9781618854490WildChelceeNC

by Unknown

  Wild grimaced, wary. In prison, he’d learned the hard way never to turn his back to anyone and above all, not to poke his nose in someone’s business. In the beginning, he hadn’t felt that way. He did his best to protect the young men, boys mostly, scared, and rightfully so, males who walked in not knowing what evil lay within headed their way.

  His interference cost him.

  In the end, he survived by taking care of number one, looking the other way, and minding his own affairs. He didn’t take shit from anyone, but neither did he get involved in things that weren’t his concern. If one wanted to endure behind bars, that’s the way it was done.

  After awhile, the others left him alone.

  Getting mixed up in someone else’s troubles was a good way to get his head blown off. He had no business nosing in whatever problems Jayla had gotten herself into, but the woman needed him, and damn if it didn’t feel good to be needed, even if it was by one he considered an arch enemy.

  She squirmed, wincing when she tried to wrap her left arm around his shoulders. No matter what her crimes against him, he couldn’t ignore the fact she was in pain. “You don’t have to hold onto me. I’m not going to drop you. Keep your arm still and cradle it like it’s in a sling. That might give you some relief until we get to the cabin.”

  She nodded and positioned her arm the way he’d told her.

  “Better?” he asked.

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  She sounded so sweet and prim.

  He was a sucker, all right. Her sucker.

  The men he’d been locked away with had been meaner, tougher, and worse than caged animals, far more dangerous than some imaginary character Jayla thought was after her.

  Grinding his teeth when she snuggled closer against his chest, he bit the inside of his jaw to keep from growling. This was never going to work. He didn’t need her kind of trouble in his life. Hell, he wasn’t worried about some distant would-be killer. He figured he could take care of himself and anyone who belonged to him.

  He glanced down at her, wary. But Jayla? Fuck! She was a different story.

  Jayla didn’t belong to him.

  He scowled. So why the hell did it feel like she did?

  And damn, he must have been beat with an insanity stick to possess even a twinge of caring when it came to her. “Utba,” he muttered, disgusted with himself and his reactions to Jayla.

  She snickered, drawing his gaze. “Let me guess, ‘Up the butt…again?’”

  “How’d you know?”

  “I’ve heard it used a time or two. I’m not screwing you over,” she said. “Trust me.”

  It always worried him when someone said, trust me. His protective instincts kicked in. No. Absolutely not. He’d be nine kinds of crazy if he trusted Jayla Ross. He didn’t have to be kicked in the teeth twice to get the message.

  He refused to allow any kind of bond or emotion to creep in where this woman was concerned, especially trust. He wasn’t going to let her shove her way into his life—his heart. She’d burned him once, God, how she’d burned him. He wasn’t fool enough to go back for seconds. He’d never survive another Jayla Ross invasion, ruse, or betrayal.

  When it came down to it, he was jackass stubborn, a man better off alone. No involvement had been his motto for seven years. It worked just fine for him.

  Too late, his mind warned. Hell, she was in his arms. Yup. The way he read the signs, that made him pretty damn involved, and she was the one person who had the power to destroy him. It’d always been her. Even when he cursed her, hated her, and wanted to throttle her, she’d always been the one with the power to take him to his knees.

  He glanced down. Her eyes. God, they were big and soft, the rich warm color of dark coffee beans.

  She drew a sharp breath and moaned.

  “Your shoulder giving you fits?” He ordered his mind to think about something other than how a man could drown in the soft heat of her eyes.

  “Yes. It feels like a coal of fire burning clear to my fingertips.”

  It didn’t keep her from nuzzling his throat again.

  Shee-et! How was a man supposed to concentrate with her mouth rubbing like satin sheets against his flesh?

  “Probably infected.” He managed to choke out the words, but wasn’t sure they made sense. “Infection hurts like the devil,” he tried again, but his breath caught on a raspy wheeze when the tip of her damp tongue touched a particularly sensitive spot below his ear. He stumbled and thought he’d crash to his knees.

  “Don’t do that again.” He growled like an old bear. Damn her, was she trying to kill him? Don’t let her play you.

  “You sure?” Her eyes danced, teasing him—daring him.

  He’d been down this road with her before and it landed him in prison.

  “You shot my hat,” he accused feeling crowded enough to push back, or start a fight with her. Any excuse to keep her at a distance worked mighty fine for him

  “Only a little,” she said, not the least bit put off by his grumpy attitude.

  Wild winced. “How the hell do you shoot a hat only a little? It’s like being just a little bit pregnant. No such thing.”

  “Oh,” she replied in a thin voice, and if possible, turned even whiter.

  What now? What had he said that got under her skin?

  Why do I even care?

  He didn’t. No sir, he didn’t give two red pennies worth of care if he upset her. “No one shoots my hat,” he said feeling up to a good quarrel.

  She looked at him with wounded eyes. “I did. You don’t have to talk so mean. I know you don’t want me here. If I had anyone else to turn to—”

  “Stop right there,” he warned. “You’re damn right I don’t want you here, lady. Since when did I become your knight in shining armor?”

  “You’ve always been my knight.” She plucked nervously at his coat collar. “Albeit unwilling, you’re my hero and always have been.”

  Well damn. Well just fucking damn. She knew how to knock the wind right out of his sails. His heart jerked. Was she deliberately trying to sabotage him? It wouldn’t work. He was wise to her underhanded tricks. Wild shook his head. “Never in a million years will you convince me you have no one else to turn to in a time of crisis. It’s not like we’ve ever been best buddies or anything.”

  Talk mean to her? Hell, she made him cantankerous, rubbing him the wrong way in every way, but sweet Jesus, for the first time in seven years, he felt alive. He was her knight and that sounded so perfect.

  “There were others, yes,” she said, “but none I trust with my life and my—”

  “What?” His brows knitted in puzzlement. Damn, she distracted him.

  She bit her lip. “Nothing. Let’s just leave it at you’re the only one I trust.”

  Wild shook his head, puzzled. Why on earth would she trust him? Couldn’t she get it through her head he detested her? “Lucky for you I’m in a forgiving mood today,” he admitted in contradiction of his thoughts.

  She perked up. “You are?”

  “Only for shooting my hat, I’ll never forgive you for lying about me and sending me to prison.”

  She wilted. “Wow. Just my luck.” A touch of sarcasm laced her words. Jayla rubbed her nose against his shoulder. “You smell good.”

  He jerked back. “I said, don’t do that, and don’t think for a minute you aren’t replacing my hat. A cowboy doesn’t go round wearing a hat with a bullet hole in it. It’s plain indecent.”

  She laughed. “Indecent?”

  He scowled. “Makes me look like a damn outlaw.”

  She made a soft moue of her lips. “Spoil-sport. You’re still upset over a little bullet hole in your hat? It’s just an old hat. Besides being out of season, it looks like a rat chewed on it. You need to toss it in the trash.”

  “Don’t poke at my hat. It’s my favorite. I wear it year round.” He hoped he made it clear he treasured the hat.

  She squeezed his shoulder in sympathy. “I apologize for shooti
ng it. And you do look like an outlaw. I think that’s why I’ve always been attracted to you. I was dying for you to get in my pants.”

  “Shit!”If he’d had a big chew of Redman, like he sometimes did, he’d have choked on the whole wad. “Why’d you say something like that?” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple on the verge of a spasm.

  “It’s true. I had dreams about your lips on mine.”

  Wild stumbled a second time. What was she trying to do to him, make him fall on his face? He cleared his throat. “So, you were attracted to me?” Huh. “Honey, you were a little filly in heat. You didn’t want me to kiss you…you wanted me to snort between your flanks.” Hell, he shouldn’t have said that. He was just encouraging her.

  She laughed deep in her throat.

  God, he loved the husky sound of her laughter. It sent ripples of desire racing through his body.

  “Well yeah, I just said so, but you wouldn’t have me. I hoped time had maybe changed your mind.” She arched a silky brow in question.

  Wild snorted. “I still know better than to play with fire, ma’am.”

  “I promise to be gentle,” she teased. “If I hurt you, you can spank me.”

  He did trip then, over a rock hidden beneath the snow. Cursing, he stumbled before regaining his balance. “Funny.”

  She giggled at his hard glower. Guess he didn’t intimidate her at all.

  “Ow! Don’t push at me like that. I told you I’m in pain.”

  “Stop burrowing your face like a little rabbit against me.” Wild tried to instill disgust in his voice, but in the end, he sounded breathless and aroused instead. “Damn, woman.” It didn’t take much effort for Jayla to stir his blood, but then, it never had. “I think we need to back up a few steps and start over here. This conversation’s way out of line, from both of us.”

  She laughed. “I like our conversation just fine. Do I make you nervous, cowboy?”

  “Hell yeah,” he admitted. “I know when I’m treading deep water.”

  “I like the discussion just fine.”

  “You said that…and I don’t.”

  “Sorry, I can’t help it. It isn’t my fault you’re so tempting.” She winced. “Darn bullet in my shoulder’s driving me nuts. It aches like a—”

  “What?” Wild halted in his tracks, glaring down at her. “What the hell did you say?” He couldn’t have heard her right. She’d distracted him with those insane words about wanting him in her pants, spankings, all that soft nuzzling, flirting, belittling his beloved hat an–and comparing him to knights and outlaws. Jesus, a man couldn’t keep his head on straight with all that coming at him.

  “The bullet—”

  “You haven’t had it removed?” He tried to wrap his mind around his chaotic thoughts, get them in order, and at the same time, comprehend how much pain she must be in if a bullet was still lodged in her after so many days.

  “I told you, I left in a hurry.”

  Nope. He wasn’t falling for her lies. He didn’t believe her. She was up to something. Jayla Ross was always up to something. And if she didn’t stop rubbing below his ear with her nose, well, he was going to be up to something too. He jolted under her touch. “Jesus Christ, woman, stop licking me. What the hell do you think you’re doing?” A man couldn’t get a break here, and he needed one in a bad way.

  “Sampling you,” she replied without a hint of shame or remorse. “I’ve always wondered what you taste like. I figure this is my one and only chance to find out. I want to lick you all over, absorb your flavor on my tongue until I forget—”

  “For the love of God, are you sniffing me?”

  “Well…you smell good…like wood, smoke, and leather,” she said in a defensive voice. “Stop being so grouchy and let me enjoy you.”

  “Jesus Christ.” He felt like a prize stallion being led to stud service. “You’re a pushy little thing, aren’t you? But then that’s what I remember best about you, except for the fact you’re also an accomplished actress and liar. For the last time, stop burrowing your nose against my throat.”

  “But I like your scent. I love the way you taste, too, like snow and wind an–and–fresh mountain air.”

  “Stop it or I’ll drop you on your ass,” he warned. “I don’t like you rubbing against me like that.”

  “Grouch.”

  “Yeah, I’m a grouch where you’re concerned.” He took a step and whistled sharply for the mare.

  “Ouch! Don’t move so fast. You’re jiggling me around.” She bit her full lower lip. “I’ll leave you alone, if that’s what you really want.” She flinched. Rapid tears rushed to her eyes. “It hurts when you jar me like that.”

  He cut his gaze at her. “I only took one step, so cut the act. You’re the helpless female in distress with a bullet in her shoulder. Ya wanna tell another one before that one gets cold?”

  “You don’t believe I’m shot?” She sounded incredulous. Eyes wide. Lips parted.

  “I’m beginning to doubt it. I think you’d say anything to save your ass, though God knows what kind of trouble you’ve managed to get yourself in. I don’t wanna know. So no, I don’t care, and no, I don’t believe your insane tale of getting shot.”

  “Well I am shot,” she huffed. She grimaced when he jostled her again.

  He hurried on toward the horse, ignoring her groan. Jayla was quite skilled at acting. He’d best not forget that.

  “I drove for three days and two nights to get to you,” she said, her voice trembling. “My arm hurt every mile of the way here. It still hurts, but I needed…” Her words faded away on a ragged breath.

  “You needed what?” he asked, curious to see what she’d come up with next.

  “You. I needed you.”

  “Right. What is this sudden, burning necessity you have for me?” Like he believed her phony act? No one needed him, least of all Jayla Ross.

  “It isn’t sudden,” she said. “I bled, damn it, all over my vintage Jackie suit. It’s ruined. Totally ruined, and I paid a small fortune for it. I–I had blood in my hair an–and God only knows what else!” She shuddered in his arms and made a tiny sound that reminded him of a trapped animal. “She got shot less than a foot away from me. I had to tear off my gloves because they were freakin’ bloody.” She burst into tears. “You might try showing a little kindness.”

  “I’m carrying you, aren’t I? That’s as far as my kindness extends. You need anything else, romance, kisses, a man to make love to you, you’re on your own. Jesus, when you get wound up, you’re like a rabid tornado biting me on the ass. I have no idea what you were ranting on and on about, but I think you need a xanax, Midol, or something to calm you down. Is this how PMS is?”

  “It’s what nearly getting my head blown off is,” she snapped.

  Ah-ha! The real Jayla was finally surfacing. He gave her what he considered his sour look, brows lowered, eyes narrowed, lips twisted with scorn. Yeah, that was darn good.

  “Do you have any idea what it’s like to see someone killed?” she blubbered. “It’s awful!”

  He squeezed her closer, knowing he was projecting sympathy when he darn well shouldn’t.

  “I have a pretty good idea…prison, you know.” He coughed and loosened his hold on her. “A lot of bad stuff goes down in there. It’s all about survival of the fittest.”

  “What happened?”

  Wild shook his head. “You don’t need the pictures in my head in yours.”

  “You won’t tell me what you saw? Share what happened to you?”

  “Hell no.” He hoped his tone made it clear he had no intention of sharing anything about his time in prison with her. He hadn’t even disclosed those brutal days to his brothers, why would he share them with a woman?

  She bit her lip and whimpered. Hell, she looked to him to help her, big-eyed and helpless as a fawn. He couldn’t help her. He was lousy at taking care of others.

  “Now, what?” He figured there was enough gruffness inflected in his voice to convince her
he was one mean sonofabitch and not a marshmallow when it came to her. He wasn’t her type. No matter what he said or how he said it, she was hell-bent on taking him to his knees.

  She could forget it.

  He wasn’t about to buckle. No sir. He’d nip it in the bud—convince her he was tough as old boot leather. He refused to care about her, or care about what happened to her, or what she’d seen. One thing he’d learned real fast in prison—mind his own damn business. He was a fast learner. He made a point of staying out of other people’s affairs—most of the time.

  Her crazy, concocted tales were definitely none of his concern. She wasn’t any of his concern. So why the hell did he feel like a man being sucked under a quicksand pit? “Stop crying. Tears won’t work on me,” he said brusquely, and wondered who he was trying to convince. No matter, he’d spoken with enough curtness in his voice, she’d get the message plain enough.

  “I’m not crying. I never cry!” She sniffed betraying the fact that yes, indeed, she was crying. “It isn’t just my shoulder that hurts. It’s…”

  Wild waited. It was coming. Hell, he’d watched Dianna work herself up into a storm of tears often enough when she thought it’d work on her brothers, which it usually did. Tears glittered in Jayla’s eyes and slipped down one cheek.

  Oh yeah, she was most definitely crying. His stomach clenched. Tears. Why did a woman always resort to crying to make a man feel weak and loathsome, to snare a man’s cooperation? He convinced himself to ignore both her and her choice of weapon. Damn tears! But he couldn’t ignore her words.

  “It’s everything. My stomach…oooh…” She tightened into a little ball in his arms. “Can you hurry and get to where ever you’re taking me? I don’t know how much longer I—” She bit off her words with a sharp gasp. “I need to lie down. Rest.”

  “You’re shot in the stomach too? For God’s sake woman, why’d you come here instead of going to a hospital?”

  “No. I’m not shot there. It just hurts.”

  He let out a breath of relief. Thank God she didn’t have a belly wound. She’d likely die before he could get her help. Okay. So what the hell was wrong with her then? “Don’t cry,” he said, no longer able to keep the crusty tone in his voice. Jesus, he might be bad-tempered as a rattler, but she was obviously in a lot of pain. He couldn’t ignore that. Reluctantly, Wild lowered her to her feet and tried to squelch his panic. He didn’t know why the hairs stood on the back of his neck, but he had a bad feeling things were about to crash around his head. “Can you stand?”