Night Hunter by Vonna Harper Page B

Instead, she could swear he accepted something she couldn’t begin to comprehend. When he spoke, she couldn’t understand a word. The only thing she had no doubt of was that he was talking to someone—someone she couldn’t see.
    Slowly, as if he couldn’t put his mind fully on the task, his fingers relaxed, and he no longer put her in mind of a trapped animal. He straightened and another look—peacefulness or acceptance—came over him.
    Then he walked away from her. Let the Everglades embrace him.
    “Laird!” she screamed.
    Nothing.
    “Laird!”
    Still nothing.
     
     
    It was night by the time Mala let herself into her small home in Naples. The inside air was stale, prompting her to open windows before checking her answering machine. When she did, she found that Ralph Korn had left two messages, both emphasizing how much he admired her work and hinting at a personal relationship.
    After deleting the messages, she walked into her bathroom, stripped off her Everglades-soiled clothing, and stepped into the shower. Scrubbing off the day’s sweat felt wonderful, as did shampooing her hair twice.
    Then, instead of turning off the water, she ran her washcloth between her legs. Frustration guided her fingers into her opening, but the moment the rough fabric touched her need-swollen bud, she groaned and rested her shoulder against the shower wall.
    Self-satisfaction wouldn’t do the trick tonight. Only Laird—or Thunder—would. And until she understood what had happened to him, until she truly believed he was all right, she couldn’t think of anything else.
    She slowly dried herself, her fingers lingering over her still-sensitive breasts and the belly that remembered the feel of his bulging cock. Despite her satisfaction, however, certain things about their encounter bothered her. Only by steeling herself against raw memories was she able to acknowledge what it was. The man she’d mated with had been primitive and uncivilized, not the lonely-eyed motorcyclist she’d seen so long ago. She wanted him to be both, pure male animal and filled with humanity.
    Once she’d pulled on a nightshirt, she thumbed through the phone book, looking for the number for Clint Jaeger. She didn’t care that it was going on for ten p.m. One way or the other, she’d get some answers or—or what?
    A man answered after the fourth ring. As he said “hello”, she strained to catch a similarity to Laird’s voice, but how could she when the last time she’d heard her phantom lover, he’d been speaking in Seminole?
    “Hello,” she responded, hoping she didn’t sound like a telemarketer. Before the man could cut her off, she explained that she was trying to contact someone who knew Laird Jaeger. “Are you related to him?” she asked. “I know it’s late, but this is important. He might be in trouble.”
    “Lady, believe me, my brother’s middle name is trouble.”
    Laird’s brother! “I wouldn’t know about that,” she stammered. No matter what she said, it would sound insane. “He owns a motorcycle, doesn’t he?”
    “The way I see it, the cycle owns him.”
    “Not anymore,” she blurted.
    “Huh? Did you buy it from him? Nah, no matter how broke he might be, he wouldn’t get rid of it.”
    “He didn’t have a choice.”
    After taking a deep breath in a not-too-successful attempt to calm herself, she blurted out, not everything, but enough to let Clint know that Laird had been in a motorcycle accident that had propelled him into the Everglades. He was still there.
    “What the hell are you talking about?” Clint demanded. “He’s done some damn reckless things in his life, but getting lost isn’t one of them. Look, lady, I hate to break it to you, but my brother attracts broads like fish to live bait. He doesn’t give a damn about any of them beyond the obvious. If you’re looking to hook up with him, you’re going to have to do better than this cock-and-bull story.”
    “You don’t believe me? I’m