Page 26 of Deadly Attraction
A laugh bubbled up from her throat. “Hell, no. That’s why I use a shotgun.”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Then maybe we oughta bring that shotgun, you think?”
She steered Twinkie out of the barn. “You’re my shotgun on this trip.”
The forest was quiet. Too quiet.
Mitch’s nerves were already on edge, and the absolute, unnatural silence amplified every twig snap under his horse’s feet, every snort the animal gave as they wound their way along the creek, then across it to the other side of the woods.
Mitch kept an eye out for animals, saw none. Not a bird tweeting, not a rabbit munching grass or a mouse scavenging for food. Scared off by the wildfires, most likely.
They were going in deep, Emma leading the way through spruce and fir trees on Twinkie.
Twinkie, Igor, Second Chance. Salt, Pepper, Lady.
Three adult horses, three dogs. Symmetry.
The doctor seemed to like that. Everything in her house had a symmetry to it—the pictures, her clothes, the way she laid food out on a plate. Even the cadence of her voice, the way she walked. All of it was in balance with life, her environment. She was currently working hard to maintain that, and after what he’d gleaned from the information she’d given earlier, plus the police report he’d managed to pull up from two years ago, he now fully understood why.
It was no wonder she was fighting so hard not to leave the ranch and show fear or uncertainty. A part of him understood that. He respected her staunchness. He’d been there a few times himself.
But God Almighty, he wanted to pick her up, throw her over his shoulder, and get the hell out of here.
Balance and stability were not qualities he’d ever admired. His mother had tried to create that type of life for him and Mac. On the surface, she’d succeeded, but at great personal cost. All the struggling to pay bills and make ends meet had meant they hadn’t seen her much. He respected the fact she’d worked her tail off to keep them in decent shoes and food on the table, but when she’d had downtime, it had never involved them. She never came to a baseball game or a school event, never took them anywhere. When she was off work, she stayed in bed or went out with a man.
Boyfriend of the week, he and Mac had dubbed the ones who’d hung on longer than one night. A few of them actually made it longer than a week.
Up ahead, Emma let Twinkie walk at his own pace, her soft voice talking sweetly as she guided the poor horse on a dirt path as narrow as a stripper’s G-string. No fear in that woman. Even though Cooper had alerted Mitch to the fact they’d had a call from a witness saying they’d spotted Goodsman and Brown forty miles south of the transport van incident, Mitch wasn’t letting his guard down. Eye witnesses were often wrong. Until Goodsman was in cuffs and back in prison, Mitch was keeping a close eye on his charge.
Emma wasn’t backing down, foolhardy as it was. No cowering on her end. Instead, she was going to brush up on her use of lethal force.
His kind of woman.
“Where does this trail lead?” he called.
She didn’t slow, didn’t look back. “It meanders around for a few miles, then merges with an old logging trail into the park. The logging trail was used before the park became state owned.”
Hmm. “How far is it until you enter the park?”
She shrugged. “Seven or eight miles. Maybe more. Why?”
Mitch’s gaze landed on her braid, dropped down to her ass cupped in the saddle. The sway of the horse’s body rocked hers, showcasing her comfortable posture and sexy curves. “I’m supposed to be figuring out who set the fire in the park and which way they went.”
His mind drifted back to the dream he’d had the previous night. Emma on his motorcycle, naked, her long legs gripping the seat, then gripping him as he pounded into her. His imagination took over, bending her over the bike seat so he could get his fill of that sweet ass of hers.
A bird called from far off, bringing him back to reality and making his tension ease a bit. A bird was good. Meant the fires were far enough away that animals felt safe again.
A hundred yards ahead, he saw a clearing with a felled tree and a collection of tin cans on the ground. He dodged a low-hanging pine branch as Igor plodded along on the not-so-smooth trail.
Emma guided Twinkie off the path to a small outcropping of bushes. She hopped down and tied the horse to a tree. “We’ll leave the horses here. They’re used to gunshots, but no sense agitating them unnecessarily.”
He’d known her less than two days, but already he recognized her modus operandi. Calm, patient, serene—keeping those around her, whether animal or human, the same way.
Was it pretense or did it come naturally, this even-tempered, unruffled persona? What would it take to make her lose it, he wondered.
He also wondered if he had it in him to find out.
Mitch tied up Igor, shutting down his errant, pornographic thoughts and keeping an eye on the woods around them. Twigs and pinecones snapped under his feet. The trees were good cover and the underbrush would give away anyone who attempted to sneak up on them.
