Page 111 of Deadly Secrets
Utah
Even with the padded saddle, Roman’s butt was killing him.
The ten hour ride up the mountainside had sounded like fun. Now he was sunburnt, sweating like he’d just spent nine full rounds in the ring, and he smelled like the ass he was riding into camp on.
Tents ringed the site, six or seven people, straw hats on their heads, squatted in various delineated squares in the buff-colored ground. Some used paintbrushes, others seemed to have dental picks, and still others worked with wooden boxes with screens, sifting through churned up dirt and creating a series of conical piles off to the sides of each square. To the north and east, broken hills rose around them, piñon and other scrub trees dotting the slopes.
His guide, a native to the area, pointed and Roman tipped the brim of his hat up and followed the old man’s bony finger. For half a second, his heart stopped beating and he dragged in a ragged breath.
Like the heroine from an Indiana Jones movie, Brooke worked in khakis and a white button-down, boots on her feet and a straw hat on her head.
Is that my shirt?
Yep. The woman had stolen one of his shirts. The thought gave him hope.
As she took off her hat and ran an arm across her forehead wiping off sweat, he saw her cheeks were flushed and a warmth invaded his belly that had nothing to do with the blazing sun. The white shirt was unbuttoned and the breeze parted it long enough for him to see she was wearing an “I love Lucy” T-shirt with a picture of the famous skull underneath.
He remembered those flushed cheeks as she’d lain under him, her beautiful eyes filled with lust as he moved on top of her, making her moan and beg for release.
Had he given her enough time? She’d said she needed to process what she’d been through and he’d totally respected that even though he’d cursed himself every minute of the day since. He hoped for the sake of his still-healing body, which was yelling at him after that blasted ride, and the person he’d blackmailed into coming with him, that Brooke was ready to forgive him and grant him a second chance.
The woman he hoped would be his future mother-in-law had said little on the ride, enduring the harsh conditions as if it were nothing compared to her normal life. Maybe it wasn’t. Justine had been through the CIA’s farm, infiltrated a Russian mob, and given up her child, all in the name of survival. No telling what other trials she’d seen and lived through.
Even if Brooke never wanted to see him again, it was the right thing to do, bringing Justine here and introducing them. Justine needed to know what an amazing woman her daughter had become—not just from a distance, but in person. And Brooke needed to know that therewerepeople in her life who loved and supported her.
A man emerged from one of the tents and spied them. The guide waved and the man kicked up dust as he made his way over to greet them.
Roman slid off the donkey and nearly fell down. They’d taken a break every hour but his butt and legs were stiff and sore. His feet tingled from lack of blood flow.
He shook out his legs, the rubbery sensation familiar from his days in the ring but unwelcome just the same. As the man from the tent neared, Roman recognized him.
Dr. David Borgman. Brooke’s boss from the Smithsonian.
“You,” Dr. Borgman said, hands going to his hips. “What the hell are you doing here? Dr. Heaton is not available for one of your consults.” He made air quotes aroundconsults.
Roman forced a smile and brushed past him to go see Brooke. Flagging tape created a sort of runway, showing where people were allowed to walk.
He’d waited two full weeks, restraining himself from calling or texting just to see if she was okay. He had his sources that could keep tabs on her, but none this deep in the high country. He’d lost cell service ten miles into the ride.
“Hey,” Borgman called after him. “Where do you think you’re going? This is an official government site. You can’t just—”
Roman heard the man make a startled sound and he glanced back to see Justine had grabbed the man by the collar and was now speaking directly in his face in a low, threatening voice.
Hearing the commotion, Brooke glanced their way. She still had her hat off and her eyes went wide when she saw him.
Roman smiled for real this time, and worried that she might not be happy to see him, he waved.
He never waved. But he felt like a lovesick teenager who’d never had a girlfriend.
To his surprise—and relief—Brooke did the same.
Sure, it was a bit hesitant, but he hoped that was because he’d truly surprised her in a happy way and not in anoh hell nomanner.
“Roman? What in the world are you doing here?” she asked when he reached her.
Okay, not exactly the reaction he’d hoped for, you know the one where she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, but…
“I came for you.”
