Authors: Jennifer Dellerman
Gwen appeared to digest his comment when Porter, at her side, said, “Show me these footprints while Rome works on the lock.”
Seemingly reluctant to leave, it took Gwen several moments to take her eyes off Rome and lead Porter and James to the opposite side of the building.
Rome found himself fascinated by the soft sway of her hips as she walked away. Hell. Let’s be honest. Everything about Gwen was churning all sorts of feelings in both man and cat. It was an attraction on the most primitive of levels.
And while the man may have been confused, the cat was under no such uncertainty.
Pursuing the roots of his oddly strong attraction to Gwen would be a most excellent way to welcome him home.
Knowing his grin was dark and wicked with naughty delight, Rome wrapped his fingers around the padlock and pulled. With a metallic snap, the lock opened. Then he counted to ten.
If there was one thing a feline shifter knew, it was patience. Now that the initial shock had passed, Rome could re-evaluate, plan, and hunt.
And Rome always caught what he wanted.
“It’s open.”
Not having heard him approach, the sound of Rome’s
voice from right behind her caused Gwen to jump a foot in
the air. She pressed a hand to her racing heart. “Don’t do
that.” She admonished him.
“Sorry,” he replied, looking all but sorry, the selfsatisfied
expression proclaiming his success – or
amusement at scaring the crap out of her – backed by the
padlock he twirled around one finger. This close she could
see a faint scar that ran from the corner of his right brow
and disappeared into his hairline. Hair that was a bit longer
than in his pictures, though not as long as either of his
brothers, gleamed a healthy deep brown so dark as to be
nearly black. Gwen had the sudden urge to run her fingers
through those strands to see if they were as soft as the pelt
of a cat they mimicked.
And his scent. She tried not to be obvious as she drew
in a deep breath. Like fresh air, spice and oak moss.
Liquid longing pulled low in her belly, the immediate arousal
confounded her. . She didn’t know if she was transferring
the naughty fantasies she’d had of the two-dimensional
depiction of Rome onto the real one, or if she was truly
sexually attracted to the flesh and blood man standing
before her. She was hoping for the former, not only
because the man was her boss’s son, but a fantasy crush
was easier to quell than an actual one.
Especially when she took into account the all too
substantial feel of that thick hardness that had pressed
against her ass when he’d pounced on her, because that
sure hadn’t been the leather tool kit strapped to his belt. A
rush of heat flooded her veins and sweat beaded on her
brow at the memory. Yeah. She might be in trouble.
She knew she was staring because she saw his
nostrils flare as he did some sniffing of his own. Then those
dark eyes went molten, as if he could somehow scent her
arousal and instantly reacted to it like she was a dog in
heat and he was on the hunt to mate. Tearing her eyes from
the flames of hunger rising in his, she gulped and
deliberately moved to other side of Porter and James who
were crouched down next to one of the footprints.
“So?” She asked Porter, doing her best to ignore both
Rome and her body’s physical response to his presence.
“What do you think?”
Porter shrugged. “Someone ran across the clearing
either in the rain or just after.” He turned his gaze to his
brother. “Rome?”
Rome edged closer, slanting Gwen a dark look that
made her sex tremble before focusing his attention on the
print. He raised his head and scanned the area before and
behind him and then walked to the edge of the clearing.
Moving slowly, methodically, a hunter after prey, he followed
the trail across the clearing before rejoining the group.
“The deep toe impressions tell me this individual was
digging in to keep from slipping over the mud.” Rome
placed his foot next to one print. “They seem huge because
he wasn’t quite successful. There’s also smaller, lighter
prints, probably female, mostly covered over by the male’s.
The stride lengths tell me they weren’t running together so
the male must have been chasing the female for some...”
Rome stopped mid-sentence and suddenly
straightened, his features a study of bemused horror.
“Porter. I need your phone.”
Porter handed over his cell with a curious, “What is it?”
“You calling the police?” James asked.
Gwen didn’t say a word, fascinated not only by the way
his mind worked but also by the peculiar expression on his
face. As if he were torn between laughing and vomiting.
She had no idea what could cause such a reaction on a
man who’d been through two tours in the middle east and
encountered some of the worst of humanity while in the
ATF.
“Why don’t you guys check out the cabin. I’ll be right
there.” He never looked up as his fingers raced over the
buttons of the phone.
“Come on.” Porter said when James opened his
mouth to argue. “Rome won’t say a word until he has all the
facts. He’s stubborn like that.”
As they shuffled off, Gwen cast one last look over her
shoulder at Rome. As if sensing her eyes on him, he raised
his head and winked. Refusing to be amused, charmed or
intrigued by the man, Gwen pressed her lips together and
rounded the cabin.
Porter and James stood inside the now open door and
stared at the ground. Gwen halted at the threshold and
followed the direction of their gaze. Between the open door
and the missing section of roof, enough sunlight illuminated
the inside of the cabin for Gwen to see what was amiss.
“Uh, where are the floorboards? And why is there a large
hole in the dirt?” Mounds of it were piled along the walls,
leaving a deep depression about four feet by eight feet
deep. Hands on hips, Porter frowned. “That’s what I’d like to
know.”
James ran the tip of his boot over the dirt and stated
the obvious. “Someone’s been digging.”
Confused, Gwen crossed her arms over her chest.
“Whatever for?”
Porter let out a sigh, his head moving in a derisive
shake. “Stupid treasure.”
Gwen’s brows high in disbelief. She’d heard the story
upon working for the Felixes, even used it at their
insistence on the hikes they conducted. There was nothing
like a pirate story complete with lost treasure to tantalize
the guests.
Over three hundred years ago a French explorer,
turned pirate, by the name of Claude Morgan, sailed
throughout the Florida Keys pillaging trade ships from
France, Cuba and anywhere else that was unlucky enough
to come across his dastardly ship. It was believed Morgan
settled down sometime during the Spanish and English
war, with a mountain of gold and a young Calusa bride of
noble birth. The exact location of Morgan’s residence was
up for speculation. However, written documents recorded
the original owners of the Felix estate – then a pepper
plantation – as an older Frenchman with a young Native
American wife. Not uncommon until one takes into account
the appearance of the man. A hulking beast, light on his
feet, with shaggy hair the color of midnight and eyes an
eerie shade of greenish-yellow. The same description as
the runaway pirate.
Cobbled together, the physical characteristics, the
ethnicity of the husband and wife, and the amount of money
required to build such a grand estate, people began to
suspect the original owner, Cort Fylin, was in fact Claude
Morgan. It was all supposition of course, but it made for a
nice tale.
Until, like now, when someone took it a little too
seriously.
“You have got to be kidding me.” Gwen said. “If the tale
were even true, out of the whole five-mile area your family
owns, why choose this spot?”
“I have no idea.” Porter said, exasperated. He kicked
the tip of his boot against one pile of dirt and hit something
hard. The floorboards.
“Well,” James interjected as Porter continued to roam
in the confined space, “your grandfather did shore up the
cabin some time ago and the stone bottom might make
some think this building was built on top of another one.
Between the padlock and steel door, maybe someone
thought you were hiding something inside.”
“Yeah. Rotted wood. We didn’t want anyone to get a
splinter and sue us.”
A shadow moved over Gwen and this time she knew
Rome was behind her before he spoke. “Found out who
made the tracks.”
Porter’s eyes narrowed. “Who?”
“Dad.”
“Why would he be running around out here barefoot?”
James wanted to know.
Rome grimaced. “He was chasing mom.”
“Chasing mom?” Porter’s head cocked. “Why would
he...Oh. Oh no.” Porter pressed his fingers to his eyes.
“Ugh. Shit. Now I need a brain scrub to get the picture out of
my head.”
“You mean they were out here having sex?” James
gaped. “In the rain?”
“Shut up, man.” Porter groaned. “You’re not helping.”
Gwen sighed and leaned against the doorjamb. “I think
that’s wonderful.”
“Wonderful?” Porter eyed her through his fingers.
“That they still play and have fun with each other after
all this time. It’s just,” she lifted a shoulder. “Wonderful.”
“But it’s our parents,” Porter whined. “You’re not
supposed to think of your parents doing stuff like that. It’s
unhealthy.”
Gwen snorted. “Come on, Porter. You’re an adult. You
know these things happen. You’ve probably done it yourself
a time or too.”
“While I agree it’s great they still, uh, play,” Rome
interjected before his brother could form a retort, his breath
a warm whisper along Gwen’s cheek, “I have to side with
Porter. It’s not something I want to dwell on. Especially
considering the participants. So next topic. What’s with the
hole?”
“Porter thinks someone’s after the Morgan treasure.”
Gwen told him.
Rome’s arm brushed hers as he scrubbed a hand over
his face. “First squatters, then poachers and now treasure
hunters?”
“Unless our parents were doing something else kinky.”
Porter lamented.
A chime sounded from James’ watch and he glanced
down at the time. “Sorry guys, but I gotta go.”
“That’s right. Matt’s party.” Porter looked from James
to Rome. “What do you want to do?”
Rome’s lips pursed in thought, drawing Gwen’s eye,
but before her mind could skyrocket into fantasy mode, his
spoke, engaging her brain into reality. “We’ll call the police
when we get back, just so there’s a record of trespassing
and vandalism. The only prints would have been on the
lock, which between the three of us we obliterated, and a
new one obviously won’t sway the hunters.”
“What about posting guards or something?” Gwen
asked.
“That will only delay the search.” Rome said, sounding
so positive that she believed him. “We can’t keep a guard
out here indefinitely. I say let them dig to China. When they
don’t find anything, they’ll move on.”
Though it seemed logical to Gwen, she couldn’t abide
letting criminals get away. As everyone moved outside and
Porter closed the door, Gwen refused to let it go. “What
about a camera? A motion sensor one?”
The idea must have intrigued Rome because he didn’t
respond in the negative right away. “It would have to be
wireless, with the capacity to travel over several miles.
Maybe a satellite one?” The latter he said more to himself
then her. “I’ll have to make some calls.”
Though he was no longer with the government, Gwen
imagined he had contacts that could provide him with
everything he might need. Satisfied at his willingness to at
least consider her suggestion, Gwen hurried down the trail
after an anxious James.