Sinister (28 page)

She’d wanted to unbuckle and snap open his jeans and strip him naked. She’d wanted to feel him inside her and—

Holy—shit—damn—hell.

Pilar was staring at her and Delilah realized she’d posed a question. “What?” Delilah asked.

“I said, Emma wouldn’t even bring my dress over. She sent Georgina with it.”

“But you’ve got it now, right?” Delilah asked, trying to keep to the salient point. Who cared who brought it? “It’s upstairs. In your bedroom.”

“Yes, but that’s not the point.”

“What is the point?” Delilah asked.

Pilar must have sensed that Delilah was no ally because she just shook her head, glared at Ira’s den door and said, “Tell your father I’ll be upstairs when he’s finished.”

She stalked toward the stairs and Delilah glanced toward the den door. Her father was closeted with someone, maybe Colton this time, who’d had a whole lot more questions about the fire, ones no one was able to answer. He and Sabrina were taking all the kids out riding this afternoon, which Pilar had bemoaned all morning. Ricki was into her investigation and therefore not around, though Delilah suspected a certain part of her enthusiasm was because she was working with Sam. Nell and Jen had gone into town and Tyler hadn’t left his room, as far as Delilah knew. It had left her all morning with Pilar.

“You know . . .” Pilar’s voice reached her from the stairs and Delilah turned. She’d stopped at the landing, one hand on the rail, but she was looking down pensively. “I kinda thought I’d be pregnant by now. I wanted the wedding to be perfect, of course, but I gave up birth control two months ago, thinking that timing-wise, I could still fit into the dress and we’d already be starting that family.”

Delilah worked hard to keep the horror off her face. Yes, her father was marrying Pilar, and yes, they were bound to have a sexual relationship, but good God . . . “It’s early yet,” she heard herself say. “You’ve got time.”

Pilar made a sound of disgust as she headed up the second flight. “None of us are getting any younger.”

Delilah heard the den door open behind her but didn’t turn around. She was too locked into her own personal hell. Of course Pilar didn’t know that she wanted a baby as well, but it still felt like a knife in the back. If Pilar should turn up pregnant ... and Delilah was still looking for a man . . . a sperm or two or billion ...

Afraid of what might be seen on her face, she headed out the front door and headed blindly toward the foreman’s cottage. The cold wind slapped at her face and she was glad for it. She hoped it slapped her silly. She needed to be pulled out of this funk.

She was standing in the frigid air, watching her breath plume, when Ricki’s truck pulled up. “Hey,” her sister said, alighting from the cab.

“Hey,” Delilah said shortly.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked again with more force.

“Pilar’s planning to have a baby.”

“Oh . . . no . . .”

The horror in her voice made Delilah laugh. “My reaction as well. And the worst of it, it’s all I’m thinking about, too. That damn biological clock has gotten really, really loud.” She mentally shook herself. “Sorry. I know you’re deep into figuring out what’s going on around here.” She managed a smile. “Anything new?”

“Nah . . . we think we know who, just don’t have a name. Until we can figure out the motivation, it’s hard to know where to look.” She stood beside Delilah and they both stared at the burned cottage. “You can have a baby without a guy,” she pointed out.

“Might be easier,” Delilah said. “Might be harder, too.”

“Nearest sperm bank’s probably in Jackson,” Ricki observed.

Delilah thought about that for a moment, then said, “You know what I want? A hot, quick affair with a sexy man. No strings attached. Someone who’d be on board with a pregnancy, should it happen, but could just walk away afterward. Go right on down the road.”

Ricki laughed.

“I’m serious.”

“You are not. You want the whole enchilada. The baby and the guy.”

“Sure, it’d be nice, but really, it would be okay to just get the baby part.”

“Okay, fine. You got someone in mind for the job?”

Hunter flashed across the screen of her mind. The kiss filled her thoughts and she felt a thrill slide through her, right down to her feminine core. “No,” she lied.

Ricki’s gaze had returned to the burned wreck of the cottage. “I was gonna brave going inside, but maybe I’ll wait. I’m meeting with Sam again soon. He talked to Hunter about the fires and I talked to Mariah and Blair about being at Big Bart’s just before Amber Barstow disappeared. Kincaids are all over this thing, aren’t they?”

She said it lightly as she headed back to her truck, but Delilah felt a flutter of alarm. “You think they’re involved?” she asked.

“Nah. Only peripherally.” Ricki glanced at Delilah and said, “What?”

“I don’t think they are, either.”

She seemed to see something on Delilah’s face, so she hesitated, one hand on the driver’s door. “Do you know something?”

“No, no. Not about anything going on now.”

“What is it?”

“I ran into Abby Flanders, er, Bywater. We were talking about the wedding and whether she and her father would be going . . .”

“And?” Ricki persisted when Delilah trailed off.

“She wasn’t with Hunter the night of the homestead fire. She lied about that because everyone wanted to believe he was the firebug who was setting fires that summer. He wouldn’t say the truth, so she gave him an alibi.”

“What truth?”

“That he was there, but he was there to meet me.”

Ricki narrowed her eyes at Delilah. “To meet you . . . You were seeing Hunter back then?”

“Oh, yeah. I was crazy. Teenaged love, you know. I couldn’t tell anybody. Dillinger/Kincaid relations weren’t all that great. Then when Abby lied for him, I thought he was still seeing her and I cut it off. Left him a note and ended it.”

“Huh.” She thought about that for a moment. “So, now what?”

“I don’t know. I . . . saw him this morning.”

Ricki seemed to pull her thoughts back from wherever they’d gone with an effort. “Saw . . . Hunter?”

“In the stables. But then Colt came in and I left.”

Ricki gave Delilah a long look. “You’re thinking about asking him to be your baby-daddy.”

“Hell, no!”

“Yes, you are,” she insisted, grinning. Then her smile faded and she asked, “You sure he was there to meet you at the homestead that night?”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, if Abby hadn’t lied for him . . . I don’t know.”

“He was protecting me.”

“Protecting a secret love affair, when he was practically accused of arson?”

“Hunter didn’t have anything to do with the fire! Then, or now.”

“I know. I know . . .”

“Don’t placate me.”

“You’re talking about babies, Delilah. I just thought that maybe, before you go any further, you might want to clear the air about what really happened that night. Especially in light of the recent fires, and murders.”

“God, I’m sorry I said anything.”

“I’m just saying . . . before you go to the next step . . .”

“I’m not going to the next step,” she snapped out.

Ricki lifted her hands in surrender and climbed into the truck. “Deny it all you want, but you’re thinking about making a baby with him. It’s in your head. But once you have a father in the picture, they’re connected to your kid for better or worse. This I know.”

As she drove off, Delilah muttered, “Well, hell.” Though she wanted to refute everything Ricki had said, there was an element of truth in there she couldn’t ignore because yes, she was thinking about Hunter. She couldn’t damn well stop thinking about him.

Pulling out her cell phone, she began to punch in Hunter’s number, her heartbeat escalating. She would ask him to meet her at the stables again. If Davis and Kit were around, fine. There was a tack room with a couple of chairs and a bunk where they could have some privacy. Was she thinking about asking him the impossible? No. Of course not. How could she? What she really wanted was to just clear the air, like Ricki had said, and then maybe ... maybe ...

“Jesus,” she said, cutting off the call before it could go through.

 

 

Lost in thought, Hunter heard his cell give one aborted ring. He pulled it from his pocket, throwing a cursory glance toward Whit Crowley and his buddy Graves, who were loitering in the parking lot as he crossed to the front steps of the firehouse. But suddenly Crowley’s paw spun him around, his back toward the firehouse wall. Graves was in his face, too. His big mug only inches away. Hunter stiff-armed Crowley, thrusting him back.

“You think you can get me shitcanned, Kincaid?” Crowley growled. “Your troubles have just begun.”

“So, Raintree fired you,” Hunter shot back through his teeth. “’Bout time.”

Crowley grabbed at him but Hunter lithely moved out of range. He was balanced on the balls of his feet, ready. Two against one wasn’t exactly a fair fight, and Graves was a big man, but the moment was now.

“What’d you say to the Dillinger girl?” Crowley demanded.

So, this wasn’t just about Crowley’s ass getting fired. “You mean besides telling her what a scumbag scammer you are? That you’re no kind of fireman? That you prey on people and bilk them and their insurance companies? I was real nice about you, Whit. Said you keep your car clean. Maybe you oughta ask her on a date.”

“Shut your smart mouth, asshole.”

“That all you got, Whit?”

A moment later Graves delivered a punch to Hunter’s gut that crumpled his knees and took his breath away. And a moment after that Raintree and several of the volunteers rushed outside.

“Get away from him, Crowley, Graves, before I have you arrested,” Raintree bit out. “Get the hell away.”

“He threatened us,” Crowley said, his face red as a beet as he reluctantly stepped back.

“With a cell phone?” Raintree glowered fiercely.

Muttering under their breaths, Crowley and Graves threw Hunter and Raintree both hateful looks as they strode away.

Hunter had gotten his feet under him again, but his stomach hurt like a son of a bitch.

“You okay?” Raintree quickly came over, concerned.

“Yeah . . .”

“Go see Doc,” he said.

“No.” Hunter inhaled a deep breath. “Still in one piece.”

Raintree growled, “Crowley isn’t the only one losing a job. Graves is out, too.”

Hunter actually laughed. He was already feeling better. Graves’s punch had been hard, but Hunter had managed to move away just at the moment of impact, lessening the damage.

Looking down at the cell phone, his pulse jumped as he recognized the area code on the aborted call as being Santa Monica, California. He knew it because he’d made a point of knowing it. Because Delilah had moved there.

“Sure you’re okay?” Raintree asked.

“Yup. I got somewhere to go. I’ll be back later . . .”

From the stables Delilah watched Colton, Sabrina, Brook, Rourke, Haley and Justin ride away, Colt’s dog, Montana, following after them. Davis and Kit had returned and there was talk of meeting with the Dillinger family lawyer to help put Mia’s affairs in order. Kit had looked determined if somewhat frightened, and Delilah totally understood. The girl knew more than most of them about animals, but the world of personal finances and paperwork was completely foreign to her.

Delilah had gone back to the house just as the kids had piled down the stairs, totally excited about the upcoming trail ride. Herding them together, Colton told her Sabrina was on her way and at that moment the veterinarian had pulled up, causing them all to race outside. Delilah had been glad to see that Brook seemed to have shaken off her fears enough to join in. After they left, Delilah had hung around just long enough to get into another wrangle with Ira about the wedding.

“You know who just called me?” he asked her, exasperated. “Lila!”

“Lila called?” Delilah repeated.

“Because
you called her
.” He spoke each word with emphasis. “Told her about the wedding even though—”

“I didn’t. I didn’t call her. I don’t even have her number.”

“—I told you I wasn’t going to invite them!”

“I didn’t,” Delilah insisted, feeling herself grow hot with annoyance. “How many times do I have to say it? Yes, I thought it might be nice to invite our relatives since you asked every person in twenty-five square miles, but I did not call Lila.”

“Well, then, who did?” he demanded suspiciously, not giving an inch.

“I have no idea.” They glared at each other for several long moments. “Well, what did she say?” Delilah finally asked. “She knew about the wedding?”

“She offered me congratulations,” he muttered. “Said she and that husband of hers couldn’t make it down, as if they’d been asked. Wanted to know if Tara and Garth were invited. They’re both living in Wyoming again. Asked if I’d seen ’em.” He snorted. “Fool woman.”

“What did you tell her?” Delilah asked. She kinda thought the old man was getting a bit of what he deserved.

“That it was a
small
wedding.”

“Well, I didn’t call her, and I didn’t call Cousin Royal in Bad Luck, either. Again, didn’t have the number. So if you get any other relative checking in, you gotta look elsewhere for your leak.”

“I just wanted to keep it simple,” he growled, then strode outside and to his truck before she could offer a rejoinder.

Delilah had then wandered around the lodge for a few minutes, trying to drag her thoughts back to the pending nuptials when all she wanted to think about was Hunter. Finally, she’d headed back to the stables where she’d run into Kit and Davis, and now she was alone.

She heard the shifting and snorting of the horses, and when she approached Babylon’s box, Babylon came toward her and snuffled her shirt. “I shoulda brought an apple,” Delilah murmured, stroking the mare’s long nose as she spied Firestarter butting his own nose under his mother’s flank, searching for milk.

She thought of Kit, alone now that Mia was gone. She thought of losing her own mother.

The quiet of the stables started to play on her nerves. She hadn’t forgotten there was a killer out there. And an arsonist. Maybe one and the same. She needed to be on alert and she suddenly wished she’d gone out with the group. Being by herself wasn’t necessarily a safe choice these days.

A blast of music played and Delilah jumped as if goosed. Her heart leapt before she recognized the sound of her own cell phone’s default ring. Snatching the phone from her pocket, she stared down at the number, furious with herself for being so jumpy.

Hunter’s cell.

Punching the CONNECT button, she said, “Hello?”

“Delilah?”

His voice was like honey. No, it wasn’t at all. It was deep and careful and she was just
reacting all over the place.
“Hunter,” she responded just as carefully.

“Did you try to call me?”

She wanted to lie. Tell him she’d pocket-dialed him, but what the hell was the point of that?
You do want to see him.
“Yeah, I—did.”

“Did you think of something?”

I thought about making love to you.
“What do you mean?”

“About the fire?”

“Oh, no.” Of course. That’s why he’d given her his cell number in the first place. “I just ... I was talking to Ricki. I—I ran into Abby Flanders in town. Or Bywater. Whatever her name is now. Guess I’ll never get that right. She told me she lied about being with you the night of the homestead fire.”

There was a long moment of silence, which suddenly made Delilah’s nerves scream. What was he thinking? What did that mean?

“Where are you?” he asked.

For a millisecond she thought about not telling him. What if ... what if he was involved somehow? But she knew better.
She knew better.
Just because the Kincaids seemed to be all over the terrible events of the past few weeks didn’t mean they had anything to do with them. “I’m at the stables. I told you I come here a lot.”

“I want to talk to you,” he said. “I’ll be there in ten.”

“Ten?”

“I’m close by.”

She hung up, her skin tingling. Was it anticipation or worry that caused the goose bumps to rise on her flesh?

Pressing her palms to her cheeks, she walked away from Babylon’s box. She needed to think. To get over this absorption with Hunter. It had been years since they were together. She’d heard about people who couldn’t get over high school romances; she’d just never thought she’d be one of them.

Actually, he was there in nine minutes. Delilah had watched the clock on her cell phone, calling herself all kinds of names while she waited in breathless anticipation. It made no sense. She’d grown a thick armor around herself all those years in Hollywood that she’d believed nothing could penetrate. How wrong she’d been.

She heard him park his truck, slam the door and then the brittle
thunk
of his boot steps as he crossed the icy ground that a weak sun was beginning to glaze with water. He pounded up the ramp that led to the stables, entering with a swirl of cold that reached Delilah as she stood at Babylon’s box, one gloved hand clamped on the top bar as if for dear life. She heard him slide the door closed and then stride directly to her.

“What did you want to talk about?” she asked, turning her head just enough to catch him in her sights. He looked good, she thought sinkingly. Sober and intense and his blue eyes simmered with heat and emotion. Or was that just
her
desire she saw reflected. God. Damn.
It.

“You called me because of what Abby said? If you think I had anything to do with
any
fire, you’d better say so right now.” He gazed at her hard. “Is that why you called? To ask me if I’m the firebug who burned down your old homestead? And maybe I torched the Pioneer Church and your foreman’s cottage. Maybe that’s why I work for fire and rescue, because I can’t control the need to just burn things. Burn them down to the ground.”

“I called
you,
Hunter.”

“I know you called me. I saw your area code on caller ID,” he retorted, too lost in his own fury to listen to what she meant.

“
You,
” she repeated.

He stared at her, a frown slowly deepening his brow. “Yeah, and I’m trying to figure out why.”

Delilah left the box and walked into the tack room. Her eye fell on the bunk with its taut blanket, and with sudden thoughts of lying down with him circling her mind, she would have turned around and left, but Hunter was right behind her, his broad shoulders blocking the door. With no exit, she backtracked a few steps, the crown of her head brushing up against one of the bridles hooked on a wall peg, setting them swinging with a soft jingle.

Remembering Ricki’s admonition, she said, “You weren’t waiting for me the night of the homestead fire. I was at the tire swing and you never showed. You were at the fire.”

She saw his surprise before he shut it down, his mouth turning into a flat line. He thought she was accusing him of something, maybe even of setting the fire, she realized, and she opened her mouth to assure him that wasn’t so, but he spoke before she could utter a word. “I was there. I got to the pine tree before you, but then I saw someone—a shadow—coming out of the house. They ran across the field to Kincaid property. I chased after them. I thought it was someone spying on us and I was gonna run them down. Then I heard voices behind me—Judd and Mia—though I didn’t know it at the time. I was chasing after the shadow and then the whole damn place went up. By the time I got turned around and back there, Colton was pulling Mia out and your dad saw me and just went ballistic. Wanted to know what I was doing on Dillinger land. I told him I’d seen someone there before the fire. He thought I was lying, and he let me know what he thought of all Kincaids. Again. I wasn’t going to tell him I’d been there to meet you.”

“But afterward . . .”

“After what?” he said through his teeth.

“After it was all over. You never said anything to defend yourself.”

“Neither did you,” he pointed out.

Delilah stared at him through drifting dust motes, her mind racing. He’d been waiting
for her
to tell about their secret affair? “You should have told everyone you were chasing someone.”

“You think I didn’t? No one listened. They all believed Ira. It was only after Abby gave me an alibi that people started thinking it was the drifter who’d set fires around the area all that summer.”

Delilah felt like a traitor for even asking. “I never thought it was you. I just wanted to hear you say it, I guess.”

Hunter exhaled. “I thought it was Blair,” he admitted heavily.

“You thought it was your brother?”

“He’d been up to all kinds of trouble, and it sounded like the sort of thing he mighta done. Mighta set it by mistake, just screwing around. But he wasn’t anywhere near the area that night. He wasn’t even in the state because he was joyriding in Colorado and got himself arrested.”

Delilah vaguely remembered some trouble with Blair around the same time as the homestead fire. She’d just been too miserable over Hunter’s involvement with the fire and Abby’s revelations to think straight. She was embarrassed now at how juvenile she’d been, how unfair. She half wanted to defend herself, to remind him that she’d been so young, but it was a weak argument. She’d loved him, and she’d believed Abby Flanders when she’d
known
that he’d been there to meet her.

“I left you a note in the hollow in the tree,” she said.

“I got it.”

It had been a terse breakup note that now seemed so silly and mean that she cringed inside. “I was so young . . .” she murmured, then hated the way that sounded like an excuse.

He waved an arm to dismiss it all, then gazed past her, through the high and narrow dust-smeared window on the side of the stables that looked toward the house. “Is Ira there? I still haven’t talked to him.”

“He left. I don’t think he’s back yet.”

“I’m not involved with these new fires, either,” he added tautly.

“I know. I’m sorry. I do know. Ricki said I should clear the air with you, and she was right.”

“Ricki.” He was terse. “That’s what started this. She believes the rumor?”

“She just knew I was . . .”
Thinking about having a baby.
Drawing a breath, Delilah shook that off and said, “When I ran into Abby, she also said something about a rumor about you.”

“The fires,” he said on a long-suffering sigh.

“No, it was something else.”

“What?”

“I don’t know.”

“There have always been rumors about the Kincaids . . . and the Dillingers.” He shrugged that off and straightened. “I just want to find out who’s behind these current fires.”

Delilah nodded, relieved that that conversation was over. “Okay. I do, too.” She walked toward the dusty window above the bunk and gazed toward the lodge. “It feels personal.”

She heard him walk up behind her. Along with the aromas of leather and straw was his own particular male scent. She froze where she stood, so aware of him behind her that there was damn near a roaring in her ears. She suddenly wanted him so much that her senses swam a bit.

“Y’know,” she said slowly, her pulse starting a slow, insistent beat. “I’ve been thinking about earlier today . . .”

He was utterly still. She could just hear his breathing.

“The kiss,” she admitted.

“I’ve been thinking about it, too.”

As if pulled by a magnet, her eyes dropped to the bunk. If he followed her gaze she couldn’t tell, but suddenly his hands were stealing around her waist, pulling her back against him. They stood that way for long seconds ... an eternity, before she turned in his arms. “Is this crazy?” she whispered.

“Yes.” He was unequivocal, but his mouth came down on hers, pressing hard. She molded her lips to his and slid her arms around his waist as well. She could feel his hardness against her abdomen and she reveled in it. This was right. This was what she wanted.

He picked her up and settled her on the bunk. They stared at each other, then she threw off her jacket and lay down, her hands clutching anxiously for him until his body was lying on hers. His belt buckle dug into her skin and she reached down and grabbed it, loosening it and quickly pulling it free before unzipping his pants.

His own hands were working on the snaps of her jeans and as they popped loose he yanked her waistband down until she was lying in her pink panties, the tiniest ones she owned, that she’d put on in her haste to get ready this morning. When his mouth descended against the scrap of fabric, she inhaled in anticipation and surprise. Then he was heating her in a way that made her writhe in surprise and sudden, blinding desire. Her back arched and she grabbed his dark hair.