Booted (Trails of Sin 3)

I’m not packing a gun, but I always carry a hunting knife in my boot. It’s the same knife that cut Jarret and I out of our restraints the night Conor was brutalized. It saved our lives, and I trust it to save me again.

Raina stirs beside me, her eyes sweeping over the sign on the door. “Who’s Cora?”

The last girl I fucked. I took her to prom. Then I drove her to a field and took her in the bed of my truck. I ripped her fancy dress in my urgency, but she didn’t care. She’s a seamstress, after all, and by the dreamy look on her face that night, she was fixing to chase me for a lifetime of more.

I liked her well enough. Hell, she could’ve been the one I married. But life had different plans for me.

“She’s an old friend.” I exit the truck and pocket the phone. “Slide out on my side.”

Raina’s chest hitches, and her gaze darts over the pitch-black surroundings.

“Don’t rush on my account.” I drop my hands to my hips.

After another moment of indecision, she scoots across the seat and climbs out.

“Do not leave my side.” With a hand on her stiff elbow, I lead her into the shop and lock the bolt behind me.

A bell rings overhead, followed by the pad of soft footsteps. A tall, willowy blonde emerges from the back, and my breath snags. Lord help me over the fence, she’s even prettier than I remember.

My hand falls from Raina’s arm, my skin tight and hot.

Cora’s huge smile spirals through the space between us, and she squeals with delight. Weaving around circular racks of clothing, she hurries toward me and tackles me in a hug.

“Welcome home, baby.” She leans back, her guileless gray eyes full of sweetness and laughter. “I’m so glad you called.”

“Thanks for seeing me after hours.”

“Anytime.” She cups my face and slides her hands down my neck and over my shoulders. “My stars and garters, look at you! I mean… Wow. You’re quite the looker, Lorne Cassidy. You always were, but the years have been very, very kind.”

The years have been lonely and cruel, but I don’t bother correcting her.

“And who’s this lovely lady?” She turns toward the simmering woman at my side.

“Raina Benally.” Raina gives her a stiff wave and an even stiffer smile.

“Raina’s a friend of the family,” I say. “She’s staying with us for a while and needs some clothes fit for the ranch.”

“Excellent.” Cora claps her hands together. “I’ll hook you both up.”

“How’s business?” I stroll through the shop, keeping an eye on Raina while searching for exterior doors.

“It’s been a tough eight years,” she says. “My passion is tailoring and shopping for new clothing lines, but most of my time goes to building my brand and bringing in dedicated clientele. Self-employment means long hours and no personal life.” She holds up her ringless left hand. “Still not married. Guess I haven’t found a man willing to put up with my ambitions.” Her gaze lowers to a garment rack, and she fidgets with the hangers, mumbling, “Or maybe I’ve been waiting for the right one to come home.”

I catch her meaning loud and clear and wouldn’t mind giving it a go with her again. At a minimum, I’d enjoy sinking into her soft cunt. As the idea settles through me, I brace for a roaring fire to spark in my belly.

Nothing ignites, and my gaze shoots to Raina.

She stands off to the side, a hand on her cocked hip, and her expression pinched as if she swallowed a lemon. Just the sight of her dries my mouth. She’s an addictive drink of legs and attitude, with a kick of heat and vinegar.

That’s when I feel it, low and angry beneath my belt. A twisting, thrashing, burning inferno of frustration.

I roll back my shoulders and turn to Cora. “You keep the back door locked?”

“When I remember.” She laughs. “It’s quiet around here.”

“Mind if I check it? I don’t want someone slipping in and catching you unaware while you’re here alone at night.”

“Oh.” Her cheeks flush. “Yes. Please, do. It’s right through there.”

I follow the point of her finger through the cramped space and spot the door beyond a row of shelving units. Heading that way, I mark Raina’s location.

The bolt on the door looks old and easy to kick in. There’s no overhead bell like the front entrance. Nothing to alert me if someone breaks in.

I glance at Raina’s bristling posture and search the space around the door, honing in on the trashcan. Empty cans of energy drinks fill it to the rim. No wonder Cora’s so bubbly and energetic. She’s hyped up on caffeine.

As I line up the cans in front of the door to create a makeshift alarm, my thoughts descend to the swelling hunger between my legs.