Desert Heat (8 page)

Watching
Mallory’s face out of the corner of his eye, Mike wanted to reach across the
bar and take the little bald bastard by the neck and shake the information out
of him. Couldn’t he see she was hurting? Any idiot could see she was dying for
information about her father. “She’s his next of kin. Doesn’t that make her
eligible to know
Skeeter’s
business?”

 
“Not until I see something in writing.” Pete
paused with his cleaning and looked Mike in the eye. “The law’s the law. Even
here in Tortilla
Flat
.”

 
“Will a death certificate do?” Mallory asked.
“I don’t have it here with me, but I can bring it back.”

 
“That’ll do.” Pete began wiping the bar again.
“You understand. Rules are rules.”

 
“Yes,” she said. “I know.”

Mike’s
appetite had fled and he didn’t think Mallory was hungry any more either. “Are
you ready?”

 
“Yes.” She shoved her glasses up on her nose
in the way he was beginning to recognize as a nervous habit.
Endearing
and sweet.
 

 
He looked at Pete. “Do you have any take-out
boxes?”

 
“Sure do.” He reached behind the counter and
handed them two Styrofoam containers.

Mike
put their uneaten meals in them and handed Pete a bill. “Keep the change.”

He
lifted it and said with a wave, “Don’t forget to bring me that paperwork.”

Mallory
smiled weakly and Mike ushered her out the door. The rain had become a drizzle.
“Would you like to walk through town?”

She
nodded and began to stride away. He caught up and together they toured the tiny
town. He couldn’t read her mood and he didn’t want to pry, so he walked
silently at her side as she took in the village.

At
the post office she stopped. “I cannot believe this was my father’s life. He was
well-respected in his professional
life,
he was loved
by my mother and me. What in heaven’s name could have enticed him to live like
this? Like some kind of extra in an old western movie? I just don’t
understand.”

He
had no words or wisdom to offer. All he had was sympathy. He did the only thing
he could. He took her in his arms and held her. She felt so small and
so
frail as she shook in his arms. He wanted to protect her,
to make her hurt go away. But he didn’t have the power to do so. All he could
offer was comfort. For a few minutes she stood in the circle of his arms. She
pulled back from him and turned away. He caught a glimpse of tears on her
cheeks, but she ducked her head and wiped them with her palms.

 
“We should go,” she said.

 
“There’s no hurry.” He was willing to let her
take her time.

 
“I’ve kept you too long,” she insisted. “And
I’ve seen everything I want to.”

He
couldn’t argue that and hurried to keep up as she almost ran back to the
Durango.

Inside
the warm, leather-scented interior he started the ignition. “We’ll come back as
soon as you get
Skeeter’s
death certificate.”

She
removed her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose. “What’s the point? I
found out what I came for. I guess I hoped deep down inside that Skeeter was more
than a bum. But that’s not the case, is it? He was exactly what he appeared to
be.
A man who walked away from his wife and child to live in
the desert with a burro.
He was cold, heartless. I don’t want to know
any more.”

Mike
sat in silence as grief and rage poured out of her.

“All
these years I’ve held on to the stupidest dreams. Like he was an amnesiac and
couldn’t find his way back home. And let’s not forget the CIA theory. I thought
he might’ve been forced to live undercover and he couldn’t come back because
he’d put us in danger.” She laughed bitterly. “I am such a fool.”

 
“You’re anything but a fool.” Mike’s chest
tightened. He wished he had the magic cure to make her feel better. “You’re
smart. And pretty.
And wonderful.”
The words came
easily. He didn’t have to struggle to find them. “And your dad was a damn fool
to miss out on all you are. I bet his wife was great, too.”

She
sniffed. “My mom was pretty special.”

 
“She had to have been something great if she
raised you.” Mike reached across the seat and took one of her cold hands in
his. “Look, I don’t know why your dad took off, but I do know he couldn’t have
been thinking clearly when he did. He was a jackass.

She
shook her head. “You didn’t know the same man I did. He was brilliant and
wonderful and—”

 
“A louse.”
Mike cut
her off. “A wonderful man doesn’t abandon his wife and child with no word for
twenty years. That’s a rotten human.” Mallory didn’t correct him, but he had
the feeling she wanted to again. “You’re right. I didn’t know Gary James,
Professor. I knew Skeeter James, desert rat. I thought he was a confirmed
bachelor with no ties anywhere. He wasn’t the person you believed him to be.
Grieve for all he lost, not for what you never had.”

A
tear fell down her cheek and he wiped it away with his thumb.

She
turned her face away from him, trying to hide her tears. He took her chin in
his hand and turned her head toward him. Her big doe eyes swam and his heart
clenched. “Don’t. He’s not worth it.”

A
sob escaped her. “I know.”

Right
then and there Mike vowed he’d rather rip out his own liver with his teeth than
ever see her hurt like this again.

Chapter
Eight

Mallory
pulled her chin out of Mike’s grasp. The combined look of pity and kindness in
his eyes nearly undid her. She would’ve liked for him to wrap his arms around
her again and let him comfort her, but she’d relied on herself most of her
life. She wasn’t going to start depending on anyone else now.
Especially a man.
Not even this one.

 
“I’m fine.” She wiped her nose with a Kleenex
from her pocket.

He
started the SUV, backed out and turned toward Goldfield. “The rain’s letting
up.”

Mallory
wiped her nose again. “Yes.”

As
the rain dried up, the craggy gray peaks were nearly hidden behind swirling,
lifting mist. They looked like aging ladies wearing lace mantillas. “The
mountains are so beautiful.” Mallory sighed. “I can see why Skeeter loved these
hills.”

 
“He was an old fool,” Mike said. “If I’d known
the truth, I would have felt completely different about him.”

Mallory
turned toward him. “Don’t say that. Skeeter was apparently fond of you. He
needed your friendship in his life. I don’t want you to hate him now.”

 
“I can’t respect him now.” Mike’s jaw was set
in a hard line.

 
“I’m responsible for making you feel this way.
And I don’t like it.” Regret filled Mallory. Skeeter had done so many
reprehensible things. Now, in death, he didn’t have his
one
 
reliable
friend.

 
“Wrong.” He looked at her, his dark blue eyes
angry. “I’m responsible for myself.”

The
more she was around him, the more she liked him. More than a sexy, big man with
killer bedroom eyes, he was too nice to be believed.

Her
head screamed
Danger! Danger! Danger
!

Her
heart whispered something altogether different.

~*~

Mallory
grabbed the dashboard as Mike braked hard.

 
“Oh, hell,” he muttered.

The
wash they’d crossed less than two hours earlier was now full of angry, rushing
water. A black SUV with the word
The Jumping Cholla
stenciled across the
side sat directly in the middle of the creek. Nobody appeared to be in it.
 

 
“Why is one of your vehicles out here in the
middle of a flood?” Mallory’s gaze was riveted on the stranded SUV. “Aren’t we
about twenty miles from the ranch?”

 
“Yeah.
I have no idea
why it’s there.” Mike opened the door and a gust of wind blew in. “But I better
find out if someone’s inside. He grabbed a jacket from the backseat and climbed
out.

Mallory
followed him to the unsteady bank. Fast-moving muddy brown currents swirled
around the SUV. The speed and depth of the water made it impossible to ford.
There was no way to cross. Brush, rocks and even an ancient saguaro were swept
by in the current. The Durango, facing them, was lodged sideways against a
palo
verde
tree, directly in the
middle of the flood. The water reached high on the doors.

 
“Hey,” Mike shouted.
“Anyone
in there?”

Mallory
raised her voice with his. “Brent? Can you hear us?”

Mike
glanced at her, but didn’t comment. Tension ran through his voice. “Hello?
Answer if you can hear me.”

Nothing
but the roar of the water answered.

 
“I don’t think anyone’s in there,” Mike said
finally. His voice was hoarse from shouting.

 
“I don’t think so either,” Mallory said. “But
there’s no way to know for sure until the water goes down.”

Mike
grabbed hold of a
palo
verde
branch by the bank and stuck a foot toward the river. Mallory grabbed his arm.
“Don’t. You know how dangerous that could be. It’s over your waist. The current
will sweep you away if you try to cross.”

 
“There’s a rope in the back of the Durango.
I’ll tie it around my waist,
then
cross.”

 
“No.” Mallory’s entire body trembled. “Please
don’t risk it. If you get swept off your feet an undertow could pull you down.”

He
looked at her and anguish tore across his face. “I can’t stand here while one
of my best friends drowns.”

 
“I don’t think anyone’s in there. If they
were, they would be waving or shouting or making some kind of movement. I don’t
see anything. Do you?” She made a visor with her hand and tried to see through
the windshield.

 
“Someone could be lying on the seat. Hurt or
sick.” He paced up the bank a short distance,
then
came back.

 
“I doubt it. I bet whoever was in that car
climbed out. I think he went back toward Goldfield.” She touched Mike’s arm.

He
stared at the stuck SUV. “I have to find out.”

Mallory
pleaded, “Please don’t risk your own life on the off chance somebody’s in
there.”

He
whirled toward her. “I can’t stand here and wonder.” Pushing by her, he went to
the SUV and lifted the trunk. Taking out a long section of rope, he tied it
around his waist. Then he attached the other end to the bumper of the parked
Durango.

Mallory
stood frozen in fear as he made a double knot and tossed his jacket aside. She
wasn’t a strong swimmer. He was so much bigger than she was she didn’t think
she could pull him from the water if she needed to. She tried one last time.
“Mike, I’m afraid for you. Please don’t go in there.”

He
looked at her for a minute. His jaw was set in a determined line, his lips
pressed together. “I have to. If anything happens, go back to Tortilla Flat.
They have phone service there. My cell won’t work here, there’s no reception.”

She
opened her mouth,
then
closed it. “How can I help?”

 
“Just hold the rope steady. If anything
happens, jump in the car, put it in reverse and jerk me out of there. He handed
her the middle section of the rope. Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the
rushing flood waters. He stood for a minute, bracing against the powerful
water. When he had his footing, he took one small step.

From
the bank, Mallory watched, holding her breath. Inch by inch, he moved away from
her and toward the stranded vehicle. A gush of water rose above his waist, but
he held his ground. She couldn’t see how he could keep his footing against the
powerful surge, but somehow, even as the water reached his chest, he made it to
the door and grabbed hold of the handle. She let her air out in a gasp. Thank
God he was safely there. He tugged on the door, but couldn’t budge it, lodged
against the tree. He banged his fist on the door,
then
cupped his hands to see through the window.

 
“Is anyone there?” Mallory yelled.

 
“No.” He gave
a thumbs
down signal. “I’m coming back across.”

Her
body sagged. Thank God. Now if he would only make it safely back. She
straightened and held the rope so tightly it burned into her palms. She lived
each step through him.
His search for solid footing, the
shifting sand, the push and pull of the river.
Her heart beat so hard
she felt faint. But Mike needed her to be strong, so she concentrated on his
safe return.

Less than two feet to go, just when he had almost reached the
safety of the bank, he fell.
His body lurched sideways into the water.
Like he weighed no more than a piece of paper, he was carried along until he
came to the end of the rope. The slack jerked tight, tearing through Mallory’s
hands. His head went under, and for a long minute she didn’t think he was going
to resurface.

 
“Mike! Oh, no! Where are you?” She dropped the
lifeline and ran down the bank to where he disappeared and frantically searched
the muddy water for him.

He
bobbed to the top, coughing.

Grabbing
up the rope, like a fisherman with the biggest catch of her career, she
struggled to pull him in. Bracing her heels in the wet sand, she put all her
strength into it. She wrapped the coils around her waist and put her weight
into the life or death struggle. He paddled her direction, making progress by
inches. The water fought them both, but by tiny increments, he came to the
shore.

Finally
at the bank, he grabbed hold of the rope and crawled out. He fell face down and
choked, then spit out water. Mallory fell back on her rear, still holding the
rope taut. Her legs shook so hard she didn’t think she could ever walk again.
“Are you okay?”

He
managed a nod.
“Yeah.”

 
“Thank God. I thought you were a goner.”
Forcing words out of her tight, raw throat was difficult.

 
“You and me both.”
He
coughed again.

After
several deep breaths, her heartbeat began to slow. She moved to take the rope
off him and saw he shook from head to toe. Helping him roll to his back, she
untied the knot with numb fingers. “You’re freezing. You’ve got to get out of
those wet clothes.”

 
“
There’s
swim trunks
and a T-shirt in the back,” he said through chattering teeth.

 
“Can you stand?”
 
She put her hands under his arms and tried to
help him up. He was too heavy. There was no budging him.

 
“Not for a minute.” His lips were turning
blue.

 
“You’ve got to get in the car.” She used her
meanest voice. One she used on students who didn’t turn in their papers on
time. “Now, get up. I mean it, Mike.”

He
smiled a little although it obviously pained him to do so. “Okay.”

 
With difficulty, he pushed to his knees. He
coughed again, but didn’t spit up any more liquid. She took that as a good
sign. Bending, she put one arm around her neck. It weighed on her like
an oxen’s
yoke. She didn’t care. Somehow she had to get him
inside the car and into heat before hypothermia set in. She tugged, he lunged.
Together, they got him on his feet.

He
swayed and she wrapped her arms around him to steady him. “No, you don’t.”

Taking
careful baby steps, she guided him to the back of the SUV. He sat on the
tailgate with a thud. “I feel awful.”

 
“No wonder. You swallowed half of Arizona’s
water,” she said. “We’ve got to get you dry before you catch pneumonia.”

Tremors
shook him.

Mallory
climbed in the back of the Durango and rummaged around until she found a gym
bag and a rolled-up sleeping bag. She carried the items to the tailgate and
stepped out. “I found the dry clothes. Can you get in them, or do you need my
help?”

 
“I can manage,” he said. His hands shook.

She
wasn’t so sure. “I’ll step around to the other side of the car while you
dress.”

He
nodded.

Still
not certain he was going to be able to get out of his wet things, she moved
away. The rain clouds, drifting away, gathered for another round. She shivered.
If she was cold, she couldn’t imagine how Mike felt. “You dressed?”

 
“Almost.”

She
went around to the other side of the SUV. Mike had managed to get to his wet
things off, but not the dry clothes on. With his back to her, he stood in all
his naked male glory.
Wide shoulders, slim hips, long muscled
legs.
And an ass to die for.
She swallowed.
Hard.
“Let me help.”

He
looked over his shoulder. “Please.”

Keeping
her eyes firmly on his face, she tugged the T-shirt over his head and helped
him lift his arms into the sleeveless tank. It fell below his hips, covering
his genitals and relief and regret fought within her. She knelt and lifted his
icy, big man foot through the swim trunks.
Then the other.
Standing, she pulled the trunks up his frozen legs, thighs and over his hips. A
smile tugged at her mouth. She hadn’t ever pulled a man’s shorts this
direction.

Her
face felt flushed but he didn’t look any warmer. “Come on. Get in front and
I’ll turn on the heater.”

He
climbed in the front seat and she unrolled the sleeping bag and blankets and
tucked them around him, then got in the driver’s seat and started the engine.
In a few minutes hot air poured through the vents. His teeth chattered.

 
“The water’s not going down. I’m going to drive
back to Tortilla Flat.” She backed around.
 
“Maybe there’s someplace there you can take a hot shower.”

She
sped down the road as fast as she dared under the slick conditions.

Before
she reached Tortilla Flat, another wash full of water brought her to a skidding
stop. The SUV fishtailed and she fought to straighten it out. Inches before it
skidded off into the waters, she brought it to a crooked stop. Wiping sweaty
palms on her jeans, she said, “We almost went for another dunk.”

 
“Don’t try to cross,” he warned. “It’s deeper
than it looks.”

She
looked in the rear-view mirror. “We can’t go back. Is there another way
around?”

 
“No.” He met her eyes. “We’ll just have to
wait it out.”

He
was right. No way would she attempt to ford the water, and he wasn’t up to it.
“How long do you think we’ll be stuck?”

 
“No telling. The big surge usually comes after
the rain stops.” He looked toward his window. “It’s starting to rain again, so
we’re not going anywhere soon.”

 
“Will someone come looking for us?” she asked.

 
“Not until late,” he said. “We better settle
in.”