Rebecca Zanetti - Against the Wall

Sophie jumped out of the truck and headed for the house. She called over her shoulder, “They weren’t threats.” Yeah, she felt foolish for not reporting them to Quinn. But no way in hell would she admit it.

Jake followed close behind, his long strides putting her between him and the house. He pulled her to a stop, a feral glimmer in his eyes.

The fury of the storm was no match for the tempest rising inside her. “I didn’t think to tell you. This was never going to be permanent.”

“It is now.”

The rain smashed her hair against her face. “Wrong. We’re exactly like this storm, Jake. Fiery, hot, even crazy. But you know what? You know the problem with sizzling summer storms?”

“No, what?” Even through the rain, his voice carried the hint of danger. Of wildness that outdid Mother Nature.

“They blow over. You settle back to enjoy the lightning show, the clap of thunder, and poof, they’re gone.” She yelled above the rising wind. “Blue sky follows along meekly, too quickly.”

“We can’t have blue sky?” His white shirt plastered against tanned muscle.

“Us? No way.” The wind almost toppled her over. “You need to let me go, Jake.”

The wind whipped his hair around his face, giving him a formidable, almost primitive look. His ancestry blazed in full force as he stood tall and firm against the gale. “Let you go? I think that’s your fucking problem, Sophie.”

“Meaning?” Her boots sunk into the mud as she struggled to keep her footing.

“Too many people have let you go.” A quick swoop and she was in his arms, struggling against him with all her might as his strong body blocked the driving wind. “Your father, the bastard, left you. And the second your mother married, she dumped you in some school. Didn’t she?”

Sophie’s battle against the strong arms shielding her from the wind was in vain.

“And even Preston. Mr. Golden Boy with the Rolex. He left you here for me,” Jake said grimly.

She fought a shiver at the warm breath against her ear.

One broad boot kicked the door open. He dropped her to her feet and slammed the door against the storm, and his furious face lowered to within an inch of hers. “I’m not letting you go. What’s more, you don’t want me to.” Male outrage blazed through his eyes.

They stood staring at each other, dripping rain onto the stone floor and panting in uneven breaths.

“You are overbearing,” Sophie gritted out, fighting a shiver, fighting exhaustion.

“You’re an independent pain in the ass.” Jake ran a frustrated hand through his sopping hair. “One who has been through an ordeal and needs a hot shower and comfortable bed.” He held out a hand. “Truce? At least for the night?” His words contrasted with the hard glint in his eye. He was raring for a fight.

Sophie slowly took his hand, her energy gone. She wasn’t up to a fight. At least not right now. “All right. Just for the night.”

The low hum of male voices awoke Sophie the next morning. The night was a blur. She had taken a shower and then fallen asleep in Jake’s big bed before her head even hit the pillow. With a growl, she snuggled farther into the bed and tried to go back to sleep.

“Get up, Sunshine.” Jake suddenly filled the doorway. “I know you’re awake.”

“No.” The pillow muffled her voice.

“Yes.” Jake moved into the room.

“I need sleep,” she mumbled, her eyes still closed.

“It seems we’ve had this discussion before.” Jake chuckled. “Quinn is here and has questions for you. Get dressed and come on out.”

Sophie groaned.

“Unless you want him to interview you in here.”

Sophie glared through one slightly opened eyelid. “Fine. Just give me a minute.”

“I will. Get up, sweetheart. We have a lot to talk about.” He retraced his steps out of the room.

Sophie sighed and opened both eyes to muted tones of navy and tan and sensual paintings. Her possessions perched against the far wall; Jake must’ve brought them in earlier. She rolled herself to a sitting position before gingerly standing. The room spun and then settled. She headed for the attached bath.

A warm shower brought some life to her limbs, and she felt marginally better after dressing in comfortable jeans and her favorite Chimp Eden T-shirt. She yanked her curls into a ponytail and ran pink lip gloss over her lips, then headed out to face the men waiting for her. All three of them.

They sat in the breakfast nook in faded jeans and long-sleeved T-shirts, thick mugs of steaming coffee on the oak table. The sliding glass door framed thick black clouds rumbling across a grumpy sky. Mineral Lake sat dark and still, waiting to get pummeled. Colton twirled leather gloves in his hand, his gaze idly following a tree branch slamming against the house. Quinn stopped whatever he’d been saying.

“Morning.” Jake rose and grabbed a red mug off the counter to hand her, then gestured her into the seat next to him. Congeniality softened his tone, but his eyes were granite hard. The thick fragrance of Colombian beans greeted her. She sniffed appreciatively as she sat, ignoring the set of Jake’s jaw.

“It’s decaf,” Quinn muttered with a glare at his own cup.

“I told you I wasn’t making two pots.” Jake reclaimed his seat.

“You three look like you’re heading out to work the ranch.” Sophie took a small sip and sighed as warmth filled her.

“We are.” Jake nodded toward the tumultuous clouds. “We have repairs to make all over the ranch, at least before the next storm hits—which should be late tonight or early tomorrow morning.”

“How’s Mrs. Shiller’s house?” Sophie asked Quinn.

Quinn shrugged. “I went by this morning and met with the fire marshal. The damage isn’t as extensive as we thought last night. The living room and stairwell sustained both fire and smoke damage, the kitchen just some smoke. We haven’t been able to track down Mrs. Shiller or Lily Roundtree yet, but they’ll check in with Lily’s niece one of these days. We have repairmen there already.”

“Any news on the notes?” she asked and Jake stiffened.

“No. Your prints were the only ones on the paper. And the handwriting isn’t familiar.” Quinn shook his head. “There are a lot of people who don’t want any development in the area. The tribe faced organized opposition when we built the casino even though we’re autonomous on our own land.” He rubbed his chin. “Though this seems like just one individual.”

“So was the Unabomber,” Jake said soberly. “My money’s on the Concerned Citizens Group.”

“Maybe,” Quinn allowed. “I’ll head out tomorrow and talk to Billy Johnson.”

“Rockefeller,” Sophie said with a small grin. Had her bout with the ketchup pissed off Billy enough that he’d try to kill her?

Quinn leaned forward. “Have you remembered anything? Noticed any strange cars around the neighborhood? Or any people walking or jogging down the street?”

Sophie shook her head. “I haven’t noticed anything out of the ordinary.”

“That’s what I figured. I have deputies going door to door in Shiller’s neighborhood. Maybe somebody saw something.” Quinn took another drink of the unleaded brew and grimaced.

Silence sat comfortably around them until Colton pushed back from the table, his chair scraping across the thick wood floor. “Come on, Quinn. Let’s go saddle the horses.” He nodded to Jake. “We’ll meet you at the barn.” He dropped a quick kiss on Sophie’s head and left.

Quinn unfolded himself to his feet and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder when he passed her. “We’ll find who started the fire. You’ll be safe here today, just stay close, all right?” He gave her a gentle squeeze before following Colton out of the room.

“Will you be all right here for a few hours?” Jake leaned forward and took one of her hands in his.

Sophie nodded, his broad hand warming her more than the coffee, his dark eyes smiling at her. “I’ll be fine. I thought maybe I’d try out the studio today. I mean, since your mom and Leila went to so much trouble.”

A dimple twinkled from his pleased grin. “Do you need help with that?”

“No. And I’m not promising to stay.”

“I know.” He stood. “We need to talk. But right now I have to go make sure the steers are safely contained.”

“It’s a nice space to paint, and I may do the exhibit for Juliet.” She wrapped both hands around the warm cup.

“No pressure.” One knuckle under her chin tipped her face up for his lips to brush hers.

“Right,” she murmured with a raised eyebrow as he chuckled and moved across the kitchen.

“I’m not sure how long we’ll be, but you stick close to the ranch, all right? I’ll have my cell,” he said.

Sophie nodded as he left the kitchen and turned back toward her coffee. The fire had been meant for her. To harm or just scare, she wasn’t sure. Now she was staying at Jake’s, right where he wanted her. Maybe she should fly back to California for some perspective. But the canvases and oil paints beckoned her from the bedroom. It wouldn’t hurt to at least see how well the studio worked. She could just start one painting, since her day was free. It didn’t mean she was moving to Montana for any length of time.

Reassured, she finished her coffee before dodging into the bedroom where she pulled on a pale sweatshirt, gathered her art supplies, and darted out the front door. Her hair blew around her face as she ran toward the garage, climbed the wooden steps to the landing, and pushed open the door. Dim light cut through sparkling dust mites as she slammed the door with one booted foot. The room was as perfect as she remembered.

With a small smile, she glanced out the wide southern window to the storm lurking just over the lake. The urge to paint the scene bubbled through her veins, and she set up her easel and settled a pristine white canvas in place. She spread oils onto a board, chose the correct brush, and started to slide paint into a mood.

Several hours later, Sophie ran through the front door as darkness fell early from the oncoming storm. It had held itself at bay the entire day, almost as if it posed over the lake just to assist in her brush strokes. The phone rang as she finished stirring an aromatic beef stew in a Crock-Pot for Jake, who’d called earlier and hoped to be back soon.

“Hi, Sophie, it’s Melanie from the general store. The delivery guy just dropped off your new charcoals.”

Sophie fought to keep from asking why the petite teenager had known to call her at Jake’s. There weren’t many secrets in the small town. “How late are you open today?”

“About another hour; we want to miss the storm.”

“Okay, I’ll be right there.” She cast a wary glance upward then grabbed her keys and ran to the Jeep. It’d be at least an hour, maybe more, before the storm hit and she needed the charcoals to sketch out her paintings for the next day.

The storm held off as she drove the fifteen miles to the general store across from Doc Mooncaller’s. She parked, dodged inside, and paid Melanie for the box of charcoals just as the girl was shutting down the lights for the day.

Fat raindrops began to fall as she pulled into the street to head back to Jake’s, her new supplies perched safely on the backseat. The passenger door flew open and a lanky teenager leaped inside; Sophie jumped and slammed the brakes.

“Sorry if I scared you.” He turned sorrow-filled brown eyes her way.

Fear caught the breath in her throat. “I know you. You were in the crowd at the Concerned Citizens meeting.” Sophie eased the Jeep to the side of the road. The slam of drops on metal drowned out the sound of the running engine.

The kid nodded his blond buzz-cut head, his slender hands running along his dark jeans before he wiped his nose on the back of one sleeve. “I’m Jeremy.” He had to be fourteen, maybe fifteen.

“Hi.” For some reason, she felt calm.

“Jeremy Rockefeller.”

“Ah.”

“I, um…” A deep red blush stole across his features. “I wanted to apologize. For the fire.”

Her heart clutched. “You set the fire?”

“Yeah. I didn’t know you were pregnant.” His eyes filled with tears.

Sophie whirled on the boy. “What difference does that make? It was okay to kill me otherwise?” Fury lit her tone and she stifled the urge to shake the kid.

“Kill you?” Jeremy vehemently shook his head. “Jeez, lady, I wasn’t trying to kill you. Mrs. Shiller was out of town and you had that big tree right outside your window. I knew you’d be all right. Everyone can climb a tree.”