Rising Assets (Maverick Montana)

by Rebecca Zanetti

  She. Did. Not.

  Using his knee, he flipped over, grabbed her arms, and rolled until she lay flat on her back beneath him. “That last move is supposed to knock an opponent unconscious,” he ground out, his head aching.

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re fine.”

  “I didn’t teach you those moves to use against me.” He fought to tamp down on a temper that suddenly wanted to roar.

  “You shouldn’t laugh at people. There are consequences.” She glanced up at his pounding forehead and blanched.

  His temper settled. “You believe in consequences, baby?”

  She stilled, her gaze flashing to his. “Uh—”

  He reached down, spun them around, and ended up in a position he never thought he’d see, with Melanie Murphy Alana Jacoby over his knee, ass in the air. He brought his hand down hard to gain her attention.

  She yelped and tried to scoot away. “Colton!”

  He easily kept her in place and laughed, his good humor restored. “You’re staying here until you apologize for trying to bash in my skull.”

  “I should’ve tried harder.” She half-laughed and half-bellowed. “Now let me go.”

  He smacked her again. “No.”

  “Damn it.” She kicked out her legs. “This isn’t right.”

  He paused. “You’re right. This is all wrong.” He reached for the waist of her skirt and yanked it off her legs, almost groaning at the sexy black thong that left her pinkening buttocks exposed. He ran a finger along the seam of material. “This is pretty.”

  “I am so going to kick your ass—” She shrieked as he smacked her again. “Damn it, Colt—”

  Smack. “Apologize, Mel.” Smack. “Though this is fun.” Smack. Smack. Smack.

  His dick pulsed in agreement with each playful hit. He settled her more comfortably across his thighs and bit back a harsh groan at the contact. If he didn’t get inside her soon, he might explode.

  “You’re getting turned on by this?” She gurgled, laughing while struggling with all her strength.

  “Oh yeah.” His palm print was outlined on her gorgeous ass. “I could do this all day. So you might want to apologize.” He smacked her again for good measure.

  “I should’ve knocked you out. You’re a pervert.” She wiggled her butt in a move to slide from his lap, and he groaned out loud this time.

  “Pervert?” He palmed her heated ass, grinning at her sharp intake of breath. “You’re as aroused as I am.”

  “Am not,” she predictably hissed.

  “Lying gets you spanked in earnest.” He slid his palm over her butt, between her legs, and fingered her wet slit. Hot and wet, she’d saturated the material.

  The sound she made was full of need.

  His eyes almost rolled back in his head, and his balls drew tight and said hello. He slid up and ran his nail over her clit.

  She gasped, her muscles tightening. “Colton.”

  “Ah, Mel.” His voice emerged guttural. “I think I’ll make you come just like this. While being spanked.”

  She shoved her torso up from the floor. “I’m sorry. Way, way, way, sorry, so sorry I smashed in your head, not that you need your brain. Sorry, a thousand times sorry.”

  He laughed out loud and then hissed as his cock brushed her underbelly. Well, fair was fair. So he lifted her up.

  She turned and tackled him, wrapping her legs around his hips and slamming her ass down on his groin. They both groaned at the contact, and then her mouth was all over his.

  Hot, greedy, demanding.

  He fell back, taking her with him, his mouth working hers the entire time. Her hands were frantic as she ripped open his shirt, sliding heated palms along his skin.

  She fumbled with his zipper, and he kicked off his pants and boxers at her urging.

  Levering up, she grabbed him and tried to lower herself. Fire all but shot from her eyes as she failed. “You’re too big.”

  Basketball. Football. Television sitcoms. He fought to keep sane as she gripped him tightly. “No, I’m not.” He ripped her shirt over her head for good measure. “Go slower. Take your time.”

  “Okay.” She took a deep breath, and rolled her hips while taking him in.

  His heart pounded in his ears, and every muscle he owned tensed with the need to flip them over and pound into her. But he fought the urge, letting her play, allowing her to set the pace.

  Finally, decades later, her ass finally hit his groin.

  “Oh.” Her mouth pursed and her eyes widened. Both palms flattened on his chest as she angled her pelvis.

  Heat surrounded him. Pulsing, caressing, taking…her internal walls gripped him with impressive strength. The neurons in his brain may have misfired. Any control he owned was a sliver from snapping completely. “Melanie? You want to start moving now.” His voice was raw gravel as he held tight to the reins, uncertain he’d succeed.

  “All right.” She threw back her head and lifted up.

  He manacled her hips and slammed her back down.

  Their groans melded together. Then he did it again, setting a pace she easily jumped right into.

  He glanced up at her, wanting to stay in this moment forever. Her wild curls cascaded around her classic face, her brown eyes focused elsewhere, and a light blush wandered from her breasts to her cheeks. She was fucking perfect.

  Gripping her hips, he set up a fast rhythm. She met him thrust for thrust, her thigh muscles constricting with each movement.

  He wanted to slow down, to get lost in her. But electricity sparked down his spine to lash his balls, and he was too close to ending the moment. So he reached down and slid the calloused pad of his thumb along her clit.

  She cried out, back arched, nails digging into his chest as the orgasm overtook her. Pumping harder, faster, she yanked him right into heaven with her.

  He held her tight, coming like a teenager on prom night.

  Finally, she took a deep breath and collapsed against his chest. He slid his palm down her spine to caress her still warm ass. “We’re gonna have to do that again,” he said with a smile.

  Contentment wandered through his blood, warming him. He wanted to spend all night with her in his arms, instead of needing to ease away after sex. Instead of freaking out or worrying about the new feelings, he allowed them to take root.

  His phone dinged from across the room. The ding pointed to a programmed alarm. Setting Mel to the side, he yanked on his jeans and scanned his phone.

  Shit. A chilling dread slithered down his spine. Melanie lifted her eyebrows in question, and he shook his head, standing and leaping for the laptop perched on the table. Typing furiously, he double-checked the cash accounts. “Son of a bitch.”

  “What?” Melanie asked.

  “I had an alert set on our accounts with Manning, and it looks like he just took the money and ran.” Colton would kick the crap out of him…if he found him.

  “Call the police.” Melanie reached for her clothes.

  Colton sighed and rubbed his eyes. “If we turn him in, the money will be tied up forever as they build a case against him.”

  “Oh.” Her breasts jiggled as she tugged her shirt over her head. “So what’s your plan?”

  “I go after him.” This was a clusterfuck of tremendous proportions. Sure, they could survive without the money for a year by tightening their belts, but at some point, his family needed the money back. Especially before next calving season.

  “Okay.” Melanie wiggled her butt and shimmied into her skirt.

  His dick sprang alive. What the hell? He was facing a complete financial disaster, and his body wanted to play. “You are way too tempting.”

  The smile she flashed him heated right through his blood to his heart. Man, he needed to get a grip. Turning away, he quickly dialed his assistant. “Anne? Sorry to disturb you. This is what I need.” Giving her details, he ran through his itinerary. “Thanks.”

  Shaking his head, he ended the call and focused back on Mel. “I have t
o go get our money back.”

  Melanie nodded. “You will.”

  “I thought he was my friend. Guess not.” How could he have been so stupid? So damn sure of himself he didn’t stop to think. Colton eyed the flushed brunette he’d much rather be playing with right now. “You take the plane back home. I have to track Mark down—if he went by car, I’ll follow him, or I can get a commercial plane ticket.”

  “Is this man dangerous?” Melanie asked.

  “Not as dangerous as I am.”

  “Oh.” Melanie eyed the door. “I’ll get ready to go.”

  He reached for her and drew her close. “When I get back, we need to talk.” Maybe by then he’d figure out what he wanted to say.

  Chapter Fourteen

  He’d been chasing Manning for three damn days. A biting rain slashed down, competing with the blustering wind. About an hour outside of Fargo, North Dakota, Colton sat in his rented Jeep, gazing on the quiet fleabag motel. Room 117 to be exact.

  His contacts at the security firm he often used had confirmed Mark had used a credit card to rent the room. Whoever the firm used as a contact had some serious info, which is why he never balked at their fees.

  Colton rubbed his scratchy chin.

  A pudgy man following two hookers had entered a room at the farthest end of the motel, but other than that, there hadn’t been any life. If Mark was in the room, he was being quiet.

  Enough was enough.

  Stepping out of the Jeep, Colt’s boots splashed in a mud puddle. Striding the distance to the door, he calculated the best approach.

  Fuck it.

  Planting his boot near the knob, he kicked in the flimsy door. The cheap metal swung open, banging off the side wall.

  Mark turned from sitting on the bed, and reached for something in his bag.

  Colton was on him that fast, hands fisted in Mark’s shirt. “What’s in the bag?”

  Mark swallowed, his glasses askew on his face. “Nothing.”

  “Right.” Colton tossed the asshole across the room with minimum effort and reached for the barely visible silver gun.

  Mark smashed into the dresser and dropped to the floor.

  Colton frowned, twisting the gun in the meager light. “This is a Lady Smith & Wesson.” He frowned at Mark. “You bought a girl’s gun?”

  Mark shoved himself up from the grimy carpet and straightened his glasses. He wore a faded T-shirt and dress pants. “You just committed a battery.”

  Colton grinned and moved to shut and lock the door. Well, shut the door. The lock no longer worked. “You committed theft, fraud, and the worse crime of pissing me off.” Turning, he leaned back against the damaged door. “Why are you in North Dakota?”

  Mark’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “I have an investor here and am trying to get all of your money back.” He eyed the window and seemed to listen for help.

  There was no assistance coming to this dive. Colt clicked his tongue and stepped forward to grab Mark by the neck. “Try again.”

  Mark’s skinny arms moved up to block, and Colton swatted them away. Shit. The guy wasn’t even worth it. “I thought we were friends,” he said quietly.

  Mark sniffed. “We are friends.”

  “Think so?” Colton threw him into one of two mangy chairs by a Plexi board table. Then he drew Mark’s laptop from the gun bag and set the computer before his former friend. “Where’s the money?”

  Mark shook his head. “The money is gone.”

  Colton pushed the laptop into place. “Where the fuck is my money?”

  Mark wiped his snotty nose on his sleeve. “Gone.”

  Colton sighed and shrugged out of his coat. “I know you, you little prick. You have an overseas account set up, and now you’re going to transfer every cent from that account to this one.” He drew a piece of paper covered with a series of numbers from his front pants pocket.

  “I can’t.” Mark sighed, his hands trembling on the table. “You’ll never kill anybody over money. Other reasons maybe, but not money.”

  “You’re right.” Colton shoved a rough hand through his hair. “I won’t kill you.”

  Mark’s shoulders relaxed.

  “But I will break every single bone in your body, one by one.” He kept his gaze steady. “You think you know me? Keep in mind not only have you stolen from me, you’ve stolen from my family. That’s a hard line you’ve crossed.”

  Mark paled. “I’m sorry, but I needed the money. I made some bad bets, and I’m being chased.”

  “I don’t care.” Colton leaned down, holding Mark’s gaze. “Your problems are yours. Now transfer the money.”

  “I can’t,” Mark whispered, his gaze dropping to the silent laptop.

  Colton shoved up the sleeves of his T-shirt and sat down at the computer. He hadn’t hacked an account since his early teens, but some gifts just stayed with a guy. Even so, it was going to be a long night.

  …

  Darkness without stars surrounded Colton as he jogged down the airplane’s steps in Maverick and tossed his duffel in his truck. Rain smashed down, just as cold as the one in North Dakota.

  It had taken several hours for Colton to hack into the accounts, another hour to realize that the actual money was gone, and then two hours to transfer the patents to his family’s corporation. The cash was gone, but the patents would pay off. Eventually. For now, he had bad news for his family.

  Very bad news.

  God, Colton was tired. Threatening people didn’t set well with him, and he hadn’t slept in nights. The idea of slipping into a warm bed with an even warmer Melanie propelled his foot down on the accelerator.

  His phone buzzed, and he frowned. Who would be calling in the middle of the night? A quick glance showed it was Quinn. “Quinn? What’s up?”

  “Hey. Where are you?”

  “Heading into Mineral Lake.”

  “Good. I’m glad you’re home,” his brother said.

  Colton stilled. “What’s up?”

  “It’s Hawk. His helicopter went down two days ago downrange of Afghanistan.”

  All thought, all emotion, screeched to a halt inside Colton. The anger over the money, the indecision with Melanie, even his fatigue flew away. “Is he—”

  “No. I don’t know any details, and Jake is on the phone with his military contacts, but we know Hawk is alive and survived the crash to be brought home. We just don’t know where he is right now.”

  “I’ll be right over.” Colton pressed harder on the gas pedal.

  “Actually, we’re meeting at Mom and Dad’s in an hour to figure things out. Meet there.” Quinn clicked off.

  Colton swallowed. Where was Hawk? Why the hell had life gone to shit? He’d had a plan, and he’d been a cocky bastard, now hadn’t he? How was he going to fix everything?

  There was only one place to go now.

  …

  After being awakened by the doorbell, Melanie opened her front door to find a disheveled Colton standing in the snow. Hollows accentuated his high cheekbones, and fatigued darkened his eyes. Along with pain. “What?” she whispered.

  “Hawk’s helicopter went down.”

  Melanie blinked, and half-shook her head. Panic burst through her, heating her lungs. “No—”

  “He lived through the crash and was transported to the States.” Colton stepped forward and enveloped her in a hug. “We’re trying to find out which hospital he may be in right now.”

  Relief weakened her knees, and she drew in a deep breath of male. “He didn’t die?”

  “No, and he was healthy enough to bring home to treat, apparently.” Colt stepped back. “We’re meeting at the main ranch in an hour to figure things out. Get dressed, and I’ll drive.”

  Melanie nodded and scrambled upstairs to throw on clothes. If Hawk were okay, where in the world was he? God, he had to be okay. Too much was changing—way too fast. They couldn’t lose Hawk. She finished dressing and ran downstairs to find Colton on the phone.

  He cli
cked off.

  She held her breath until he’d turned around.

  “Hawk was transported back to the States and checked himself out of the veterans’ hospital in Helena. He should be heading home,” Colt said.

  Melanie frowned even as the world finally settled. “Why didn’t he call?”

  “That’s exactly what we’ll ask him when he gets home,” Colton said, grim lines cutting grooves into the side of his generous mouth. “I just left him a message to meet at Mom and Dad’s. Let’s get there before he does.”

  Melanie nodded and yanked on a coat before following Colton into the storm. She settled against the leather in his truck, turning on the seat warmer. Best invention ever. “How was your trip?” she asked as he started the truck and drove into the blowing wind.

  “I got the patents, but we’re broke until they pay off.” His lip twisted.

  She clicked her seat belt into place. “Your family will understand.”

  “I don’t know why they would. I was reckless and stupid.” He shook his head as wind hissed against the windows, and marble-sized hail pounded the truck. “My damn plan didn’t exactly fall into position.”

  Melanie studied his hard profile. Why did his plan always have to be perfect? Everyone made mistakes. “They’ll support you.”

  “They shouldn’t.”

  She didn’t have any other words to offer. So, turning to watch the wild storm, she slid her hand under his as it rested on the console between them. He tangled his fingers through hers with a tight grip.

  Yeah, it felt right.

  Ten minutes later, they’d ensconced themselves at the Freeze main ranch house, and Melanie headed to help Loni in the kitchen. Per orders, Mel sliced potatoes in Loni’s gourmet kitchen and jerked when thunder yelled outside. The hail turned to blustering snow.

  Now she sliced while Loni finished stirring her famous breakfast casserole in a Crock-Pot. Tom Freeze stood next to his wife and kept getting his big hand slapped as he tried to steal a taste of the fragrant concoction. Colton stormed into the kitchen, Quinn on his heels. “He should be here by now,” Colt said.

  Quinn snagged an apple slice from a platter off to the side. “There was a holdup when he checked himself out of the veterans’ hospital outside of Helena. Apparently he did so against doctor’s orders.”