by Em Petrova
“What happened? Why did you leave the room?” he whispered into her ear.
She clutched at his spine, tugging at the cloth of his shirt. “A maid came by to warn me we’ll be fired. I packed our things. We need to leave—now!”
He smoothed his hand down her spine, aware of the camera angle on them. Tenderly, he cupped her chin and lifted her lips to his. With a breath between them, he said, “Hell, I never had time to woo you, but I want to now.”
“Boone…” she murmured.
“I’ve been summoned to Black’s office. Go back to the room and wait for me. If we’re terminated, fine—we’re packed to go.”
Her breaths gasped out, and he did what any husband would do to soothe his worried wife—he kissed her.
The tender brush of their lips pulled a moan from her, and her impassioned words back in their room hit him a second time.
My heart!
She’d all but told him she had feelings for him. They hadn’t found a way to discuss the fact they’d fallen into each other’s arms, or that he’d realized that he’d liked her since the moment he set eyes on her.
“We have things to say, honey. And we’re damn well saying them this time.”
A puff of air burst through her lips, and she nodded.
He squeezed her ass, only partly for show to the camera he knew Thornburne would be viewing this very minute. “Go on. I’ll be there as soon as I’m finished with Black.”
She drew away, and he watched her go until she turned the corner and was out of sight. Then he hurried to the meeting with Black.
When he knocked on the heavy wood door, he was composed.
“Come in,” Black called out.
Boone entered Black’s office, which was as opulent as the housekeeper’s had been minimal on their first meeting. Boone had been in here a few other times, and each time he saw some new display of Black’s wealth, from the taxidermy of two African animals to priceless Indian artifacts and even the silver letter opener on the heavy custom-made desk had an ivory handle.
He stepped up in front of the desk. “You asked for a meeting?”
“Yes.” Black glanced up. “Why did you fire my guard?”
“He was impeding my wife from doing her job. He put his hands on her.”
Black cocked a brow. “I understand the need to protect one’s wife. I feel strongly about other men touching what doesn’t belong to them.”
Nobody belonged to another, even through a piece of paper. But he was speaking to a man who kept his wife prisoner.
“You did right in firing him.”
Boone eyed him. This wasn’t what he expected, but he’d roll with it. “Thank you, sir.”
“You’ll be traveling with me tomorrow morning.”
The statement caught him more off guard. “What is our destination, sir?”
Black rested against the back of his seat. “Another damn meeting like last time. This time, I need you to pump up the security around me.”
“Is there some threat I should be aware of?”
“Yes. I have enemies, Marks. In case you didn’t realize it, I’m a very wealthy man who is also hated.”
On one hand, he wanted to grab Lauralee and leave this place forever. But he’d hoped to get Black out of the house before making their move to free Isadora. This could be their one chance.
If he could set things in motion now…
And tie up his wife so she didn’t put herself into worse danger.
“Will the meeting take place in the same location?”
“Yes.”
“I can change up some shifts here and bring a couple of men with us.” That would mean fewer people who might see a maid sneaking Isadora out of her room.
Black nodded. “I’ll require an armored transport too.”
Boone’s brow ticked upward. “That’s some heavy-duty security. I’m sure you have good reason for your request, so I’ll make it happen, but if you don’t mind sharing it, can I ask why you feel someone might make an attempt on your life when we travel to the conference center?”
“That’s above your pay grade, Marks. Your job is to make sure I leave that meeting on my own two feet and not in a body bag.”
Hell on wheels, what dark underworld shit was Black involved in?
But it didn’t matter—Boone was here for the wife.
He gave his boss a single nod. “I’ll see to it, sir. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to thank you for siding with me about the guard touching my wife. I couldn’t countenance such behavior or take a chance that he’d try it again.”
Black leveled a look at him, his eyes filled with a stark rage that nearly knocked Boone backward for its force. “Wives must be kept under strict surveillance, Marks. Never forget that a woman’s door swings both ways, and you never know who she’s flirting with.”
His gut clenched. He managed a stiff, “Yes, sir,” and then hurried out of the office.
Striding as far away as fast as he could didn’t stop the fucked-up horror of Black’s words from assaulting him. Black had more than one twisted thought about being a husband and what those duties entailed. But worse, he’d lumped all women into the group who would cheat and hide under her own husband’s nose. Any thought that Black was trying to protect his wife vanished like morning fog.
It was also the closest Boone had gotten to Black admitting his own wife was locked in a room.
And why were his fists clenching with the need to go back and punch him in his stupid face? Black had all but sullied Boone’s wife’s good name as well, suggesting that she’d invited that guard’s behavior by flirting with him.
He sucked in a deep breath to control his anger, and he headed straight to their suite and whipped open the door.
Lauralee scrambled up from the edge of the bed where she’d been waiting for him. In the instant where their gazes met, the world faded away, leaving only them, in this room, alone in this moment.
“We’re leaving?” she asked.
“Not yet. We’ve got some big plans to make.”
“What kind of plans?”
“We’ll discuss it later. After.”
“After what?”
“After you tell me what you meant when you said you risked your heart.”
Her eyelids fluttered as he closed the distance between them and stopped short of touching her, though the bed was inches away and his body throbbed to take her at the moment when she confessed she had feelings for him.
And for him to be inside her when he told her the same.
He wasn’t a guy who thought things like this. The romance side of a relationship—hell, a relationship at all—wasn’t for him. Yet here he was, thinking crazy thoughts about slow-dancing in the moonlight with stars shining down on them and Lauralee’s plump lips beneath his.
“Boone, are you sure now’s the best time to discuss this? What did Black say? Are we fired? Are we leaving?”
“Now’s the only time. I need to know if we’re both under some voodoo spell, or we’ve been lying to ourselves.”
“L-lying?” She plucked at the ruffled collar of her dress.
He edged an inch closer, so she had to tip her head to see him. “Lying that we disliked each other when you first started working at WEST.”
“I never said I disliked you. Did you dislike me?”
“No, but you got under my skin. I didn’t know why until a few days ago”—he dipped his gaze to her breasts filling out the dress she hated—“when you gave yourself to me.”
She inflated her lungs, and her breasts pushed upward. “Boone, I can’t say what I’m feeling. Not with certainty.”
“Guess at a number. On a scale of one to ten, how deep are you in love with me?” He slipped his hand around her waist, pressing his fingertips into her spine.
Her breath gave a cute hitch. “Uh…eleven?”
Hell, this was it, wasn’t it? The moment he lost his damn mind like his brothers, Ross and Noah, and joined the club of men who were
so devoted to their wives, they’d jump hurdles and walk through fire and make midnight runs to the store for popcorn their women couldn’t live without in order to make them happy.
He stared into her eyes. “Eleven.”
“I mean, it’s only a guesstimate, right?” She rambled when her nerves kicked in.
In one hard yank, he crushed her against him.
Her breaths turned into panting gasps. “Maybe a solid twelve.”
“Or maybe there’s no rating for us.” He slammed his lips over hers. She curled her arms around his neck and wiggled upward until her legs clasped around his waist.
Cupping her ass where her dress hem wiggled up to expose her panties, he turned for the bed. He tumbled her into the mattress, hovering over her to look into her eyes. “I started loving you the minute I walked into the office and saw you, Lauralee.”
A cry escaped her lips, and she yanked his head down to kiss him. Thrusting her tongue into his mouth, she drew a growl from his throat. His cock was stiff and aching, lying too close to her clenching heat but with too many layers between them.
He leaned away from her enough to yank off her panties and bunch her dress around her hips while she attacked his fly. In seconds, his erection was poised at the center of her, and their gazes locked.
“If this ain’t a true marriage, I don’t know what the hell is.”
In one jerk of his hips, he filled her.
* * * * *
She never took notice of it before, but Boone used the word hell a lot.
She threaded her fingers into the soft curling hair on his nape and rocked into each thrust that threatened to rip out her soul. Her inner walls tightened and pulsed around his length, and she held him even tighter on his withdrawals, wanting to keep him inside her—stretching her—forever.
He alternated between kissing her breathless and gazing deep into her eyes with amber lights glowing in the depths of his own. She knew her eyes mirrored the same lights of love, because there was no use in denying it any longer. Or fighting it either.
She surrendered to her lover in body and heart, giving as freely as he did in this minute.
Dark circumstances had brought them together, and bound them together, and still they managed to find some joy in each other. She didn’t want to let him go.
His thick cock plunged into her again and again, building her higher until she felt she could reach up and skim the stars with her fingertips. Her cries gathered in her throat as her release pounded up from her core.
At the same moment, he gave a violent jerk and shuddered. His liquid heat hitting her insides had her tipping over the edge with him. She locked her arms around him and rode out the waves of her orgasm, bliss pounding through her veins.
They came down at the same moment, shivering in each other’s arms. Boone lifted his head to stare down at her with pure love in his expression.
“My wife,” he grated out as if someone had rubbed his vocal cords with sandpaper.
“Hus-band.” Her voice caught in the middle of the word.
He gave a shake of his head as if he could hardly believe what was happening to them. Then he kissed her softly, a single caress, before he pulled back.
She closed her eyes on the sensation of him withdrawing from her body, and then watched as he tucked his still-hard length into his pants. “I don’t know what that was—”
He cocked a brow at her, and the corner of his lips quirked up with it. “That was lovemaking, honey.”
She sat up and attempted to search for her panties. He plucked them off the floor and dangled them from one finger before handing them to her.
Insides mushy all over again, she took the garment and shimmied into them. “It was great too, but what’s going on? You didn’t answer any of my questions.”
“No, we aren’t leaving.” He zipped up. “Black’s leaving for a meeting tomorrow. I’ll go with him, along with a couple of guards from the ranch.”
She gaped. “What does that mean for our mission?”
“It means that I don’t want to ask you to go into Isadora’s room and free her, but you’re the only one who will have access tomorrow.”
She sucked in sharply. “I’m freeing her?”
“I’ll have some of the guys from WEST here. They’ll be able to slip in with fewer eyes on the gates.”
“Can this be arranged on such short notice?”
He already had his phone in hand, shooting off text after text.
“How do you expect me to get into her room? What if they don’t want me to carry trays anymore, after what happened with that guard?”
“Who else wants to? Just assure the cook that you can do it, and nothing bad will come of it since that guy no longer works on the Black ranch.”
She eyed him. “Why are you trusting me now with this risk?”
“Because you proved you can handle more than I ever guessed.”
“You thought just because I sit behind a computer doing coding that I can’t do anything else?” She set her hand on her hip.
He cut his gaze over her face and body. “You can do anything you put your mind to, even fall for a jerk like me. Now, here’s the plan.” He took her by the elbows and gave her a blow-by-blow of how things would happen, and in what order.
She listened to everything, questions popping up in her mind right and left. If things went wrong. If someone wasn’t there with a truck for them to make their escape.
If, if, if.
She still vibrated from her pleasure, but it was quickly fading thanks to what they were about to do.
Boone was looking at her, a crease between his brows. “It’s a lot to ask of you, honey.”
“I can do it. I know I can.”
“You’ll only have Thornburne on the ranch to worry about, and I’m going to make sure he’s looking the other way when the time comes.”
“How do you plan to do that?”
He leaned over her, eyes dark. “Trust me. A Wynton knows how to blow shit up when he has to.” He sliced a grin at her before stamping a kiss on her lips and then walking out of their room.
It was only after her body stopped responding to the manly promise in that kiss that she realized he’d left—yet again—without unzipping her ugly uniform dress.
* * * * *
“C’mon, bro. Pick up the damn phone.”
Ross’s phone rang three times and went to voicemail.
WEST Protection might be up and coming, but their support system sucked big, red-hot nuts. As soon as Boone returned to the office, he was going to hold a roundtable and fix this slip in their gears.
Boone cussed and stabbed another number. “Mathias. Thank fuck. I need guys dispatched to my location immediately. Requesting at least two men—four preferred. Bring the usual.”
“What if it’s only me here?”
“Son of a bitch—are we that shorthanded?”
“The answer to that is yes. If you knew the crap I’ve been doing these past few days—”
“Don’t mean to cut ya off, cousin, but I’m in dire straits here.”
“All right, I’m loading up right now. I’ll grab Landon on the way to the chopper.”
“Thought you said nobody was around?” Landon was the youngest of his cousins and Mathias’s brother.
“He just got in. Hasn’t even shut his eyes in forty-eight hours, he says.”
“He can sleep in the air.”
“Exactly,” Mathias drawled, a hard edge to the syllables that told Boone at least he was taking him seriously. “Over and out. See you when we get there.”
From the corner of his eye, Boone caught movement. He thought he was alone out here in the back of the stable, but he’d guessed wrong.
He ended the call and stuffed the phone in his pocket even as he turned and headed toward Thornburne.
Each thudding step he took rang to the high ceilings and thumped the wood floor. The stalls were all empty, the horses out to pasture, and that left a hell of a lot of good
spots for Boone to hide Thornburne after he hogtied him.
How much had the bastard overheard? The curl of his upper lip told him it was enough to make Boone’s life hell.
“I knew you were up to something. What is it? You’re part of Allied Brotherhood?”
“What the hell’s that?” Boone was five paces away. His muscles coiled, and he slanted a sideways glance at a length of rope hanging on a nail on the wall.
“A group attempting to murder Black.”
Boone never slowed his pace, but he acknowledged Thornburne’s statement as new intel. “Haven’t heard that name before. Should I be flattered you think I’m part of the group?”
Their conversation held the same tone as it would if they were discussing weather or sweet tea on a summer’s day. It rolled off both their tongues with no trace of heat or hate.
“I wouldn’t be.”
Boone stopped in front of him, gave a shrug, grabbed the rope, and then snapped an arm around the guard’s neck at the same moment he threw him down. Within seconds, he had Thornburne facedown and trussed like a hog.
The man let out a bellow, but Boone was prepared for that too, and he stuffed his handkerchief into the man’s mouth.
Hell in a hootenanny. Someone was coming. The footsteps sounded too light and musical to belong to one of the ranch hands, and they sure as hell weren’t the foreman’s.
He swung toward the door, prepared for another throw down, when Lauralee appeared in the opening.
“What on…” She stopped short and stepped into the stable, gaze landing on Thornburne immobilized on the floor and Boone guarding him. Her gaze flew to his. “What are you doing!”
“He was listenin’ in on my phone call. I can’t have him blabbering to Black.”
She walked down the center aisle between the stalls, keeping distance between her and the man on the floor. “No, we can’t have that.”
Boone was watching Thornburne’s face when she spoke. Fury popped a vein in his forehead, and it pulsed there, heavy and purple.
“Are you going to burn the soles of his feet or pull out his nails?”
He damn near burst out laughing at Lauralee’s question, but he swallowed it before any sound broke free. He scratched his head. “Both crossed my mind. But I might just drag him a bit behind a horse until he tells us what we need to know.”
