by Chloe Cole
"Well, if that's true, then you know Chuck here got some tough news today. I just wanted to make sure there wasn't anyone in the wings waiting to take advantage of his well-known generosity when he's in a bad place. Get my drift?"
She closed one eye, mulling that new tidbit over, when she saw him take a pointed glance at her clothes. She was dressed head to toe in black leather besides the satin, red bustier beneath her kick-ass, take-names jacket. Her knee-high boots rocked four-inch stilettos and metal studs dotted the seams.
He wasn't checking up on her.
He was checking up on Chuck to make sure she wasn't taking him for a ride on the heels of his breakup.
She eyed her accuser speculatively, more curious than offended.
"I can't tell if you're insinuating that I'm a hooker, a gold-digger, or a thief. So which is it?" She gave him a smile that had instilled icy fear into the hearts of countless beings, humans and shifters alike.
Apparently not this guy, though. He just held her gaze with his chocolate brown eyes and shrugged. "You tell me."
"Anyone ever tell you not to judge a book by its cover, Mr. McCafferty?" she asked, leaning toward him just far enough to flash the mother lode of cleavage.
He cocked his head and eyed her for a long moment. She found herself resisting the urge to squirm in her seat.
"You're right about that, and I apologize," he finally conceded with a nod. "But we watch out for each other in this town, and one thing I can tell just by looking is that you're both drunk and likely not in good shape for decision-making. Now Chuck here lives close enough, he can walk home, but what about you, ma'am?" Dan crossed his arms over his wide chest and leveled her with a disapproving stare. "You staying close by or have a ride?"
Ma'am? Jesus, did she look old enough that this guy was seriously calling her ma'am?
"Well, sir," she said, sliding off her barstool to stand. "Since you're so worried about everyone's safety, do you think it would be prudent of me to tell you that? What if you tried to follow me home and take advantage of me?"
She couldn't help it. The devil must've gotten her tongue because she leaned in and pressed a hand against his chest, craning her neck so she could look into eyes.
"Is that what this is about? Do you want to take advantage of me, mister?" she whispered.
It was supposed to be a joke. A yank on his chain to set him back in his place, which was somewhere far out of her business.
Instead, it turned into something else. Something hot and needy and totally unexpected. His eyes went from chocolate brown to almost black as they narrowed in on her mouth. His aura, which had been a steady, dark green indicating calm and control, suddenly went white hot.
"Don't toy with me, woman," he muttered, before gripping her wrist in his strong fingers and pulling her hand from his chest. "I've had a rough day."
"Hey Dan, you want a beer?" Lance called to him from behind the bar, breaking the tension. "Since you're off duty and all?"
Off duty.
She should've spotted it a mile away. The way he carried himself, the aura of confidence and authority. He was a cop. She'd just accused a law enforcement official of wanting to molest her.
Lovely. Way to fly under the radar.
The silence stretched between them until she finally broke it. "Look, Officer, I'm staying right across the street, so I won't be driving. And I can handle myself, I promise. Go enjoy your beer."
He released her arm and those lips quirked into a crooked, half-smile. "It's Sheriff. And roger that, ma'am. But in case you haven't been paying attention to the news, we've had one murder and a few mysterious disappearances around these parts. So take a little extra precaution, would you?"
She kept her expression neutral as she took in that tidbit and filed it away for later examination when her head was clearer. Could be unrelated to her kind, but then again, could be all the discord between the Montana shifters of late at the root of those “mysterious disappearances.”
"Will do,” she said with a nod. “You have a good night."
She wanted to turn around and go back to waxing poetic about the blues with Chuck, but she couldn't take her eyes off the lawman as he walked away. He wore his jeans slung low on lean hips, and his gray fleece sweatshirt seemed to hug every glorious inch of that muscled back.
How long had it been since she'd dug her fingernails into a back like that?
Hell, any back at all?
She settled into her stool and whirled around to face the bar again, just in time to hear Chuck and Lance arguing about whether beer nuts were better than standard variety peanuts. She opted not to weigh in, focusing instead on the shot glass her new favorite bartender had refilled when she wasn't looking.
Focus, Mina.
She was here to drink and forget her worries for a while, not fall in lust with a stranger. Especially one that looked like him.
Because as easy on the eyes as the Sheriff was, he had an edge to him...a hardness in his gaze. One that she only saw in the most dangerous of men. Men who had seen some serious shit and had come out the other side of it tortured. He was trouble, all caps, and she'd do well to forget she ever laid eyes on him.
Now if someone would just share that memo with her raging, tequila-infused hormones?
She'd be golden.
Chapter Two
Dan stared out his grimy windshield as he watched the woman Chuck had called Mina step out into the bad parking lot and start walking toward the Dew Drop Inn.
He blew out a low sigh of relief as some of the tension left his body. She’d been telling the truth.
After writing up another missing person's report--the third this month--and spending half his day at the hospital with a domestic abuse victim who'd had her spleen ruptured by a guy she refused to press charges against, it seemed like he was stuck in a nightmare he couldn't wake up from.
But at least it looked like he wasn't going to have to arrest Chuck's sexy new friend for drunk driving or, worse, find her car wrapped around a tree come morning.
He watched silently until she crossed the street safely and began picking her way through the maze of cars in the motel parking lot.
She was an easy one to watch. All subtle curves and lean muscle, she moved like a cat. The mental comparison instantly brought dirty thoughts along with it as his brain conjured a dozen ways to make her purr.
He shut them down ruthlessly and gripped the wheel tight. Hopefully she was just passing through because she was a distraction he definitely didn't need right now. He had enough on his plate without babysitting a reckless female who paid no mind to personal safety and the fact that there were people going missing left and right in this town.
He was just about to put his car into drive and call it a day when she disappeared from view.
His pulse kicked up a notch as he scanned the area, waiting for her silhouette to surface from behind an SUV or out from the shadows.
But thirty seconds later, and nothing.
No one had gone into any of the rooms and no one had come out.
It was like she'd vanished into thin air.
He turned off the ignition and popped the door open, one hand on the butt of the pistol he kept in a holster at his hip.
He closed the door behind him quietly and stalked toward the parking lot, all synapses firing. Probably just a trick of the moonlight and tired eyes that had failed to see her bend over behind one of the cars to vomit, or trip on those ridiculously high heels and fall.
But he couldn't quiet the sense of foreboding that had the hairs on the back of his neck standing up straight.
Please not another missing person. Not on his watch.
"Ma'am?" he called into the night as he cut through the parking lot to where he'd seen her last. "Hello? Are you all right?"
"Wow, you really are a Boy Scout, aren't you?" a low voice murmured from behind him.
He whipped around to see her leaning just a few yards away, ass pressed against a jet-black Ferrari
like she didn't have a care in the world.
"What the hell are you thinking, woman?" he demanded, adrenaline making his voice harsher than it probably needed to be. But while she was pulling pranks, he'd been wondering if she'd hurt herself or worse, and that chapped his ass. "I'm armed and obviously looking for you."
"Well, you found me." She clapped her hands together slowly, her luscious red lips curving into a siren's smile that hit him right in the groin. "So now what? You going to shoot me?" She flicked a glance to his hip.
He looked down to see his hand still firmly planted on his Glock and bit back a snarl of irritation as he stared down at her slightly unfocused blue eyes.
As cool as she was trying to play it, she'd definitely had too much to drink. But underneath the saucy exterior, he could see the crack there. A strain around her mouth, the weariness in her gaze. Something that made him want to scoop her up and tell her it was going to be all right.
Maybe he'd save the lecture and focus on getting her into her room safely.
He willed the last dregs of anger away and shook his head slowly. "No shooting here. I'm one of the good guys, but you really need to be more careful. I could've been anyone."
"Exactly why I wasn't about to lead you to my motel room when I realized I was being watched," she said with a shrug. "That would've been foolhardy."
"Better you confront a grown male packing heat in the middle of a dark parking lot?" he demanded, his irritation ratcheting up again on a dime. "At least if you got into your room you could've called and alerted the front desk or dialed nine one one."
"Meh." She took a second to inspect her fingernails. "I guess I could've. But I knew I could handle it."
He stared at her blankly for a long moment as his brain absorbed that little chestnut. "You knew you could handle me?"
"You. The next guy." She shrugged and pursed her lips. "Whoever."
He eyed her from head to toe and bit out a harsh laugh. Could she seriously be that reckless?
"You're like five six, a buck thirty. I outweigh you by nearly a hundred pounds and have a solid seven inches on you. Not to mention, you're shit-faced. Get serious, woman."
"Oh, I'm dead serious," she murmured, her hazy eyes going crystal clear as she focused, locking gazes with him. She pushed herself to standing and sauntered over onto a narrow strip of the motel lawn, crooking her finger, inky brow arched in a challenge. "Come at me."
He rolled his eyes, trying not to contemplate how molten hot she looked standing there in her black leather, calling him out. Hot or not, she was clearly insane. Surely, that should take precedence here.
"Not going to happen," he said flatly.
"Fine, if that's how you want it." She nodded and cracked her knuckles, tossing her baseball cap aside. "Ladies first, then."
She'd barely gotten the words out when she all but flew toward him, fists flying.
It took a second for his brain to catch up to this new, unexpected turn of events, and it was a costly one.
The first blow connected with his chin and his head snapped back as he stumbled a step before righting himself.
What the fuck?
He was still reeling mentally when she hit him with two more blows. Attention-getters, to be sure, but she was clearly holding back.
His pulse hammered in his throat as he assessed the situation. He should restrain her. Shut this down, right quick. But pure adrenaline coursed through his veins and he steadied himself, dropping back into fighting stance, senses humming.
He couldn't help it. Now that the fire was lit, he found himself drawn to it like a moth to a flame. And instead of just evading or subduing her as she came at him again, he threw up a quick block, amped to see more of what she was capable of.
Which turned out to be a lot. She led with a sweeping kick to his face that had him regarding just how much damage her spiked heels could do. He jumped away, but Mina was prepared. She turned in a controlled arc that brought her back to him. Incredibly, she looked over her shoulder and winked, then jabbed her elbow into the left side of his gut. It brought a sharp shot of pain, which put him off pace. By the time he brought up his arm to pull it across her chest to restrain her, she had danced away.
A smirk tugged at her lips and she cocked a brow.
"Is that all you got, lawman?"
Fuck. Even her sneers were sexy. The growing swelling in his jeans was an uncomfortable distraction.
"You know, assaulting an officer of the law is grounds for arrest."
She spread her hands in a fake gesture of helplessness. "You'll have to restrain me first."
Oh, he'd like to restrain her. And tie her down, spread helpless, while he tortured her with pleasure. His cock pressed more urgently against its own restraints.
Before he could further indulge his fantasy, she rushed him again. He held out his arm to block so he could grab her attacking hand and throw her off balance. But Mina sidestepped, took hold of his arm, and kicked her knee toward his groin.
Danger Will Robinson.
That wasn't going to fly, especially not in his present condition. He jumped back quickly, tugging her off balance. But she let go of his arm and, in a flash, was five steps from him again.
How did she move so fast? Especially when she was drunk?
She executed some wicked maneuvers that would've laid a slower man, even his size, flat on his ass. He barely managed to evade them, and had no opportunity to shut her down.
There was no question that she'd studied some serious martial arts. Had probably mastered more than one. If he'd thought she moved like a housecat when she was walking, she moved like a panther when she fought.
He was so caught up in the comparison that he zigged when he should've zagged and she landed a serious scissor-kick to his mid-section. His cock stiffened until it was like a length of steel in his jeans even as his stomach absorbed the blow.
He must be one twisted son of a bitch if getting his ass kicked was the hottest thing that happened to him in years.
"Had enough yet?" she asked with a lethal grin as she feinted backward, bouncing on her high-heeled feet like a boxer at the ready.
He should stop this right now. Get her safely inside her motel room and never look back. He'd accused her of being the reckless one, but standing outside in the dark sparring with a half-drunk woman hardly seemed like a good way for the town Sheriff to spend his Saturday night.
But instead of calling it quits, he found himself replying, "I haven't even started."
Her grin widened, flashing a dimple so disarming and unexpected, he didn't see the fist that snaked out until it was too late.
A resounding crack rang through the night as he jerked to the side, absorbing the stinging blow to his jaw.
"Son of a--"
But before he could finish his thought, she was back, throwing a flurry of jabs. This time, he was ready for her. He caught one trim wrist in each hand, and yanked her forward, wrapping her in a bear hug, using his strength to thwart her dizzying speed. He turned her in his arms until her back was pressed against him and her arms were pinned to her sides as she struggled.
He bent low, and pressed his mouth to the shell of her ear.
"I was wrong, all right?" he muttered softly, his breath coming in short bursts, from the exertion of their sparring or their proximity, he couldn't say. "You can handle yourself just fine. I apologize for assuming otherwise. Truce?"
Her slim form was wire-taut, every muscle tensed against him. And then she nodded, her body going soft and supple as she tilted her hips up and backward in a slow, sultry swirl. Her pert ass grinded against his cock, and he went harder than a tire-iron in an instant.
"Jesus Christ." His grip loosened as his heat rocketed through him.
She wasted no time taking advantage, yanking her arms hard and driving both elbows back into his solar plexus, knocking the breath from his lungs in a whoosh.
"I'm not a truce kind of gal," she crowed, wheeling around to face him again, the g
lee in her eyes evident, only serving to make him want her more.
Lord, was he twisted. She was getting off on this as much as he was, and instead of sending him running for the hills, he couldn't wait to see what happened next.
He didn't have to wait long. She lunged at him this time, and all it took was a shift of his torso to use her momentum against her. He slipped his arms around her waist to break her fall as they tumbled to the cold grass in a heap.
Her chest heaved against his as he slid his hands out from behind her and reclaimed her wrists, jerking them over her head.
"That wasn't very nice," he murmured, gazing down into her eyes as they spit blue fire.
"You were being a chauvinistic asshole." She squirmed and he let out a growl as their hips collided, the soft parts of her pressing against the hard parts of him. "So I thought I'd bring you into the twenty-first century."
"I'm well aware that women can kick ass too. But as Sheriff, it's my job to make sure that the people in my town are safe." He grunted as her thigh rode against his cock until he tightened his grip to still her. "If that means offending you in my quest to make sure you don't wind up on the back of a milk carton, or some statistic on a public service announcement, so be it."
She quieted at that and stared up at him, curiosity furrowing her brow. "Were you special forces before you became a cop?"
"If I was, I wouldn't tell you." He managed to keep his expression neutral, but he had to admit, he was impressed that she'd managed to come up with that in such a short amount of time. He'd lived here for years, and no one in town had ever guessed. "Besides, I'm on top. That means I get to ask the questions."
"Sure. Fine. Ask away." She inclined her head in a docile nod and he instantly tensed for a knee to the twig and berries.
Fool me once...
"If I let you go, are you going to behave?"
He'd meant to sound like a teacher talking to a naughty child. Instead, his voice was all gravel, his words more a promise than a threat. Like he wanted her to say no. And he couldn't deny that a rapidly growing part of him hoped she did...
"Behave? That word isn't in my vocabulary," she murmured, sounding a bit more breathy with every passing second. Her body relaxed some as her gaze traveled to his mouth and stayed there.
