Tangled (Steele Ranch 3)

“No.”

“Any drug paraphernalia? Needles?”

“No.” She shook her head, the tips of her long hair swiping over the SUV’s white hood.

“Knives?”

“No.”

I stepped up behind her, performed the standard, perfunctory frisk, keeping it as professional as fucking possible the way my dick got hard at the feel of her. Yeah, it remembered her.

“All done,” I said, my voice gruff.

She turned around, watched me carefully, although her gaze darted down the road once or twice.

Pulling the cuffs from my belt, I slipped them over her slim wrists, clicked them into place. It wasn’t protocol, not by a long shot, to not only handcuff someone who wasn’t actually being arrested, but also to keep her hands in front. I, technically, wasn’t on duty and I had no intention of calling in that I had someone in custody, because she wasn’t. She was with me, Archer the man, not the sheriff. I wasn’t taking her to the station, I was taking her to Steele Ranch. To Sutton and Lee. To get her between all three of us again. To talk, to find out what the hell was going on with her and then find out why the hell she’d disappeared. And if that led to her getting naked and me getting inside her, then that was fine with me.

In the meantime, if being restrained eased her mind, then fine. I didn’t want to spook her any more than she already was. I’d play along for now to make sure she wasn’t in any danger. And if she needed help, she’d get it from her three men.

I took her by the arm, her bare skin silky soft and warm, and walked her around the front of the car to the passenger seat. I remembered running my hands over her curves, each and every one of them.

“Aren’t you putting me in the back?” she asked, as I reached across her to click her safety belt into place.

Leaning in as I was, I met her gaze. Fuck, was she pretty. She did have the little chicken pox scar on her cheek. A tiny circle over by her ear and I had to wonder what the one on the inside of her knee looked like—up close and personal. And her eyes, so dark as to be almost black, stared at me with a mixture of continued panic and curiosity. I took a breath, let it out. Took in her scent. Coconut? Something tropical was coming from her long hair.

I felt it. That jolt. The need to claim her just as I’d felt it that one night last summer. And I hadn’t even known what she looked like. The connection had transcended the superficial. Sutton, the fucker, had met her at the damned rodeo as Lee competed. Saw her, knew she would be his and claimed her. Then there was the one night with the four of us together. Sutton, Lee and I had wanted to keep her. For more than sex. For fucking everything, which was insane.

But now? Now I knew my gut feeling I’d had back then had been right. Sutton had been right to be pretty much a monk since that wild time because she was the one. And now I had her. Caught.

Handcuffed. She was mine. Ours. She’d find that out soon enough.

She’d gotten away once. We weren’t going to let that happen again.

3

CRICKET

* * *

“Who are you afraid of that had you driving so fast?” he asked, ten minutes down the road.

I startled. My brain had been replaying my harrowing escape from the strip club. No doubt by now Rocky was on the hunt for me. Not for the two thousand dollars supposedly owed Schmidt, but no way would they let it go that I’d gotten away from them. Rocky was too much of an asshole, way too cocky to let a woman get the better of him. It was clear he and Schmidt thought a woman’s place was half naked on a stage or on her knees. He’d want retribution for besting him and having me strip definitely wouldn’t be what he had in mind once he got his hands on me.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied, then bit my lip. Not a good idea to lie to the law, but I had no interest getting into the details of what I’d done. I’d gotten myself into this mess, I’d get myself out. Just like I always had.

I glanced at the name on the strip of metal pinned to his shirt. Wade. The sheriff—Wade—had one hand on the wheel, the other rested casually on his thigh. He didn’t seem upset that I was lying through my teeth. He didn’t do anything except drive, which had me slowly exhaling a pent-up breath.

The SUV was big and filled with all kinds of radios and computers, safety gadgets and buttons. But when he’d slipped behind the wheel, the interior got small real fast. He was big, broad and hot as hell. Around mid-thirties, he hit every single one of my hot buttons. Dark hair, dark eyes. Strong brow. Yesterday’s five o’clock shadow darkened his square jaw. It was hard to tell how broad he was because it was obvious he had a bulky bullet-proof vest on beneath his uniform. He exuded authority and command which strangely soothed me, especially after being with the very bossy and dangerous Schmidt. He made me feel…safe.

“Where were you headed in Barlow?” he asked conversationally as I could see the town in the distance.

The place was small and there was nothing around it. Open prairie, rugged rock formations, buttes, a mountain range in the distance. Long strips of cottonwood trees dotted the green prairie as they lined a creek or stream. It was a pretty setting, but all I cared about was that it was far from Schmidt and Rocky.

A voice came over the radio, but he reached to the console, pressed a button and it went quiet.

I was glad for the easier question, so I replied, “Steele Ranch.”

I couldn’t think of a reason to keep that from him. He was driving. The car slowed as if he’d lifted his foot from the pedal, but only for a second as his eyes met mine.