Stallion of Ash and Flame (Siren Publishing Classic) (7 page)

“Thinks he does. He probably came by with the excuse Rory needs something. They are friends. But he’s a pest as far as I’m concerned.”

“Want a solution?” Trail seized his chance where he could. “I’ll act like your new boyfriend.”

“Yeah, that might put a dent in his thick skull like a fast-aimed hoof. I can’t help but wonder what it does for you, though.” Her tone sliced through him, reminding him of winter’s chill. “Not to mention the gossip circuit in town,” she added.

“At least the gossip circuit would let everyone know you’ve got extra protection out here.”

She didn’t answer. Flicking on the light at Bobby’s knock, she moved to the front door, opening it.

“Hey, Bobby, what I can get for you? Rory still okay?”
 

Psi-viewing Together

“Yeah, he’s happier than a coddled pup with all of Clara’s attention. I stopped by because Rory is worried about you. He had a strange visit. Two men who claimed to be FBI agents spent about an hour talking to him. They had badges. But he said they asked odd questions.”

“Come on in.” She stood aside for him. “Tell me what details you can. I did have some trouble up here earlier. I don’t know what the heck is going on.”

“That Trail’s pickup? I heard—” Bobby halted in mid-sentence. He eyed Trail like a challenger, his chin jutting out.

“Yep, Mandy sent him over in answer to my ad. We were just having dessert. Trail, why don’t you put on some coffee?” She gave him the I-mean-business look.

“Sure.” He smiled. “I’ll just mosey on out to the kitchen and get a fresh pot brewing.”

“All the fixin’s are above the coffee pot,” she instructed.

He nodded, striding toward the kitchen. They did need to discover whatever Bobby knew, then find a way to talk privately with Rory. No doubt, he’d been placed under surveillance now from the good guys or the bad guys, probably both.

“If it weren’t for the job being such a good-paying one, I would have come up, taken over Rory’s chores.”

Bobby had emphasized ‘good-paying.’

“I know. And I thought I could manage it all for awhile. I’m stubborn about that sort of thing. However, I was only foolin’ myself.” She led the way inside the kitchen. “Ice cream and brownies, or just coffee?”

“Your brownies are the best. A brownie and coffee would be great. Hey, where’s Luke and Spook?”

“That’s the trouble I was talking about. They were poisoned. I think by anti-freeze. I don’t keep any up here, so that means someone intentionally poisoned them both.”

“Are they okay?” Bobby asked anxiously, obviously truly fond of them.

“They’re both recovering okay, so far. I think whoever the creeps are, they ransacked the stable looking for something. The padlock on the tack room had been cut, but nothing stolen. Odd, don’t you think?”

“It is odd. There’s a huge business in stolen tack.” Bobby sat down, removed his cowboy hat, and hung it on the nearby rack. “Why didn’t you call Rory?”

“What could he do? Besides, Trail had shown up by the time I found Luke and Spook. All I could think about was taking care of them. I didn’t see the broken lock until I fed the horses.”

She took a small plate and a fork out of the dishwasher, then cut a generous portion for Bobby.

“Just needs to percolate,” Trail announced, joining them. As if all he thought about was devouring his dessert, he spooned a huge bite into his mouth. More likely Bobby would spill what he knew if they weren’t pawing the air like stallions over her.

“Delicious as ever,” Bobby complimented after a bite.

“Thanks.” Seneca settled herself and took a bite of her ice-cream saturated brownie. “Melty, but good. Was Rory worried they were after him for anything?”

“Naw. But they asked him about recent acquaintances, and if anyone had approached him about finding antiquities. What threw Rory is that they never mentioned the illegal trade angle.”

Trail kept eating as if he politely listened.

“Definitely odd,” she agreed. “Anything else? I’ll talk with Rory later. He probably tried to call while I was out bringing the horses in.”

“Yeah, he got a bit concerned, even though he knows the routine. Then he figured the phone lines could be tapped. On his second try to call, he heard a strange series of tones.”

“Good grief! I wonder what is going on?” She frowned, her spoon poised in the air. She didn’t have to feign distress.

“Since you and Rory ride up by those caves where some artifacts have been found, maybe someone thinks you’ve found something.”

“We have found a couple of little things. Nothing significant, though.”

“That’s what Rory said he told them.” Bobby shook his head in confusion, then polished off his brownie. “Now, all I need is a cup of coffee and I’m good to go.”

Trail didn’t hesitate. He grabbed up Bobby’s plate and his own empty bowl, and headed
for the coffee pot.

“Hey, Trail,” Bobby called after him, “I talked with Paula the other day. She says she misses your,” he paused for effect, “special touch.”

“She probably does,” Seneca muttered loudly, “knowing Paula. Now, there’s a woman who couldn’t keep her jeans snapped, even if they’d been padlocked.”

Trail pulled out a couple of well-used coffee mugs from the cabinet above, then lounged back against the counter, waiting on the coffee maker. Hell for luck, he’d lost ground, and now he had steep ground to race up.

Bobby chuckled annoyingly, enjoying his moment. “I don’t think Paula is the only woman in town who needs a padlock for her jeans when she gets around Trail here.”

“Yeah, he did mention earlier about his overall appreciation of women. Not just redheads. Given that we redheads have an ego around feeling special, that didn’t earn him any points.”

The beam from Bobby’s smile could have lasered Trail’s face off. He smiled to himself, knowing despite his stud past, he had a real shot with Seneca. Turning, he poured out a couple of cups of coffee. “Bobby, do you take yours black?” he asked.

“I’ll get the half and half out.” Trail heard her chair scrape backwards as she rose. “Does Rory need anything, Bobby, since you’re here?”

“Naw. Clara is spoiling him. He’s one lucky cowpoke. Must have found a few four leaf clovers out here.”

“Clara’s been good for him. I’m hoping it will work out between them.”

Trail watched her set the small carton on the table as he brought over the steaming mugs. The caffeine would do him good tonight. He didn’t plan on getting much sleep. Placing one mug in front of Bobby, he lowered himself to his chair. “Careful,” he warned, “it’s hot.” Spooning in a small portion of the raw cane sugar she kept on the table, Trail stirred nonchalantly.

“Coffee always smells so good.” She sniffed, savoring. “I just have no tolerance for the amount of caffeine in it.”

Trail reached for her empty bowl. Dipping out a spoonful of his coffee, he poured it over the brownie crumbs, then added some half and half.

“Thanks,” she murmured, surprise in her voice and in her eyes as he handed the bowl back to her.

“You know I’d stay,” Bobby jumped in. “But you know how Earl is about getting an early start. And I’ve got a chance to become foreman.”

“That’s great, Bobby. All that hard work you’ve put in is paying off.”

Trail dribbled in the half and half, stirred and sipped. He watched her taste the coffee mixture and savor. “Remember anything else, Bobby?” he asked.

“Nope.” Bobby gave a short shake of his head. “I’ll give Rory a holler that everything is okay here.”

“That’d be great. Just don’t tell him what happened today, will ya? In case his phone is bugged.”

“Well, hell, all the phone companies spy these days.” Bobby took several swallows of his coffee. “I’ve heard a few stories from some pals about how they all gather ‘round and laugh at the phone sex recordings. Don’t worry, Seneca, I’ll only tell him you’re okay. And that Trail is here.”

She nodded. “Thanks, Bobby. There’s something really weird going on. Maybe someone thinks we’ve discovered something we haven’t. Or we know something we don’t.”

“I don’t think I’d ride up that way for a long while.” Bobby tipped up his mug, finishing off his coffee.

“I think you’re right. Course, I won’t be doing much riding, except here for a
while. Rory and I always go together up that way, ever since we saw that mountain lion.”

Rising, Bobby reached for his hat, then turned toward Trail. “Take care of her, will ya?”

“Sure thing, Bobby.” He saluted with his mug.

“Later, Seneca.” Bobby tipped his hat, then headed for the front door.

Casually, Trail stood, following him. Making certain the door had been secured, he pivoted to find her regarding him intently.

“Now what?” she asked, shoving away from the archway frame.

“I’ll be back in a minute.” He put his fingers up to his lips to silence her, since he hadn’t ‘sensed’ for their enemies yet. She nodded, moving back into the kitchen. Scouting around with his sixth sense, he found what he looked for. Bobby had been followed, and listening equipment pointed at the house. How long they’d been there, he didn’t know. But it had been after Bobby’s arrival.

Cautiously, he arrowed his awareness toward whoever spied on them, not knowing if they had their own psychic talent, a more common practice than most people realized. He found two men and a woman inside a cargo van parked near the end of a neighbor’s drive.

One of the men reached out with psi tendrils trying to grasp what teased the edge of his mind’s eye. To distract him while he investigated the setup, Trail tempted him with false images. Hearing Seneca’s footsteps, he felt inspiration slap him as if a mare hoofed his butt. “Do you want to see?” he quietly asked.

“See?” she whispered, approaching him. He felt her curiosity rise with the strength of the forest fire he’d defeated.

“I’ll show you what I’m viewing.”

“How?”

Overcoming her wariness, she moved inside his arm as he held it out, and Trail eased her before him.

“Touch my temples. I’ll touch yours.”

Trail gently placed his palms on either side of her head, keeping his touch neutral. She responded, doing the same. The full contact of her hands let him know she wanted this psi experience. The deep fascination and the desire to learn must be embedded in her soul. Keeping himself aloft in the higher frequency, he noticed her delectable shape, yet could remain focused as he brought her awareness inside his gradually.

He felt it when she viewed what he saw. The three operatives were all engrossed in their jobs, the two tech people glued to their data streams.

“Oh,” burst as breath from her lips. “What now?” she whispered before she thought, her usual independence forgotten.

“Give them a show,” he murmured, low enough their equipment couldn’t record him. He’d also tamped down the efficiency of their machines a bit.

This close to her, feeling her skin, the sultry strong shape of her face, his loins darkened with need, but he kept his cock from lunging against her belly. That would have frightened her faster than if she’d been shot at again.

She hesitated, her breaths escalating. “You don’t mean—”

Trail halted her words by letting his palms drift down her face in a caress.

“You do,” she accused breathlessly. Still, she didn’t jerk away from him. No, she stood paralyzed as if he mesmerized her. “Well hell, at least I’d find out what Paula got. Wouldn’t I?”

Knowing better than to follow that line of feminine logic, or react to the subtle challenge in her tone, Trail brushed his thumb pads over the softness of her cheeks, then grazed her gorgeous cheekbones. Hell, he was about to give her far more than Paula got. Far more than he’d given any woman.

Her body shivered, causing him to tremble inside. He watched her suppress her shaking, even as her fingers delicately slid into his hair. From the way she touched him, he knew she sought the feel of his mane. He al
so sensed the battle she fought against herself. Still, she couldn’t halt her sensual sigh of appreciation, or the fact that her fingers combed into the thickness of his hair.
Eros, they felt like tiny wantons exploring him.
“Lead them down the wrong...” she hesitated, and he felt her amusement surge through her. “Down the wrong trail.”

“Down the wrong trail,” he repeated only for her ears, his own amusement a glint shining in his dark passion for her. In slow motion, he stroked beneath her heavy mane, his fingers threading upwards. He touched her with seduction and with wonder.

“Are you the wrong trail?” she asked, her voice deadly serious. Yet, he heard her willingness to open for him if he handled her right. He wanted to tell her he was her one Trail, the only trail. But that would have to wait for when he’d established himself as her stallion.

If a man remained patient enough and looked only upon the woman he wanted, he always knew what she wanted from him. What she needed from him. Forcing his own patience, he slid this thumbs up her temples while stroking through the tangled luxury of her hair. Her hair. He yearned, untamed, for the feel and sight of her woman’s mane draped all over his body.

He inhaled her essence, her fragrance a combustible blend of her unique fire and her spice-pungent desire for him. “Seneca.” He revered her name, and he spoke his rutting lust for her.

Dancing his hand through the silky waves of her hair, he touched the erotically sensitive spots on her head. His pace was so gradual she didn’t fight him, but swooned closer to him, and let their breaths mingle.

“You didn’t answer,” she reminded. Her mouth neared his as his neared hers. “Are you the wrong Trail?”

‘Trail’ had been spoken as his name, whether his sexy spirited filly knew it or not.

She had him corralled, cornered, and about to prove he was the wrong trail, no matter his answer, or his next move. He’d heard a few stories about how she’d let a man hang himself with his own swinging blue balls. She’d never laughed, though, merely turned
her back and left.

Still, by every savage hum of his body, she wanted him. More to the truth, he knew his mare wanted what he could give her as a stallion man. All he had to do was convince her.
“Does it feel like I’m the wrong Trail?” He feathered her lips with one small kiss. She moaned so softly, he almost didn’t hear her. More, he felt it in the yearning of her woman’s body as her breasts barely touched him. Her aroused nipples teased his chest, their little stabs hitching his shaft pleasurably.