Radclyffe - Homestead

“No,” Clay said. “That’s what they’re doing.” She handed Kelly back her Beretta and shoved the broken door the rest of the way open.

Tess jumped back with a startled gasp. Ella stood beside her, a stoic expression on her face.

“Damn it, Tess,” Clay snarled, “what are you doing here?”

“Not listening to you, apparently.”

“Go home.”

Ella said, “Is the rest of the site clear?”

“No,” Clay said, staring at Tess. She looked angry and defiant and so fucking sexy. She sighed. “Fine. Stay. But at least wait inside.”

“You’ll be careful?”

“Yeah,” Clay said, although where Tess was concerned, she doubted that was possible.

“The road forks about twenty feet ahead,” Clay called to Kelly and Ella. “Go left—I’ll catch up in a minute.” She turned to Tess. “You have your cell phone? We’ll only be a few minutes.”

“Yes.” Tess couldn’t make out much of the encampment except for the large looming shapes of the buildings on the perimeter, and then only because they blocked out portions of the moonlit sky. Anyone could be out there, hiding or waiting to jump someone who came looking. She grasped Clay’s hand. “Why don’t you let Ella and Kelly do this? Better yet—the sheriff.”

“By the time anyone responded, our visitors would be long gone.” Clay smiled, pleased by the frown forming between Tess’s brows. Tess was worried about her. Well, at least as worried as she was angry, and either emotion was better than the ice that had crystallized in Tess’s eyes when she’d walked away, back at the Sly Fox. Tess on fire meant Tess cared, and right now, Clay would make do with any little connection she could find. Being the brunt of Tess’s temper was far better than being frozen outside, locked out of Tess’s life. Maybe she’d have to fight Ella for a place by the fire, but she would if Tess gave her the slightest hint there was a chance. Right now, though, she had to be sure Tess was safe. “The three of us together can cover more ground, and Ella and Kelly aren’t as familiar with the layout as I am.”

“But they’re trained for it.”

“There’s probably no one here, Tess.” Clay clasped Tess’s hand and squeezed. “I won’t be long. If you see or hear anything that frightens you, call 9-1-1. Stay in the trailer until one of us returns. I don’t want you wandering around out here in the dark.”

“Oh, but it’s all right if you do?”

“Yeah, it is. I’m the tough one here, remember?” Clay grinned at the barely muffled snort of indignation. Tess never liked being left out or left behind—especially if Clay hinted whatever they were planning—“borrowing” one of Leslie’s boats for a quick trip to the island and a little privacy or sneaking a beer or two out of the boathouse fridge for a private party all their own—was too difficult for Tess to pull off.

Tess almost laughed. Even in the shifting moonlight, an arrogant spark shone in Clay’s eyes. “You are so obnoxious sometimes.”

“Yeah,” Clay said, running her hand up and down Tess’s arm, “but that’s what you like about me.”

“You wish,” Tess said, but she couldn’t smother her smile. The old exchange, one they’d often had when Clay was being particularly overbearing, sometimes just to get a rise out of Tess, ought to have hurt, but it didn’t. Clay was right. One of the things Tess had always found so attractive about Clay had been her confidence, her absolute certainty, and her refusal to pretend she felt otherwise. “All right, go ahead, but if you get hurt again, you’re on your own.”

“I know you don’t mean that,” Clay said in a low teasing tone that made Tess’s heart skip into hyperdrive. “You wouldn’t let me suffer, would you?”

“Maybe, maybe not. Do you really want to find out?”

“I just want you to be here when I get back.” Clay’s tone turned serious, and the intensity of her expression might as well have been a hand caressing Tess’s bare skin, setting her alight.

“Where else would I go? It’s black as pitch out here, and since I walked in with Ella and she has the flashlight, I have no idea how to get back out again. So I’m a captive.”

“Good, then your only hope of getting home before dawn is time off for good behavior.” Clay gave her a little push toward the trailer. “As soon as I get back, I’ll spring you.”

Tess climbed the first step and looked down at Clay. The moonlight played cruel tricks sometimes—for an instant, Tess almost got lost in the look of desire in Clay’s eyes. “Don’t get hurt.”

“I won’t, not if you’re here.” Clay didn’t care who was watching—right then there was only her and Tess, and she wanted Tess to keep looking at her as if she were the only woman in the world. When Tess gave her that little secret smile she could do anything. “What do you say?”

“Don’t be a hero.” The ice was cracking under Tess’s feet, and she was in danger of falling through into frigid reality. She couldn’t flirt with Clay like this, not when she was flirting with almost certain heartache too. Clay hadn’t changed, and neither had she. She was still far too susceptible to Clay’s charm, and if she wasn’t very, very careful she’d start imagining something Clay had already proved she couldn’t deliver.

Tess tensed, watching the burn in Clay’s eyes grow hotter. Any second, Clay was going to kiss her again, and this time, Tess wasn’t certain she’d be able to say no. They stood there, poised on the edge of no return for what seemed like hours before Clay sucked in a breath and backed away. She held up a finger, pointed it at Tess like a gun. “Stay put. I’ll be back.”

“I’ll be here,” Tess said, not caring how thin the ice had become.

* * *

“Everything all right?” Ella asked when Clay caught up to her and Kelly.

“Things would be better if you’d kept Tess at her place like I asked.”

Kelly muttered, “I’ll check the skids and ATVs over here,” and disappeared.

“I had two choices,” Ella said mildly. “Sit at Tess’s while she drove over here alone, or come with her and at least keep her from walking into something.”

“The machine shop is on the right up here. If anyone really wanted to hurt us, they’d go for that. I’ll take a look.”

“Why don’t I—”

“I can handle it.”

Ella swung around in front of Clay, blocking her path. “Before you get yourself in trouble because you’re pissed at me, why don’t we sort this out.”

Clay flashed to the image of Ella and Tess walking into the tavern, looking good together. Looking like a fucking couple. She ground her back teeth. “There’s nothing to sort out.”

“Isn’t there? Come on, Clay—I’m not blind. I was there tonight.”

“I know.” Ella had been there all right, witness to Clay losing control and practically forcing herself on Tess. But Tess had kissed her—for just a second, Tess had been right there with her. Her gut clenched remembering the sweet sensation of Tess in her arms. Her throat tightened and she couldn’t breathe.

“Plus Tess about tore my head off for not rushing over here to help you,” Ella said. “All of which makes the old-business story kind of suspect.”

“We have some unresolved issues.”

“I noticed that,” Ella said dryly. “Clay, if you have something to say, now is the time.”

Clay had plenty to say, starting with stay away from Tess, none of which she had any right to voice. And on top of that, she was up to her neck in business entanglements with Tess that were about to get a lot worse when the attorneys showed up and her father started pushing for the drilling to begin. What she ought to do for Tess’s sake was back the hell away. “What Tess chooses to do is none of my business.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one I’ve got.” Clay pointed to the path Kelly had taken. “Let’s get this done.”

* * *

Tess paused on the step, straining to penetrate the dark that closed in around the trailer, leaving the faint light inside as a fitful beacon. When she could no longer see or hear the three of them, she climbed inside. And jerked to a stop on the threshold of the broken door.

The interior was a mess—trash and shredded papers and bits of broken computer parts littered every surface. She didn’t like feeling helpless while everyone else was doing something about what had happened, but she couldn’t clean up until the sheriff came.

She checked the window, still saw no one outside, and surveyed the chaos on Clay’s desk. More paper, various pens and paper clips and scraps of paper. A sticky note with random scribbles clung to the edge of a pad of lined paper, probably something Clay had doodled while she spoke on the phone. Idly, Tess tilted her head to read the crumpled square and jerked as the aimless scribbles took shape. TAR. Throat suddenly dry, hands shaking, she stared at the damning evidence. Perhaps it was something else. Maybe Clay used tar in some part of the drilling process or maybe it was a toxic by-product of the fracking. She studied the box around the letters, the heaviness of the lines, the way the letters were outlined and filled in with precise cross-hatches. Someone, Clay probably, had focused a lot of energy writing those three letters. TAR. Tess Ann Rogers. She touched the note, traced the heavy inked design. Clay had been doodling her initials. The idea, ridiculous and inconsequential, was thrilling.

The door opened behind her and Tess looked around. Clay stood in the doorway, taking in the room and then Tess. Her gaze landed on the sticky note under Tess’s hand.

Tess moved to block the foolish note from view. But she’d seen it and couldn’t un-see it now. She could spin so many fantasies from a silly little thing like that—just what she couldn’t afford to do. If only her heart would listen to reason. “Did you find anything?”