“She kissed me!”
“There you go.” Coe chortled. “That’ll get a woman locked up every time.” He laughed, slapping his leg as he snorted. “The lady must have guts if she dared to kiss the serious and stodgy Sheriff of Rimrock.”
“Shut up, Coe. She broke the law.”
“Whose? The county or yours?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Danger shoved bullets into a Winchester rifle.
“Forget it.” Coe smirked. “But I’d sure like to meet this lady. Is she pretty?”
“Dammit, Coe, she’s a criminal. She pointed a loaded gun at me. She could have killed me! I’m going to toss her ass in jail and throw away the key.”
“All right. All right. But even you have to admit that pointing an unloaded gun isn’t much use to anyone.”
At Danger’s dark scowl, Coe held up his hands in surrender. “I’m just curious about her.”
“Get moving. I’m already running behind.”
“I’m going, already. Jeez.” Coe pulled open the door. “Looks like snuggling weather, brother, gonna piss and pour. Sure you don’t want those condoms?”
“Get out of here,” Danger growled.
Coe burst out laughing and started through the door.
“Hey,” Danger yelled.
Coe paused, looked back and arched a single brow in question.
A grin tugged at Danger’s lips as Coe faced him. “She’s not pretty—she’s fucking beautiful.”
Coe grinned and winked. “Already had that one nailed, brother.”
***
It was another two hours before Danger finally left Rimrock. He felt like beating the hell out of someone, anyone, only there was no one he could blame for this mess but himself. He’d never been so frustrated or angry in his life at the delays that had piled up and kept him from heading out after Lacey in a timely manner.
He’d sworn to protect her. Instead, he’d driven her away.
Remorse and concern mingled together, increasing his feelings of guilt. He’d
forced her to make a perilous choice, not deliberately, but, if anything happened to her, he’d never forgive himself.
Cursing beneath his breath, he halted the blood-red stallion and rested against the saddle horn. He squinted his eyes and gazed at the valley before him. Surrounded by a wall of purplish-blue, snow-capped mountains, he knew it remained extremely cold in the higher elevations. The mountains hovered, majestic and stark in their treacherous beauty.
The spring thaw was underway. The volley of rainfall coming down was going to play hell with the smaller creeks and rivers in the area. He settled his butt closer in the saddle and ignored the rain that had finally gone from pounding the crap outta him to a steady drizzle that seemed to find every available crack and crevice between his shirt and his neck to slide down.
Between the snowmelt and the torrents of rain that had driven him to seek shelter beneath an outcropping of rock until it let up, it was going to be bad. The unwary and inexperienced hikers and campers were going to be in real trouble.
It was a fact of life. It happened every spring just like clockwork. Greenhorns set out to explore the rugged beauty of the Montana wilderness and ended up in a dilemma. They never once considered the fact that bears, cougars and other dangers prevailed. Hell, one year a man actually picked up a small rattlesnake after his girlfriend convinced him it was a harmless garden snake.
Danger shuddered at the reckless disregard some people had for their life. The slicker he wore was little protection against the onslaught of Mother Nature. Underneath it, his clothes felt damp and clammy against his skin. Cold. He sincerely hoped that little Miss Southern Belle was just as cold, wet and miserable as he was
Because of the wild terrain and the weather, he’d decided to hunt for Lacey on horseback. It was slow going, but he wouldn’t run out of fuel or have to turn back. In the mountainous terrain, a horse could go places a Jeep couldn’t. There was one valley close to Rimrock. He suspected it was this valley his little peach had been camped in.
Following his hunch, he’d been lucky enough to spot the Jeep tracks as soon as he turned his white extended cab Ford truck and horse trailer off the main highway. He’d driven in as far as he could, but when he saw the direction she’d turned the Jeep, he knew it was time to park and saddle Diablo.
But now, most of the tracks were gone, washed away by the downpour and he was stalled by exactly what he’d warned Lacey could happen. High waters. Now he didn’t know if he needed to go up the creek, down it, or take the risk of trying to cross it. But since there was only one access road in and one way out, he wasn’t afraid of losing her, at least not in the wilderness. He knew the country on this side of the creek.
If she couldn’t lose him, then the odds were she couldn’t lose who ever wanted her dead. He had to find her and soon. He couldn’t shake the feeling he was running out of time.
In The Arms Of Danger
Chapter Nine
We can’t all be heroes because someone has to sit on the curb and clap as they go by.
WillRogers
Montana Backcountry Sat. 4:00 p.m.
It was the red and white checkered material that first caught Danger’s attention. One minute he was making his way up and down the bank where he’d set up camp for the evening, searching for the safest way to get back on the right side of the flood waters, when he saw the shattered remains of a large stump bob to a halt against the opposite side.
He stopped dead.
For a moment, he stood there too stunned to believe what he saw, then he blinked. Blinked again. Aw, hell. It was sure enough her, all right. Like a runaway fishing cork, her head bounced up and down, in and out of the roaring, destructive monster the little creek had grown into.
Lacey’s slender fingers clung to the battered stump of the tree trunk. He swore viciously. Her ribs had to be taking one hell of a beating by the chewed-up end of the tree.
He propped his Winchester against a big rock, cupped his mouth and yelled over the roar of the raging water. “Hey, Georgia. Don’t let go. Hang on.”
Lacey’s head swiveled slowly as if she barely had any muscle left in her neck or the energy to look toward him.
“Hu—rry,” she wailed. Her head sank, then rose as she struggled to keep it above water. “Fre—ezing.”
I know darlin’. I’m hurrying. “I see you managed to land your ass in a fine mess.” He dropped his gun belt and shirt on the ground. “No! Don’t let go!”
Jesus, his heart pounded like a ten-pound sledge hammer driving through a pile of rocks. He watched helplessly as her head slipped beneath the icy water then shot back up. “Don’t you dare drown on me,” he shouted. “I have a nice set of bracelets waiting with your name on them.”
He figured his words would piss her off enough to fuel her fighting spirit. He cussed like a sailor on a long haul at sea. Damn woman was going to be the death of him, yet. Hell. He was no one’s hero, but he couldn’t let her freeze, or drown, though he figured if it came right down to it, she’d somehow manage to get her ass out of the water. The lady was definitely trouble. He dug his wallet and loose change out of his pocket and dropped it by his gun and shirt.
“You say you’re freezing?” he yelled. “And whose fault is that?”
Talk to me.
He had to keep her talking. Make her angry. Rile up her fighting side, else she was going to sink like a rock. He had no idea how long she’d been in the sub-zero water, but he knew she couldn’t hold on much longer before her strength played completely out, and she slipped beneath the water—permanently.
She sent him a fulminating glower across the water. “Don’t—just stand— there grinning like—a possum eating sh—”
The look was wasted as her grip slipped and her head vanished beneath the water. She bounced up, spluttering and gasping for air and fighting to grab hold of the crumbling limb.
“Hur—ry. I can’t. . .”
Danger spat a r
aw curse as her words trailed off, and the skinny limb she clutched with the tips of her fingers started to disintegrate. With a snarl, he ripped off his moccasins and socks and plunged in the arctic violence of the creek.
“Fuck.”
The water felt sharp as a knife, a deadly combination of glacial snowmelt and spring rain that bit deep into his chest. His lungs felt like slush, the breath drained right out of him. His chest heaved as frozen fingers of icy liquid closed over his bare shoulders and seemed to turn the air whooshing in and out through his parted lips into solid ice. Piercing, needle-like pain shimmied across his chest, arms, and thighs as if he’d been stung by bees all over his body.
Talk about blue balls. It felt as if his had shriveled to the size of peanuts. What was it with this woman and his gonads? She wouldn’t be happy until his dick was served on a platter to her. Something that was likely to happen quite soon, since it felt like his cock was frozen as solid as an icicle and liable to snap right off any second. An image of his frozen dick lying in his hand as he presented it to her flashed through his mind. Bull shit. No way. He had to hurry up and get them both out of this water.
At last, he was within reach of her.
Danger curled his fingers in the thick mass of Lacey’s wet hair and drew her toward him. Unfortunately, his fingers slipped. He lost his grip on the slick strands when she suddenly whirled and clamped an arm around his neck so tight he couldn’t breathe.
Her blouse ripped free of the tattered tree limb. The sudden release sent her catapulting against him. Danger grunted and staggered backward. Trying to keep both of them afloat suddenly turned into a battle with the elements and a war of wills. His. Hers.
And they crashed under the water like a stone, then slowly bobbed back up, both of them coughing and spluttering.
The moment their heads bounced above the churning water, Lacey screamed like a crazed banshee and curled herself around him tight as wet seaweed. She locked her legs snugly around his waist and kept her strangle hold on his neck with one arm.
Danger staggered, his momentum once more thrown off-balance. “Let go of me.”
Lacey shook her head fiercely and tightened her arm and legs. He stumbled three steps before they both plunged under the icy waters again. They shot back up through the roiling swell like twin buoys bouncing across the surface of a stormy sea.
“Let go, Lacey!” Danger jerked her arm from around his neck.
She shook her head again and clamped her legs tighter about his hips. Shit. They bobbed down. They shot up. The entire time he pried at her legs. Nothing doing. Down in the water. Up in the water. She clung to his hips like a limpet on a slippery rock and there went the arm back around his neck.
“Jesus H. Christ, woman. Will you let go?”
He clawed at one of her legs, managing to pry it from around his hips. Right back around it came, coiling about his hips like a damned snake. Danger swore viciously. They spun around and around in the water like a drunken merry-goround out of control. He gritted his teeth. Fighting Lacey was like wrestling with an octopus. She was going to drown them both if he didn’t do something quick.
Thwack. The sharp sound filled the air.
Lacey stopped struggling and flung back her head. Her teeth chattered, and her lips looked as blue as wild mountain berries. A dark purple bruise marred her right cheekbone. Blood streaked down the left side of her face. He felt sick to his stomach, knowing she was injured. He’d slapped her.
She didn’t say anything, just looked at him, her lips quivering, silky lashes spiked, and those big gold eyes wet with unshed tears.
Danger’s temper darkened. His soul rebelled at the ugly fact he’d hit Lacey. How did she manage to make him feel like the lowest creature crawling? He’d never in his life struck a woman.
“Jesus Christ,” he tilted her chin, so he could get a better look at her face. “You are undoubtedly the most troublesome female I’ve ever had the misfortune to tangle with. You make me crazy.”
She didn’t argue with him. Shit. That wasn’t a good sign.
“I’m—so—cold.” Her voice quivered. She shivered uncontrollably. Her eyes glazed over. She looked around in confusion. “Whe—where are we?”
Danger wrapped his arms around her. “Near Dancing Star property, unfortunately, it’s the backside of thousands of acres of virgin timber land.”
Tucking her under his arm like a football, he paddled for the creek bank. It took him a minute to realize she was swearing softly. He grinned at the one distinct word she said that questioned his legitimacy. Little witch. She might be down, but she wasn’t out by any means.
“Shut up,” he said, but there was no bite to his words as he struggled up the slippery bank and out of the water.
When she didn’t, he shifted her across his shoulders like a sack of potatoes and stalked toward the camp.
Lacey thumped him weakly on his back. “Ca—ve dwe—ller!”
“As a cave dweller, I’ve already built a fire.” He lowered her to her feet and sagged to his knees. “Take off your wet clothes.” He panted, shivering. “They’ll only make you colder.”
Water sluiced in icy rivulets down his face and neck. He slicked back his hair with one hand and stared at her pale face. She was just standing there, looking dazed and a little lost. He struggled to his feet. “I said get out of those clothes.”
His lungs burned and his breath escaped in short, ragged bursts. “Do it. Now!” He ripped the front of her blouse down the middle and yanked it off her. “Bra next. Pants. Panties. Out of them. Everything.”
Fury beat in rhythm to the fierce drum of his heart. He tossed her soaked blouse aside, and his jaw clenched tight with the need to yell at her. Instead, he shoved her fumbling fingers aside as she fought with the top button on her jeans.
“Damn it, I warned you this is treacherous country. But did you listen? Did you pay the least bit of attention? Hell, no. You just had to go dancing off on your merry way, blithely ignoring everything I said to you. You’re sick, lady. Anyone who’d risk life and limb the way you do has to be fucking nuts. Oh, yeah, we already agreed, you’re crazy.”
Lacey opened her mouth.
“Don’t say a word,” he said roughly. “Not one word.” He breathed in. Breathed out. His chest lugged with furious bursts as he sucked air in and out of his lungs. “Right now, right this moment, you’re teetering on the edge of getting bent over my knee and having your rebel ass blistered.”
“Don’t—”
“You’re damned lucky I don’t slap a pair of iron bracelets around your wrists this very second. Don’t you have better sense than to get swept away by floodwaters?”
Danger reached for one of the colorful blankets from the short stack nearby. “Why am I even asking you these questions? I know better. Bra. Get outta of it.”
When she hesitated, he reached behind her and unhooked it with fingers that weren’t quite steady and had nothing to do with being cold. The bra slipped from his fingertips and landed on top of the discarded blouse. He stepped back from her and took a look, a long draught, as if were a man dying of thirst and she was a frosty mug of beer. Air slipped from his lungs, a slow hiss of leaking oxygen. Oh, yeah, he deserved this little reward.
The flesh across her chest and belly was an unhealthy, chalky white, but her nipples. Christ. Okay. So he was a louse and this probably wasn’t the time to steal a peep. Then again, he might not ever get the opportunity to see them again, and he was so a breast man. And hers were perfection. He could no more resist the allure to look than he could stop breathing, which considering how tight his chest felt, he might have already done exactly that.
His gaze dwelled on the ice-pink tips chilled to tight, mouthwatering buds, his eyes skimmed over the firm slopes. The sight of her breasts sent a tingle through his palms. He ached to touch her skin, trace the faint trail of veins that networked her breasts. He wanted to explore every inch of her, from her mouth to her toes and up again, capture her shoulders,
glide his hand down the ladder of her spine, the crease of her butt. He could taste her skin as he imagined tracing his tongue down her throat and belly. And lower.
He cleared his throat and quickly draped the blanket around her shoulders to remove the temptation of those firmly rounded globes.
Danger pulled the blanket snug beneath her quivering chin as she stared at him with accusing eyes. Shit. Well, hell, it wasn’t as if there’d been somewhere better to cast his gaze. He wasn’t stupid, either. Yeah, he’d snatched a quick look, so hang him.
He coughed again. “Okay. Well—uh, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. Your breasts are beautiful.”
In The Arms Of Danger Page 15
