Page 26 of Heston
Half of her wanted to kick his arrogant, muscular ass. The other fifty-percent wanted to kiss it. Her poor heart hadn’t slowed down enough for her to collect her thoughts since he’d taken that first leap, and she was shaking so much her teeth were chattering as much as Heston’s. Darn him for always having to be the hero. Not that she wanted Asher to have taken that chance and risked his life. But why’d it always have to be Heston? Why’d he have to be so damned ready to die for everyone else? Why couldn’t he be more like the sheep he protected all over the world? Why’d he have to be the damned sheepdog?
He’d kissed her. Finally. A real, wet kiss that had thoroughly stoked the embers she’d been trying to squelch for years. Out in the open. In front of his buddy. London wanted more, but she refused to back down and give in. She was every bit as good as he was, just not as stupid.
London had returned to the mountain early this morning, retraced her steps, trying to recall what she’d thought she’d known. She’d moseyed around the campground and talked to the few diehard campers weathering the storm. She’d run into Tom Landry. He’d filled her in on how he’d known Alex, and how he’d given Alex supplies to tide him over, as well as a pistol. He’d also noticed the derelict trailer and had seen it explode. He had his theory, that some joker had abandoned it, might’ve riggedthe propane tanks to explode for the insurance payout. People did crap like that.
But after London explained her theory, that the trailer exploding with Kelsey Stewart in it was part of the shooter’s plan to coerce Alex into working for him, Tom wholeheartedly agreed. Especially once he understood Alex had been tagged to be the next vice president. It made even more sense after London explained that Alex had been particularly vicious with the Irishman when they’d last met. Who could blame Alex? But because of that confrontation, the Irishman might’ve decided to teach Alex a lesson by killing his wife or that getting Alex to work for him wasn’t worth the trouble. Torching the trailer was him cleaning up loose ends. Mafia bosses didn’t care who they hurt, especially not the wives of the men they couldn’t recruit.
London wished she could’ve gotten better photos of the men she’d seen earlier, the guys she suspected were the Irishman and his buddy. But she’d been too far away, darn it. And she’d only had her cell phone. The close-ups of the cattle guard were crystal clear, but that alone wouldn’t indict anyone. She needed better evidence.
“Hey, you,” Tom called out from his camper steps.
“Hey, yourself,” London called back. “How’s the Landry family?”
“Great!” He headed her way with a foil pan of goodies in his hand. “Here. Suzy thought you could use some hot food. It’s going to be another cold one.”
“Aw, that’s so nice. Please tell her thanks for me,” London exclaimed. Thank heavens her gloves were thick. He’d brought piping hot cinnamon rolls over when she’d first pulled in and was leveling her rig with blocks and jacks. “Honest, you don’t have to keep feeding me. I do know how to cook.”
“Agent Contreras,” Heston barked, his hand suddenly stuck in front of London, blocking her progress forward like damnedwishbone crossing gates at train tracks, like a barrier between her and Tom. Hes could be such a dick.
Tom didn’t seem to notice his grandstanding, just grinned, grabbed Heston’s hand, and gave it a good, solid shake. “Agent Contreras, glad to meet you. London told me you’d be back. How’s Alex? Kelsey’s going to make it, right?”
Heston released Tom’s hand, stepped back beside London, and pulled her against his hip. “Alex is as good as can be expected with his wife on life support. We won’t know anything until she wakes up.”
London stood firm, refusing to acknowledge Heston’s territorial display of stupidity.
“So London said.” Tom ran a hand over his bare head, ruffling his dark brown, longer than Army hair. “Every day she hangs on is a day closer to full recovery. Hope Alex knows that.”
“We all hope,” London cut in, elbowing Heston before he did something totally stupid, like pee on her to mark her as his property. He’d do that, too. The oaf!
“Former Delta?” Heston asked.
Tom grinned. “Navy SEAL. Can’t let Army have all the fun.”
Asher snorted. “SEAL, huh? Knew you looked familiar.”
“We do all look alike, don’t we?” Tom replied evenly. Which made London smile.
“If you mean you all look like shitheads, yeah.” Asher barked out a laugh.
London turned in time to catch the competitive glint in his eyes. “Don’t slam my friends, Ash.”
“Can’t slam a frog, ma’am. They tend to squeak when someone hurts their feelings.”
Tom tipped back his head and laughed at the sky. “And everyone knows you can’t housetrain Rangers. They pee on everything. Anytime. Anywhere. Come on in, guys. Wife’scooking breakfast, but stow the language. My boy’s still sleeping.”
“Another time,” London intervened, grinning at that very apt description of former Ranger Heston Contreras. “Heston has to report in.”
“Door’s always open,” Tom said as he took a step toward his camper. “Later, London.”
“Later, Tom,” she agreed sweetly. Honestly, this was why she’d loved working for the Forest Service. Everyone changed into friendly, neighborly people like Tom Landry and his family once they were out of the city and in Mother Nature.
“Later?” Heston hissed as she unlocked her rig.
“Yes, Agent Contreras. Later, you moron. Didn’t you know? I always hook up with married men when I’m working.” Cold, injured or not, Heston was on his own from now on. She was sick of his macho bullshit.
“I’m doing it again, aren’t I?” he asked quietly.
“Yes, Heston, you are,” she bit out as she tugged her keys out of an inner pocket. Climbing the three steps to her camper door, she unlocked her rig and swung the door open so quickly, it would’ve smacked Heston in the face if he hadn’t taken a step back.
