Savannah knew that look, and she suspected luxury accommodations—or at least, as close as they got to it here in Ripple Creek—was not what Cade and his people were going to end up in. “In town,” she added, just to ensure they didn't end up in some Godforsaken corner right on the outskirts.
A pout touched Kel's lips. Savannah smiled and led the way out the door. At least Cade couldn't have a go at her about the accommodations—but she very much suspected that he'd have a go at her about lots of other things. Most of them in the past, and most of them things she'd much rather forget.
But if he thought she was still that meek and mild teenager, he was about to learn how very wrong he was. If he wanted a damn fight, he'd get one.
Because after years of dreaming about the events of ten years ago, she was more than ready for it.
* * * *
Cade shifted slightly in the truck's seat so he could study Vannah's profile without being obvious about it. She'd changed since he'd last seen her, and the most apparent of those changes was the pale scar over her left eye. But while it constantly caught his gaze, it didn't really detract from her unconventional beauty. Nothing could—not the scar, the shorter cut of her once gloriously long hair, or the cold wariness in her green eyes.
He'd always expected that sometime they would meet again, simply because his work as an IIS officer took him to many different reservations. And though he'd never really thought about how he would react, he'd expected that anger would be first and foremost on the list of emotions. It had certainly been there—hard, deep, and furious. But what he hadn't expected was the rush of desire, or such fierce relief over the fact that she was safe, well, and whole.
And if anything, the flood of those last two only served to make him angrier. At her, and at himself. He'd followed the path of desire once before with her, and it had almost resulted in his death. He would not go down it again, not even for the woman who still haunted his nights.
"Tell me your first impressions of the murders,” he asked again, his voice a touch harsher than necessary.
She slanted him a supercooled look. “It's in the report."
"I want your thoughts, not the sanitized summary you wrote for the IIS."
A smile flirted with her lips—lips whose sensual touch he could still remember. “Do you really want to know my thoughts?"
"Do I have to put you on warning?” Maybe that would be a good idea. Two warnings and she was off the case, and he would be free to deal with the murders without interference from her or the past.
"The killer uses a ritual to murder his victims,” she said, voice ultra professional yet managing to sound tart. “Blood results state the first victim was drugged, and given there's no evidence of resistance, I'd say the second victim was too.
"The stone circle was present in the second murder as well?"
She nodded. “As were the mutilations."
"And what do you think of them?"
Her gaze met his briefly, the green depths giving little away. This reserve was new. Once upon a time, he could have read a world of emotions in her eyes.
Though he'd learned the hard way that some of those so visible emotions were nothing more than lies.
"I think we have a nut on our hands."
He raised an eyebrow. Was she deliberately avoiding any reference to the murders of their past? Or was she simply intent on giving him the usual “this is my town and don't you forget it” crap that he generally received from rangers of small reservations like Ripple Creek? He suspected it was the latter and that disappointed him. He'd expected more from her.
Though why, he had no idea. After all, she'd given him very little in the way of help the first time they'd met.
"And you don't see any similarities to past murders?"
She met his gaze again. “That's not for me to judge, is it? Not with the IIS here."
In other words, she wasn't admitting anything. Not to him, anyway. Which was no surprise, really. They'd done it the hard way the first time and probably would again.
She stopped the truck beside another, in a clearing that could have come straight off a postcard, and climbed out. He quickly followed suit and breathed deeply of the crisp air. If there was anything he missed about reservation life, it was the purity of the air and the sheer and utter quiet of clearings like this.
But then, it was hardly practical for an IIS officer to live in one of the reservations he might have to investigate, although many did. He'd grown used to city life, though, and as places to live went, Denver wasn't all that bad. At least there were glorious mountains within easy driving distance.
"This way,” she said, and disappeared down a small path until all he could see was the occasional flash of sunlight gleaming off her golden hair.
Not that he needed to see her to follow her. Her scent was as unusual as she was—a tantalizing mix of a warm summer breeze combined with the rich headiness of exotic flowers and fruits. Even here in the mountains, with the crispness of the air and the scent of pine and snow heavy in his nostrils, her aroma was a teasing, sensual seduction of his senses and memories.
And he had better get control of those senses—and memories. He was here to catch a killer. Nothing more, nothing less. Whether or not he and the chief ranger had a past was irrelevant, even if he still bore a scar across his shoulder blade that was the direct result of said ranger's duplicity.