Jenna Kernan - Hunter Moon

So why did holding him again feel so right?

Izzie’s hands slipped from his middle, paused for one instant on his hips and then let go.

Clay twisted and glanced back at her.

“You okay?”

What kind of a question was that? She’d been shot at, lost her seat and then her horse and now sat tucked against his body as if she belonged to him.

“Hell, no, I’m not all right.”

Clay made a sound that might have been a laugh. Then he turned the horse, so they could see the way they had come. Biscuit was trailing her at a trot.

“I don’t see any sign of them.” He glanced back at her, giving her an enticing view of his strong jawline and the slight stubble that already grew there. His russet skin was so beautiful, taut and tanned. Izzie lifted her hand and had it halfway to his cheek when she realized what she was doing and forced it back down.

“Who were they?” asked Clay.

“No idea. I noticed I was missing cattle and thought they got up into the woods. There’s another small pasture up in that draw. But the next thing I know, I see someone on foot, and when I called out, the idiot started shooting at me.”

“I’d say at least two idiots from the sound of the shots. One was using a semiautomatic weapon.”

Her body went cold at that news.

He scowled at her, and still he was a welcome sight. His expression was a mix of concern and aggravation, as if she had intentionally put herself in danger.

Clay had been born a month earlier to the day, but at twenty-four, she no longer needed him shepherding her, did she?

“You’re bleeding,” he said and leaned in her direction. She held still as he removed one glove and swiped a thumb gently over the crest of her cheek. She felt the sting of pain, and his fingers came away bloody. He held her chin and tilted her head as if she were a child. Well, they weren’t thirteen anymore, and he was not hers. So why was it so hard to draw back?

“It’s fine.”

Clay motioned with his head. “Let’s go.”

They rode at a canter across the pasture, and she noted her herd had moved far down field. Good, she thought. Farther away from the bullets. That’s all she needed—dead cows. It was hard enough to make ends meet with the water restrictions.

“Why are you here, Cosen?” she asked, refusing herself the intimacy of his first name.

He pointed to a truck parked along her fence line. “Collecting strays.”

Clay worked for Dale Donner, the general livestock coordinator. One of their jobs was gathering strays from all reservation highways, which included this out-of-the-way road snaking along her grazing land. But she kept her fences in good repair, mostly because she could not afford to lose any cattle. Yet he was here, working. Her mouth went dry.

“Strays?” she repeated.

Her cattle were the only ones up here, and she was missing more than a few. Izzie had a sick feeling in her stomach.

“You catch any?”

His expression was serious. “Some.”

“How many?”

“Izzie, someone just shot at you. I’d feel a whole lot better if we had this conversation out of range and behind cover. I’ve got room in my trailer for Biscuit.”

He remembered the name of her favorite horse. What else did he remember? Their first kiss? The night she let him go a little too far? Or the day she told him she could not see him anymore?

They rode through her downed fence, the wire lying on the ground. She didn’t see any cattle on the road, but she swung down to lift the wire.

“It’s been cut,” she said.

He dismounted, too, glancing back toward the woods, his rifle still out and ready.

“Get behind the trailer.”

“The fence,” she said.

“The hell with the fence.”

“Did you do this?” she asked.

In answer, his color rose and his jaw set. Then he grabbed her with more force than necessary and hustled her over to the horse trailer.

Clay opened the gate and lowered the ramp. She loaded Biscuit and exited the trailer to find his mount tied to the ring on the side of the trailer. She watched him disconnect the trailer hitch.

He jerked his head toward the truck. “Get in, Bella.”

He hadn’t called her that since her sophomore year in high school on the night she told him she must stop seeing him.

Why, Bella? Why?

Clay rounded the trailer, and she heard the gate shut with a resounding clang.

“I can’t leave Biscuit.”

Clay took hold of her arm and muscled her along. He was much bigger and stronger than she recalled. He had to release her or the gun to get the door open, and he chose her. He motioned to the interior, and she slipped into the cab. Then he jogged around the front of the grille and slid the rifle into place on the rack behind them.

She caught the movement and shouted.

“There!” she said, pointing.

Someone moved on the top of the tree line. Clay leaped into his seat and started the truck, accelerating into the U-turn and narrowly missing the opposite ditch.

They traveled a half mile down the hill before he lifted the radio from his hip.

“My brothers are coming. Don’t want them riding into gunfire.”

She nodded her agreement to that. He must mean Gabe and Kino. Gabe was the new chief, and Kino was now a police officer for the tribal police. Izzie had heard that Clay’s little brother was about to be married.

Clay called his office, relayed the details and clipped the radio to his belt. He glanced in the side mirror and then back to the road. “Who are they?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I didn’t get a good look.” She dabbed at her cheek and winced. The blood was already drying on her face. “Why would men with automatic rifles be sneaking around in those woods?”

“A good question,” he said. “What’s up there?”

“Just another pasture. Oh, and a road. The tribe just improved it. It’s gravel now. They did a really nice job.”

“Why would the tribe improve a road going to pastureland?”

Izzie wrinkled her brow as she thought about that. “I don’t know.”

“It’s just an open field?” he asked.

“Well, there’s some dry fill up beyond the pasture, some digging. The tribe uses the dirt to fill holes. Maybe that’s why they need the road. To bring in bigger equipment?”

“Maybe.”

But he didn’t sound convinced, and his tone made her realize she should know what was happening on the land she leased. Izzie needed to get some answers.

Chapter Two

Clay had sworn he’d never be back here.

But here he was, sitting in the police station interview room. The room that he had hoped to never see the inside of again. The very same room where he had been brought in handcuffs. Had it really been eight years? Seemed like yesterday.

Clay felt the sheen of cold sweat cover him, and he tried to tell himself that this was different.

Was it? Or was he in that kind of trouble all over again?

They had met the authorities at the bottom of the pasture. After the tribal police had cleared the scene and found no sign of the gunmen, one of Gabe’s officers had taken Clay’s rifle, and they had told Izzie that fifty-one of her cows had been impounded for trespass on tribal lands by a representative of the General Livestock Coordinator—in other words, by Clay. After hearing that news, Izzie hadn’t spoken to him once on the long drive to the station, and he expected that she’d never speak to him again. That realization was more disturbing than sitting in this damned room again.

But he hadn’t done anything wrong. Unless he had. You didn’t have to know it to have done it. He’d learned that lesson well enough. Maybe this was just like the last time, only it was Izzie setting him up. Letting the cows out, calling the manager’s number, drawing him into a gunfight.