Searing Need: Steele Ridge: The Kingstons Read online

  A white T-shirt beneath an open, long-sleeved beige shirt and matching cargo pants hugged her tall, slender body. Binoculars and something small and round hung from her neck. She wore an encased Leatherman or some other multi-tool on her belt.

  A lost birder? An Indiana Jones wannabe? Her bold assessment of him didn’t waver. Someone from his past?

  Intent on getting some answers, he ripped a pair of underwear off the line, slipped them on, and stalked toward her. But like Indy, she recognized danger and bolted.

  Something primal flipped on in his head, and he gave chase.

  He charged up the hill, his bare feet digging into the leaf-littered ground. By the time he hit the crest, Little Miss Indy had melted into the forest. Quieting his breathing, he cocked his head, listening until he caught the distinctive sound of desperate feet crashing through the underbrush.

  If he’d been in a rational state of mind, he would’ve allowed her to flee and not have given her a second thought. But he was far from rational. Kendra’s screams still hollowed out his mind, and Paul’s, Freddy’s, and Miller’s mutilated bodies still burned his eyes.

  Bloodlust fired into his veins, and a deep-seated compulsion forced his pursuit. Like a dog chasing a cat, he acted on instinct. Every cell in his body commanded him to seize.

  Even with night full upon them now, her undisciplined flight left a highway full of clues for him to follow. He increased his speed, his night vision clear.

  Red wolves prowled these woods. Although they would more likely scurry out of the woman’s way, they were still wild and unpredictable. Like him.

  Brambles soon tore into his unprotected thighs, signaling the forest’s edge was close. Slowing his pace, he picked his way through wild raspberry vines until he broke through the tree line. And froze.

  A short grass meadow opened before him. Trees and dense shrubs lined the entire perimeter, providing a thousand shadowed places where a sniper could hide to pick off his target.

  He eased back until the prick of thorns halted his retreat. She was two-thirds of the way across the field when he spotted her.

  Arms pumping, ponytail swinging, the woman sprinted toward a large glass structure. A greenhouse sat in the distance with a metal storage shed at its rear and a utility cart parked in the front. A gravel service drive cut through the trees, toward safety.

  He scanned the meadow’s edge again. With a new moon in the sky, he had no hope of catching the glint of moonlight on a scope lens. But the flash from a muzzle would be unmistakable. And he’d be too late.

  A cool breeze kicked up, buffeting his bare flesh, chilling the sweat on his body. Something clicked in his brain like a light switch. On, off. Black, white.

  What the hell was he doing chasing a woman who’d wandered upon his campsite? Almost fucking nude, no less. If anyone saw and reported him, he’d have far more things to worry about than a hiker’s safety and a sniper’s bullet.

  Despite his newfound clearheadedness, he couldn’t leave. Not yet. The fleeing woman jumped into the cart and flew down a service drive.

  Safe.

  Who was she? He shoved the question away as soon as it surfaced. He wasn’t in Steele Ridge to make friends—or to get entangled with a too-curious, too-reckless woman. No matter how beautiful she might be.

  He was here to purge his demons.

  Something he was doing a shit-ass job at so far.

  With one last sweep of the meadow, he melted into the darkness, into solitude.

  Into the emptiness of his life.

  4

  “You’ve got a squatter.” Riley flung open the side entrance door to the Steele-Shepherd Wildlife Research Center.

  Adrenaline blinded her to the educational displays on red wolves, bats, and a number of other projects Britt had in progress. In remembrance of his mentor and Randi’s mother, Barbara Shepherd, Britt had named the center in her honor. Even after a year, Randi still got weepy every time she read the sign above the door.

  “What the hell took you so long?” Britt Steele asked, eyeing her. “Did you run?”

  Chest heaving, she jabbed three fingers into the stitch at her side. “Did you hear what I said?” She pointed toward the woods. “There’s a man camping on Steele property, au naturel.”

  “Naturel—”

  “The full monty, birthday suit, johnson flapping in the wind—”

  “I got it, smart-ass.” His voice turned low, menacing. “Did he… touch you?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t get that close.”

  The stiffness didn’t ease from her cousin’s shoulders. “What were you doing in that area? You were supposed to be surveying Transect K.”

  “I finished K and moved on to L.”

  “I told you to stay out of L.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “No, you—” Riley took a deep breath. “Forget it. Stay out for how long?”

  “Couple of weeks.” He flicked off the lights. “A month maybe.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Do you know him?”

  “No.”

  “But you knew he was squatting.”

  “Camping.”

  “What’s his name?”

  Britt motioned for her to precede him out the door.

  Arms folded, she waited for him to set the alarm and lock the building. When he brushed past her and climbed into Old Blue, his ancient pickup, she pushed her face into the open driver’s side window.

  “His name?”

  “Riley, you’ve got plenty of work to keep that whirlwind you call a mind busy. Forget about the camper.”

  “Why are you protecting him?”

  His truck roared to life. “Let’s go. I’ve got a date.”

  “You know secrets are my catnip.”

  “For once in your ever-loving life, listen to me and forget you saw the soldier.”

  Riley perked up. “Soldier?”

  He closed his eyes and sucked in a harsh breath through his nostrils.

  “Do you want me to stay away because he’s dangerous?”

  “No.” His hard gaze locked on her while he mulled something over in his mind. “All he wants is some solitude. The last thing he needs is the Kingston Menace buzzing around his ears.”

  Riley coiled her fingers, her nails digging into her palms. “Do you know what makes no sense to me?”

  “I’m backing up.”

  “Boys pull practical jokes all the time and don’t get slapped with insulting nicknames.” She kept pace with his truck. “What did I do to earn the title ‘Menace’?”

  “For one, your shit bomb cost me my favorite sleeping bag.”

  “That’s it?” She raised her eyebrows, incredulous. “What about the cockroaches you unleashed in my purse? That stunt made me pee my pants. In front of Tommy Whittaker.”

  “Revenge for when you doused my car seat with vinegar. That I sat in.”

  “Because you wouldn’t give me a ride to the library.” She pushed her glasses up on her nose. “You were way too cool to be seen with me.”

  He shoved the gearshift into drive. “Stay away from L.”

  “Why does he need solitude?”

  “Stay away, Riley. He’s not one of your lab experiments.”

  He drove off but only so far as the exit. There, he waited. And waited. For her.

  Riley blew out an irritated breath, knowing, knowing, he wouldn’t budge until she left.

  “Damn overprotective men!” She stormed over to her Jeep Wrangler, following in his wake.

  A disembodied arm shot out from the driver’s side window of Britt’s truck and waved her forward. Setting her jaw, she rolled to a stop beside him. She didn’t lower her window.

  His fathomless brown eyes met hers, and he mouthed “stay away.”

  She stretched her lips into a sickening sweet smile and murmured, “I hope your Willie falls off before you get laid tonight.”

  Although he couldn’t have heard her through
the window, he still sensed the threat to his manhood and pierced her with a payback stare.

  Unfazed, Riley sped toward the small bungalow she now called home.

  Safe.

  Sound.

  Suffocated.

  5

  Costa Rica

  10:28 p.m.

  Camilla waited an eternity for the senna to take effect. She hated having to poison Eduardo and the other security guards, but she couldn’t come up with a better way to access the cold storage unit without them finding out.

  Guilt speared through her as she recalled Eduardo’s smile when she’d handed him a decanter of his favorite hazelnut coffee. She pushed the feeling away. Much more was at stake than the comfort of a few men.

  Ten more minutes passed before the first guard peeled away from his post by the Restricted Area door, holding his cramping stomach. The second guard followed his shift leader a minute later.

  She counted off another two minutes, hoping Eduardo’s gut was no stronger than his companions’. With him sitting in a small monitoring room down the corridor, she would have to have faith that her concoction did the trick.

  Forcing a deep, calming breath into her lungs, she flipped up her hood and stepped out of her hiding place. Her soft-soled shoes whispered down the stark white corridor. The only sound came from the battering ram that was once her heart.

  The image of Eduardo curled up in the fetal position tore at her conscience. Despite his tendency to boast about his duties, Eduardo was a nice man. She’d spent days cultivating his friendship while pretending interest in his duties. The combination had enticed him into giving her a tour of the monitoring room, including details about the cameras’ limitations. Like blind spots.

  Keeping her face down, she edged toward the control panel. Too caught up in his boasting, he’d failed to shield the panel when entering the monitoring room yesterday, giving her a perfect view. She prayed the same code would work in the restricted area.

  Punching in Eduardo’s four digits, she stood frozen until the telltale click broke the silence. The moment she stepped inside, overhead lights flickered on, revealing Dr. Young’s untidy desk and rows of stainless steel tables. Her heart sank.

  Crowded on the tables sat hundreds of specimens that shouldn’t be here. They belonged in the wild where God intended them to flourish and provide sanctuary for some and nourishment for others.

  Not… this. This demonstration of wanton greed.

  Swallowing back her sadness, she rushed to the temperature-controlled metal tray and pulled it open. Wisps of frosty air whirled upward, chilling her face. Inside sat two vacuum-sealed silver canisters.

  Removing her backpack, she spread it open and slipped on her gloves before placing both canisters inside. Zipping up her pack, she closed the tray and beelined for the door, certain she would be caught any second.

  A dark object on the doctor’s desk caught her eye. “No es posible.”

  Even though her internal clock begged her to run, she veered toward the desk. Her shaking fingers fluttered over her discovery with near reverence. This could not be what she thought it was. It just couldn’t.

  But after peering inside, she couldn’t deny the object’s identity. “Holy Mother.”

  Slamming it closed, she shoved it into her backpack and ran. Panic and exhilaration flared through her, almost causing her to forget to protect her face from the camera.

  She rounded several corners before slowing her pace. It took two more before she pushed back her hood and stopped peering over her shoulder every two seconds.

  When the exit door appeared, she released a tension-riddled breath. She’d done it. She’d stolen back her people’s heritage and brought the doctor’s horrid scheme to a halt. Excitement smothered her fear—until the reality of her situation set in.

  “What have I done?” Her whispered words echoed down the corridor.

  The whole thing was too big and complicated. Who would ever believe her story? Believe a nobody who had been scraped off the street by a kindhearted stranger? A nobody the authorities could easily dismiss as a disgruntled former employee.

  If he ever learned of her betrayal, he would kill her. She wouldn’t survive a battle with such a powerful man.

  Absorbed in her rash stupidity, she missed the warning scrape of boot heel against the tile as she came upon the final intersection. Strong hands shot out, stopping her before she rammed into a large, uniformed body.

  “¡Cuidado!”

  “Perdóname,” she mumbled, keeping her head low.

  “Camilla?”

  Balling her hands into fists, she lifted her head and met Eduardo’s dark, penetrating gaze. His face was flushed, and blood-red veins streaked the whites of his eyes.

  The senna hadn’t incapacitated him like the others. Oh God.

  “Why are you still here?” he asked, swiping beads of sweat from his upper lip. “I thought you left after you gave us the coffee.”

  “I—” Camilla searched her frozen brain for the ready-made excuse she’d devised before setting out on this insane mission. “I had hoped to catch up with Dr. Young.”

  “¿Por qué?”

  “To see if he would write a letter of recommendation for me.”

  “The doctor left for San Juan this morning.”

  Heat spread into the tips of her ears. “So I heard, too late.”

  He clamped a hand over his stomach. “W-why didn’t you call or email him? Could’ve saved yourself a wasted trip.”

  “I had nothing better to do.” She forced concern into her eyes. “Are you all right?”

  “Stomach’s not right.”

  “A couple of my friends came down with the stomach flu a few days ago.” She touched his arm. “Be careful. Don’t let yourself get dehydrated.”

  His face contorted as another roiling wave hit his gut. “I’m going to check on my m-men, then head to the barracks.”

  “Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “No, but you should go before someone sees you.”

  “Adiós, Eduardo. I hope you feel better soon.”

  She stepped around him, and the metal canisters in her backpack shifted, clinking together.

  “What was that?”

  When his attention narrowed on her backpack, terror rippled through her body.

  She searched for a viable answer, but her mind remained blank. “Huh?” she asked in a lame attempt to stall for time.

  “Something rattled in your pack.”

  Shaking off her paralysis, she said, “It must have been a noise down the hall. You know how sound travels in this place.” She tossed him a wave over her shoulder and headed for freedom, keeping her steps measured and unhurried.

  “Open your pack, Camilla,” he commanded in a voice she’d never heard before.

  She picked up her pace.

  “Stop!”

  Tightening her grip on her backpack strap, she ran. Her shoes slapped against the tile floor, drowning out the rush of blood to her head. When a heavier set of footsteps echoed behind her, she thought her heart would explode into a thousand tiny pieces.

  Not slowing for the door, she hit the push bar at a dead run. But it wasn’t enough. A strong hand slammed into her back, forcing her to the ground. Rough fingers yanked her pack off.

  On hands and knees, she scrambled after him, straining to snatch the precious cargo back. “Give it to me!”

  Kicking her hand away, he unzipped one of the many pouches and found it empty. “What did you steal?”

  “You should ask Dr. Young that question.” Using her head like a battering ram, she plowed into his stomach. They landed in a heap on the ground.

  Eduardo’s eyes rounded as a wash of humiliation, then fury contorted his face. “Fucking bitch!” Holding his midsection, he staggered to his feet and ran back to the building. A dark stain blossomed at the back of his pants and down the inside of his left leg.

  The sight caused her a momentary pang of regret until she probed her
pack and found the canisters and journal were still inside. Determination lifted the guilt from her chest and dumped it on the ground.

  Every hair-raising moment had been worth it. She had given her cargo a second chance. Now she had to find someone to help her, someone she trusted with her life.

  The door slammed behind Eduardo, propelling her into action. She had only a short period of time before he came for her.

  Fear crackled through her body.

  6

  Before the sun rose the next morning, Riley had taken matters into her own hands regarding Monty. As monikers went, Monty wasn’t great, but given the camper’s state of undress yesterday, it seemed fitting.

  After Britt had let the “soldier” comment slip, she’d realized that her cousin Reid or his best friend Gage probably knew the camper. There was a good chance Jonah knew about him, too, since he owned the land and, more importantly, seemed to be aware of everything that went on in Steele Ridge, especially anything involving his family.

  Typical male shortsightedness. Tell everyone about the strange man hanging out in the woods except for the woman mostly likely to come upon him.

  When she got nowhere with Britt, she’d asked the others about the mysterious camper. Surprise, surprise—the Steele boys and Gage had closed ranks and refused to give up the goods. Although she’d expected it, the shutout, the lack of trust, still hurt.

  High above her, a woodpecker hammered away at the side of a tree. Something dug into her hipbone. Frowning, she reached down and found a broken acorn shell wedged between her and the ground. She tossed it away and resumed her vigil.

  * * *

  Fuck ’em all. She hadn’t been kidding when she told Britt that secrets were her catnip. She couldn’t stand not knowing something.

  Just ask her dad. When she’d been eight years old, he’d caught her unwrapping her Christmas gifts, peeking at what was inside, then pressing the tape back into the exact same spot. Maybe if she’d stopped at her own presents, she would have escaped detection that night, but her insatiable curiosity had her peeling open her siblings’ presents too.