The people who seemed so real to me in the two historics (Arizona Sunset came first) were ancestors of the heroine of Desert Inferno which takes place in the same rugged country. Have things gotten any safer? Not a lot.
When a truck finally did come bouncing down the driveway,
Rachel sighed with relief. Standing at the top of the step, she waited. Still
feeling a little dazed by the death she'd witnessed, she realized she'd
forgotten to put on shoes.
A large man unwound himself from the green Bronco, his eyes
hidden behind the brim of a Stetson and reflective sunglasses. Her
immediate impression was of one big man.
Even shaky from her experience, her artist's eye couldn't
ignore the sheer grace with which he moved that long, lean, body as he strode
across her yard. When he reached the porch, he stopped, not climbing the
three steps. He looked at her for a moment, perhaps expecting her to
speak; then pulled off the glasses.
His face was craggy, with a hawk-like nose, a long scar
across one cheek, a square jaw, covered with a day's growth of bristle, and
magnificent tawny, almost yellow eyes, rimmed with dark lashes. Nobody could
call it a handsome face, maybe some would even see it as ugly, but it was
mesmerizing to her. Beneath his Stetson, his hair appeared to be dark blond, a
little long on the neck for a Border Patrolman.
"You
the one who called?" His voice was deep, resonant. Those, golden eyes,
appeared to look right through her.
"You're Border Patrol?" She could only blame the
stupid question on her shock over the morning because his uniform clearly made
it unnecessary.
When he smiled, the expression never reached his eyes.
"Jake Donovan." He reached into a back pocket and pulled out ID.
"Sorry I look... rough. I’ve been on an all-night stake-out."
Trying to get control of herself, she looked away from his
eyes and found her gaze traveling down his body. Ignoring the dusty and
wrinkled clothing, she saw broad shoulders, muscular chest, tapering to narrow,
horseman hips. Swallowing hard, she looked at the only safe place she
could think of--the ground. "I didn't expect... that is, yes, I'm
the one who called," she answered finally.
"They said you found a body." His voice was deep,
the tone carefully politely.
She forced her gaze back to meet his. "Well, to begin
with he wasn't a body. That is, he wasn't dead but--"
"You're sure he was before you left him," he tried
to finish for her, shaking his head in barely concealed frustration at trying
to get a straight story from her.
"Of course. That is--" She was doing a good job of
convincing him she was simple-minded.
"Start at the beginning and take your time," he
suggested.
"I expected a deputy sheriff," she said abruptly
changing the subject.
"You want to call and make sure I am who I say I
am?" he asked. His eyes did look tired and he was making an obvious effort
to be polite.
"No, it's just I thought... I guess the county police
or something."
"I was closest. They asked me to stop, and unless there
was sign of foul play, it could be our business anyway."
Rachel nodded, satisfied, but still flustered by her strange
reaction to this man. She explained then about her painting, about seeing white
where it shouldn't have been, then finding the man.
"If you give me instructions, I'll take a look,"
he said.
"Well I... It's off toward Alamo Canyon, but I don't think I could explain.
I better show you."
He grimaced. "I know this country pretty well. Draw me
a map."
She shook her head. "I wish I could. It's just I never
think about where I'm going when I'm going, which way is north or south.
Matilda and I just drive. I never know where we'll end up."
His eyes lit with interest. "Matilda? Maybe she
could help."
"I doubt that." She smiled. “She's my truck."
He looked away, swallowing whatever he looked as though he
would have preferred to say. He patted his shirt pocket, curling his lip as if
remembering something unpleasant. "Are you sure you can find it again...
by this feeling or whatever it is?"
"Yes."
"Get your boots on then and come with me."
"I don't think that's a good idea."
"Huh?" Those golden eyes narrowed, and his
lips thinned.
"If I drive, I can retrace my steps. It's not the same
if someone else drives. These old dirt roads, well they all look a lot
alike." She stopped, shivering as she thought of the dead body. She looked
up at him, knowing she felt suddenly near tears. "I'd like it if you rode
with me... It would give me something else to think about if I was driving and…
well, I'd rather not drive back alone. Would that be okay? That is can you do
that?"
It was obvious he didn’t like leaving his truck, probably
against regulations. He rubbed the back of his neck, as though fighting off a
headache. When he looked back at her, she thought he appeared to be
seeing her for the first time and not much liking what he saw. Rachel met his
gaze and tilted up her chin.
