The Cowboy's Thirty-Day Fling

by Jenna Jacob

  “Get his gun, love,” Sawyer instructed with a grunt.

  As Brea crawled under his legs and snatched the firearm off the floor, a loud explosion rang out from the back of the house. Jumping to her feet, Brea raised the gun toward the kitchen as Detective Estes raced into the living room. Blinking in shock, she lowered her weapon and zipped a glance behind her. Sawyer was now standing in the foyer while dozens of officers—wearing tactical gear and with their guns drawn on the drug lord—swarmed in through the front door.

  “Call off the dog,” Estes yelled above the screams and growls.

  “Ozzie! Leave it,” Brea commanded.

  With a snarl, her fuzzy hero let go as the cops slammed the evil prick to the floor. Brea placed the drug lord’s gun on the sofa, then stood watching as the cops knelt on the killer’s back, holding him in place.

  Ozzy, still growling softly, plopped down at her feet, like a sentinel, poised and ready to protect her again if needed.

  After handing his gun to Estes, Sawyer turned—looking as shell-shocked as Brea felt—sprinted from across the room, and gathered her into his arms.

  Clutching her to his chest in a death grip, Sawyer buried his face in her neck while Brea clung to him for dear life. She was trembling like a leaf and trying with all her might not to completely fall apart as tears of relief spilled down her cheeks.

  “Christ, baby. I thought I was going to lose you.” Sawyer’s voice cracked as he pressed his warm lips against her neck.

  “I-I thought I was never…going to…s-see you again,” she choked out, sobbing.

  “Look at you now, Yuri,” Estes chided with an icy smile. “The big, bad Russian crime boss, drug lord, pimp, and all ’round social deviant just got taken down by a man, a woman, and a dog. Guess you’re not so tough after all. Are you?”

  As the criminal began spewing hateful words in his native tongue, Brea had no clue what he was saying, but she was confident Yuri wasn’t rattling off his momma’s recipe for chicken Kiev.

  “Are you all right?” Sawyer’s voice was stronger, but his breathing was harsh, like hers, and his body was still trembling, like hers.

  Unable to reply and keep herself from coming apart at the seams, she simply nodded.

  “Guess you shouldn’t have left your comrades sitting with their thumbs up their asses in that Hummer down the street, huh?” Estes continued goading the man. “Don’t worry, your buddies are cuffed and ready for transport to meet their new friends at the DEA, ATF, and FBI. But I bet they’re going to love hearing that we found you crying like a little boy.”

  Yuri’s face turned red as another round of fury rolled off his tongue. Estes dismissed the man with a wave of his hand before nodding to one of the officers. “Cuff that piece of shit and get him out of my sight. Hand him over to the FBI agents outside and let them decide what to do with his sorry ass.”

  For the most part, Brea had kept her shit wired tight. But when she heard the snick of handcuffs and realized the monster couldn’t hurt her anymore, wave after wave of emotions careened through her, sucking her into an inky-black abyss.

  Brea began shivering like a naked Floridian in Alaska. Tears spilled from her eyes and mournful wails bubbled from deep in her chest. Sawyer swept her up into his arms, then, cradling her like a baby, sat down on the couch. Brea buried her head against his chest, gripped his shirt in her fists, and fell completely apart.

  “It’s okay, my love. I’ve got you. You’re safe. It’s all over,” he cooed as he gently rocked her back and forth.

  Heart pounding like a herd of wild horses, she sobbed inconsolably against Sawyer as bits and pieces of conversations going on around her flitted through her head.

  Yuri Orlov, FBI’s most wanted, methamphetamines, duffle bags, prison, Weed, Colton, Jade. The bits and pieces she plucked from their conversation only confused her more. Blocking them out until their words were nothing but an indecipherable buzz, Brea snuggled closer to the heat of Sawyer’s steely protection. She closed her eyes and let his reassuring whispers carry her away from reality.

  “Brea…baby, it’s Jade. Open your eyes.”

  She lifted her lids and turned her head to find Jade and Colton—wearing matching fearful expressions—kneeling on the floor in front of her. All around them, police officers and plain-clothed detectives paraded through the house, sending a sickly déjà vu crawling beneath her flesh.

  “There’s our girl.” Colton sent her a weak smile.

  “Welcome back, darlin’,” Sawyer drawled, pressing a kiss to her head. “I’m glad you decided to join me again.”

  As her terror-induced fugue slowly dissipated, Brea lifted her head and frantically searched for Yuri.

  “He’s gone,” Sawyer assured. “He’s on his way to Denton, then to a federal holding facility in Houston.”

  There was a wealth of comfort in his words, but Brea found a million times more simply being wrapped in his rugged arms.

  “Bingo! Found it, boss. They were hidden in a false bottom.”

  The announcement came from a suited detective standing at the kitchen table with both hands in one of Brea’s duffle bags. When he pulled packets of white powder from the tote, a strangled cry slid off her lips.

  Weed had hidden drugs in her bags. But worse, he’d sent a Russian drug lord to retrieve them. Her miserable sack-of-shit ex hadn’t given two shits if she lived or died.

  She felt more than used; Brea felt stupid.

  Suddenly, Sawyer’s soothing arms were as painful as thousands of knives cutting into her skin. Logically, she knew he was nothing like Weed and probably never would be…

  Probably.

  That was the kicker. Brea wasn’t positive about any man anymore. She’d lost faith in her own judgment years ago and had no clue how to regain her confidence. She wanted to crawl inside a hole and give up. Not on life but on the fantasy of stupid happily ever afters. Trusting her heart to any pseudo Prince Charming wasn’t only stupid and toxic but also highly dangerous. Of course, they never bothered to tell little girls that…at least not in any of the fairy tales Brea had read.

  Chapter Nine

  Sawyer

  * * *

  The morning sun warmed Sawyer’s back as he stood on Barbara’s deck sipping coffee. Brea and Jade were still inside sleeping. Colton had taken off before dawn to care for his cattle but promised to return as soon as possible. The three of them had kept an all-night vigil in Brea’s room, watching her sleep and gently waking her from the numerous nightmares that came calling.

  Now, as Ozzie ran and marked several trees in the backyard, Sawyer’s heart tightened. If it hadn’t been for the smart dog, Brea might have…

  Stop! You’ve ripped your guts out thinking the same thing all night. Give it a rest.

  But he couldn’t.

  The fears of what might have happened refused to stop spooling through Sawyer’s brain. If Ozzy hadn’t sprinted toward him the minute he’d stepped from his truck. If the dog hadn’t been running freely, barking so vehemently—hackles up and tail not wagging in greeting—Sawyer might never have suspected anything was wrong.

  But he had known. He’d known the instant he glanced at Barbara’s house and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

  Like a bad horror movie on an endless spool, Sawyer’s brain replayed the chain of events. From grabbing his gun from the glovebox and sneaking onto Barbara’s front porch to feeling his lungs seize, gut knot, and heart clutch when he saw the Russian press a gun to Brea’s head. Seeing the blood on her lip and the bright red handprint on her pale porcelain face where the cock bag had slapped her made Sawyer want to raze the fucking house with his bare hands to save Brea.

  Thank god, Weed—the prick-assed motherfucker—had decided to grow a conscience and call Estes after telling Yuri where to find Brea and his drugs. The fact that her ex had been tracking her via her cell phone fueled Sawyer’s bloodlust all the more. Though he and Ozzie had saved her, the cavalry showing up when they had w
as a relief. Not because he wasn’t planning on putting a bullet through Yuri’s head—he was—but now he didn’t have to clean blood and gray matter from Barbara’s walls.

  When the danger was over and Brea’s soulful eyes filled with tears, Sawyer knew shock had finally sunk its claws deep inside her. The only thing he could do was hold her and promise everything was going to be okay.

  Thankfully, it’d played out the way it had, but Sawyer couldn’t stop thinking about what might have happened had it all backfired and…

  Again. Knock it off, asshole.

  Yuri Orlov was now sitting at the Federal Detention Center in Houston awaiting trial. Brea was safe…or at least Sawyer hoped so. Weed had somehow made bail, but God help the cock bag if he ever showed his face in Haven. It would be his last mistake. Sawyer had several friends who owned pig farms. They’d never find the body.

  Of course, the only way he could truly keep Brea safe would be to keep her joined at his hip. He’d play hell convincing her of that. Especially after the heart-to-heart he’d had with Colton in the wee hours of the morning. Sawyer finally understood the reason for her bizarre questions the night Emmett had blown out the window.

  “Shit, that was only the night before…when I was convinced that I’d never love her,” he mumbled to himself.

  He couldn’t make that claim today—because he was in love with her. Sawyer had uncovered that kernel of honesty around four this morning, alone in her room, watching Brea sleep. But the fact that she might only want or need him for a one-night stand shredded his soul.

  Either Murphy’s Law was at play or Sawyer was the unluckiest man on the planet. In the end, it didn’t really matter. He’d finally found a woman he wanted to risk giving his heart to, wake up in bed beside each morning, and come home to each night, only to discover there was a major roadblock in his way. Brea was on a journey of self-discovery, and she was merely at the beginning.

  Somehow…someway, Sawyer had pissed the royal fuck out of Karma.

  “Mind if I join you?”

  Brea’s soft voice surrounded him like a blanket of velvet. When he turned, she stood near the door, mug of coffee in hand as the morning breeze stirred her long, dark hair.

  The woman was a fucking goddess.

  A temptress.

  And sadly, a lost soul so thoroughly broken he didn’t know how or if he could put her back together. But Sawyer was determined to find a way. Yes, sirree. Even if it took superglue, duct tape, and a soldering iron, he’d repair every splintered shard of her delicate soul. Because she was worth it, worth every painstaking, frustrating, perplexing, sassy-assed moment he shared with her.

  Sawyer stood and held out his hand. Brea hesitated but finally placed her fingers in his palm.

  One small step for woman. One giant leap for womankind.

  As he led her to the padded chair beside him, Ozzie, who’d been sniffing out every square inch of lawn, leapt to the deck and sat down at her feet. Brea reached out and rubbed his ears, praising the courageous Doberman once more for his bravery.

  Tiny frown lines lay at her mouth and between her brows. She had something on her mind…something Sawyer suspected he didn’t want to hear. Sitting down beside her, he sipped his coffee and patiently waited for what she had to say.

  “I appreciate everything you, Colton, and Jade have done for me. I’m not going to lie. Last night was rough. It meant a lot having you all upstairs with me. Today is a new day, and I’m putting the past, all of it, behind me. I’m ready to move on. I guess what I’m trying to say is that y’all can go back to your regularly scheduled lives. I’m going to be fine from here on out.”

  Clearly, Brea was trying to convince herself that, after one fitful night of sleep, she’d miraculously bounced back. Or that she could slap a bandage over the emotional wounds of yesterday’s harrowing ordeal, let it fester right along with the other raw, weeping sores—left by every douchebag who didn’t love and cherish her the way they should have—marring her psyche.

  Sawyer wasn’t buying any of it.

  “Is that so?” Keeping his eyes locked with hers, he let the question hang in the air and took another sip of coffee.

  Brea grew nervous at his pointed silence. “Yes. You all have lives and can’t hang around day and night watching Barbara’s gardens grow.”

  “That’s not what we’re doing, and you know it.”

  She ducked her head. “No. You’re babysitting a grown woman who keeps making childish and reckless decisions that always come back and bite her in the ass.”

  “You had nothing to do with that pitiful excuse for a man setting you up.” Sawyer slammed his fist on the arm of his chair.

  Brea recoiled in her chair, causing Ozzie to jump to his feet and bare his teeth at Sawyer in warning.

  “Easy, boy. He won’t hurt me.”

  “That’s the first honest thing that’s come out of your mouth since I met you.”

  Her incredulous expression morphed into a glare meant to incinerate him on the spot.

  “Name one time I’ve ever lied to you.”

  “It’s not me you’re lying to, darlin’… it’s yourself.”

  “I have no clue what you’re talking about.” She tossed her nose in the air and studied the cloudless sky. Thank fuck Weed and Yuri hadn’t destroyed her stubborn spirit, the one Sawyer loved bantering with. He couldn’t help but inwardly smile.

  “You think giving up men is going to automatically make your life nothing but rainbows and kittens.” She opened her mouth to argue, but Sawyer simply held up his hand. “Let me finish. Men aren’t the problem; the caliber of men you associate with is, excluding me, of course.”

  She rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Is that so? I wasn’t aware you were a shrink.”

  “I’m not. But in the short time I’ve known you, I’ve seen a million different sides of you. Brea, you’re like a diamond. I’ve never met a more multifaceted, frustrating, and fascinating woman than you. And any man who can’t see you in all your glory and beauty is either blind or brain-dead. Trust me, darlin’. I’m neither.”

  “I think that’s the most backhanded compliment—well, I’m assuming it was a compliment—that I’ve ever gotten.”

  “Let me put it another way. I was wrong for trying to get in your pants. Not because I don’t ache for you…lord knows I do, night and day. But I want more than your body. I want to crawl inside your mind…until I know everything about you. Because when I get you beneath me, and I will have you beneath me, we are going to share the same air, body, and heart. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  Her little gasp was barely audible, but he heard it. Taking her breath away filled him with pride almost as much as the timid nod she gave him.

  “Good. I have a little proposition for you.” Sawyer leaned in and rested his elbows on the table. “I’d like you and Ozzie to come and spend a few weeks at the ranch with my folks.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “I have to take care of Barbara’s place…her gardens. Besides, your parents have enough on their plate with all those kids. They don’t need another woman and a dog under foot. No. I can’t.” She adamantly shook her head.

  “They’re the ones who suggested it.”

  “When?”

  “Last night. Mom texted me. She was worried about—”

  “Wait. How did your mom find out… Never mind, I know. Haven is an ISP all its own.”

  “Yes, it is. In fact, before they’d finished reading that scum-fuck Yuri his rights, half the town had gathered outside the house.”

  “Oh, god,” she moaned. “I wasn’t paying attention to—”

  “Anything but what you needed to…the sound of my voice.”

  A flicker of recollection lit her eyes briefly before she snuffed it out.

  “Thank you for that. I don’t remember if I told you last night, but I’m grateful that you and Ozzie saved my life.”

  Her phrases were beginning
to sound more and more like a kiss-off. Sawyer wasn’t about to sit idly by and let her shove him out the door. It was time to change things up a bit.

  He flashed her his most dazzling smile. “All in a day’s work for a superhero.”

  When the corners of her mouth kicked up, it was worth the price of tossing out such a cheese-dick line.

  “So you secretly wear a cape and tights?”

  “Cape, yes, but no tights…they chafe my balls.”

  A throaty laugh rolled off her lips and sent his pulse skipping like a five-year-old down an uneven sidewalk. God, he wished he were still as guileless as a kid, especially where Brea was concerned. But life had left him with skinned elbows and knees, and Sawyer had learned to tread more carefully now.

  “So what do you think about packing a bag and letting my family put you to work? Ozzie will come with us, and we’ll drive back each night and water the gardens.”

  She didn’t answer. Instead, she cocked her head and stared at him intently. “What does working on the ranch have to do with you crawling inside my head?”

  Ah, she was a perceptive little minx.

  “Well, if you come to the ranch, we’ll be working together. Not only do I get to keep you safe, but we can spend time together.” He didn’t want to mention yet that he’d be staying the nights there with her as well. “It’ll give us the chance to do what we’re doing now—get to know one another before we move on to bumpin’ bellies.”

  There it was again, that sultry laugh that sent his testosterone surging.

  “I’ve never done that…started a relationship off as friends, I mean,” she shyly confessed.

  Sawyer stood and circled her chair. Taking her hand, he helped her to her feet as that crazy current she always roused zapped him clear down to his boots. In time, he planned to do more than bump bellies with this woman. He planned to rock her world clean off its foundation.

  He pulled her against him and drank in the warmth of her freshly wakened skin. “No time like the present to start. I aim to teach you what no man ever has before… how to love yourself.”