Lawless

by Cindy Stark

  She glanced at his face as he tightened the buckle around her. Light brown stubble scattered along his jawline, giving him a rugged, sexy look. A small scar dipped into one side of his top lip. Lips that were full and tempting, and really only inches from hers.

  She sighed and moved her gaze to his eyes, surprised to find him watching her.

  "Is this okay?"

  More than okay. "The belt?"

  "The tightness." He tugged on the leather around her waist. "It doesn't feel like it's going to fall off, does it?"

  She gratefully escaped his vivid stare for a moment while she gave the belt a tug. "Feels great—fine," she stammered. "It's not going to fall off."

  She glanced back, his intriguing orbs a point of distribution for the awareness that coursed through her body. He held her gaze as though he, too, knew they were communicating on more than one level. "Have at it then."

  She stood frozen for a moment, really, really wanting to ask him if he meant what she thought he meant…but she couldn't. She turned, sensing his full gaze on her as she walked to the fence and climbed over. When she reached the other side, sure enough he still stood where she'd left him, his intense gaze watching her every move, a satisfied grin twisting his lips.

  Lord help her.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Good God. He leaned back in the porch swing, trying to remind himself he was currently on duty and not entertaining a potential lover. He should be shot for his behavior around Ariana. She was not one of the local gals he loved to turn around the dance floor. She was a witness in a major organized crime trial. He was a sworn officer of the law, and even though he was no longer a part of the U.S. Marshals, he'd promised Quinn he'd protect her.

  Not flirt with her. Not tease her until she smiled. And definitely not undress her with his eyes. He watched with utter interest as she climbed the wooden fence again, admiring the way her tight jeans showcased the curve of her ass as she straddled the fence. "Mmm-mmm." Then there was always the hope that she'd have her ass toward him as she bent to pick up a coffee can.

  She turned to him, and he tried to keep his face as passive as possible. "Did you say something?" she called across the distance.

  "No. About done?"

  "I want to do a few more, if that's okay."

  "Knock yourself out." And knock some sense into him, too. He would have her under his protection for the next month until she was scheduled to testify against her murdering mobster of a father. It would show a complete lack of professionalism if he was to start a personal relationship with her. If he was still with the Marshals, he could be fired for it.

  Ariana bent over, giving him the perfect view. Damn. She stood and looked at him over her shoulder as though she'd known he was watching. He quickly glanced away, but he was more than a little certain she'd busted him.

  Oh hell. Someone save him. Why couldn't she have been a fat old man?

  He let her go another round, unable to look away while she seemingly taunted him. Then, he'd had enough. He waited until she retrieved the five cans, trying to ignore the fact she either gave him a nice view of her ass, or faced him, giving him a peek-a-boo glimpse of her cleavage as she bent over. If she looked, she'd find a bulge of heated desire in his pants.

  She sauntered toward him, his gun swinging from her hips. She gave him a smile full of mischief.

  Enough torture for one day. He'd reached his breaking point and needed to cool down.

  He approached her and pulled his weapon from the holster, earning a surprised look from her. "Want me to show you how it's really done?" He turned and fired in rapid succession, sending all five cans popping from their posts in less than two seconds. He raised his brows, giving her a cocky grin as he re-holstered his gun before he turned and headed for the house.

  "Show off," she called after him.

  * * *

  Okay, so she'd been teasing Milo. He deserved it. She had to do something to get even for the way he watched her. Ariana stopped on the porch, grinning as she took Milo's seat on the porch swing. The cushion was soft against her back, and the swing creaked and groaned as she rocked it.

  The guy had been tossing sexual barbs at her from the moment they'd met. It was more than fair that she'd caused him to be just as heated as she was by the time he called the game. She wasn't a little schoolgirl who could be swept off her feet by a good-looking guy, even if she'd always dreamed about a hot cop who'd ride in and save her from her family. No. She would be the one who would extricate herself from her pathetic family. But if he wanted to engage in a war of wits while she passed her days, she was up for it. To her, there was nothing sexier than a challenge of the minds.

  He might have out shot her that day, but only physically. She leaned forward and unbuckled the leather holster, slipping it from her waist. She held it in her lap, caressing the worn belt that had looked so good on him. It was obvious the soft piece of leather had spent many hours riding his hips. She found that infinitely sexy and nothing like the vile holsters her father's men wore.

  She took a few moments to appreciate the quiet outdoors and then stood. Everything fun and interesting in her life now waited inside the door, and the flirting games had just begun.

  * * *

  Ariana woke with a start like she had every morning since she'd gone into hiding. She'd woken in far too many different beds during the last eleven months, and she wondered if she'd ever have a home again.

  The previous night had been a disappointment. She rolled out of bed and straightened the bedding. After she'd returned inside, Milo had buried himself inside a ridiculously large book, something about honorable men. He hadn't surfaced until sometime after she'd given up thinking he might entertain her and she'd gone to bed.

  She glanced at her closet. She should probably toss on something to cover the skimpy pink tank top and short shorts she wore as pajamas, but there hadn't been room for a robe in her suitcase. The irritating sting of being annoyed the previous evening hadn't purged from her system yet, and she decided if her attire caused him some discomfort, the more the better.

  She emerged from her bedroom to be seduced by the blessed smell of fresh brewed coffee. Her eyes drifted shut as she took a moment to inhale the lovely aroma. Having someone to look forward to seeing in the morning, someone to share a meal with…it was nice.

  Living alone in different safe houses for the past few months had been difficult. It wasn't the same as a person who lived by themselves. They saw others during the day. She'd been totally isolated. She'd had no one to call, no one to talk to except Quinn, and he couldn't be available twenty-four seven. It was no wonder she'd had her weak moments.

  She walked the rest of the way down the hall and into the small kitchen. She stopped, the smile slipping from her face.

  Milo stood at the counter whisking ingredients in a silver bowl. Something in the room looked extremely good, and it wasn't the food he prepared. He wore no shirt, exposing a massive amount of tanned, muscled chest. The white bandage stood out on his tanned arm. His blue flannel pants rode low on his hips, and his blond locks stood out, as though he'd done nothing but run his fingers through his hair that morning.

  She had to wonder if he'd had a similar plan to try and exact some vengeance for her relentless teasing the previous evening while they'd been shooting targets. If so, he scored some serious points.

  Milo chose that moment to look up, the whisk slowing and then stopping as his gaze inched down her body. A point for her? Or two points for him, she wondered as her body reacted to his searing look. Perhaps she'd made a mistake offering up so much bare skin in an attempt to tease him.

  "Morning," he said as their eyes met again. He gave a slight shake of his head and focused on the bowl in front of him.

  "Morning." She approached, achingly aware of her attraction to him. "Can I help?"

  He looked at her from the corner of his eye. "Sure. You can wash and cut up the strawberries in the fridge."

  She padded to the other side of
the sink, stealing several glances at him while his back was to her. A rogue thought snuck under her radar, daring her to run a finger across the firm skin of his back. She resisted, but it was no easy feat.

  The potency of her thoughts surprised her. She'd never had a hard time steering clear of men. But one look at this small-town deputy, and she couldn't stop thinking about what it would be like to find herself in his arms.

  It seemed her sanity would be the price of her time in isolation.

  She couldn't help her thoughts, though. The man had a multitude of attractive qualities. It seemed he could cook a decent meal. He was funny as well as charming and wielded a pistol like a deadly extension of his body. And the twinkle in his blue eyes was enough to melt the coldest woman's heart. Yet, he was still single.

  "Why aren't you married?" The words slipped out before she'd realized the implications of her question.

  He glanced her over as though sizing her up. "I don't know. I guess I'm waiting for the right one to come along."

  A quick flash of energy zipped through her. "Of course. I didn't mean to pry." She shouldn't have asked in the first place. She busied herself removing the package of strawberries from the fridge.

  "Colander?" she asked as she stepped to the sink.

  "In the cupboard above the stove." He bent over and removed a waffle iron from a cabinet.

  She glanced between his rear end and the overhead cupboard as she opened it and stood on tiptoes, reaching for the silver strainer that was stacked on top of various mixing bowls. He had such an attractive build. For someone of Milo's stature, the colander would be a breeze to reach, but it was just out of her grasp. She slid the whole stack of bowls toward her, intending to remove them all to reach the colander, but he distracted her as he stood, and the stack tipped.

  His bare arm brushed against hers as he made a quick move and caught the dishes before they tumbled down on her. He slid the bowls back in, removing the colander and holding it out to her.

  He was so close, and all her attention centered on the spot where their bodies had touched. She tried to inhale, wondering if he'd somehow stolen the oxygen in the room. "Thank you," she whispered. She turned on the water, using the strawberries as a distraction.

  They worked in silence for several minutes, him cooking the waffles and her slicing juicy red berries. When everything was complete, they carried their offerings to the table. Ariana poured two cups of coffee and sat. Milo joined her with a can of whipped cream in his hand.

  She eyed the can and then him as he sat opposite her. "Whipped cream for breakfast?" she asked, unable to resist the tease.

  "I like it." He raised a challenging brow.

  She smiled as she lowered her gaze to the stack of golden brown waffles in front of her and slid one on to her plate. She topped it with strawberries. Flirting with him might be a dangerous pastime, but she couldn't resist the flush of adrenaline that flooded her veins every time they bantered.

  "How come you're not married?" he asked.

  The return volley of her question took her by surprise. The haunting memory of Danny's murder flared along with the too-familiar anguish that owned her heart. Eight years had passed, and she could still hear his voice crack as he begged her father for mercy. She forced herself to chew and swallow the bite of waffle she had in her mouth. She couldn't meet Milo's gaze. "Umm…I guess I haven't met the right person, either." She pushed a strawberry around her plate, wishing she could find a way to conquer her past so it wouldn't have the power to sneak up on her and send her straight back into her tortured hell.

  "Hey." Milo reached across the table and covered her hand. "Are you okay?"

  She tried to mask her emotions before she returned his gaze. "Of course. Why do you ask?"

  "I don't know. You just seem off."

  He studied her as though deciding whether or not to believe her, and she prayed he wouldn't see through her. The horrific pain of Danny's death was something she'd never shared with anyone, and she never intended to. She hadn't been able to save her sweetheart, but she'd never forget him and what he meant to her.

  He was the first person who'd ever loved her.

  She slid her hand from beneath Milo's and lifted her coffee cup. The hot liquid scalded her tongue and was a welcome relief from other pains.

  A few uncomfortable minutes passed. She took several small bites, using the time to shove the powerful memories back to the bottom of her heart and compose her emotions.

  "I hope the food is okay."

  She smiled and immediately appreciated the fact her gesture had come easier than she'd thought. Being around Milo with his quick grin and flashing eyes helped. "It's wonderful."

  "I'm going to head into town tomorrow. If there's anything you want, let me know."

  Her gaze jumped to his. "Can I go?"

  "No." He didn't hesitate one tiny second before he answered.

  Her spirits plummeted again. "Why not?"

  He softened his features. "You are in deep hiding, darlin'. No one should know you're here. After the last four times of having your cover compromised, I don't think we can be too careful."

  She silently cursed herself. She'd dug this hole, and now she'd pay the price. "This is the smallest town I've ever been in. The last time anyone besides Quinn saw me, my hair was blond. I'm sure no one will notice or recognize me."

  He studied her until the silence grew awkward.

  "What?" she finally asked.

  "Well, first of all, it's pretty hard to go unnoticed in a town where everyone knows everyone else and…" He paused for another moment and then smiled. "I'm trying to picture you blond and can't quite do it. Dark hair looks good on you."

  She blew out a breath. "You're trying to change the subject before we're finished discussing it."

  "Nope." He stood and picked up his plate. "There is no discussion. You're not going."

  She gathered her dishes and followed him to the sink. She'd barely touched her food, but her appetite had vanished. "I'm going to go crazy if I can't leave this house."

  He looked at her plate. "You didn't eat much."

  She pushed past him and put her dishes in the sink before turning to him. "Please? Spending all this time being isolated is driving me insane."

  He glanced down at their bodies as a grin tilted his lips, enhancing the outline of his scar. Ariana followed the direction of his gaze. Barely two inches separated them. Desperation had led her actions, and she'd gotten right up in his face without realizing it. If she completely filled her lungs, her breasts might touch his chest. She took a step back, conceding space.

  He stepped toward her, and she knew in that moment she shouldn't have showed weakness. But she hadn't been able to help it. Being so close to him had a way of blurring her thoughts, and she needed a clear head right now. She wanted to take another step back, but she held her ground. "Maybe I could just ride along and stay in the car?"

  He lifted his hand, and she froze as his fingers grazed the skin below her collarbone. He picked up a strand of hair, twining it around his finger. "I don't think so. No chances."

  She snatched her hair away. "This is messed up. I shouldn't be the one being punished. I'm trying to do the right thing. My father and his men are the ones who deserve to be locked away until they go crazy, not me." When she stopped her rant long enough to take a breath, she realized she sounded a bit juvenile. "I'm sorry." She took several steps away from him now. "This has dragged on forever. I just need the trial to be over so I can have a life again."

  He gave her a look full of compassion. "I know. I'm sorry. I can't imagine how difficult this must be for you."

  She turned, not wanting him to see the tears that threatened to escape. "I'll be fine. It's almost over. I guess I needed to blow off some steam. I didn't mean to take it out on you."

  He came up behind her and touched her bare arm. When she looked up at him, he removed his hand. "I thought maybe I'd take you fishing."

  CHAPTER FIVE

&nb
sp; Never in her life had Ariana done anything as outdoorsy as fish, and quite frankly, she couldn't understand the attraction of it at all. But, considering her circumstances, she wasn't going to forego an opportunity to escape her current prison.

  Milo had sent her in to change into jeans. She came out to find him in the kitchen looking pretty damn hot in a ripped pair of faded jeans and a tight-fitting gray t-shirt sporting a wicked looking cross. A ball cap covered his blond hair. Two fishing poles waited by the back door while Milo stared intently at the small television resting on the counter.

  As she stepped into the room, the screen flashed a picture of her father followed by another image of her with straight blond hair and large, dark sunglasses. The reporter told his audience the daughter of infamous mob boss John Trasatti had gone missing and the most recent reports indicate she might be a victim of foul play. "Oh my God."

  Milo jerked his gaze toward Ariana and turned off the TV.

  "Wait." She rushed forward. "I want to hear that."

  Milo shook his head. "Don't let it concern you. Quinn said this would happen. In fact, he's kind of been hoping it would. If your family thinks you're dead, they might back off searching for you."

  She laughed at that. "I've betrayed my family, Milo. The ultimate sin." A thousand times worse than what she'd done with Danny. "My father will not rest until he has firsthand proof of my death." And if it was up to him, her murder would be a thousand times more painful than Danny's.

  Milo gave her a brief nod of acknowledgement. "But you're safe here, and you can't think about that now. Worrying is not going to help you any."

  That might be true, but how was she supposed to ignore it? "What if others besides my family also believe it? I have a friend from school…"

  "A guy?"

  She frowned. "No." Kenzie had befriended her the day she'd arrived at the private all-girls school her father had enrolled her in. They'd continued to stay as close as sisters throughout college. She wouldn't be quite so worried about her friend—she'd warned her that she'd be off the grid for a while—but Kenzie's mom had died from cancer not long ago, and her friend had to be an emotional wreck. The last thing Ariana wanted to do was add to her worries. "Why does it matter if it's a man or woman?"