Daddy in Cowboy Boots (Montana Daddies Book 9)

by Laylah Roberts

  “Oh no, I always pay my speeding fines. I mean, I don’t get that many. At least, not in Montana. Those sorts of things don’t follow you from other states, do they?”

  The policeman made a strangled noise and she finally dared to look up at him.

  All right, he was tall. But then she was sitting down so it was kind of hard to tell for sure. Broad shoulders. Like Linc.

  But this guy was a cop.

  Easy, Marisol.

  It’s not him. This isn’t the same. Not all cops are corrupt assholes with enormous egos who think they can threaten little girls.

  She couldn’t tell much else about him considering it was dark and his headlights cast his features into shadow.

  “License and registration please.”

  “Huh?”

  “License and registration.”

  “Oh right. Should have thought of that. I’m just gonna get them from my glove box.”

  “That would be good, thank you,” he said politely.

  Okay, so far, he was blowing all her preconceptions about cops into pieces. Her hand still shook slightly as she passed over the bits of paper.

  “Ma’am, are you okay? Have you been drinking tonight?”

  “I had a few sips of a pink lemonade. Oh no, I never asked if it had alcohol in it. What if it had alcohol in it? No, I don’t think it did. I would have been able to tell, right?”

  There was a beat of silence and she went back over what she’d just said. Right. He wouldn’t know if it had alcohol in it, because he wasn’t there. He didn’t have a pink lemonade.

  “Jesus, Marisol. Get a grip,” she muttered.

  “Pardon?” he asked as he shone his flashlight down onto her credentials.

  “Nothing, sorry. I’m rambling. I talk a lot when I’m nervous.”

  “I make you nervous?”

  “Yes. But don’t take offense,” she said hastily. “All cops make me nervous.”

  “Yeah? There a reason for that?”

  “An over-active imagination,” she said meekly. No way was she telling him the truth. Cops stuck together. Even when they lived in different states.

  “Okay. You need to stick to the speed limit while driving, young lady.”

  Young lady?

  “I’m sorry, sir.” He just had that kind of voice that commanded respect, even though he wasn’t being harsh. His tone was a mix of firm and kind.

  Weird as that sounded.

  She wondered again what he looked like. He had a nice voice. But he was likely old. Wrinkled. Maybe with a hairy nose and ears.

  “Where have you been tonight?”

  “At Sanctuary Ranch, I work for the spa in town. I was hired to do nails and facials for a bridal shower.”

  “Ahh, Charlie’s bridal shower? Heard she’s been ill.”

  “Um, yeah. That’s why I came out here. Because they couldn’t come in earlier. Charlie has really pretty nails now.”

  “I’m sure she does,” he said warmly. “Right, Marisol. Here’s what’s going to happen—”

  “I’m going to jail.”

  “Okay, you need to stop thinking that I’m going to put you in jail. You’re giving me a complex.”

  “But you’re a police officer. Isn’t that what you do?” she asked nervously.

  “Funnily enough, there is more to my job than taking people to jail. It would be rather full if I did that to everyone I met.”

  Right. Of course. Stop being a twit.

  “So, what’s going to happen is that you, young lady, are going to drive home at the speed limit or less the entire way. From now on, there is to be no more speeding or the next time you’re caught I’m not going to be so lenient. Understand?” His voice was very stern now.

  But strangely, it didn’t do things to her like Linc’s voice had. Maybe it was because she’d felt more at ease with Linc. He wasn’t a dirty cop, after all.

  Jeez, Marisol, this guy likely isn’t a dirty cop either. He hasn’t done anything but be nice to you.

  “Yes, sir, I understand. Sorry. It really won’t happen again.”

  At least, she hoped if it did, that she didn’t get caught.

  He handed the papers back through the window to her.

  “You’re really not giving me a ticket?” she asked in a small voice.

  “I’m really not.”

  She let out a relieved sigh. That would save her from her aunt’s wrath.

  “Everything okay, sweetheart?” he asked. “Are you all right driving home alone?”

  “Oh yes, I’m fine.”

  “You’ve got a cell phone? It’s charged?”

  These were weird questions for a cop to ask, right? Maybe it was a country thing. She’d only ever lived in cities before now.

  “Ah, yes, I do.” Her aunt had given her one of her old cell phones. But it only had a small amount of credit on it. Her aunt liked her to have it on her so she could call her when she needed her. It was a wonder she hadn’t already called to see where Marisol was.

  “Good. You shouldn’t be driving around at night alone without a phone. Keep the doors locked and drive straight home, understand?”

  “Yes, sir.” It slipped out automatically even as she tried to work out why he cared.

  “Good girl. Good night, Marisol.”

  “Good night, sir.”

  “Call me Ed. Nice to meet you. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.”

  Lord, she really hoped not.

  2

  Marisol pulled up around the back of her aunt’s house with a sigh of relief.

  She never thought she’d be happy to get home. Not that this was her home. It was Rosalind’s house. Never hers. Which was just as well since this house was butt ugly.

  It was enormous. Way too much space for just the two of them. Although she was grateful that it had just been the two of them lately. The last place they’d lived in, her aunt’s boyfriend had been around a lot. As had his friends. When that happened, Marisol usually hid in her bedroom with the dresser across the door and her headphones on, losing herself in a book.

  The next morning, she’d wake up to a mess she was expected to clean up. Because God forbid that Rosalind ever tidy up her own mess.

  That would never happen.

  Her stomach dropped as she walked through the garage and saw the big black truck with red flames along the side sitting there.

  Mierda!

  Saber was here.

  Stupid ass name for a total asshole. Her aunt’s longtime boyfriend. So longtime that she’d been seeing him throughout her past two marriages. Rosalind was a serial trophy wife. She liked them old and super-rich. The man she’d been married to when Marisol first came to live with her had been her favorite. Harrison.

  Unfortunately, he’d divorced Rosalind when Marisol was only seven. She wished she could have stayed with him. She’d begged her aunt to leave her with him, she’d cried for him every night for weeks. He’d been the only father she’d ever known. Her own father had abandoned them before she was even born. And her mama had died when she was four.

  Harry had always been there for her. When it was her first day of school, he’d taken her. When she broke her arm falling out of a tree, he’d rushed her to the emergency room. When he’d learned one of the girls at school was bullying her, he’d marched down to the school and taken care of it.

  Life would have been much different if Rosalind had stayed with Harry. Or left Marisol with him.

  But after Harry, Rosalind had moved onto greener pastures. Each time, she’d gotten a divorce or her husband died, she’d ended up richer. Which is why Marisol had been surprised when Rosalind told her she was opening a beauty spa. Rosalind didn’t exactly like to work. Now she had five beauty spas in four different states.

  Not that she worked anyway. No, she liked to sit and direct. They’d moved around a lot these past few years. From Texas to Arizona to California and now they were here. In Montana. But weirdly, Rosalind hadn’t chosen a big city this time. Her a
unt wasn’t a country sort of person. She liked to be somewhere she could flaunt her wealth.

  There were no expensive shops or snooty restaurants here in Wishingbone.

  Which Marisol actually loved. Wishingbone was still big enough to have everything but it still retained that small-town feel. Still, she didn’t understand it. Her aunt liked attention. Case in point, buying the most expensive, ostentatious house she could find.

  It was so ugly, it hurt Marisol’s eyes.

  But it showed her aunt for what she was. Totally classless and clueless. Rosalind thought money bought her respect and power. Marisol doubted it would impress the people in this town. The Jensen’s house was slightly smaller, but far nicer. You could tell they had money but it wasn’t pushed in your face.

  They didn’t scream look at me.

  Marisol had been hoping that Saber wouldn’t turn up here. She was certain small-town Montana wasn’t his thing either.

  She should have known better than to think her aunt was done with him. There had to be some reason Rosalind moved here and she would bet it had everything to do with Saber and his gang of goons.

  Marisol glared at his truck. She wasn’t allowed to put her car in the garage, she had to drive it around the back, even though she lived here. Wouldn’t do to let the neighbors see it. She hadn’t bothered to point out that they could easily spot her coming and going in it. She’d learned it wasn’t worth standing up to Rosalind. She held all the power.

  Sometimes Marisol thought about just leaving. Walking away. There had to be a life out there for her, right?

  There was just one problem. Money.

  She had none. The small amount she’d managed to squirrel away might get her a bus ticket out of here and a few weeks in a cheap motel.

  But it wouldn’t be enough to get her into even a cheap apartment.

  And it definitely wouldn’t be enough to pay for her medication.

  So here she was, stuck. Did she know her aunt was exploiting her? Course she did. Did she know that how she treated her was illegal? You bet. She wasn’t dumb. But what could she do? Report her? And where would that get her?

  Homeless and on the streets. That’s where.

  At least with her aunt, she had a house to live in, books to read and access to the medicine she needed.

  Kind of important things.

  She slid into the mudroom then out into the kitchen, listening carefully. Some thumps and moans came from the direction of the living room. Christ, she knew exactly what those sounds were. You didn’t grow up with Rosalind without hearing them plenty.

  Why couldn’t they take things into the bedroom? Why did they have to fuck out in the open where anyone could see?

  She was pretty certain her aunt was an exhibitionist. But, eww, the last thing she wanted was to see her aunt naked.

  Or even worse, Saber.

  Sure, he was okay looking for an older guy. In shape. But yuck, she really didn’t want to see his willy.

  Willy. She whacked her hand over her mouth so she didn’t giggle. She’d been reading this romance written by a woman who lived in the UK and had seen the word. It made her laugh every time. She knew that was childish, but she needed something to lighten the tension flooding her.

  She had three choices. She could go back outside and wait in the car until they were finished. That was problematic because if her aunt caught her walking in later, she was likely to get mad at her for being late.

  Choice number two, wait in the kitchen until they’d finished. But that was basically as bad as waiting in the car, only she could hear them fucking in here.

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  Something smashed. Great. She was going to have to clean that up before her aunt got up in the morning. While her aunt might like to hump all over the house, without a care to being caught, she hated when things got broken. Usually because they cost a disgusting amount of money.

  With a sigh, Marisol knew which choice she was going to go with. She would have to sneak past the living area to the stairs and hope they didn’t catch sight of her.

  Right, Marisol, you can do this. You know how to move quietly when you want.

  Yep. She’d had lots of practice.

  Graceful and light. Two things she’d never be.

  Exhaustion came over her in a wave and her stomach growled, reminding her that it had been a while since she’d eaten. Not good. She grabbed some cheese and crackers from the kitchen, stuffing it all in her handbag to eat in her room.

  Sweat broke out along her skin as she tiptoed along the passage towards the stairs. Just as she’d guessed, the living room doors were wide open, inviting anyone who walked past to peer in.

  Gross.

  She snuck a peek. Not because she wanted to see them fucking, but because she wanted to gauge whether either of them were facing her way. She immediately regretted it when she saw Saber’s naked ass as he pounded into her aunt who was lying stomach down over the back of the horrid floral couch.

  Please don’t let them stain it.

  Also, note to self, don’t sit on that couch ever again.

  Wishing she could erase her memory or burn her eyes, either would suffice, she made her way around the banister and started climbing the stairs. Her aunt was making these weird keening noises while Saber grunted like an animal.

  Too late, she remembered the stair that creaked. She cringed as she stepped on it. Like a deer caught in headlights, she froze. Then she glanced over to make sure that her aunt hadn’t heard her.

  She hadn’t. But Saber had.

  His dark gaze caught her. A shiver of dread went through her.

  Then he smiled.

  Goosebumps crossed her skin and she thought she might vomit. She rushed up the stairs as he let out a deep roar. Her aunt’s cry following.

  Jesus. Jesus. So gross.

  She flung herself into her bedroom, and quickly turning, locked it. The lock was pretty flimsy and she didn’t really trust it. She should move the dresser.

  She spun around, heaving out a breath of relief.

  And realized that in her haste, she’d failed to pay proper attention to her surroundings. Her heart beat sped up, her stomach dropping as she took in the heavily-tattooed man lying on her bed.

  “Hello, Marisol. Long time, no see.”

  3

  Marisol froze.

  She stared.

  “Have you got no greeting for your brother?” he said with a purr.

  “You’re not my brother.” The idea of it was ridiculous. And horrifying.

  “When our parents get married, I will be.”

  “She’s not my mother,” she spat at him. Married? Oh God. Please don’t tell her that Rosalind was marrying Saber?

  He narrowed his gaze at her. Those green eyes turned dark. They were so like his father’s that another shiver worked its way through her. “What’s wrong, Marisol? Don’t like the idea of being my sister? It won’t stop us from becoming more intimately acquainted. It’s not incest, after all. But it does add a certain taste of the forbidden, don’t you think?”

  What she thought was that she was about to throw up.

  She needed to get this asshole out of her bedroom.

  Why hadn’t she thought about the fact that Tiger would be with his father? He might be twenty-four, but he’d been raised in his father’s gang. He was being groomed as his Saber’s right-hand man.

  And he seemed to believe that he had some claim on her.

  Not. Happening.

  She’d rather take her chances on the street than end up under this man. No, boy. Linc was a man. Tiger was a spoiled little boy who didn’t like hearing the word ‘no.’

  Actually, her telling him ‘no’ seemed to make him dig in his feet. It seemed to be some sort of challenge to him. A game. He couldn’t seem to comprehend that she didn’t actually want him.

  Sure, under other circumstances, if he was a guy just walking down the street, she might have thought he was cute. But because she knew him, knew
what he was capable of . . .

  He was ugly.

  “I’ve been having to entertain myself until you got home.” It was then that he held up the thing in his hand. Too late, she realized what it was. Her heart beat sped up.

  “That’s mine.”

  Her precious eReader. The only thing that kept her sane. If she didn’t have her books, she didn’t know what she would do. The characters in those stories were her friends.

  Her only friends. Her only escape.

  “Give it back.”

  “Some very interesting stories in here. These are some very kinky desires that you’ve been hiding, Marisol. Tell me, does your aunt know about the stuff you read?”

  Her entire body shook. She didn’t know if it was in reaction to his words or her blood sugar levels getting too low. A mix of both, she was betting.

  He stood, moving with the elegance of a coiled snake waiting to pounce. She watched him, barely breathing. He grew closer and her fear grew. If he wanted to hurt her, he could. There was no one here to stop him. She doubted her aunt would care and his father would probably cheer him on.

  Now she was wishing that the sheriff had taken her to jail and locked her up. She’d take her chances with that soap shank.

  “What was it you called me last time I saw you? Depraved?”

  “You suggested I have a threesome with you and your dad!”

  “You should have been flattered.” He started to circle around her and it was all she could do to stand there. To not follow him, not show how afraid she really was.

  How terrified.

  “F-flattered? He’s my aunt’s boyfriend!”

  “So? She could have watched.”

  “Eww.”

  Too late, she realized she should have guarded her words better as he grabbed her wrist, dragging her towards him. He squeezed her wrist until she cried out in pain.

  “You want to be very careful about the way you treat me, Marisol. You think you’re better than the whores who hang around me and my dad, trying to get their hands on our cocks? You’re not. And very soon, my old man and I are gonna be your family. Then I’m going to be in charge of you.”