Dark Valentine (27 page)

Uneasy, Rhianna asked, “Shall I call 911?”

“And tell them what?” Jules loaded a cartridge into a pistol. “That a bad man might be coming to get you, but he’s not here and no one is hurt?”

She wasn’t mocking. She was simply stating a bald fact: there was no point calling the police when they had nothing to report.

“Percy and I are going to take a walk around,” she continued. “Then he’ll head into town.”

“I think we should pack up and leave before things get out of hand,” Rhianna said. “Laughlin’s only twenty minutes away.”

Jules shook her head. “You want this man locked up, don’t you?”

“Yes, but we don’t need to get involved. He injured those two men. If he’s in Oatman, we could just tell the police and let them deal with him.”

How ironic, Rhianna thought. No one could pretend a shooting hadn’t happened. There was evidence. And the victims bore gun and knife wounds anyone could see. Pictures of their wounds could be displayed in a courtroom, where her own had been invisible. Brigham would end up in prison because he’d shot someone, not because he’d raped her. Not that it mattered. All she cared about was seeing him behind bars where he belonged. But she didn’t want anyone else hurt in the process.

“I don’t know the full circumstances, but I don’t think we can count on anything. I want to catch him violating the restraining order.” Jules leaned her shoulder against the door frame, sanguine and in control.

Rhianna let her gaze linger on the firm, compact breasts that gave shape to her black T-shirt. She wore this tucked into loose khaki pants Rhianna’s fingers itched to unbutton. Jules caught her staring and offered a hot, knowing smile. She tapped her breastbone and her mouth formed several silent words, their shape unmistakable.

Rhianna read,
I want to fuck you.
Flustered, her cheeks flaming, she looked away, hoping Percy was too caught up in his mission to notice her distraction. She heard the kitchen door open and close. He was on the patio, lighting a cigarette.

“I should get out there,” Jules said, intent again on the task at hand. She crossed the room and came to a halt in front of the sofa. “Don’t stress. You can always call me on my cell.”

Unable to help herself, Rhianna leaned forward just enough so she could rest her head on Jules’s belly. She was so wet her arousal would soon seep into her pale beige shorts. She didn’t care. All she could think about was undoing Jules’s belt and dragging her pants down, so she could see her and taste her. A distant voice reminded her that the household was in a state of alarm and this was not the time for graphic sexual fantasies.

Setting common sense aside, she curled her hands over the curve of Jules’s hips and buried her face in the lumpy khaki fly. The muscles beneath her palms tightened and Jules tilted her pelvis, thrusting her crotch against Rhianna’s mouth. A hand closed upon her head, the fingers digging in.

Jules said, “Hold that thought.”

As she walked away, Rhianna stared down at the floor and flinched at the emptiness she felt. Panic knotted her chest. Her longing for Jules defeated common sense and self-respect. She still wanted to detest her, but the wish could find no traction. Her heart and body had rebelled against the edicts of her mind.

She got to her feet and explored the seam of her shorts. Soaking. This was what her life had come to. A crazy man was stalking her. She was traumatized and afraid. And what did she think about? Sex.

*

Jules strolled onto the patio and stared up at the blotchy ochre hills that surrounded the Mosses’ ranch. Immediately beyond them the Black Mountains rose jagged and purple, scraping roughly across a painted sky. The landscape in this part of Arizona contrasted sharply with the flat basalt expanses to the south. Rain fell up here, and the moisture supported a badlands scrub that attracted herds of bighorn sheep.

The area was pockmarked with relics of its boomtown heyday. Ramshackle cottages clung to ridges throughout the canyons. Long-forgotten mining equipment lay idle near disused shafts. In the glare of the afternoon sun, the deserted valleys shimmered as though the miners of yesteryear had traipsed gold dust along every narrow path.

Jules had been struck by the eerie atmosphere of Oatman and its environs when she pulled into town that morning. The place seemed haunted, and somehow sorrowful, a forsaken outpost on the lost highway of dreams. At least half of the buildings were unoccupied. Doors swung in the wind. Empty window frames flanked shelled-out structures no one would ever restore. The town’s tourist-driven survival had produced an eclectic mix of stores, some of them obviously set up by refugees from California. A tattoo artist and head shop. A store selling political T-shirts.

Why stay here?
Jules asked herself as she watched a bird of prey cruise above the ranch, closing in on a dove. She was torn between using Rhianna as bait and spiriting her away somewhere that Brigham would never find her. Perhaps they should pack up and make the slow drive to Laughlin. They could wait and see if Brigham broke cover, and if there was no sign of him after a few days, Jules could persuade Rhianna to come away with her.

How would she lure him, if Rhianna was no longer here? Jules wanted Brigham to reveal himself, to be caught red-handed breaking into a house, carrying weapons. She pictured him ambushed, handcuffed, marched away by the authorities. There would be charges waiting back in Denver. Perhaps attempted murder. She would not represent him this time, and she would convince Carl to leave him in the wind.

“UFOs,” Percy remarked, staring at the sky with her. “Folks see them ’round here.”

“Have you seen one?”

“Yeah. Got myself abducted a few years back.” He stubbed out his cigarette. Jules could not tell if he was serious.

They crossed the internal courtyard and cut past the gazebo so they could skirt the house. Percy’s truck was parked next to the barn. Jules moved her Mercedes into the gap between his pickup and the barn door.

“Well, there’s only one way he can approach,” Jules said, staring toward the road.

From the front of the house, passing traffic was easy to monitor, and there was no cover for someone on foot. Brigham would have to make his move at night. She considered the odds. Three of them versus one of him. But he was dangerous and he had proven he would use deadly force. She had no right to expose Rhianna to that possibility, to place her and a baby at risk. What was she thinking?

“Percy,” she said. “I have an idea.”

*

Rhianna sighed with relief when Percy and Jules came back indoors and told her to get Alice ready. They had decided to play it safe and go to Laughlin. If Brigham was in town, he would not be able to hide for long.

“I want you to call the Mosses and let them know what’s happening,” Jules said. “I’ll contact the Mohave County Sheriff’s office. If Brigham’s here, he’ll be easy to corner. All they’ll need is a couple of roadblocks and a few deputies to keep this place under surveillance.”

“We’re doing the right thing,” Rhianna said. “I was worried about keeping Alice safe. And Hadrian, but he’ll be fine with Percy.”

“I know. I was worried, too.” Jules followed her to her apartment at the rear of the house and glanced around. “This is nice.”

“They treat me like family.” Rhianna pulled a small suitcase from beneath her bed. “I’m very lucky.”

As she methodically packed some clothes, she tried to suppress her prickling awareness of the woman lingering inside the doorway. She’d already dropped one set of wet panties and shorts into the laundry; it would be nice if she could stay comfortable in the jeans she was now wearing. Besides, she had responsibilities; she could not indulge herself in fantasy every time she looked at Jules.

“You decided to stay blond,” Jules remarked.

Rhianna nodded. “And I told the Mosses my real name.”

As if by tacit accord, they indulged in meaningless chitchat for a few more minutes, then Rhianna zipped her suitcase and said, “I’ll go organize Alice for the trip. That will take a little longer. There’s a lot to remember when you travel with a small child.”

Jules dragged the suitcase from the bed and stood it upright on its wheels. “Is there anything I can help with?”

Rhianna shook her head. She could read in Jules’s warm stare all that was unspoken. If they were in a different place, at a different time, under different circumstances, they would be making love right now. The thought thrilled her, but for the first time in the brief history of their dalliance, the force of their attraction made her uneasy.

She wished they had some other context in which to relate. Were they only about sex? If Werner Brigham hadn’t happened and they’d continued to see each other as planned, would their relationship have fizzled after a few months, once the novelty wore off and the chemistry started to wane? Sure, they could have a great time until the inevitable loss of interest, but Rhianna was not sure if she wanted to invest months of her life in a connection that would ultimately lead nowhere.

Frowning, she packed her hairbrush and cosmetics into a kit. People fell into relationships after falling into bed all the time. They had a honeymoon period then built something permanent. Maybe she and Jules could do that. She glanced up to find Jules regarding her with faint amusement.

When Rhianna raised her eyebrows, Jules said, “Chill. We don’t have to figure everything out right away. You told me that, yourself.”

Her eyes shone with something other than desire. Happiness, Rhianna thought. Despite the stress of the situation, her face had relaxed. She seemed completely at ease. And, apparently, mind reading was another of her formidable talents. Or perhaps Rhianna was more transparent than she realized.

Impulsively, she said, “I know we’ve fallen in lust. I guess, I was just wondering if that’s all it is. I mean, we don’t know each other so we can’t like each other.”

“Are you saying you don’t like me?” The tone was gentle and tinted with self-effacing humor. “In my defense, may I point out our inauspicious beginnings? It’s not every day a woman discovers she’s sleeping with the enemy.”

Rhianna could not help but smile. “You’re talking like a lawyer.”

Jules cocked her head. “Perhaps I feel like you’re putting me on trial.”

“If it’s any consolation, I hated you yesterday,” Rhianna said. “But today, I don’t.”

“You really know how to make a woman feel good.” Gravely, Jules added, “Indulge me. Where did I go right?”

“Well, it certainly helps that you’re hot,” Rhianna explained with the same mock-solemnity Jules had adopted. “When you look at me, I can’t concentrate on feeling angry anymore.”

“And when I’m around you, I become incompetent,” Jules said. “Actually, you don’t even need to be physically present. I’m perfectly capable of ramming into a parked car all by myself.”

“Oh, God. You didn’t, did you?” Rhianna giggled.

“It was actually a rear-ender. At maybe ten miles an hour. Not that I was paying attention. Why concentrate on driving when one can enjoy oral sex fantasies?”

“I walked into a tree after that night in your apartment.” Rhianna thought it was only fair to disclose one of her own fantasy-driven mishaps. “It even had one of those spiked cages around it. I nearly impaled myself.”

Jules’s mouth twitched. With a heartfelt sigh, she said, “Language like that…it doesn’t help. You describe a painful and embarrassing accident, and I think about strapping one on.”

Rhianna caught her breath, as a spasm clutched at her core. Her muscles contracted, heightening a sense of emptiness that made her feel needy and weak. The thought of Jules sinking into her cast a spell she couldn’t bear to break. She murmured, “I’ve never done that.”

Jules added to her enchantment, closing the short distance between them to gather her into a sensual embrace. Her kiss was delicate and full of promise. When she drew back, a little of the humor drained from her tone, and another emotion stirred the night ocean of her eyes, casting a melancholy shadow.