“My wife, God rest her soul, told me the same thing once when we were very young,” he admitted, his gaze connecting with hers in a moment that seemed more connected than she would have liked with this man. “Take care of your yourself, Ms. Flannigan. And should Rafe not take no for an answer, then at least insist that he take careful measure of the security surrounding both of you.”
There was an edge to the words, a deliberate warning that had her arms dropping from her breasts as she confronted him.
“Is that a threat?” she asked carefully.
His gaze was heavy with shadows, and she suspected, knowledge. But it was a knowledge he was refusing to admit to.
“Regardless of belief, I’m no threat to my grandson,” he told her. “But that doesn’t mean there isn’t a threat that follows the Callahan family. A curse perhaps?” he suggested warily.
“You won’t threaten him, but you won’t save him either, is what you’re saying?” she guessed.
“I didn’t say that.” Now the anger was back. “I would never stand idly by and allow my grandson to be harmed any more than I stood idly and allowed my granddaughter to die.”
Cami could feel something in the air between them then, a tension that didn’t make sense, as though he were trying to tell her something, warn her of something.
“But Sam and Mina Callahan’s deaths were an accident,” she posed carefully. “Weren’t they?”
“Of course they were.” Emotionless. There was no inflection in his voice. “And this conversation never occurred.”
Her brow arched. “Do you think no one took notice of your pick-up, Mr. Robert?”
“It’s one of my ranch hands’.” He shrugged. “And think of this, Ms. Flannigan. To this point, I’ve actually been one of Rafer’s most staunch allies. Don’t make me his strongest enemy.”
Replacing the western hat on his head, he tilted the brim to fully shade his face before moving past her and unlocking the door.
He paused once again as she watched him silently. “I’m rather good at choosing those I reach out to,” he stated quietly. “You’ve hidden the loss of your child all these years, I suspect, to save Rafer from further pain.”
Cami breathed in roughly, the fact that he had realized that somehow easing a wound she hadn’t known she carried.
“What’s your point?” she asked, unable to hide the evidence of the tears that would come later.
“My point?” He finally turned his head to stare back at her. “I rather suspect you’ll tell no one of this visit. Unfortunately the one you need to hide it from the most will be the very one you ache to tell. Telling Rafer I was here could be a rather bad idea.”
Cami pushed her fingers wearily through her hair and blew out a hard, irritated breath. “If you know Rafer anywhere near as well as I do, then you know damned good and well he’s going to know exactly who it was, no matter the precautions you took. What the hell makes you think for a minute he can be fooled so easily?”
His eyes narrowed. “He doesn’t read minds.”
“He doesn’t have to,” she told him softly. “He has eyes and ears that no one suspects, Mr. Roberts. In forcing Rafer and his cousins to hide friendships and connections, you forced them to create bonds and spies. Have no doubt, for even a second, he’ll know, eventually. And then, I guess we’ll both have to deal with it.”
Silent, almost moody, he glared back at her before nodding shortly. Pulling the door open, he stepped to the porch, the panel closing quietly behind him.
As Cami walked over and secured each lock, she heard the truck start, and a second later, the sound of it pulling away from the side of the street could be heard.
How very, very strange, she thought.
And like Marshal Roberts, she truly hoped Rafer never, ever learned he was there.
That wouldn’t necessarily be a good thing.
CHAPTER 11
She was suffering.
Cami lay stretched out on the bed, a sheen of perspiration on her flesh several nights later her eyes closed. Need swamped her as she gritted her teeth and cursed Rafe until hell wouldn’t have had him several days later.
Because she was miserable. Because no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t fight the burning arousal tormenting her.
The supple, firm vibrator lay pushed beneath her pillow, useless to her now. There had been a time when it had actually worked. When dragging it along the bare folds of her pussy had taken her close enough to the remembered feel of Rafe’s fingers and tongue on her flesh to allow her to work it slowly inside her cunt and, long minutes later, to find the release she so desperately needed. There had been a time when she had known he wasn’t close enough to go to, and her body had allowed a little alternate pleasure.
It simply didn’t work anymore.
The feel of the battery-operated toy wasn’t even close to the feel of his fingers and tongue, let alone the sensation of his cock working inside her. The heated stretch and burn of his iron-hard flesh was so much more extreme. It was thicker, hotter, throbbing inside her powerfully instead of the weak, pale imitation of the artificial vibrator. He had ruined her, that was all there was to it. No other man, no other touch would do.
She gritted her teeth and bit off a furious expulsion of breath. She was too scared it would turn into a scream of pure frustration. Because she was so damned horny she was on the verge of calling him and begging him to fuck her.
She could jump in her car; it wouldn’t take that long to drive to his ranch. There were still some icy spots on the road, but most of the snow had actually been removed. She could knock on his door again and spend the night letting him fuck this need for him out of her system.
Sitting up in the bed, she propped her elbows on her knees and pushed her fingers through her hair, further ruffling the shortened strands as the hardened bud of her clit throbbed in misery.
If she could just get off a little bit, then it would help. Just take the damned pressure off or something. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how long she tried, it wasn’t happening.
If she just hadn’t been so insane as to take the mountain road that night and find herself snowbound with him. She wouldn’t be in this position. She wouldn’t be aching for him until she was certain it would drive her insane. Or was this why she had taken the longer, more mountainous route home from Aspen rather than the more direct drive along the interstate? Had that building need, that hunger she couldn’t control, been working on her subconsciously? Creating a situation that left her with little choice? Because consciously she had known what would happen if she were to be stranded at the ranch. She had known the need pulling at her would have taken care of the rest.
The hunger was a craving that never seemed to completely dissipate. She was like an addict, strung out in desperation for that next hit. Her body demanding its fix.
That was how she felt. Addicted to Rafer Callahan. Now wasn’t that a fine fix to find herself in.
As she cursed herself silently for the weakness, the low, muted buzz of her phone on the bed stand had her reaching out quickly for it and pressing the call button.
It could be the nursing home calling about her mother. Cami hadn’t heard from them all week. She could have checked the caller ID, but she didn’t want to know it wasn’t Rafer. She wanted to hope, to believe, until the last possible second—
“Hello?”
“I’m at the back door; let me in.”
Rafe.
Her eyes closed as her heart immediately began racing in a hard, excited rhythm. Her body immediately sensitized further. She could feel her heart racing, demanding as though the need had somehow summoned him. He
