Hung

“There’s a good girl.” Thad’s satisfied voice fills my ear. God. It’s so gross. His erection presses into my lower back. I buck again, but he’s still bigger and stronger. My shoulders burn as he jerks my arms toward him.

The zip-ties tighten around my wrists.

Pick

I need to find Sarah Jo. I don’t know if it’s because I’m desperate to see her, or because I miss her, or just because somehow she’s a part of my life now—a part that matters a whole lot. I’m not a relationship Einstein, but even I know that we’ve got something going on. We may not be labeling shit, but we’re still feeling it.

Okay. I’m feeling it. Who the hell knows what’s going on in Sarah Jo’s head? I spend most of the drive back to fire camp trying to figure it out, but give it up when I run out of road and hit the parking lot. I could drive to Timbuktu and still not find the answers I’m looking for. So I’ll just have to ask.

Words.

Words suck.

I should have swung by the Hallmark store instead of the florist. Tonight could be my lucky night, though. Perhaps when she gets off work, Sarah Jo will be in the mood to play show instead of tell, and she’ll get my message. I glance across at the passenger side seat. So I brought flowers. A dozen red roses because the Internet claims nothing says I love you like red roses. Or a big fucking diamond, but I’m trying to do the woo—not scare my girl off. And while I’m not a flowers kind of guy, I’d like to think I can change for Sarah Jo. Or if I can’t change, I can at least polish up the rough edges a little.

She deserves white picket fences and happily-ever-after. Part of me wants to give her the big-ass diamond and a five-bedroom McMansion in the suburbs. The other, wiser part of me knows I can’t. Sure I’ve got more than enough money to live, but no one gets rich working fire crews, and I’ve always been a simple man with simple tastes. Fire camp has been enough for me.

Until now.

I pull in as quietly as I can because I don’t really want an audience for my flower-toting self. I’d never live it down, and if I crash and burn, I’m gonna need some alone time to lick my wounds. The place seems pretty much deserted, however. There’s a handful of familiar trucks, a couple of beat-up sedans that belong to the cooks, and Sarah Jo’s POS car. The damn grin is back on my face. Just the thought of seeing her, even at the other end of a plate of food, makes me smile.

That’s when I realize that there’s a patrol car tucked in the darkest corner of the makeshift parking lot. Fuck. I don’t need spidey senses to know that something’s wrong. Sarah Jo attracts trouble like nobody’s business, and Thad Hill made his intentions perfectly clear. I’m betting that car belongs to Deputy Douche.

Sarah Jo

Thad drags me to my feet, pulling his gun from its holster and pressing the barrel against my side. “We’re walking out of here.”

I’d like to say Like hell, but he’s won this round. The pain in my face fades some, leaving me clearheaded. He can’t keep me here, not for what he intends. He wants the glory of bringing me in. The pleasure of punishing me for defying him. None of that counts for shit if he can’t get me out the door and into his car. I guess preventing that is my new, best plan.

He gives me a small shake. “You got that?”

“Yeah.” I really, really do.

“Then shut up and start walking.” He wraps an arm around me, dragging me up against his side. The feel of his body touching mine makes me want to gag. I’ve touched him before, although never the way I’ve touched Pick, but this is wrong on so many levels. Ironically, though, Thad and I actually want the same thing at this moment. My only chance lies outside, in the four hundred yards of opportunity on the way to his car.

Plus, would he really shoot me? Right outside where everyone can see? He plans on forcing me to go with him, but that requires a degree of cooperation from me, and he’s definitely counting on me being scared.

And on the handcuffs.

When I flex my wrists, the plastic digs into my skin. There’s zero give, so whatever I do next, I do it bound and trussed. I decide it’s probably best if I don’t worry overmuch about that. One step at a time, right?