Southern Sunset: Book One of 44 South Read online

  The sight centred on the front door again.

  “Maggie’s gone inside the house,” he said into the phone.

  Maggie.

  I could hear Mac’s voice as he replied.

  “What the fuck?”

  “Exactly. Is she in contact with you?”

  “She has been. But she didn’t say jack shit about entering the building.”

  “Fuck. I don’t know whether she heard something or not.”

  “Where the hell are you?” Mac demanded.

  “Tree line.”

  “Fucking rifle in your hands, Matt?” he queried.

  “Might be. Is Maggie talking to you yet?”

  “Can’t raise her over the radio. She’s probably got hers on silence.”

  “I’ll give her two minutes and then I’m going in,” Matt advised.

  “Just hang tight, we’ll be there in five. Shit,” he said, loud enough for Matt to wince, but he didn’t make a move to drop either the rifle or the cell phone. “We’ve just hit a snag.”

  “What type of snag?” Matt asked.

  “The type of snag where the only path leading down toward the homestead has been blown away to non-traversable rubble.”

  Matt was silent.

  Maggie.

  “It’s a trap,” he said, pushing up from the ground, grabbing his cell phone, and shouldering his rifle.

  I was out of the trees before him.

  But Matt wasn’t far behind.

  Chapter 59

  Just Don’t Die, Maggie

  Maggie

  The house was empty. No sign of struggles or a rushed departure. The front door was the only anomaly and that could have been explained simply enough.

  I walked back down the stairs and rechecked the lounge and kitchen one last time, then strode through the front door coming face to face with a hunting rifle.

  My gun came up. The rifle went down. And Matt Drake swore loudly.

  “It’s clear,” I said, holstering my weapon, then spotting Luke behind the senior sergeant.

  His eyes drilled into mine, a novel’s worth of words reflected in the bitter chocolate. He was angry. I was in trouble. He had every intention of throwing me over his knees and spanking my arse.

  I blinked back up at him, amused I could read so much in just that one heated stare. But not impressed with the message I’d just unravelled.

  “What are you doing here?” I demanded.

  “I live here,” Luke snapped back.

  “You know what I mean,” I growled, as Matt pulled his cell phone out and took a step away to place a call. I trusted he was letting the others know. They’d be here soon, but where Marinkovich was, I hadn’t a clue.

  I pushed that aside for now to deal with the bigger threat.

  Luke had taken a step toward me.

  His chest bumped up against mine, but I refused to take a step backward. I cocked my head at him and arched my brow.

  “You’re unarmed,” I pointed out. “Unqualified,” I added. “And uninvited.” The last was cruel, but damn it, he could have been hurt. Killed even. I couldn’t imagine that scenario without breaking out in a cold sweat.

  He, at least, wore a police vest. Matt’s doing, at a guess. But being anywhere near here was not helping my piece of mind one little bit.

  When had this man become so important?

  Luke’s hand came up and long fingers wrapped around my pony tail carefully. He gently tilted my head back, his movements measured. The control required not to tug, not to pull too tightly when so riled, was immeasurable. He was granite before me, rock solid, face hard.

  “I know you’ve got a job to do,” he said in a low growl which sent inappropriate shivers right through my body. “I know you’re very good at it. But I’ve just spent several hours pacing the floor of the Twizel Police Station listening to one syllable words over the scanner and thinking dire thoughts and unacceptable outcomes.”

  It was not what I’d expected to come out of that mesmerising mouth.

  “Luke,” I said, my body softening. I couldn’t decide if it was his admission or the proximity of his body that made me relax into his hold. Made me give up some of my control and let him take the weight a little.

  Or it could have been the way he wrapped my pony tail around his hand and secured me in one swift motion. Made me feel safe and sexy and wanted. So very much wanted.

  “What were you thinking?” he demanded. “Marinkovich could have been laying a trap.”

  It had crossed my mind. But…

  “The property needed to be cleared. He’s not here,” I pointed out.

  Luke didn’t release his hold on my hair.

  “You placed yourself in unnecessary risk,” he growled. “You walked into an unknown situation without adequate back up.”

  “Carter and Mac will be here soon.”

  “Mac’s been held up,” he said. “Marinkovich knew you’d all be coming in from that direction and blew the fucking track to Kingdom Come.”

  Shit. He was playing us.

  “Maggie,” Luke said, and so much pain was echoed in that one word. In my name on his lips right then.

  “I can’t do this,” he whispered, and my heart cracked. “I’m falling for you,” he added, barely breathing. “I’m fucking falling in love with you. You’ve stormed into my world and turned it on its head. I rise in the morning with you on my mind. I go to sleep basking in your sunset. I’ve spent every moment of every day since I walked up on you in that pasture wanting to devour your body. Your heart. Your mind. To claim you. To make you mine. To own you. For-fucking-ever, you understand?”

  Holy shit. I just managed to nod my head.

  “You almost died on Mount Cook Road and I couldn’t imagine a world without you in it,” he whispered. “Then you had a bomb go off across the street from where you work and I damn well couldn’t function. Are you getting this yet, Maggie? Do understand why I’m here and why I’m not leaving and why I’m going to hound you to stay safe every single day of the rest of your life?”

  “Luke,” I said, my heart melting. “This is my job. It’s what I do. I’m good at it.”

  His forehead came down and pressed against mine, his eyes closed and his nostrils flared as he breathed deeply.

  “Just…” he started. “Just don’t die, Maggie,” he pleaded.

  “I don’t plan to.”

  “Maggie,” he whispered.

  And it filled me up and scoured me out and left me wanting more and aching for less. This big, tough farmer practically on his knees before me, loving me the only way he knew how.

  And I realised I was loving him back.

  Chapter 60

  Son Of A Bitch

  Luke

  I couldn’t step back. I couldn’t release my hold of her hair, her body. I kept breathing, only because I could smell Maggie. I kept living, only because she was in my arms.

  I hated this.

  I craved it.

  It was driving me crazy.

  “Fuck!” Matt suddenly said, his cell phone down from his ear and dangerously close to being crushed in his hand.

  I pulled back from Maggie enough to look at my brother, but I did not let her go. I couldn’t. I’d never let her go now. She was well and truly fucked.

  And so was I.

  “What is it this time?” Maggie said in frustration.

  “Carter’s bogged down halfway between here and the main shed,” Matt growled, starting to pace. “Fucking rusty nails on the road and they didn’t see them until every single vehicle ran them over and tore the shit out of their tyres.”

  “Marinkovich,” I said, letting a slow, heated breath of air out.

  “He’s playing us,” Maggie announced, she didn’t seem at all surprised by it.

  “Where the hell is he?” Matt demanded, running a frustrated hand through his hair. He was cracking, I realised. Too much pressure and too little hope.

  He was cracking and there wasn’t a damn thing I could
do about it.

  Maggie stepped away from me and I let her. Only because she was going to my brother and he looked about the worst I’d seen him in all of the six months prior.

  “He knows a lot about you,” Maggie advised, walking around Matt’s still frame until she was facing him. Forcing him to face her. “Knows where you live. He could be at your house.”

  Matt shook his head. “He wasn’t an hour ago.” He held up the rifle, still gripped in his hand. “I picked this up and checked it out.”

  Maggie arched her brow. “Without back up?” Her eyes darted to my face, brow arched. I scowled and crossed my arms over my chest.

  “The property needed to be cleared,” Matt said, repeating her earlier words. And proving my brother had been listening to Maggie’s and my conversation. Maggie realised that too and blushed.

  It was gorgeous on her, but I didn’t much like the fact that she was embarrassed because of the dickhead. I crossed the porch and wrapped my hand around the back of her neck, squeezing lightly. Then gave Matt a fuck you glare.

  Matt shook his head and huffed out a breath and said, voice lost, “He’s got my little girls.”

  Maggie’s whole body deflated. I wanted to wrap her up and take her away. Far from this fucked up mess. But I couldn’t leave my brothers. Leave Mum and Dad, Rachel and Dani. I was trapped.

  As much as Matt was.

  “Where else would he go?” I said.

  Maggie shrugged. “What did he say to you on the phone again?” she asked.

  I went back over the conversation. The thought of him using Dad’s cell made fire rage inside my gut, the flare of heat wanting a way out.

  “He said something about waiting on Matt,” I advised, forcing a calmness I didn't feel.

  “What else? Tell me everything.”

  I glanced at Matt, but he was back in control. He nodded his head for me to continue.

  “Well,” I said stalling. I don’t usual fucking stall, but this hurt. “He asked if Matt lost it.” Matt scowled. “Something about seeing Missy’s life, the life…” Ah, fuck, this sucked.

  “The life I didn’t know she had,” Matt finished for me.

  I stared at my brother and saw his pain. I actually saw it. I didn’t think that was possible. To see such emotional pain as plain as day written on a man’s face.

  And there was nothing I could do to make it better.

  “Yeah,” I said, past a lump the size of Canterbury in my throat.

  “What else,” Maggie urged softly. I watched Matt. Matt watched Maggie. He couldn’t look at me when I said the words.

  I cleared my throat. “He thinks you took something that belonged to him,” I said.

  “Missy,” Maggie offered. Matt nodded.

  Then looked me directly in the eyes.

  I felt it then. His pain. I felt it as though it was mine.

  “He’s paying back the favour,” I somehow managed to say aloud.

  “Son of a bitch,” Maggie whispered as I watched my brother die a little more inside.

  Chapter 61

  Yes It Does

  Maggie

  Marinkovich was mad. I’d suspected as much, now I definitely knew. Missy’s death had undoubtedly been caused by him. Directly or indirectly, I didn’t know. But someone drove her over that ridge. Someone forced her to abandon her daughters on the side of a lonely road.

  Had he been there? I was guessing yes. Had he simply flipped out over something? We may never know.

  But he was finishing what he’d started that fateful day. I just wasn’t sure what his endgame was. Revenge. Certainly. Murder? Fucked if I knew, but the evidence was damning.

  “He’s unstable,” I said, almost to myself. But Matt and Luke heard me.

  “You’re only just figuring this out?” Matt demanded.

  “That’s all well and good, but where is he?” Luke asked, bringing us back to the matter at hand.

  “Fuck,” Matt swore and kicked at the porch railing.

  “There has to be somewhere that means something to you, Matt,” I said.

  “There’s a hundred places on this station alone that meant something to me growing up,” Matt replied, frustration and fear making his voice rough.

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “It’ll be something more recent. Somewhere that amuses him. Somewhere that plays to his sadistic side.” I chewed on my bottom lip.

  “Somewhere Mac and Carter are cut off from,” Luke supplied.

  I swung back toward him. “Exactly.” Then spun toward Matt. “What fits that description?”

  Matt looked at Luke. Luke stared back at him.

  “Fuck,” they both said in unison.

  “Where?” I demanded.

  “The old tool shed,” Luke murmured. Matt turned his back on us.

  “What’s in the tool shed?” I asked.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Luke immediately said.

  “Yes it does,” Matt offered, staring out across the pastures.

  I looked at Luke; he wasn’t giving me a thing; protecting his brother.

  I looked back at Matt; his shoulders were hunched; his spine weighted under so much pressure.

  He let out a sigh. Ran a hand through his hair. And then in a guilt laden voice said, “It’s where I go to die but never quite manage it.”

  There’s not much you can to say to that. The pain was real. So fucking real. Raw, as if his skin was flayed. Part of me was embarrassed for him. A bigger part of me wanted to wrap my arms around his shoulders and tell him it would all be OK.

  But I’ve been doing this for a while now. Comforting where comfort is not wanted. Michael was full of pain, too. And a hug doesn’t make it evaporate.

  Not this kind of pain. This soul deep, bone weary, heart breaking ache.

  It’s not your fault, I thought. But sometimes it is.

  She knew what she was doing when she had the affair. But did she?

  Life goes on. No it doesn’t. It stops when they die. It ceases when your world is torn asunder. It freezes when the ice starts to invade and your body slows down as the world around you continues to turn, uncaring for your plight. For your heartache.

  “Life sucks,” I said instead. “It fucking hurts,” I offered. “Let’s go get the bastard.”

  Matt raised red rimmed eyes to my face and nodded. He swiped up his rifle and marched down the steps of the porch. I watched him. Feeling his pain and knowing it was only a shadow of the real thing.

  You can’t walk in the shoes of another man. You can only step where he has, the impression already been made. I walked behind Senior Sergeant Matt Drake and prayed where he tread tonight would not lead to more pain.

  Somehow, I doubted it.

  Chapter 62

  We Were So Fucking Screwed

  Luke

  I was in wonder of Maggie Blackmore. Totally and utterly in awe. And quite inappropriately consumed with thoughts of how much I wanted her. To stay. To be mine. To be there every night when I came home from the pastures.

  I tried to focus. God knew I needed to. Now was not the time to get all romantic. But having only just discovered that I did actually have a romantic bone in my body, it was kind of getting hard to ignore it.

  But I needed to. I needed to pay attention. Keep my wits about me. Cover Maggie’s beautiful, shapely arse. Not salivate over biting it.

  I closed my eyes and sucked in a breath of air and prayed to all that is holy that I didn’t fuck this up. Too much was riding on it. Too fucking much.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Maggie whispered from beside me. We were in the tall grass that surrounded Matt’s drinking shed. Suicide shed. I still had trouble processing that.

  But seeing is believing. And I saw how close he was last time I was here.

  And hearing is everything. Matt had just admitted how close he had come to ending it.

  My heart ached. My mind reeled. I was a cesspit of wild fucking emotions.

  “Luke?” Maggie pressed.


  “I’m OK,” I said to reassure her.

  “You’re a million miles away.” I wanted to be. With her. “I need you here. Paying attention. This could go one of two ways.”

  “Two ways?” I pressed. Maggie’s voice was helping me focus. Pushing out the unwanted thoughts. Or was that wanted thoughts; it depended what thoughts my mind jumped to.

  “One,” Maggie whispered, eyes on the space between where we lay on our stomachs and the mouldy old ramshackle shed, “he shoots me as soon as I stand up.” Great. “Two,” she added, not even pausing for breath, “he wants an audience and I live a little longer.”

  “Which way do you think it will go?”

  She shrugged. Gave me one last long look. And then threw a pebble at the tin siding of the shed.

  The door swung open slightly, but seeing into the darkness within was impossible from outside. The sun beat down on our heads. The wind whisked up snow flurries along the ranges. The grass stalks rustled as they swayed all around us.

  “Ivan Marinkovich!” Maggie called out. “This is Sergeant Blackmore of the Twizel Police. I’m unarmed.” A situation I did not approve of. “I just want to talk. Nothing else. Just talk. Can you do that?”

  I felt sick to my stomach. Bile coated my tongue. Dirt smeared my sweaty palms. My head pounded with the rapid beat of my heart.

  “Where’s Matt Drake?”

  “He’s not here, Ivan,” Maggie immediately replied. “I’m going to stand up.” Vomit pooled in my mouth. I swallowed it viciously. “Please don’t shoot me,” Maggie said, a note of humour in her voice.

  How could she be joking with this fuckwit?

  She started to move. My hand gripped her shoulder; I couldn’t have stopped myself if I had tried.

  “Let me go,” she whispered. “We agreed on this.” I shook my head. “Luke. Let me go.”