Oh, yes, he promised himself—she would.
Right now, she might desire him as much as he desired her, but she was afraid of him. He wouldn’t take a woman who feared him. Her fear wasn’t connected to this stormy attraction binding them together, and he wouldn’t allow it to come between them.
There was something more.
He wanted to know what that something was. He wanted to know what it was about him that frightened her.
Danger released her just as Lacey whimpered and jerked free of his touch. The motion sent rippling strands of her hair swirling across his chest. Fine gossamer threads clung to the folds of his shirt, tangled in the buttons, and danced around his throat in silken coils.
He was trapped in the sweet-scented web of her hair. Drugged. Seduced. Bound by something fine and alive.
He mentally shook himself.
Heat blistered his skin, drawing it tight as a stretched hide. Awareness burst through him, settling fully in his groin. His cock strained urgently against the metal buttons of his fly, full and engorged. Aching. He stifled a groan.
It was downright disgusting how anxious his dick was to become involved with her.
Oh, yeah. Little Miss Dixie Belle was trouble all right, and he was going to have a severe case of blue balls.
He wanted nothing more than to sweep the top of his desk clean and lay her there, remove the sexy red thing she was barely wearing, and wrap his tongue around those perky little nipples.
He wanted to rip off those red French-cut panties and taste the honey there, then slip deep inside her and satisfy this raw hunger gnawing at his gut. He wanted to take her, ride her hard and fast until he spent himself in her warmth. Then, he wanted to do it all over again. Slowly. . .
Danger contained the compulsion to reach out and touch her. Suppressed the hot need to take what wasn’t his. There was just no winning with this stubborn woman with her damnable eyes. Tension bubbled in his gut. He had a weakness for tilted, exotic cat-eyes, even ones glaring at him with anger and suspicion.
Slowly, carefully, he untangled the fine strands of her hair from his shirt buttons, setting her free—and himself. His breath escaped in a silent hiss of relief as she moved away from him and started across the room.
His jaw dropped. By God, the little witch was headed toward the door.
Lacey skidded to an abrupt halt as Danger stepped around her, planting large, firmly muscled legs and wide shoulders in her path to freedom.
His voice rumbled in his chest. “Where do you think you’re going?” He gripped her arm tightly. “You’re not leaving here, at least, not for a while, maybe not for a very, long while. Hell, you could have murdered the woman for all I know.”
Lacey flinched and raised her gaze to his face. “So, now you’re admitting there was a murder tonight?”
He shook his head. “I’m not admitting anything, sweetheart.”
She was acutely aware this man could be much more of a threat than the individual hunting her. By coming here, she’d awakened a sleeping predator. He was dangerous, quietly, efficiently deadly, and as raw and elemental as the earth.
His mouth twisted in a half-smile that held little humor. He could seduce her with his dark passions, burn her clear to her soul, and she would willingly go up in flames. She wanted to taste the raw power he brandished.
Trembling, she suddenly feared the fascination she felt for him. Damn it, she’d spent half the night running. Exhaustion poured through every bone in her body. Her muscles trembled. And all she had on her mind was sex. Hot, mindblowing, wild sex. She had to get her priorities in order.
She couldn’t just stand here and allow him to silently bully her with the enticing flash of those silver eyes and sexual innuendos. He wasn’t interested in her, not in that way. He simply wanted her to obey his every command. Typical male, he thought he could use sex to accomplish his goal. Well, he’d picked the wrong woman for that.
“Thanks for the offer of your hospitality, sugar, but I think I’ll just refuse. I’d like to leave.” She flipped the badge pinned to his shirt with a fingertip and flashed him a daring, impudent grin.
Let him make of that what he will.
But she knew she’d tweaked the tail of a tiger, when she saw his eyes flare. He was on her, before she drew her next breath. The only warning she had was a soft growl, then, she was pinned right back against the wall, his body, taut and hard, held her there as he spread his arms on either side of her head, palms flat against the rough wall. Bracketed inside the barrier of his arms she could only look up at him. Fascinated. Enthralled. His prisoner. She had to get away, now.
She licked her dry lips.
He leaned closer, his nostrils flaring. “Don’t do that again, or I won’t be responsible for what happens.”
“What? What did I do?”
He shifted, one muscled leg entwining itself between her legs. “Don’t lick your lips again, honey, unless you’re ready to take care of this.” He nudged her.
A solid ridge bumped against the notch between her thighs. Her stomach clenched in response at the unmistakable bulge. Damn, did he have a steel bar in his pants?
“I warned you, I don’t play games,” he said roughly. “You open this door you get the prize, no matter what the number is.”
“Bastard.”
“What’s the matter, did you think you get to make all the rules?”
Lacey exhaled sharply as he shifted back, allowing space between them.
“Let’s get something clear, Miss Weston. You’re not going anywhere. Not right this moment. I’m not willing to gamble with your life or mine.” He filled his palms with the thick waves of her hair, and tilted her head back. “At the risk of repeating myself, do I make myself clear?”
Lacey wasn’t willing to gamble with her life either. She didn’t know this man, and she wasn’t ready to take the risk involved in trusting him. Not quite yet. “I can take care of myself.”
The pressure on her scalp tightened as he brought her closer. “Maybe you can, but I take my job very seriously, Miss Weston. If you’re in jeopardy of losing your life, then the only place you’ll be safe is here in jail. Try to understand. I’m not locking you up because I think you’re guilty of a crime, but because you could get hurt or killed without my protection.”
She shook her head. “You don’t understand. I can’t allow you to hold me in jail for any reason.”
Danger’s brows arched in surprise. He hadn’t expected her cooperation, but he had expected her understanding. Hell, she wasn’t going to cooperate. Or understand. She was going to give him trouble.
The light of battle glinted in the gold depths of her eyes. He should have foreseen her plan of action. He should have. But he didn’t.
Lacey launched herself at him so fiercely he staggered backward with a surprised grunt. The hold he had on her hair slipped loose as she jabbed her knee into his crotch. White-hot pain splintered through his groin. His breath erupted in a long whoosh.
He doubled over in an explosion of agony. Beads of sweat popped out on his forehead and above his lips. He dropped to his knees groaning, cupping his crotch with both hands.
“Shit, woman. Are you crazy?” The words squeaked past his drawn lips. Nausea swirled like grease in his stomach. He lifted his head and drew a shaky breath. “You—”
He froze, his croaked words breaking off on a low moan. He shook his head. “I don’t fucking believe this. Put it down, sweetheart,” he ordered, trying to rise to his feet. “Shit!”
He fell back to his knees, his big body quivering with pain. Sweat popped out on his forehead all over again, not from pain, but because she stood there with his .38 gripped in her shaking hands, the business end of the gun leveled squarely on his chest.
“Don’t—don’t move,” she breathed.
Seething, Danger knew when to take heed. Looking down the black hole of a gun wasn’t good. Ever. He’d always felt there was nothing more lethal than a woman with a gun in her hand
s.
Unless it was a nervous woman, with a loaded gun in her hands, and one who’d already admitted she didn’t know how to shoot. “Jesus, honey, I couldn’t move if I wanted to,” he groaned. “Put the gun down, Lacey.”
He was wary when it came to dealing with jumpy, crazy women, and he’d just decided Lacey Weston was certifiable. The way her hands shook, she’d either accidentally shoot him or injure herself. He wasn’t pleased with the thought of either event taking place. Dammit. And damn her.
He swallowed the bubbling nausea that burned the back of his throat. His balls throbbed like a mother. Even if he could stand, he couldn’t rush her. He could barely draw in breath, but his senses were alert to any weakness she might display.
Other than shaking like a leaf in a storm, she was calm and in full control. She was smart enough to stay out of his reach.
She was scared and desperate, and frightened people were unpredictable. She’d shoot him. If he forced her hand, she would kill him. He knew it instinctively.
Lacey backed up, putting more space between them. “In answer to your earlier question, sugar, no, I don’t expect to make all the rules, just the important ones.”
Danger gritted his teeth. When he got his hands on her, he was going to wring her beautiful neck. Then, by God, he’d fuck her senseless, right after he kissed her breathless. She’d beg. Oh, yeah, revenge, so sweet he could taste it. And then—well, that was just a start. Christ, she was magnificent!
Her hair rippled with hidden flames, a wild, glorious tangle around her shoulders. Those tiger eyes glowed like newly minted coins, bright and shiny. He could hear her ragged breaths. See the way her rounded breasts rose and fell with each breath she drew in. Wild color stained her cheeks cherry red.
Ironically, he found himself wanting to hold her. Comfort her. Assure her he would help her any way he could, if he ever got to where he could stand up straight again, that is.
Lacey flashed him a worried look as she ducked around him. She gripped the gun with both hands. Lord, her insides were in knots. He was angry. No, not angry, that was too mild a word. Furious was a much better word. His lips were drawn tight, his eyes mere slits of gray fury, but he was also pale, as if she’d scared the crap out of him or hurt him badly when she kneed him.
And oh, there was a promise of retribution in those stormy eyes. There was something savage in the way he looked at her. Possessive. Lethal.
Her chest tightened. She could barely breathe. If he ever got his hands on her—he’d kill her—stabbed—shot—dead. She’d just have to make sure he never got his hands on her.
He drew in a deep breath and rose slowly to his feet, both arms raised in the air in silent surrender. “Now what, Miss Weston?” he asked shakily. “You gonna shoot me?” A cynical smile twisted his lips. “Put the gun down, sweetheart, before one of us gets hurt or worse.”
Lacey shivered, accepting the fact that Danger Blackstone had just become her enemy. He would come after her. She tightened her lips. Oh, God. What had she done?
With a boldness she was far from feeling, she said, “You’re the only one apt to get hurt, sugar. Much as I might derive some satisfaction at shooting you in the leg.” She let her gaze settle on his crotch for an infinitesimal second, just so he would have no doubt as to which ‘leg’ she referred. “I have no intention of doing that.”
At his arched brow, she rushed on, “Unless you force me. Now, move.”
“Honey, you don’t want to do this. It’s a bad mistake.”
Lacey shivered at the lethal glint in those silver chips. “I’ll have to come after you,” he warned. “And I promise you, you won’t like it when I do.” His voice rang like cold steel slicing through iron.
Her courage wavered. He frightened her on several levels.
No. She couldn’t let him do this to her. She had to get out of here, get away from him. Standing firm on her decision to leave, Lacey waved the gun around, motioning for him to step around her.
Savage fury darkened his face, but there was nothing he could do but turn his back to her and move forward, give her the space she demanded.
“Since you think so highly of these accommodations, I’m sure you’ll enjoy spending what’s left of the night in your jail.” False sweetness coated her words.
Danger lowered his arms. “Damn it, woman.”
She prodded him in the back with the gun barrel. “Up. Get your arms up, and just get in there, Sheriff.”
Lacey moved to one side, keeping the cell door between them. The look he turned on her burned with savage promise. She realized it would be wise for her to keep the row of steel bars between them. And miles. Yes, lots of distance would help.
Danger turned and backed slowly inside the cell. Folding his arms across his broad chest, his face looked like thunder. “Holding a gun on me is very serious. When I get my hands on you again, I’m going to lock you up and throw away the key.”
“Just, shut up.” Lacey grabbed the handcuffs he’d carelessly left lying on top of the desk. She tossed them toward him. Danger caught them with one hand. He stared at the clinking pieces of steel as if they were a cobra in his clutches.
“Put’em on,” she ordered.
“What?”
“Put them on. One on your wrist, and lock one onto a bar on the cell door, no, on second thought, put them ‘round both wrists behind your back.”
“Now see here, Lacey. You can’t—”
“I can, Little Big Man. I have the gun. I can do anything I please. Do it, but first, toss me your clothes.”
“What?”
“You heard me. All of them, even your under—what are you grinning about?”
“Christ, woman, if you wanted me naked, all you had to do was ask. I’m an obliging man—under the right circumstances.”
“Funny.” Lacey waved the gun at him. “Do it, Sheriff.”
“You’re not serious.”
“Ohh, but I am. I’m very serious. Come on, now, Sheriff. Don’t be shy. Let’s see some skin.”
“God damn it, Lacey.” He paused, chewed on his bottom lip, then shook his head. “Don’t call me Little Big Man. He helped with the murder of Crazy Horse you know. He held Crazy Horse’s arms, while a soldier ran his bayonet in his back, or so the story goes.”
She arched a single brow. “I know. Just cooperate, please. We’ll both be happier. At least I will be, and I won’t have to dig out my bayonet.”
“I don’t believe this,” he muttered, unbuttoning his shirt and flinging it across the tiny cell.
Lacey’s gaze settled on the broad expanse of his smooth, bronzed chest. Glory be. He was one magnificent man.
Danger kicked off his moccasins, swearing beneath his breath. Slowly, he unfastened his jeans, slipping each metal button from its slot, one at a time. She could see an arrow of soft, dark hair spearing downward beneath the band of his jeans.
She touched her tongue to her lips, saw his eyes narrow dangerously, and thought better of it. It wasn’t wise to push her luck. Not wise at all.
By the time he hooked his thumb in the elastic band of his black bikini briefs her mouth was as dry as cotton.
“Are you certain you want me to continue?” he asked, a devilish twinkle in his eyes.
Lacey lifted her gaze, but not before she saw the huge bulge straining against his briefs. Heat swept up her face. “Yes. No. Uh, leave the underwear.”
“Leave it—where? Exactly?” he taunted.
Oh, but he was a devil. Drat the man. He knew exactly what he was doing to her. “Leave it on.” She released a shaky breath. “Just, leave it on.”
“Right,” he breathed. “Sure?”
She was still waving the gun around, a fact that sent chills down his spine. So, why the hell was he standing here grinning like a sick calf?
“Yes, I’m sure. Poke your clothes through the bars,” Lacey instructed.
“Be careful with that thing. It’s not a toy. It’s a real gun, with real bullets. You go ‘rou
nd pointing it, you’re likely going to kill someone. I’d rather it wasn’t me.”
“I know that,” she yelled. “Quit yelling at me. It makes me nervous. I might accidentally pull the trigger,” she added with a nasty ring to her voice. “Toss me your keys and then, lock the cuffs around your wrists.”
Digging the keys from his jeans pocket, he flung them between the bars and snorted. They landed on the floor at her feet with a soft clink. “Before I’m through with you, lady, you’re going to have reason to be edgy.”
He jabbed his clothes through the bars.
“You have to catch me first.
In The Arms Of Danger Page 12
