Thirty-one
Bree leaned against the bench in the Riggs brothers’ boardroom, cradling her gin glass, staring at the string lines that reconstructed the scene. Even though it was late, her mind was racing, full of possibilities.
Yet watching the tall, dark and broody male, with muscles for days, who had somehow made this big room smaller—there was nothing like murder to kill a girl’s desire.
‘Humour me, okay… How was the gun set up?’
Ryder pointed to the string lines that led from the window to the pole, with one of those big hands that led to thick wrists, and strong arms with those Hollywood-hero-style biceps bulging as he pointed. ‘From the photos and the shot’s trajectory from the way it pierced his body…’
‘Ah ha.’ Since when did being a nerd become sexy on a stockman?
‘Price would’ve used the open rims of the drum to position it in a way that allowed the gun to face into this room.’
Clearing her throat, she focused on getting back in the game of playing part-time detective. If their theory was right, and with what they’d found so far it seemed likely, it would be the best gift for her grandfather. But there were holes in her theory, bigger than a road train rolling sideways down a gully that she needed to fill before she got her grandfather’s hopes up. ‘How?’
‘Price could have used the window ledge to hold it up, and something else to chock it in place. Something that would have fallen on the outside from the pressure of the discharge.’
‘The kickback?’
Ryder gave a short no-nonsense nod. ‘A thin board, or a flat stick, wedged in behind the shotgun’s recoil pad would have held it in place. Something tall to allow for gravity to help it topple outside of the drum. The elastic would’ve wrapped around that board, and then looped around the trigger. When the shotgun fired, the elastic was released, in turn releasing the board, so the shotgun fell into the drum. It’s pretty diabolical.’ Ryder stood next to her and pointed at the picture, his rich manly aroma teasing her. ‘Even if that constable didn’t know what he was doing, he did a good job taking photos to help us at least work that bit out.’
‘If we’re right... It means Jack Price pulled the trigger.’ Once again, she checked over the string lines from the dummy gun to the pole to represent Jack Price’s body.
‘Seems like it.’
‘So, Price staged the entire thing. That’s wild.’
‘It’s really hard to get your mind around something like that. What would be his motive to go to the extreme of staging his own death to look like a murder?’
‘I think that, maybe, Price killed Harry and Penelope. He might have been so livid that his wife was going to run away with another man that he set up the explosions to cause a cave-in, trapping them in there.’
‘But would Price blow up the cave knowing all his cash was in there?’
She spun around to face Ryder. ‘I bet he didn’t know about the cash! I bet that once he discovered all his cash was missing, along with his ID and marriage certificate, he realised the only person who would’ve taken it was the wife he’d just buried inside a cave.’ The pieces clicked into place in her mind, her eyes widening at the images on the table. ‘Left with no money, no ID, no wife, with the bad guys after him for those stolen guns, and possibly the Army for his desertion, Jack Price would have lost all hope of escaping, so he framed Harry in his elaborate suicide-as-murder as revenge. What an arsehole!’
‘If the evidence was laid out for the police, like Jack did by writing down Harry’s name, they wouldn’t need to look too hard for clues.’
‘Which they didn’t.’ She grinned at the clever man with his dark eyes narrowed at the murder file on the table, with tousled brown hair, well-groomed beard, broad shoulders, and those jeans. No one filled out a pair of jeans quite like Ryder Riggs.
‘What else have you got?’
‘Well, according to Charlie’s letter from Harry,’ she said, rummaging through the file to produce his copy of the letter instead of looking at Ryder Riggs and those jeans. ‘Those lovers—’ Wrong word! ‘The couple had been planning their escape but kept postponing it for months. They couldn’t leave until they found the marriage certificate, because they needed it for the annulment so Harry and Penelope could get married.’
‘But how did he know about Harry and Penelope, and that cave?’
‘Well, he was a head stockman—and Charlie said Jack Price was a good one—head stockmen don’t miss much, not when they’re on the job with a station to run. And if Jack Price had people after him, he would’ve already been looking over his shoulder and could’ve noticed his wife was up to something and followed her—’
‘Or their tracks.’
She nodded. ‘I bet Jack Price found Harry’s secret cave where they’d stashed their suitcases.’
‘If he did, why didn’t he take that gold?’
She shook her head. ‘He couldn’t have realised what it was. At first you guys weren’t sure it was gold until I told you. They looked like rocks to you.’
‘That’s true. But I also don’t want you getting ahead of yourself.’
Ahead, ha! She was about to break the land-speed record with her mind leaping off the edge of a cliff and into a paraglider’s paradise. ‘So, what if—’
‘Bree?’
‘Hey, you wanted me to talk, so I’m talking.’ She was also quite impressed at how thick and fast this conversation flowed. ‘My theories have been panning out so far.’
‘True…’ He leaned against the bench beside her to sip his bourbon while she drank her gin. ‘You came up with the elastic—’
‘And the rock that was used to write out his dying words. I bet if we found a geologist, they’d know about the rock type. We should also look for someone who knows about dynamite for mining.’
‘Know of any?’
‘Mia might know someone from her mining days.’
‘Good point. I’ll ask Mia in the morning.’
‘Hey, about your cameras spying on the neighbours,’ she said, pointing at the wall of monitors, ‘you didn’t see Mia’s ex, by any chance?’
‘The one you threatened to feed to the crocodiles?’ Ryder smirked behind his bourbon glass. ‘No. He’s gone.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Because I had Marcus chase after Gavin on the highway.’
‘To do what?’
‘To make sure he escorted that mongrel out of town towards Alice Springs, so he had no excuse for coming through our district again.’
‘Marcus agreed?’
‘Porter had already filled him in about Mia and her bruises, back when he’d given up his dog, Willow. Remember, Marcus was there when Mia officially became Willow’s owner at the campdraft.’
‘Yeah, but—’ It seemed weak to her.
‘Marcus’s pet hate is violence against women. Especially in his town.’
Okay, that sounded fair. ‘What’s your pet hate?’
He pushed off the bench to stand directly in front of her. ‘Fighting with you.’
Her breath caught in her throat.
‘Why do you hate me, Bree?’
‘I don’t hate you.’
‘But you fight with me more than any of my brothers.’
‘You called me a cattle rustler and were so close to calling me a liar, too.’
‘I’m sorry. Jeez, how many times do I have to apologise?’ Ryder raked a hand through his hair, frustration lacing his voice. ‘I’ve felt guilty every damn day since I did that. I stupidly accused you because I was scared—scared of losing everything I’ve worked for, and I was scared of how much you already meant to me. I got it wrong.’
She stared at him for a long time.
His emotions were raw and unveiled, hiding nothing.
Whether it was the late nights, the lack of sleep, or the joy of finding something positive towards solving the murder mystery, somehow her shields were down, for the first time.
‘Hating you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done,’ she said, licking her lips. ‘I’ve had to fight for everything I have, to just survive. So much so I’d come to accept that as a part of life, because I know to never get too comfortable. But fighting you, hating you, is like stepping into a fiery forge, only to be hammered on the anvil. I’m tired of fighting against you. I’m a much better person when we stand beside each other and fight side by side.’ She pointed to the crime scene. ‘Look at what we’ve achieved together. You and me, we’re like some beautiful collision of some kind, that just keeps on clashing where that explosion is guaranteed.’
His large fingers tenderly gathered up one of her hands. ‘I don’t know why I upset you, or why I suffer with some block of emotions, foot-in-mouth, or whatever it is when it comes to you, but I am human, Bree. And I’ve never wanted to be close to anyone as much as I want to be with you. I-I—’
She pressed her free fingers across his lips. She couldn’t let him say what his eyes were telling her. She wasn’t ready for that. ‘So don’t put your foot in it now. Instead, do something positive with that mouth.’
‘Like what?’
‘Kiss me.’
Ryder didn’t hesitate. His hands cupped her cheeks, and his lips were against hers in an instant, in the most tender kiss of her life.
He lifted her onto the side bench, while keeping his lips against hers, not breaking contact for a second. The heat of their kiss blazed into a furnace that had to melt all conventions of physics, effortlessly breaking down all those barriers that had protected her for so long.
But why did she give in now?
‘Don’t! Stop thinking and stay with me, Bree,’ he murmured against her mouth.
How did he know?
But she did stop thinking, especially when his kiss deepened, pressing his lips harder against hers. Gripping the back of her head, with his fingers tangling in her hair as his tongue tangled with hers giving her a renewed thirst for more.
Her mind was in a losing battle as her body quivered under his touch. One of his hands was on her bare thigh, sliding higher over her hip to her chest. She moaned a breathy little sound as he clutched one of her breasts.
It should have snapped her out of it, but Ryder refused to let her go.
With one arm around her body, his mouth, tongue, lips danced down her extended throat as they went lower and lower. His nimble fingers pulled down her dress, her bra exposed, and his eyes lit up.
‘Gorgeous, just gorgeous.’ He licked his lips, and his head dipped down to her cleavage.
Sweet sugary hot cakes, his hot mouth was as powerful and pleasing as the man. He suckled and licked one breast, while his fingers kneaded the other, somehow unlocking all her inner desires and deep need for Ryder Riggs.
Why was she fighting this man, who was doing everything right to please her? Why was she denying herself something good? To hell with the consequences, she could deal with all that tomorrow. She had to have some skin. And now.
Desperately, she pulled up his shirt.
His mouth broke away from hers, to rip the shirt off and toss it behind him, exposing that torso of perfection, only for his hot mouth to return its attention to her body with a vengeance. She groaned louder, her body moving from the impact he’d forced upon her as he worked from one breast to the other. His arm around her body keeping her in place, she had no choice but to hold on and enjoy the ride.
Her hands wandered down his chest, her nails scraping against his abs carved from warm smooth stone to that delicious light smattering of hair leading down to the waist of his jeans.
He came up for air, one hand cradling the side of her face like a love letter meant for her eyes only, his eyes locking on hers showing the depth of heat and desire he had for her. She completely forgot everything as her world filled with Ryder Riggs.
‘We can stop.’ His voice was deep, his breath ragged, combined with that look of his, it was as sexy as hell.
‘Do you want to?’ She knew what she wanted.
‘Hell no.’ Again, the assault on her lips resumed as he kissed her, bundling her closer as she sat on the steel workbench that ran along the wall.
There his fingers moved like magic. Gone was her underwear, her dress down to her waist, where her body wilfully arched into him.
He gave a hearty grunt of approval, pushing her thighs wider, the hand on her hip making her tilt for him, only spurred by her aching need to be touched. He had her body under his command. And no one had done that.
Without warning, he dropped to his knees, lifting one of her legs over his shoulder and all she had to hold on to was his head. His tongue, face, and fingers sent her to another heaven far beyond anything she’d ever felt.
If she wasn’t pressed against the wall, she would’ve slid off the bench to the floor like liquid steel.One arm banded across her belly, fingers gripping her fleshy thigh, as he pressed his fingers inside her. Again, she all but melted away. Her eyes shut, as a thick moan escaped from her throat. It was unrecognisable as her own.
She had lost control, giving Ryder complete control, and he owned her!
Oh boy, did he own her, holding her open for him to play her with the fingers of a master fiddler at such a maddening pace she was whisked towards an edge that left her panting. A fine sheen of sweat coated her body that was rocking against his face as she started to tremble and whimper, with her nails digging into his skin.
That’s when he stood to his full gloriously masculine height. Undoing those buttons on his jeans, he lowered them, exposing the full extension of his desire.
Dear Lord, it was beautiful. He was strong everywhere. With such a hidden power that forced the heat to rush up her inner thighs, with his hand skidding up her spine, to then trace her neck and her collarbone with one fingertip, while his dark eyes roamed over her face. There was nothing cold about this man who had ice in his veins, he was all molten heat and hunger. All for her.
He lined up, with a hand on her hip he lifted her chin. ‘Look at me, Bree.’
She forced herself to focus on his dark eyes, as he slid inside her, filling her with a pleasure that she read so clearly on his own face as he withdrew to then thrust back into her.
He set the pace where the friction only made her want to cry out. Her body tightened around him, buried so deep, she had no choice but to surrender herself.
With his teeth running along her bare shoulder, his chest against hers, his pace became maddening as her body shattered. Breathy, choked cries that she was powerless to swallow back, rose from her throat as her world burst around her.
In her ear, he gave a harsh, sexy sound of satisfaction as she silently screamed against him. He then bundled her hair in his hands, the cool breeze a welcome reprieve against her hot skin.
Cursing under his breath, he plastered her back against the wall as another orgasm rolled through her, only this time he went with her, the hearty groan that came from his chest was deep, flowing freely towards her as he coated her womb with his seed.
They held each other, their skin slick with sweat, to the sounds of a ticking clock she couldn’t see, and the hum of the air conditioner. He dropped his head in the juncture of her neck, and his arms snaked around her body, holding her close to his chest until their breathing returned to normal.
But there was nothing normal about what they’d done, or who she’d done it with. She was now in an internal wrestle with her awakening soul. A soul that she’d thought had been buried with her son—yet somehow, Ryder Riggs had just dragged it out of the pit of ashes, as if to claim it as his own.