Chapter 6 #2
I want to retch all over Cord’s nice boots, but I need him to hold me back before I break some local laws and end up getting myself arrested.
It doesn’t take much sense to know that the only thing terrorizing locals in this town is the sleazy man slouching opposite us, and his creepy collection of illegally collected puppet critters.
My lips purse as I try and fail to ignore the body odor wafting in our direction whenever Jenkins moves.
“What damage has the animal done?” I congratulate myself on not throttling the man and risk a shallow inhale.
Bad, bad idea.
“Well, it’s taken food, and wandered through some houses, and…” Jenkins trails off with a shrug, his pitiful sales pitch ending in an abrupt death.
I remember Cord’s reaction to my questions about the dire wolf hunt, how his expression had tightened then back at Winnie’s townhouse. “You knew,” I murmur out of the corner of my mouth.
He jerks his head once, enough for an acknowledgment, though his eyes never leave Pollux.
“There’s been chew marks on the walls of buildings, theft of small items, some small livestock.” The Dire Wolf Expert looks mighty pleased with himself at his last item.
“You have evidence that connects the theft?”
Beside me, Cord snorts. I wave him down.
“We have reports and sightings of a gray animal, larger than the usual wolf—”
My patience frays at his lack of evidence and conviction in his own scam.
“You do realize that the dire wolf has been extinct for nearly ten thousand years? If you want to see one, there are displays you can visit. I believe San Diego has a very informative and educational section. Your reports are likely of stray dogs or a lone gray wolf in the area.” I can’t keep the fury out of my tone as I eye the self-labeled expert before us and wonder how many taxidermized animals it will take to suffocate him plus my remaining manners.
“Dire wolf pups were created only recently,” Jenkins protests.
“Yes, pups being the operable word. As part of a scientific study. Not fully matured adults,” I snap. This is why I don’t play well with others.
“Well, I—”
“I suggest you take down the signs. This kind of fearmongering will only result in a mass cull of non-dangerous animals.” I glance across his display and pull out my phone to take pictures from a few different angles.
“Now, see here. You can’t just walk in here and demand I stop, uh—”
“Trading? Scamming folk?” Cord asks softly.
Jenkins shuts his mouth.
“Actually, she can. I’m bringing thousands of people to this town in a few weeks, and if I see any of your trash around when I set up, I’ll be calling some friends who frown upon animal cruelty.
One wears a little star badge. And there seems to be evidence of your…
methods around us.” Cord aims a single finger at the roof.
Jenkins follows his gesture to where a wolf skin stretches across the ceiling directly over the desk. Long, jagged scars feature along its sides. I snap a picture of that, too, along with an unflattering one of Jenkins standing right below it.
My stomach lurches. Cord’s hand grips mine fiercely, though his voice remains calm and under control. At least one of us has our shit together.
“Am I clear, Jenkins?” Cord still speaks softly, his threat all the more implicit for his stillness.
“Yes, Mr. Rand. I’ll be gone. Don’t you worry.”
Cord smiles, a cold, emotionless thing that is utterly terrifying. I hope never to be on the other end of that side of him. Jenkins backs away until he bumps into the wall behind the desk.
“Come on,” Cord murmurs. He gestures to the door, dismissing the “dire wolf hunter” in an instant. “There are better parts of the town to discover.”
Cord’s speech leaves my head whirling. His sheer presence floors me, but his words take root deep in my heart.
A lot echo my own sentiments about the wolves, and Jenkin’s cruelty.
I follow him out with quick steps, keen to be far away from Jenkins’s personal chamber of horrors and free of his feral stench.
Across the road from Jenkins’s pop-up shop at the end of the town, a stubby man in a black Stetson berates a worker on how he’s organized livestock in the back of a cattle truck.
Ostentatious wealth exudes from the short man, from his pressed pants to his new boots and shiny, golden spurs.
The taller cowboy stares at him with open dislike, his expression mirrored in Cord’s face.
“Jed.” A muscle ticks in his jaw. “He’s never known how to manage his staff. It’s the day for asshats, apparently. Come on.”
Clean, sharp mountain air hits me, running down from the tall granite peak behind the main street as Cord leads us away from the shops to a trail that disappears between tall evergreens near where I parked.
His longer strides stretch my legs, which appreciate the movement after being in a car for so long.
“Valiant Peak?” I ask, gesturing to the imposing shadow behind the town.
“Yeah.” Cord stops, facing me. “You’re passionate about the things you care about, huh?”
“Just a bit. But I think you take the cake for the scariest customer of the day.” I remember his cold smile and Jenkins’s reaction to him.
I shiver, wrapping my arms around myself and missing the contact of Cord’s hand on mine the moment I lose it. The weight of his assessing gaze falls on me. Uncertainty rarely hits me, but beneath his intense study it became difficult not to fidget.
“Rain check on that coffee, if you’re up for a hike?” he asks, his light tone at utter odds with the need reflected in his sapphire eyes.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. His gaze lingers on my lips. Something flickers in his face, too fast for me to catch. Heat prickles my skin as he gestures to a thin space between the trunks that look like they’ve existed since the world began.
“This way.”
I follow him between the trees. Despite his earlier display of temper with Jenkins that matches mine, something about Cord engenders the sort of trust I’ve had with few people before.
When Cord reaches back a moment later, I let his hand fold around mine again.
His firm hold is a comfort as the trail darkens and cools quickly beneath the interlocking canopy overhead.
Road sounds filter away as we delve into the quiet the forest offers.
A deep, earthy scent of fallen pine needles mingles in the slightly warmer air trapped inside the muted space.
“It must be beautiful here in midwinter.” My muscles burn as I keep pace with Cord, though my breath remains regular.
“It is.” His voice draws my attention away from the forest.
I study the man in front of me. His silhouette matches the one on the banners in the town, but Cordell Rand is the epitome of larger than life.
His body fills out his dark blue shirt, his close-shaven hair peeking from beneath his hat.
Calluses graze the back of my hand, winding a sense of steadiness around me that I might normally find claustrophobic, but after our unsettling beginning at the dire wolf hunt HQ, part of me appreciates it.
Cord turns off the path along a stretch of granite that looks like a giant has shattered it. He slows his pace so I can walk at his side, running my hand over the stone’s cold surface as the rocky path tilts upward. At a collection of enormous cube-shaped boulders, he drops my hand.
“Are you okay to climb for a bit?” he asks, stealing a glance sideways.
“I’d love to.” I smile. “I’ve spent too many hours either trying to decipher my own notes or sitting on my ass. Exercise is welcome.”
“You might regret that choice.” He grabs the first boulder, hoisting himself up.
I scrabble along behind him, struggling to keep up, but I’m not backing down from the challenge.
He casts a quick grin over his shoulder, my insides liquefying as that arctic gaze holds me captive for a single moment before my butt makes it over the first rock.
My feet land on the other side and I catch the appreciation in his eyes before he turns away to tackle the next obstacle.
Not a date, my ass.
Winnie’s voice assails me again. I shut a mental door firmly in her face, certain I’ll have to debrief her later anyway. Right now I have a cowboy to keep up with.
Cord follows some mythical path only he can see marked out in the granite as the climb grows steeper. At the top of the highest boulder, a decent jump waits on the other side. He leaps down and turns to hold out a hand for me.
My hair sways around my face as I clamber over the rock, ignore his hand, and jump down. The impact leaves my feet stinging despite my boots, but I manage to keep most of that off my face—I think. I take deep breaths, and Cord follows the movement, approval lighting his eyes.
“Not bad, wolf girl.” He reaches out and flicks the hair back from my face. Some of the curls stick to my skin that’s sweaty from the climb.
I don’t push him away when he coasts those same fingertips across my cheekbones and along my shoulder.
His chest stills, though my heart goes haywire when he continues to trail his knuckles along my sleeve.
That seems to be the invitation he needs to slide his much larger hands around my waist, squeezing gently.
“Lanie,” he murmurs, leaning into my space.
My brain jams into some version of soup that has nothing to do with the climb and everything to do with the sexy-as-hell cowboy who stands before me.
“The climb wasn’t that bad,” I blurt softly, unable to come up with anything sensible under pressure.
“Yeah?” Cord huffs a laugh. “I thought I was gonna land splat on my ass on that last one. I’m impressed you didn’t give up.” He presses me against his harder frame, and a soft sigh breaks free as I stare up at him.
“I’m not good with people, Cord,” I whisper.
“Trust me, you’re doing fine,” he mutters back, tangling his fingers in my hair until I close my eyes at the sensation.
“I’ve been dying to do that since I met you.
” He dips his head so his breath brushes over my lips.
“When I saw you this morning—hell, since I saw you at my door. It’s become a craving, needing to touch you. ”
When I open my eyes, I find him so close, his gaze searching.
I can’t reply, lost in the feel of him arched around me.
My palms press flat to his chest, the rapid beat of his heart beneath hard muscle defying the outer sense of calm my stoic cowboy has going on.
His fingers sink into my waist, delving into the curves there.
Desperation grips me. A man like this, with all the wealth, looks, and power that he can possess, will never want a broken, nomadic thing like me.
“I don’t do this well, Cord. I’ve spent too much time on my own.” My breath pants from my lips as panic takes hold. Dammit, Lanie. Just stay home next time.
He grins, pressing his forehead to mine. “Is that you asking me to take it slow?”
I shake my head. His fingertips work in light circles on my hips, sending a shiver from my nape to my toes.
“No. It’s just that sometimes I don’t know what to say.”
“Then don’t speak,” he murmurs, his lips brushing over mine once, then again.
A work-roughened hand curves around the base of my neck, tilting my head back. I hold his gaze for a second before my eyes shutter and his mouth presses against mine. Warmth surrounds me, like afternoon sunlight and the scent of sweet summer grasses.
Cord’s movements are slow and precise, giving the commitment-phobe in me every chance to freak out and run from him. I’m sure I test every inch of his tight-reined control when I—
Stay.
My fingers slide up the front of his shirt, curling beneath his collar to tug him closer. Another groan escapes my mouth as his tongue traces my bottom lip lightly, then not so lightly.
Cord’s hand curves over my hip, holding me tightly to him.
Every inch of our bodies molds to each other.
A sigh slips free between us, either mine or his.
I tilt my head back, granting him the access he needs.
A deep rumble grows in his chest as I kiss him, gentle and sweet, until he sweeps his tongue into my mouth with a soft growl.
I can’t contain my gasp as he deepens the kiss and angles my head the way he wants.
My body curves into his, arching to his need.
Cord’s control frays the smallest amount, his kisses becoming rougher as he explores me.
The leather-and-whiskey taste of him fills my mind as I soften in his arms, letting him have control as I wrap my arms around his neck.
When he draws back, my eyes stay shut for a moment, and I sway a little in his arms.
“Lanie?” His lips graze my cheek, trailing kisses along my neck to where my jacket opens.
His thumb grazes the underside of my breast. Pleasure flares from the sensitive spot.
I release a soft sigh and he echoes back an approving male sound.
One hand supports my neck as I lean into him, letting him kiss his way up the side of my throat, his hand dropping to stroke along my ribs and over the curve of my ass to pull me into him.
A soft sound slips between us and it takes me a moment to realize the sound is mine.
My head tilts forward, soft lips pressed to the cotton of his shirt. Heat flares across my cheeks, from desire or embarrassment, I’m not sure. But when I catch his gaze, all thought disappears and I’m lost in the intensity I find there.
Cord’s fingers find the waist of my jeans, dipping inside a little. I start and catch his wrist as he strokes the soft skin tingling there in an undeniably possessive, intimate gesture. He straightens, still holding me against him.
“You okay?” He kisses me with each word.
I nod but then shake my head, dizzy from his kisses. “You keep asking me that, and I have no idea.”
He traces his thumb tenderly over my cheek, curving beneath my jaw to tilt my head back. “It’s okay, Lanie.”
His heart beats slow and steady against my hand, now that the rush of desire between us has settled into a slow burning ember. Cord holds me up, his mouth seeking a searing path across my lips as he redefines in every sense kissing I’ve ever experienced.
And no part of me wants him to stop.