Desert Heat (19 page)

~*~

“I’m
too tired to look any more. I think it’s time for me to go.” Mallory set aside
her scribbles. She and Mike had been trying to figure out the symbols for hours
but hadn’t worked them out yet. She reached for her dirty plate and glass.

He
circled her wrist with a big hand. “Stay.”

Their
eyes met.

 
“I should really go.” She didn’t want to
leave.

 
“No, you shouldn’t.” He tugged her close and settled
his mouth over hers.

She
closed her eyes and lost herself in his kisses. He had been gentle earlier, he
was less so now. He dipped his tongue into her mouth, seeking, exploring. She
tasted, teased. He led, she followed.

Her
breath came short and she had to break away. She said the first thing that came
to her. “I need a shower.”

He
took her hands and pulled her to her feet. He led her to the door and kissed
her
again.In
the
bathroom,
she reached into the shower and turned it on, then stripped shoes, then socks,
dropping them on the floor. The room began to fill with steam and she placed
her glasses on the sink and stripped off her clothes. She stepped into the hot
water and pulled the curtain closed. Tipping back her head, she closed her eyes
and let the stream pour over her face and neck.

A
slight, cool breeze slid over her skin.

She
opened her eyes as Mike climbed in with her. “Mind if I join you?”

 
“No.” Goosebumps rose on her skin, but they
had nothing to do with the air. Her nipples pebbled and she crossed her arms
over her breasts.

He
reached for a bar of soap. Holding it with both hands he made lather.

Her
breath grew short.

This
couldn’t be happening. She shouldn’t let him do . . . this.

With
soapy hands, he slid along her outer thighs.

Her
legs trembled. She allowed her head to fall back and he leaned in to nibble
along her collarbone. The sensation of his seeking mouth on her wet skin was
like nothing she’d ever felt before. Her arms dropped to her sides like two
useless sticks, leaving her breasts exposed to his hungry eyes.

He
placed his palms over her small, brownish-tipped breasts and the sight of his
large hands covering her sent a jolt of desire burning through her body. Her
breasts swelled under his palms, pushing her already peaked nipples into his
palms. He squeezed and she bent her back to allow him better access.

All
the reasons she shouldn’t be with him flitted through her head. He was Mr.
Wrong in so many ways. But he was right in so many others. She was tired of
trying to ignore her desire. He was impossible to resist. But it was more than
physical. The way he made her feel had more to do with his mind than what he
could do to her body.

His
sly fingers teased her nipples until she wanted to beg him to stop, yet wanted to
beg him not to. She lifted her head and licked his shoulder. He tasted like
clean skin and water. As he pushed her gently against the slick wall, her
buttocks touched the cool tile and a shiver flashed up her back.

She
had never been so free.

She
didn’t care.

Mike
wouldn’t shame her or hurt her.

She
lifted her limp arms and circled his neck. His erection pressed against her
flat belly and her legs spread in response. There was no turning back. No
matter what tomorrow brought, she wouldn’t regret this moment.

With
her uninjured hand, she massaged his neck and he moaned.

He
tipped his head forward and the water cascaded over his hair, turning it dark
gold. Taking a step back, he drew a nipple into his mouth and sucked. She
rubbed his tight muscles in small, circular motions that mirrored what he was
doing with his tongue.

Releasing
her breast, he again reached for the soap.

And again made a mass of foamy lather.

Whatever
he wanted to do to her, she would let him.

Pressing
her legs apart with his knees, he reached one hand between her trembling
thighs.Mallory
swayed and grabbed his shoulders. Her skin
felt too tight. Every nerve in her body seemed to be centered between her legs.
With long, slow strokes, he washed her. Parting her, he explored every inch
with his soapy fingers and flicked a slick thumb over her sensitive center.

Deep
in her belly, she began to shake.

With
his free hand, he leaned it against the wall, supporting his weight.

Her
nails dug into his skin.

He
slid a finger inside her.

The
shaking inside her doubled. Her legs wouldn’t hold her much longer.
Too much.
Too much.
She turned her
head and nipped his arm. He pushed his finger deeper. She couldn’t bear it. Her
hips jerked forward, bringing her mound into his palm. He cupped her for a
moment,
then
withdrew his hand.

A
whimper escaped her tight throat.

 
“Hold on, sweetheart. I want to be inside you
when you come.” He dropped a kiss on her nose.

His
raw words, spoken in a hoarse, low tone, created another quiver in her.
 

He
grabbed a foil wrapped condom and tore the wrapper. With quick, efficient
moves, he sheathed himself. Lifting her left leg, he propped it on the edge of
the tub. Keeping his eyes on hers, taking her by the hips, he raised her over
him.

Mallory’s
eyes fluttered shut.

He
slid into her.
Pressed deep.

She
screamed as he went further, to her limit.

He
shuddered.

His
lips covered hers, muffling her cries as her body convulsed around him, finding
release. She slumped against him and he wrapped his arms around her waist,
catching her before she fell.

Chapter
Nineteen

Mike
pulled Mallory close, inhaling the faint odor of her vanilla-scented hair as
she snuggled against him. They fit perfectly. They’d continued their lovemaking
until she finally fell asleep, exhausted. He grinned in the dark.
   

He
loved the way she fit not only into his arms, but his life. For the first time
in months he found himself smiling again. She would leave in a few days when
the coroner turned over her father’s remains. Maybe he could convince her to
stay. Mike started. Was he really thinking of asking Mallory not to leave? The
idea of her not being here filled him with gloom. He tightened his hold.

Her
spirit and her bravery amazed him. But it was her big heart that made her
something special.

She’d
forgiven him when he had given her little reason to.

He
was falling fast for her. If she thought half as much of him he would be a
lucky man.

One
way to show her his feelings would be to find
Skeeter’s
buried treasure. Mike let his mind wander over the day’s events, always coming
back to the symbols on the rock. He’d seen them hundreds of times and never put
two and two together.

What
were the images trying to tell him? There wasn’t a place on the ranch he hadn’t
explored.

 
Except one.

He
sat straight up in bed.

His
heart thudded so loud he didn’t see how Mallory could sleep through it. The X
on
Skeeter’s
map wasn’t an X, it was a cross. And the
only place one existed was in the old courtyard, intertwined in the arch over
the wrought iron gate. He had never spent much time in there. He rolled to his
back, pulling Mallory with him onto his bare chest.

She
sighed.

If
she weren’t so tired, he’d wake her now.

Almost
2
a.m.
A long
time until dawn.

He
forced himself to take deep, slow breaths. If he didn’t calm down it would be
an endless night.

~*~

Mallory
rolled over and bumped into something solid.
The wall?
No. This was warm.
Human.
Mike. A hot flush started at
her toes and spread to the top of her scalp. What had she done last night? A
better question was what had she not done? She groaned and pulled the covers
over her head.

 
“Good morning, beautiful.”

Oh
no. He was awake. No chance to sneak away. She peeked out. “Hi.”

 
“I’m glad you’re awake. I’ve been waiting for
you to get up for about three hours.” He sounded so chipper she wanted to
scream.

 
“What time is it?”

 
“Seven.” The bed creaked as he stood.

 
“In the morning?”
She
needed at least four more hours of rest to make up for last night. Her entire body
ached. Some places more than others. She felt around for her glasses, finding
them on the floor next to the bed. After she shoved them on she saw he was
dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. “Why are you up so early?”

 
“Because I figured out the
puzzle.”
He looked so smug she wanted to hit him. Or kiss him.

 
“You did?
When?”
She
squirmed, fighting to sit up.

 
“Last night after you fell
asleep.
My mind kept going over those symbols until I thought I’d go
insane. But all of a sudden it clicked. I know where the treasure is buried.”
He grinned.
“Ready to go get it?”

Mallory
sat straight up, realizing too late that her bare breasts were exposed. His
blue eyes darkened and she grabbed the blankets and covered herself. “You know?
Where?”

 
“Come on, and I’ll show you. I’ll make coffee
while you get ready.” He walked to her, bent over and kissed her. And she
nearly forgot anything else. He grinned and pulled away, looking very satisfied
with himself. “Meet me in the kitchen.”

A
half hour later she met him in the kitchen.

Her
mouth went dry as she looked at him. His blond hair fell over his forehead and
she ached to brush it back. Wearing a plain blue T-shirt and snug jeans that
accentuated his sexy male body, he looked too good to be true. But she knew he
was. Her lungs expanded, squeezing her heart. At least that’s what she thought
made it constrict painfully.

How
could he look so refreshed when she knew she looked like hell with her curls
unruly and dark circles around her eyes? She doubted if he was too sore to walk
either. The reason made her cheeks burn. She hadn’t been able to get enough of
him last night.

 
“Tea?
The water’s
hot.” He smiled and her heart did a little dance.

 
“You made me tea?” He remembered she wasn’t a
coffee drinker, that she preferred herbal tea. The thoughtful act touched her
more than she wanted to admit. “Get a grip,” he muttered. “It’s only tea.”

The
orange-lemon blend cheered her as she sipped it. “How did you figure it out?”

 
“I couldn’t sleep, and I kept thinking about
those marks. I know this ranch like the back of my hand. There’s no mine on
this property. But there is an X.
A cross, actually.
At the old courtyard.”
He set aside his cup. “Come on and
I’ll show you.”

~*~

Mallory
climbed out of the SUV and followed Mike to the courtyard. A whitewashed adobe
fence, some of it crumbling to the ground, circled about an acre.

 
“Is this a graveyard?” Mallory stood at the
fence.

 
“No. There used to be a house over in that
corner. But it was falling down and we finished taking it down when I was just
a kid. It was dangerous and snakes liked to sleep in there.” He hefted a
shovel. “Let’s go to the arch.”

They
moved to the archway and looked up. Rising from the adobe fence was a beautiful
wrought iron arch. Intricately made, with flowers and vines, and although one
arm had been broken off, right in the middle was obviously a cross.

Mallory
caught her breath. If there was buried treasure here, Skeeter would be right.
His entire life wouldn’t have been wasted. All the sacrifices would matter. She
wanted to cry. Instead she said. “Where do we look?”

Mike
tapped the ground directly under the cross. “Here, I think.”

Mallory
went to the SUV and retrieved her shovel. She returned and asked, “Where do you
want me to dig?”

He
dug the point of his shovel into the sand. “I’ll start here. So anywhere close
by, I’d say.”

Mallory
dug like a ditch digger, sand flying. Next to her, Mike did the same.

After
two straight hours of laboring, she looked up. Her shoulders and arms were trembling.
Around her was a hole about four feet deep. His hole was deeper yet. “How far
down do you think it is?”

He
wiped his forehead with his arm. “I don’t know.”

She
voiced her fear. “Maybe it’s not here.”

 
“I think it is.” He jabbed his pile of sandy
dirt. “We just have to keep looking.”

 
“You know what we need?
A
metal detector.
You don’t happen to have one, do you?”

 
“No, but we could run into Mesa and buy one.”
He jabbed his shovel in the sand. “Let’s go.”

Mallory
reluctantly left her shovel with his. “Okay.”

Inside
the Durango, he said, “Let’s swing by the ranch. I don’t have my wallet.”

She
nodded and closed her eyes. Exhaustion overwhelmed her.

He
parked and left the engine running while he dashed in to retrieve his wallet.
When he came back he spoke, “You awake?”

She
opened one eye. “Yes.”

He
looked so grim she forced the other eye open. “Mike? What is it?”

 
“There’s a message from the coroner. She wants
us to come by. We’re to call first. She said
Bodine
is going to meet us there, too.”

She
sat up straight. “Why?”

 
“I have no idea.” He pulled into the driveway.
“I guess we’ll find out.”

~*~

A
secretary at the morgue told them to have a seat and
wait,
the coroner would be with them soon.

Mallory
perched on the edge of a hard plastic chair and tried not to worry. Mike
reached for her hand. He twined his fingers through hers and she drew comfort
from his steady presence. How had she grown to rely on him so quickly? She, who
had no trust in men, had absolutely no reservations about leaning on him. Her
fingers tightened.

The
coroner came around the corner. “Hello. Would you follow me to my office? I’ve
asked Sheriff
Bodine
to join us.”

She
entered a small, cluttered office. Sheriff
Bodine
sat
in one of the two chairs in front of her desk. He stood and motioned to the
chairs. “Have a seat.”

Mallory
hesitated and looked at Mike. What was going on? Her head began to throb. They
sat and
Bodine
moved to the other side of the desk.

Dr.
Anson sat in her own chair and
steepled
her fingers.
“I called you here to tell you I have some serious reservations about your
father’s death. I did the autopsy early this morning, and there are some things
that concern me.” She looked at
Bodine
. “I think Mr.
James was murdered.”

Mallory
swayed, then covered her mouth with her hand and looked to Mike.

He
squeezed her hand. “Can you tell us why?”

 
“Yes. Remember, I asked you about cactus in
Mr. James’s feet?
Specifically under his toenails?
That struck me as odd. Most people wouldn’t leave cactus thorns in their skin
if they were able to pull them out.”

Bodine
reached for his notebook.

Dr.
Anson continued. “When we removed the thorns, we were able to determine that
the cactus was placed in Mr. James after his death. In other words, he was
either dragged through cactus after he died. Or,” she paused, “it was placed in
his feet by someone after death.”

Bodine
scribbled something.

 
“What are you saying?” Mallory couldn’t take
it in.

 
“I’m telling you that someone is attempting a
cover-up.” She picked up a pen and rolled it between her hands.

 
“You think someone killed Skeeter because he
had cactus in his feet?” Mike sounded skeptical.

 
“No, I don’t.” She met his eyes. “There’s
more.”

 
“Go on,”
Bodine
ordered.

 
“When we removed the thorns from under Mr.
James’s toenails, we found needle marks.

Sometimes
heroin users shoot their drugs there because they believe no one will notice
the tell-tale tracks. We found two such marks although we didn’t find illegal
drugs in his system. But what was there was an abnormal amount of insulin.”

“And
James wasn’t a diabetic?”
Bodine
asked.

 
“No.” Dr. Anson looked at him with troubled
eyes. “We know he was not. Sometimes people get it in their later years, but he
was a healthy man. He had no symptoms of diabetes.”

 
“I don’t understand,” Mallory whispered.

 
“I do,” Mike said. He leaned forward. “If I’m
following you right, you’re saying Skeeter has needle holes under his toenails.
He wasn’t an illegal drug user or diabetic. But he had an abnormally high
amount of insulin in his system. You’re telling us that someone injected him
with insulin,
then
tried to cover the marks with
cactus.”

 
“This is crazy,” Mallory said. “Skeeter
wouldn’t just
lay
still while someone jabbed him under
the toenails with needles.”

 
“He might’ve been overpowered,” Sheriff
Bodine
commented. He flipped through his notes. “He wasn’t
a huge guy.
About five-ten and one-eighty.
Not small
either.”

 
“He wasn’t small, but he was ill,” Dr. Anson
said. “He had an advanced case of pneumonia. He should’ve been hospitalized. It
is very possible he was unconscious while this occurred.”

Mallory
reeled and if Mike wouldn’t have had hold of her hand, she would’ve fallen. The
implications turned her stomach. Skeeter had been so close to his goal. Someone
had found out and murdered him. Her head spun and she put it between her knees.

 
“You okay?” Mike sounded far away.

She
breathed deep, through her nose, and the spell began to pass. Dr. Anson touched
her shoulder. “Are you coming around? Do you need to lie down for a minute?”

 
“No.” Her head still spun.

 
“Take your time.” Dr. Anson continued to touch
her shoulder and Mike let go of her hand and wrapped his warm palms around her
arm.

After
a few minutes Mallory sat up. “I’m sorry.”

 
“I know this has been a shock,” Dr. Anson
said. “But I didn’t want to break the news over the phone. And I wanted the
sheriff here to hear this, so he can act accordingly.”

 
“Thank you,” Mallory managed.

The
coroner gave her a quick, awkward pat,
then
moved back
behind her desk.

Bodine
straightened. “You two have any idea where the
lethal dose might have come from?”

Mallory
looked at Mike. His jaw was set and his lips were pinched tight. “Yes.”

 
“You want to tell me?”

Mike’s
voice went steely. “Brent
Fedderson
is a friend of
mine. He works . . . lives at the ranch. He’s diabetic and he needs insulin to
control it. But he wouldn’t kill anyone.”