Every Last Touch Read online

  Whatever I was going to say to him, I didn’t. I snapped my mouth shut, turned on one heel and marched straight for the Jeep.

  “Hold on, now,” he laughed.

  The amused tone stopped me cold. I waited for him to catch up then cut a glance in his direction. I couldn’t tell by his expression whether he had any inkling of the thoughts that had just traipsed through my head, but he suddenly seemed eager to make amends for any offense he had offered.

  “I’m asking for a do-over,” he said, thrusting his hand out. “Name’s Walker. For the official record, that’s Walker Pierce Turk of Willow Gap, Montana.”

  Head tilted to the side, lips twitching at one corner, I shook his hand. “Agent Callahan.”

  Drawing a deep breath, he released it with a sigh.

  “Got it, no do over—at least not yet. So how about we move your Jeep to the other side of the warning sign? Then we can head up the hill to where I’m parked on an access trail. I’ll drive you out to Lewis & Clark.”

  Looking at where the sun hung in the sky, I felt time ticking away. It wasn’t like I had a complaint or any other kind of proof that a crime had been committed or was in progress at the park. Still, letting Turk take me meant I would be involving a civilian in the execution of my official duties.

  “So, you’re not actually in a hurry to get there,” he prodded, his voice as smug as his green gaze.

  “I am,” I shot back.

  Walker stepped closer, his mouth curving into a challenge I couldn’t resist.

  “Then let’s get moving.”

  2

  Walker

  From the distance of a few feet, I stared at the skinned carcass of a red fox. Standing over the body, Agent Callahan scattered the flies covering the bloodied flesh by waving a stick before she took a few photographs.

  “How long do you figure it’s been dead?” I asked.

  With a gloved hand, she manipulated the dead animal’s rear left leg.

  “Blood is only semi-congealed. No signs of rigor and no larval infestation, which would be present if rigor had come and gone,” she answered, her voice detached as she began to walk around the animal in a widening circle. “I figure a maximum of three to four hours since it died.”

  “So whoever did this could still be in the park?”

  “Yes, but unlikely.”

  As the woman walked, I noticed that a small limp affected her gait. I had no idea when it started because my attention had been riveted to her other physical attributes during the hike. Her hips were a favorite. And that nice, round backside that bobbed hypnotically in front of me like a birthday balloon.

  Can’t forget her breasts, I thought, running my thumb against my lower lip. Those were definite handfuls. Just the thought of them made my fingertips tingle and my cock begin to lengthen down my leg.

  My brain clouded for a second with the question of what her nipples were like. Thick, for sure, but what color? Hell, I didn’t care what color. I would happily suck them to the dark red tint I preferred before moving down her ripe body to lick and tease other areas.

  Maybe then, she’d tell me her first name.

  “Something wrong?” Callahan asked when she caught me staring at her.

  I swallowed, my head moving in a motion that was neither a nod nor a shake.

  “Your leg, did you hurt it today?”

  Her cloudy gaze darkened.

  I pointed at her left leg. “You’re limping. You seemed fine when we were at the job site.”

  She garbled a reply then bent down and took another photo. After the first shot, she pulled the measuring tape from her pocket, slid it out next to the object and captured a second image.

  I was curious about what she’d found, but the dismissal of my question about her leg bothered me more.

  “You’re limping,” I repeated.

  “Broke my tibia a few years back.” Callahan pulled an evidence bag from her pocket, placed the object inside then wrote on the bag. “Acts up sometimes.”

  I decided to let it go—for the time being.

  “What did you find?”

  “Shell casing, small caliber, 22.”

  I grunted, my brain and body confused. I couldn’t decide whether a woman walking around with a gun strapped to her hip, identifying casings and rattling off forensic details and conclusions was sexy or off-putting.

  Catching her gaze locked on me as she prowled in my direction, my brain and body reached a sudden, irrevocable agreement.

  Agent Callahan was definitely sexy. Especially with all those curves. I didn’t even need to imagine her gold-brown hair escaping its ponytail and laying loose around her elegant shoulders or neck.

  “Your foot,” she snapped, pointing at my right boot.

  Looking down, I saw light reflect off clear wire.

  “Fishing line?”

  “You see so much as a creek around here?”

  I shook my head. She was forceful, but I was accustomed to being around strong women. My family was full of them.

  Only this was the first time I found the quality downright sexy. Like, rock hard sexy.

  I smiled.

  Callahan glared.

  Meeting her gaze even when it was angry didn’t bother me. She had the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen—a smoky gray that belonged in a bedroom. My bedroom, I amended, imagining my fingers digging into the ample flesh of her thighs as I held them apart and penetrated her core.

  Ending the staring contest, Callahan bent down and pushed my leg until I took a careful step backward.

  “The wire could be part of a snare,” she explained, pulling out her camera and running through the same steps as she had for the cartridge. With the wire marked as potential evidence, she returned to the case she had brought with her and pulled out a large black bag. “I need to check on the den before we lose daylight.”

  I nodded, my tongue numb as she unzipped the bag and I realized its purpose and Callahan’s intent. She was taking the carcass with her.

  “Do you think you can carry my case?” she asked, carefully maneuvering the animal into the body bag.

  “Sure…I mean, no—” Shaking my head, I pointed at the black lump she had just zipped up. “I mean, I’ll carry whatever you want me to. If you’d rather take the case, I can carry the carcass. Or both.”

  “Just the case.”

  She clipped two straps onto the body bag then threaded her arms through them before heading north with a grim smile. I followed. We hiked in silence for about a mile. Callahan led the way, her limp worsening to the point I wanted to stop and demand she let me carry both the case and the macabre package strapped to her back.

  She held her hand up, signaling a halt. Pointing some twenty yards in front of us, she directed my gaze to a hole in the side of a short mound. If that was the den, there were no cubs or adult foxes on the outside and no sounds suggesting they might be inside.

  Callahan resumed taking pictures, moving in ever-decreasing circles until she reached the den and pronounced it empty.

  “Could they have just left?” I asked.

  Predators much larger than foxes had always been the concern on my family’s cattle ranch. Mountain lions, coyotes, and wolves could not only take down an animal, they could stress the entire herd to the point of some of the pregnant cows miscarrying. Foxes just weren’t a consideration, so I knew nothing about them.

  Callahan shrugged. “The adults might have scented the dead fox and abandoned the den, taking the cubs. Or they could have left days ago.”

  Frowning, she put her face close to the foxhole and sniffed.

  “Fresh urine.”

  Okay, not everything about Agent Callahan was sexy, I mused for half a second before the needle began to swing back in her direction because, yeah, there certainly was something to be said about a woman who had that kind of dedication to work.

  Would she bring the same level of commitment to a relationship?

  Getting a little ahead of yourself, I though
t, schooling my expression to something neutral as Callahan stood up and walked toward where she had left me with her case and the body bag with its dead fox inside.

  “I really appreciate you bringing me out here,” she said, shouldering the carcass. “Evidence is fragile in these conditions. Between the weather and other animals, the bullet casing and snare wire could have been gone tomorrow and the body dragged off, maybe even buried depending on the local badger population.”

  Forcing down a flicker of guilt, I nodded. My motives for offering her the ride, even goading her into the trip, had been purely selfish. She was a beautiful woman who flushed prettily when riled up. Without those qualities, I was ashamed to admit I would still be at the job site waiting for Gamble to appear and investigate who was trying to sabotage my operations.

  “We should be getting back to the truck,” I said, looking at how close the sun had gotten to the horizon. “Going to start losing daylight pretty fast.”

  “Agreed.” She walked past me, a subtle smile making her face glow.

  Shouldering the case, I hurried to catch up.

  “Hey, I wanted to apologize for the whining about the Feds thing I did at the job site,” I said. “It’s just that my brother works for the FBI and, counting today, there have been four incidents.”

  “He might have passed it off to the local office,” she offered.

  “Uh—no,” I snorted, my grip on the case’s strap tightening. “He IS the local office.”

  “He may wish to avoid the appearance of impropriety or stepping on the local LEO tails.”

  With a barking laugh, I shook my head. “Emerson would stomp all over their tails, but I imagine you’re right about the impropriety thing. He’s probably the biggest starched shirt you’ll ever meet.”

  “Well, if I meet him, I’ll send you my official assessment.”

  My hand reaching out to cup the woman’s elbow, I stopped. “Was that a joke, Agent Callahan?”

  She smiled, her cheeks colored by the setting sun. “I guess. And, uh, forget calling me Agent Callahan.”

  I returned the smile, my body growing warmer despite the temperature dropping several degrees since we had first reached the den.

  “What should I call you?”

  “First name is Ashley, but most people wind up calling me ‘Ash.’”

  Because of those smoky bedroom eyes, I thought, my smile breaking into a grin.

  “Well, Ash,” I said, extending my hand. “You be sure to call me Walker when your job doesn’t dictate otherwise.”

  She responded with a mock growl. “You better hope it doesn’t dictate otherwise. You’ll lose your Junior Deputy badge if I have to talk to you in an official capacity.”

  I stared at the woman for a long minute, savoring the play of evening colors against her fair skin and gold-brown hair. With my grin widening, I threw her a wink.

  “You can take the badge, just leave me the handcuffs.”

  3

  Walker

  “I can open my own doors,” Ashley grumbled as I curled my fingers around the passenger side handle.

  With both windows lowered, a breeze blew through the truck’s cabin. The gentle wind carried with it the scent of wildflowers. I knew the sweet smell belonged to the woman, the fragrance caressing my nose on the drive to and from the park. It didn’t pervade, just served as a subtle reminder that Ashley was in the vehicle close enough for me to reach over and touch.

  I had already checked the impulse to do just that, same as I was checking the impulse to offer a ridiculous, courtly bow as I opened the door. The grin, however, couldn’t be reined in.

  “Only if you’re faster than I am,” I winked. “Besides, my truck, my rules. I don’t care if a lady is one or one hundred, I’m opening the door for her.”

  Ashley lifted a finely arched eyebrow, the expression slaying me after the robot mask she’d slid on when we first started off for Lewis & Clark.

  “Even when she has a firearm strapped to her hip?”

  My smile cracked wider at her query.

  “Especially then.”

  My mouth sobered when she didn’t react, her face once again frozen. Fine lines of strain squeezed at the exterior corners of her eyes.

  “Leg?” I asked.

  Lips pressing together, she nodded.

  “Well, you take your time.”

  “You’ve both been taking your time,” Sheriff Gamble groused, sneaking up on us in the dark. “You better have a good reason for—”

  Catching his first glimpse of Ashley under the truck’s dome light, a smirk replaced the irritated jut of Gamble’s jaw.

  “Oh, I see.”

  My gaze jumped to Ashley. The faint traces of pain pinching her face hardened into thick valleys of irritation. She slid her right leg out, cheeks flushing as the left slowly followed and her weight settled.

  “No offense,” Gamble shrugged at the woman. “I just expect someone with half a million in equipment out of commission and potentially deadly sabotage to the trees on the land he’s working to be on site when I show up to investigate.”

  “Don’t let him bust your balls, Walker. Sheriff’s only been here fifteen minutes,” Kostya chuckled, emerging from the same shadowy path with two Styrofoam cups of coffee. He handed the first cup to Ashley and the second to me. “Seeing as there isn’t anything to eat or drink between here and the park, I figured the two of you could use some caffeine.”

  Pulling some sugar packets from his pocket, he offered them to Ashley.

  “Like it straight,” she said before taking her first sip. “And this is heavenly, thank you.”

  Kostya beamed for a second then jerked when I plucked three of the sugar packets from his open hand.

  “Thanks.” I didn’t need to ask whether Kostya had filled Gamble in on the details. That conversation had already taken place over the radio as the Sheriff drove in from Willow Gap. Instead, I turned to Gamble for other news. “Any fatalities at the wreck?”

  The man’s thick brows knitted together, but he shook his head. “Had to air evac a seven-year-old. Still haven’t heard back from the hospital.”

  “Anyone local?”

  Again, Gamble shook his head. “Some accounts manager from Santamo trying to invoice and drive at the same time crossed lanes, hit a family of five in the mini-van on their way up to Glacier National Park. They rolled and came to a stop on another vehicle.”

  My stomach curled around itself as Gamble paused to take a breath.

  “Got the accounts manager locked up for the night. Of course, he’ll be out on bail in the morning.”

  “Judge Hicks won’t give him some slap on the wrist when the time comes,” I said. “He’s fair, but he’s tough, too.”

  Gamble nodded then turned his attention to Ashley. “Kostya said you had to make a hard stop. That how you hurt your leg?”

  “It irritated an old injury.” Moving deeper into the shadows, she lowered the truck’s tailgate and pulled out her forensic case and the body bag. From the side pocket of the case, she removed a business card and handed it to the Sheriff. “I’ll type up my witness statement. Have someone let me know where to send it.”

  “Hold up,” I warned. “You can’t head downhill without cover. We might have missed a tree.”

  Returning to the cab, I pulled out the hard hats we had worn earlier and handed her one then fished under my seat.

  “You also need a—”

  She flicked her flashlight at me. Realizing I should have known better, I chuckled. Ashley’s case was expertly crammed with everything she needed for her job and enough food in the form of protein bars to help her survive several days if anything bad happened. She also had several different means of starting a fire and just as many ways of capturing and filtering water—some I had never thought of.

  A gun on her hip, handcuffs at the ready and a survival pack that would make a prepper green with envy, I mused, realizing I had never had a “type” before because I had never encoun
tered Ashley Callahan until today.

  “You really need to talk to me tonight?” I asked the Sheriff.

  “No,” Gamble admitted. “I just wanted to satisfy myself that the roadblock was properly set up and the five identified trees were taken down.”

  “Yeah, shame you couldn’t inspect them before that, but some fool will try to go around the signs. Kostya said he took plenty of pictures first.”

  Gamble nodded.

  “Well,” I smiled and tossed the keys to my truck at Kostya. “I’ll either be back in a few minutes or I won’t.”

  Turning to Ashley, the grin faltered. The twitch at the right corner of her mouth suggested the woman was still irritated over Gamble’s original remarks and smirk. I had to tread carefully, but I didn’t want her walking down the hill loaded with the case and animal while her bad leg acted up. And I didn’t want her returning to Billings in the dark.

  “Thought we could discuss where you’re sleeping tonight.”

  Seeing her gaze widen and the soft lips part in surprise, I knew I had just dug myself a mighty deep hole I needed to quickly haul my dumb butt out of.

  “My mother used to put Deacon up when he got stuck in these parts too late in the day,” I hastily explained. “No hotels in Willow Gap and I figured you might need to head back to the park tomorrow. We even have a freezer we keep running just for Deacon's perishable evidence.”

  I started breathing again when Ashley’s face mellowed into something that didn’t look like she was ready to throttle me.

  “I’d appreciate that,” she answered. “Deacon wasn’t able to…”

  “Yeah,” I said. “We’ve all been praying that he’ll recover from the stroke. But his wife said it’s going to take time and therapy. He and I had a lot of interactions, maybe I can help fill in some details for you. At least how things are around these parts.”

  Again, miraculously, Ashley nodded. I swiped the back of my fingers across my lips to stop the smile struggling to break free.