses looked deserted, Condemned signs in the scraggly, dry front yards. At the end of the street, she spotted an adobe structure that didn’t look big enough to hold more than two rooms. The windows were broken out, a tree lay splintered in the yard, a rusty Pinto with a flat tire squatted in the drive.

  Carter cut the lights then coasted by the house and parked in the cul-de-sac. Sadie gave him a skeptical look, her nerves prickling as they climbed from the truck. Shoulders squared, he rubbed his hand over his gun, visually searching the perimeter as they approached the house.

  A dog barked from the woods nearby, and a stray cat darted across the road. The number attached to the concrete front of the house hung askew, the mail slot overflowing with bills and junk mail.

  Carter opened the screen door and knocked on the wooden one behind it.

  Seconds ticked by as they waited, then Carter leaned against the door frame, listening. “I don’t hear anyone inside.”

  “Maybe she’s not home,” Sadie whispered.

  He frowned, then knocked again and jiggled the doorknob. To her surprise the door squeaked open.

  The hair on the back of Sadie’s neck stood on end. She’d once thought she had a connection with the earth and spirits, but somewhere along the way she’d lost it. Now, though, she sensed that something was wrong here. The scent of fear and death mingled with the smell of rotting wood and something else she couldn’t quite define.

  Garbage? Human waste? Blood?

  Carter gave her a wary look, motioned for her to stay behind him, then removed his gun and held it at the ready.

  She tiptoed in behind him, both of them peering through the darkness. The stench of mold and sour milk filled the air, other acrid odors mingling as if a cat box hadn’t been emptied in years.

  The front room held a tattered couch and scarred coffee table, magazines and a knitting basket. They inched toward the kitchen. The dirty dishes and glasses littering the counter surprised her. The woman might work as a housekeeper for the motel, but she obviously didn’t clean her own home.

  The wind picked up, rattling a tree branch against the hall window as they edged toward the bedroom. The sensation that they were walking into a sickening darkness swirled around Sadie, making the room spin. Another odor washed over her, the scent of death.

  She’d smelled it with her grandmother, with other bodies the shaman had lost, with her own mother in her last dying, pain-filled days.

  The air shifted, stirring the curtains. The air conditioner? Or a spirit floating nearby? Lost. Hovering. Needing peace.

  Gripping the wall to steady herself, she blinked to clear her vision and the nausea rolling through her. The room was so dark that it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. But when they did, she saw a figure in the bed. A woman. Sheets tangled. Limbs askew.

  The source of the smell.

  Then the light flickered on, bathing the room, and she gasped, swallowing back bile. Loretta was lying faceup, naked, her eyes wide open, her skin a chalky white, the sheets soaked in blood.

  She had been murdered.

  Chapter Nine

  “Dammit,” Carter muttered. Loretta was dead. Another lost lead.

  It was almost like the killer knew where they were going and was one step ahead.

  He crossed the room and felt Loretta Swinson’s wrist. “She hasn’t been dead long.” He whirled around, scanning the room. “Someone knew we were coming.”

  “What makes you think that?” Sadie asked. “It could have been random—”

  “No, my gut feeling says Lester was here. He slashed her throat to keep her from talking to us.”

  “But she was his alibi.”

  “Maybe she changed her mind and decided to talk.”

  Sadie’s face paled. “What do we do now?”

  Carter gestured around the room. “Let’s look around for some clue. Maybe we’ll figure out where he’s going now.”

  Sadie touched the woman’s stiff white hand. “We can’t just leave her here like this. We have to call the police.”

  Carter gripped her by both ar
ms and forced her to look away from the blood-soaked sheets and Loretta’s ashen face. “Sadie, I know you’re in shock, but we can’t do that. For God’s sake, the cops would probably hang her murder on me, too.”

  Her mouth slackened. “I…I have to pray for her first. Pray for her spirit.”

  Carter gritted his teeth. Sadie’s faith obviously meant a lot to her, although for the life of him he couldn’t understand how she had any faith left after the ordeal she’d suffered.

  “All right, but hurry.”

  Sadie knelt by the woman’s side, stroked her forehead, then clasped her hand between her own, rubbed the beads and murmured a Navajo prayer. Carter watched her, admiring her compassion.

  Although every second that passed, he sensed the police closing in. What if Lester had killed Loretta and planted evidence to frame him for her murder?

  “Come on, Sadie,” he said, gently urging her to stand. “For all we know Lester is watching and called the cops. If they find us here, we’ll both go to jail.”

  The sadness in Sadie’s eyes turned to alarm, and she straightened. “What are we looking for?”

  “Anything that leads us to Lester, something with an address or phone number on it.”

  Sadie nodded and searched the dresser drawers while Carter rifled through the desk in the corner of the bedroom. Seconds later, he slammed the last drawer shut. “Dammit, nothing.”

  “Nothing in these drawers, either.”

  Carter spotted Loretta’s purse on the floor, strode toward it, flipped it over and dumped the contents. Two packs of gum, a pack of cigarettes, some loose change, a compact, her wallet and a small address book.

  Knowing he needed to hurry, he searched the wallet and found Loretta’s ID, then a couple of dollars inside along with a ticket stub to the rodeo at the BBL, but nothing else.

  He waved the ticket stub at Sadie. “Loretta was at the rodeo. She must have been watching you for Lester.”

  “I thought someone was following me then,” Sadie admitted.