Uncovered (3 page)

Until Tick walked in the room.

Over dinner, his third impression had cemented his conviction that Madeline Holton was a woman to be avoided. She was distinctly uncomfortable, her posture rigid and aloof, a sure sign that she didn’t feel she belonged. Even more obviously, she had some type of hang-up where Tick was concerned. She darted secret looks in his direction, and with each one, her expression grew more and more unhappy, the line of her shoulders grew more and more taut.

Therefore, despite being the most intriguing female he’d met in a long time, Madeline was off limits. He’d already had one high-maintenance woman with a hankering for another man try to ruin him. He didn’t need another one.

Shrugging off the musings, he passed a stack of silverware to Tick, who was loading the dishwasher while Stanton wiped down the kitchen. He squinted at Tick’s drawn features. “You look wasted.”

“I am.” Tick dropped the forks in the basket. “Tired as hell.”

“See?” Stanton swiped a sponge over the island. “Having Madeline on hand will take a load off you, too.”

Straightening, Tick fixed him with a deadpan stare. “Right. Having her around is going to really help things at work. This is the same woman who blamed you for her father’s death. For your daughter’s death. Remember?”

“Her father had just died, suddenly and violently. People do odd things under those circumstances.”

“Yeah.”

“Tick—”

“I’m going to remind you of this conversation when we’re cleaning up whatever mess she causes before she skips out again.”

Curious, Ash leaned on the counter, cast a quick glance out the window at the women on the deck then shifted his attention to Tick. “You don’t like her?”

“I don’t trust her.” After adding detergent to the dishwasher, Tick closed the door a little harder than necessary. “She’s a conniving liar.”

“Damn it, Tick.” Stanton looked toward the kitchen door, which led to the deck. “Keep your voice down.”

“Trust me, she knows how I feel.”

Stanton studied Tick, frowning. “Autry’s never said anything—”

“Autry doesn’t know.” Tick passed a hand over his jaw. “Look, just drop it, okay? You hired her, she’ll only be here six weeks—if I’m lucky—and I can handle it that long.”

“What did she do?” At Ash’s quiet question, both Stanton and Tick turned surprised expressions in his direction. He shrugged. Yeah, asking was out of character for him, but he hadn’t been able to help himself.

Tick’s dark gaze flitted from Ash to Stanton. “I can’t say.”

“What? First, you’re bitching because I hired her, then you insinuate she’s less than ethical, and now you can’t explain. Shit, Tick.”

“I promised Virgil I wouldn’t.” Tick’s shoulders moved in an uncomfortable roll. “He didn’t want her mother or…anyway, I gave him my word.”

Stanton pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well, that’s just great.”

Tick shrugged. “I’ll stick close to her, Stan, keep an eye on her, all right? We’ll find a way to make it work. It’s only six weeks. How much damage can she do in a month and a half?”

Who was Tick trying harder to convince—Stanton or himself?

“I’m going to see if Cait’s ready to go.” Tick jerked a thumb toward the back door.

Once it closed behind him, Ash slanted a sideways glance at Stanton. “He’s wound pretty tight.”

Stanton huffed a humorless laugh. “No kidding. I thought having Madeline here, taking some of the pressure off him would help. Guess I was wrong.”

“He’ll be fine. He always is.” Ash rested both hands on the counter’s edge and let his gaze travel to the window once more. On the deck, Tick leaned down to lift the baby from Caitlin’s arms and waved Autry to stay seated. Madeline darted another of those secretive looks at him. Ash frowned. Something was…off…there, something he didn’t get.

Was that attraction or dislike that kept her so focused on Tick?

“He’d better be fine. I need him back on his game.” Stanton came to stand beside him. Madeline unfolded from her chair, and as Caitlin and Tick came in the back door, her voice carried in with them.

“I think I’m going to head out as well.” That indefinable strain tightened her words. “Thanks for dinner.”

“You don’t have to go yet.” Autry followed her sister into the room. “It feels like you just got here.”

“It’s been a long day.” Irony laced Madeline’s voice. Tick looked up from placing the baby in his carrier. Palpable tension vibrated between them before he dropped his gaze.

He hefted the infant seat. “Cait? You ready?”

At her nod, they exited in a small flurry of thank-yous and good-nights. Autry turned to Madeline. “I wish you’d stay a little longer.”

She shrugged into her jacket. “I have an early day tomorrow.”

“I’ll walk out with you.” Ash pulled his keys from his pocket and leaned down to kiss Autry’s cheek. “Dinner was awesome.”

Madeline eyed him, wariness coloring her features. “You don’t have to.”

He put on an easy grin. “You’re not the only one with an early day ahead of you.”

Outside, a hint of cool air kissed the unseasonable warmth. His truck waited beside her compact sedan and the gravel walk crunched under their feet as they walked toward the vehicles. She glanced back once at the house, a strange hurt flickering over her features before she straightened her shoulders to a near-impossible angle. Unhappiness hung around her like a pall, a loneliness that stopped him from cutting his losses, especially after everything Tick had said, and walking straight to his driver’s side door.

He leaned against the truck’s hood while she unlocked her car. “What do you like to do during your free time?”

With the door partially open, she froze and confusion glinted in her hazel gaze before disappearing beneath shuttered contempt. “You don’t give up, do you?”

“What are you so afraid of?” He spread his elbows to a more comfortable position.

She slammed the door and came to stand before him. Outrage rolled off her in waves. “I’m not afraid of anything. I’ve told you I’m not interested and you won’t back off. End of story.”

Bravado. Lots of ballsy bravado that still didn’t quite cover the soul-deep isolation that shrouded her and called to him. Pushing wouldn’t work with her, though. “If that’s the way you want it.”

“It is.” Her chin lifted to a challenging angle, daring him to dispute her statement.

“Good night, then.” He inclined his head and stepped away from the truck. She backed up, stumbling a bit in her haste. He didn’t reach to steady her, but let her regain her footing alone. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Madeline.”

She snorted. “Sure it was.”

He lifted a hand and strode around to the driver’s side. The old Ford rumbled to life, reliable as ever, and while the cold-natured engine warmed, he patted the gas pedal a couple of times. His wrist draped over the wheel, he watched in the rearview as Madeline reversed hard and flew down the drive. He shook his head and reached for the gearshift.

Confident and breezy, then prickly and wary. Obsessed? Lonely and afraid of connecting.

Like he could walk away from that puzzle without a second thought.

“You didn’t tell me Autry’s sister was your new investigator.” Caitlin shifted her fingers over Lee’s soft hair. His eyes drooped sleepily, mouth relaxing, and Caitlin eased him away from her breast and slid her chemise strap into place before lifting him to her shoulder and rubbing his back.

“Mmpf.” Clad in a pair of navy sleep pants, Tick sprawled on their bed, face turned into his pillow. “Been trying to forget.”

Lee burped softly against her neck. Caitlin rose from the rocker, her gaze trailing over Tick’s strong back. “You seemed edgy tonight.”

“Yeah.” With his foot, Tick pushed the quilt toward the end of the bed. He curled both arms under the pillow and pulled it closer. “A little.”

“I’m putting the baby down. I’ll be right back.”

Tick’s only reply was a noncommittal grunt. She paused in the doorway and watched him a moment before taking the baby upstairs.

Getting Lee settled didn’t take long, but Caitlin lingered over him. She didn’t know which was worse—that her husband only seemed to touch her when he had to or that he’d stopped talking to her. She stroked the soft back of Lee’s little hand. His fingers curled and flexed.

She had no doubt that Tick was in full protective-male mode where she was concerned. While she loved the trait in the right time and place, at the moment, protection was the last thing she wanted from him. She wanted her husband back, all of him, from the man who confided in her and talked about everything with her, to the sweet, playful, often demanding lover who shared her nights. Since she’d always been a take-charge kind of personality…maybe it was time to take him back.

Maybe once she forged that physical connection between them she could get him to open up about why Madeline Holton seemed to put him so on edge.

Leaning down, she whispered a kiss over Lee’s brow. If she was lucky, this would be one of the nights when he chose to sleep through his middle-of-the-night feeding. She had distinctly naughty plans for his father.

Downstairs, she cut off all the lights except the one over the kitchen sink. In the bedroom, the lamp glimmered on Tick’s bare skin. He remained where she’d left him, eyes closed, lashes fanned over his cheekbones. With a tug of desire kicking off within her, she pulled off the boot socks she always filched from him when winter made the hardwood floors too cool for comfort.

“Tick.” She placed a knee on the mattress, swept her fingers across the small of his back, dipped them into the dimples at the base of his spine.

“Mmm?” Sleep husked his voice, making the drawl a deep purr she felt all the way through her body. She shivered. God, she loved that voice, loved the way his murmur, before he even touched her, could make her ready and wet.

“Tired?” She straddled his thighs, rubbing her thumbs along his spine, working the kinks out of the muscles. The warm resiliency of his flesh under her fingers shot tingles of awareness along her nerve endings.

“Yeah.” He turned his head, resting his cheek on his arm, and a heavy sigh rumbled from him. She moved higher, stroking and massaging the tension from his body. “Lord, that feels good. Love your hands on me. Don’t stop.”

“Don’t worry.” With her knees, she hugged his hips, the simple act of touching him sending sparky flashes of wanting through her. She ached, a heavy yearning settling low in her belly, flowing between her legs. It had been too long. “I won’t.”

Under her touch, she felt the strain leave his long, lean frame. Memories cascaded through her mind, other nights when she’d done this, leaving him boneless and satisfied, until he turned into her, and they came together in a slow, easy coupling.

Bending forward, she feathered her lips over his shoulder, his nape. His clean male scent infiltrated her senses, heightening the coiling desire building in her. She nuzzled his shoulder blade, smiling.

“Tick.” She stroked her fingers down his rib cage, loving the texture and heat of his skin.

A soft snore grumbled from his throat. Caitlin stilled, the desire dying a swift, hard death. She studied his face, relaxed in lines of deep slumber. With a strangled sigh, she straightened and slipped to his side. On her back, she stared at the ceiling, frustration curling through her. Another quiet snore and she dug her nails into the sheet.

Damn it
.

Too-dry warmth washed over, thanks to her mother’s tendency to keep the furnace going full blast once the temperature dropped past forty. The rich smells of coffee and fried eggs wrapped around her. Her mother sat at the table, sipping coffee and reading the local newspaper. Madison dropped a kiss on her hair and crossed to pull a bottled water from the fridge.

“Morning, Mama.” She tilted the container up and let the icy liquid trail down her parched throat.

“Good morning, baby.” Mama didn’t look up from the paper. “Your eggs are in the microwave.”

Madeline restrained herself from rolling her eyes. Mama should know by now she didn’t eat fried food in the morning. Why did she keep trying to push the damn eggs on her?

With a sigh, Madeline pulled the plate from the microwave. The congealed eggs stared up at her with jiggly yellow centers, and her stomach turned. God, she would have to choke down a couple of bites just to please her mother.

She grabbed a fork and leaned against the counter. “Mama, what is that in the north pasture?”

The large metal buildings had gleamed dully in the early light. A weird, rank smell had hovered around them with the misty morning air.

Her mother turned a page. “Alligator houses.”

“Alligator—” Her conversation with Ash Hardison came back, slamming reality into her brain. “Why are they on our land?”

She didn’t miss the slight way her mother’s hand trembled as she settled her coffee cup on the saucer. “It’s not our land anymore, honey.”

“What?”

Mama lifted her carefully composed face to Madeline’s. “I sold everything north of the creek to Tick and Ash.”

Hot anger scalded Madeline, singeing her nerve endings. Everything north of the creek left only the house and five acres or so surrounding it. The Holtons had been centennial farmers, even though her daddy had been more of a “gentleman farmer”. Now all that was gone? In Tick Calvert’s hands.

Madeline sucked in a harsh breath. “Mama, when did you do this?”

“The summer after your daddy died.” Unless she’d been listening so carefully for it, Madeline would have missed the tiny tremor in her mother’s voice. The anger flashed into fury. That slimy… Taking advantage of her mother’s grief.

So Tick wanted to deal with the past, did he? Well, first she had some more recent events for him to face.

The damn water was colder than a well digger’s ass. Even through the rubber boots, Ash could sense the chill seeping in. At least it made the gators sluggish. He preferred them this way, a little disoriented and a lot slower than they were during the warmer months.

“Hell.” Water sloshed. Tick swore again while he grabbed for another of the three-foot reptiles. He stumbled, and Ash muffled a laugh. They’d been at this since just after four a.m., and Tick was wearing down. “Slippery son of a gun.”

“Maybe you’re just getting old and slow.”

“Younger than you are.” Tick sent him a mock glare as he flipped the alligator onto its back atop the long table in the middle of the room. With one hand, he kept the gator’s mouth closed; with the other, he rubbed down the scaly abdomen. The whole body went limp. While Tick held the animal, Ash slid two gloved fingers inside the orifice just above the tail, feeling for the telltale nub.

“Male.” He added a mark to the tally sheet.

Still clasping the alligator’s mouth, Tick spun it over.

“You bastard.” Madeline Holton’s infuriated voice echoed through the high-ceilinged room. Ash jerked in response, aware Tick startled next to him as well. Too late, Ash saw Tick’s hand slip on the gator, saw the tail whip a second before the reptile bent itself into a u-shape and snapped at his own gloved hand. Ash yanked back but not before the alligator got a good chomp at the fleshy part of his hand below his pinky.

“Fuck.” Blood spurted from the wound, and he grabbed it with his other palm. Tick grasped Ash’s wrist and pushed it over his head. The alligator slid from the table back into the water. Ash smothered a groan. Now their counts would be one off. “Shit.”

“Come on.” Tick nudged him toward the horizontal opening to the corridor, where Madeline waited, her face flushed with ire. “Let’s see how bad it is.”

They climbed through the passageway, Ash almost toppling over since he had to balance with only one hand. Eyes narrowed, Madeline watched them, her attention focused on Tick. Ash grimaced at the pain shooting from his hand down his arm. What was she doing here, anyway?

Tick’s gaze flared, and he glowered at Madeline. He pointed down the covered walkway. “Office. Now.”

In the cramped room they jokingly called the office, Tick pushed Ash toward the chair and dug in the dented file cabinet. He glared at Madeline. “What the hell is your problem?”

Ash rested his elbow on the desk blotter. A thin trickle of blood ran over his fingers, an ache pulsing in his hand. He glanced from his friend to the irate woman and back.

“My problem is you, you son of a bitch.” Madeline’s chest heaved with a harsh breath. Her gaze darted to Ash’s, and her face darkened further. “Actually it’s both of you. How could you do this to her?”

“Do what?” Ash deliberately kept his voice quiet, pulling up the tone he’d always used around a skittish horse.

Madeline threw out her hands. “Take advantage of my mother to get your hands on this land. My God, I suppose I should be grateful you waited until Daddy was cold in the ground before you moved in on her.”

Tick closed the file cabinet with a soft click. “How did you ever make it in investigations?”

She planted her hands on her hips. “What are you talking about?”

“The way you jump to conclusions and go from point A to point R without thinking. Goddamn, it’s a wonder you ever closed a case.”

“Tick.” Ash leaned back in the chair, removing his arm from the desk.

“You’re not even going to deny it, are you?” Madeline shook her head, the thick mass of her shining brown hair escaping a loose knot to spill about her shoulders. “You can’t.”

“There’s nothing to deny. You’re so off base it’s not funny—”

“Tick.” Ash raised his voice, finally bringing Tick’s frustrated gaze in his direction. “I’m bleeding profusely over here. Find the medical kit, would you?”

Muttering a foul curse, Tick yanked open the next drawer. Ash examined Madeline’s furious expression as she scowled in Tick’s direction. He’d been wrong the night before. He’d assumed her obsession with Tick stemmed from a thwarted attraction. But no desire or wanting lurked under her anger. No, that was something very different, a heavy dislike, something close to hatred. Something very much like revulsion.

Tick set the first aid kit on the desk. While he tended to the wound on Ash’s hand, Ash watched Madeline. She was still so furious she was almost shaking, a fine tremor running through her. Face pale, she glanced around the office, nostrils flaring slightly, chest moving with uneven breaths.

“Madeline.” Ash called her name as gently and calmly as he could, considering Tick had just poured disinfectant over his hand, the raw sting threatening to take his breath. Arms crossed over her midriff, she slid that glittering hazel gaze in his direction. “It’s obvious you’re upset.”

“Upset?” Her laugh was a harsh, ugly sound. “Upset doesn’t begin to cover it.”

“Did you bother to ask your mother
why
she sold us the land?” Tick pulled the edges of the wound together and began placing butterfly bandages along the seam. “No, wait, that would have taken an open mind and foresight.”

“I didn’t have to ask.” Madeline seemed to spit the words at him. “All I had to hear was you were involved.”

Ash winced, both at the venom in her tone and the way his hand throbbed under Tick’s capable but less-than-gentle ministrations. “She came to us, you know. We were going to buy up the road, closer to the highway.”

“Why would she come to you?” Madeline stabbed a trembling finger at the floor. “This land has been in my family for over a hundred years. She knew how important that was to my father. No way would she have—”

“Because of Nate.” Tick straightened with a weary sigh.

“What do you mean, because of Nate? What does he have to do with this?”

Tick snapped the first aid kit closed. “The truck he was driving when he busted that stop sign and killed Amanda Harrell? Your parents had taken out the note on it. The title was still in their name. That made your mama liable for the accident and Lord knows the substandard insurance your brother had wasn’t going to pay out on the lawsuit.”

“Selling the land to us meant she didn’t have to maintain it and allowed her to keep the house, which she might have had to sell if she hadn’t found a way to settle that lawsuit.” Ash flexed his fingers experimentally and reached for the bottle of acetaminophen on the desk. “And according to the terms of the sale, if we ever want to sell out, you and your sister have the first right of refusal, so the land would go back into your family.”

Madeline blinked hard, opened her mouth and closed it again in a firm, tight line. The color in her cheeks could have been anger or embarrassment.

Ash held her gaze. “Talk to your mother. Let her be the one to explain.”

She didn’t speak again, only turned and strode out of the office, letting the door close quietly behind her.

In her car, Madeline rested her forehead on the steering wheel. The adrenaline crash rolled through her, leaving a sick nausea trembling in her throat. Why did she just
know
the two men were having a good laugh right this second?

At her expense. She wanted to hold on to her anger, but her detective’s instincts whispered that Ash had seemed sincere in his explanation. Talk to her mother.

Talk to her mother, when Madeline knew sometimes her mama would produce a half-complete version of events. She preferred living in a reality of her own making, rather than deal with the hard stuff. Look how she’d ignored Nate’s problems for years. Look how she’d ignored the brewing tension between Madeline and her father so long ago.

She smacked her open palm against the steering wheel lightly. Damn it, why hadn’t she remembered that before she went looking for Tick with both barrels loaded? She’d made things worse and now she had to spend the entire day with him.

And Lord knew, he could be an ass when he was in a mood.

Eyes dry, she lifted her head and gazed at the neat farming operation. Talking to her mother was out of the question. She needed someone who would be relatively objective, someone who would still have access to the inside facts. She glanced at her watch and fired the engine. She had time to go by Stanton and Autry’s before she had to be on duty.

A few minutes later, nerves twisting through her, she knocked on her sister’s back door. Authoritative footsteps thudded on hardwood floors and Stanton swung open the door. Madeline forced herself to smile up at him. At six-six, he nearly towered over her; obviously, her sister liked tall men as well. Weird, having something in common with the sister she barely knew.

He nodded, his greenish-gold gaze wary and a little distant. “Morning, Madeline.”

“Hey.” She tucked her hands in the back pockets of her khaki slacks. “I was wondering if I could talk to you and Autry a few minutes?”

He stepped back, but the wariness in his eyes didn’t diminish. “She’s getting dressed but come on in. You’re up early. You don’t have to be on duty until nine today, right?”

“I went for a run.” And more than likely, made a complete and utter fool of herself. Damn but she was good at that. An image of Ash’s pained grimace, the blood trickling down his wrist rose to torment her. That had been her fault too.

Stanton returned to the kitchen island, where he’d been preparing a cup of coffee. He held the carafe aloft. “Want some?”

“No thanks.” The universal cop’s caffeinated drink of choice had never really been her thing.

“Juice? Milk?”

“I’m good.” She leaned on the counter, her stomach tied in knots. “Stanton, what do you know about Mama selling the farm to Tick and Ash?”

He stopped with his mug halfway to his mouth and darted a quick look at her. “She didn’t tell you?”

Madeline made a moue. “Mama doesn’t deal real well with harsh-reality conversation. I’d never get the whole story out of her.”

“The Harrell family sued after the accident.” Stanton ran a hand over his jaw. “Because your mama legally owned the truck, their lawyer went after her, since it was obvious Nate didn’t have anything to take. Ash and Tick were looking for a place to put that alligator operation of theirs. It seemed like a good solution, especially since it would allow her to offer the Harrells a settlement.”

Madeline closed her eyes. Why couldn’t her mama have simply told her that? And why hadn’t she stopped to question further before going off on Tick and Ash?

That would have taken an open mind and foresight.

Tick’s censure echoed in her mind. Ah, damn it all, why did she consistently let her anger get the better of her? She was always making a mess of everything.