Elle James - Hot Target

By the time they finally reached the bottom and made their way back to the parked trucks, Grace’s body had adjusted to Caveman’s movements, making them seem like one person—riding the trails, absorbing every bump and leaning into every turn.

When the vehicles came into view, she pulled herself back to the task at hand.

Caveman stopped next to the sheriff’s truck and switched off the ATV’s engine.

Grace climbed off the back, the cool mountain air hitting her front where the heat generated by Caveman still clung to her. Shaking off the feeling of loss, she opened the passenger door of the sheriff’s vehicle, slid onto the front seat, grabbed the radio mic and pressed the button. “Hello.”

“This is dispatch, who am I talking to?”

“Grace Saunders. Sheriff Scott wanted me to relay a request for a mountain rescue team to be deployed to his location as soon as possible.”

“Could you provide a little detail to pass on to the team?” the dispatcher asked.

Grace inhaled and let out a long slow breath before responding. “There’s a man at the bottom of a deep drop-off.”

“Is he unconscious?”

The hollow feeling in her chest intensified. “We believe he’s dead. He’s not moving and he could be the victim of a gunshot wound.”

“Got it. I’ll relay the GPS coordinate and have the team sent out as soon as they can mobilize.”

“Thank you.” Grace hung the mic on the radio and climbed out of the sheriff’s SUV.

“Now what?” Caveman asked. He’d dismounted from the four-wheeler and stepped up beside the sheriff’s vehicle while she’d been talking on the radio.

She shrugged. “If you could take me back to my place, I have work to do.”

Caveman frowned. “When we get there, will you let me take you to the clinic to see a doctor?”

“I don’t need one.” Her head hurt and she was a little nauseated, but she wouldn’t admit it to him. “I’d rather stay home.”

“I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll take you home if you promise to let me take you from there to see a doctor.”

She sighed. “You’re not going to let it go, are you?”

He crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. “Nope.”

“And if I don’t agree, either I walk home—which I don’t mind, but I’m not in the mood—or I wait until the sheriff is done retrieving Mr. Khalig’s body.”

His lips twitched. “That about sums it up. See a doctor, walk home alone or wait for a very long time.” He raised his hands, palms up. “It’s a no-brainer to me.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’ll walk.” She brushed past him and lengthened her stride, knowing she was too emotionally exhausted to make the long trek all the way back to her house, but too stubborn to let Caveman win the argument.

The ATV roared to life behind her and the crunch of gravel heralded its approach.

“You might also consider that by walking home, you put yourself up as an easy target for a man who has proven he can take a man down from a significant distance. Are you willing to be his next target?”

His words socked her in the gut. She stopped in her tracks and her lips pressed together in a hard line.

Damn. The man had a good point. “Fine.” She spun and slipped her leg over the back of the four-wheeler. “You can take me to my house. From there, I’ll take myself to the clinic.”

Caveman shook his head, refusing to engage the engine and send the ATV toward Grace’s house. “That’s not the deal. I take you home. Then I will take you to the clinic. When the doctor clears you to drive, you can take yourself anywhere you want to go.”

“Okay. We’ll do it your way.” She wrapped her arms loosely around his waist, unwilling to be caught up in the pheromones the man put off. “Can we go, already?”

“Now we can go.” He goosed the throttle. The ATV jumped, nearly unseating Grace.

She tightened her hold around Caveman’s waist and pressed her body against his as they bumped along the dirt road with more potholes than she remembered on the way out. Perhaps because she noticed them more this time because she wasn’t the one in control of the steering. Either way, she held on, her thighs tightly clamped around his hips and the seat.

By the time they arrived at her cottage, she could barely breathe—the fact having nothing to do with the actual ride so much as it did with the feel of the man’s body pressed against hers. She was almost disappointed when he brought the vehicle to a standstill next to her gate.

Grace climbed off and opened the gate. The distance between them helped her to get her head on straight and for her pulse to slow down to normal.

He followed her to her house. “We’ll take my truck. Grab your purse and whatever else you’ll need.”

When she opened her mouth to protest, he held up his hand.

“You promised.” He frowned and crossed his arms over his chest again. “Where I come from, a promise is sacred.”

Her brows met in the middle. “Where do you come from?”

His frown disappeared and he grinned. “Montana.”

Caveman started toward the house, Grace fell in step beside him. “Is that where you were before you arrived in Grizzly Pass?”

His grin slipped. “No.”

She shot a glance his direction. A shadow had descended on his face and he appeared to be ten years older.

“Where did you come from?”

He stared out at the mountains. “Bethesda, Maryland.”

There was so much she didn’t know about this man. “That’s a long way from Montana.”

“Yes, it is.” He stopped short of her porch. “I’ll be in my truck when you’re ready.” Before she could say more, he turned and strode toward the corner of her house.

For a moment, Grace allowed herself the pleasure of watching the way his butt twitched in his blue jeans. The man was pure male and so ruggedly handsome he took her breath away. What was he doing hanging around her? Since she was being forced to ride with him to the clinic, she’d drill him with questions until she was satisfied with the answers. For starters, why did he call himself Caveman? And what was the importance of Bethesda, Maryland, that had made him go from being relaxed and helpful to stiff and unapproachable?

Caveman disappeared around the corner.

Grace faced her house, fished her key from her pocket and climbed the stairs. She opened the screen door and held out the key, ready to fit it into the lock when she noticed something hanging on the handle. It rocked back and forth and then fell at her feet.

She jumped back, emitting a short, sharp scream, her heart thundering against her ribs. With her hand pressed to her chest, she squatted and stared at the item, a lead weight settling in the pit of her belly as she recognized the circular band with the rectangular plastic box affixed to it.

It was the radio collar for the wolf she’d been looking for earlier that day, and it was covered in blood.

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