Booted (Trails of Sin 3)

“Come here.”

I pull, and her body falls against mine in a delicious blanket of velvety hair and warm skin. We already showered, and I’m stripped down to my briefs.

Gripping her nightgown, I lift it up and off. Then I position her in the center of the bed and extinguish the light.

“How are you getting along with the security guard?” I curl into her and trail my fingers along her hipbone, eliciting a shiver along her skin.

“Erin is…different.”

Erin is ex-military. And a very stern woman. I should’ve known Jake wouldn’t hire a man to watch Conor on the cameras. But that’s not all Erin does.

She has an extensive technical background and improved the functionality of our surveillance equipment. She’s able to shadow Raina’s every move while monitoring Conor on a mobile device.

I still worry every time Raina leaves my sight, but Erin has enabled me to focus on the cattle and the tasks that must be finished.

“Only a few more days.” I run my fingers through her hair.

She releases the sweetest sound, a whispering moan of comfort, and snuggles deeper into my chest.

She makes me ache. An ache that twinges as much as it soothes.

Sometimes, when I wake at night and feel her motionless against me, I can’t breathe until I check her pulse. Or when I come home for dinner and she’s at the back door waiting for me, I’m paralyzed by an unguarded pang of longing.

I can’t compartmentalize the depth of these feelings. I’ve never experienced anything so exquisitely intense or as terrifyingly vulnerable as the love I feel for her.

More than anything, I want to shackle her to our bed while I hunt down and fight John Holsten to the death.

Because if I lost her…

I can’t. I won’t let it happen.

I fill my lungs with that conviction, but the dread doesn’t recede. It multiplies.

The next afternoon, I climb the rails of the steel fence around a temporary corral and scan the sea of twitching ears and mooing mouths. Sweat trickles between my breasts. My limbs shake with exhaustion, and to think, we only have eight excruciating hours of work left today.

I’ve been manning the chutes with Maybe since before dawn, operating the gates and herding cattle from one location to another. The heat from the sun and the endless walking and lifting is taking its toll on my body. I can’t wait to crawl into bed tonight with my cowboy and sleep away the aches.

But right now, I need to get some food in these ranchers before they pass out.

I spot Lorne’s black Stetson near the standing stocks, where the cattle await examinations, branding, and vaccinations.

He crouches beside a calf, his handsome face shadowed with fatigue and tension.

When I climb another rung and rise above the herd, he goes still, as if sensing me all the way across the corral.

His head lifts, followed by those green eyes, and my stomach buzzes like a bee hive. There’s such a powerful, self-confident aura around him I can feel him all the way from here.

“Lunch,” I mouth.

He rubs his nape and scowls in the direction of the estate, at the security guard standing off to my side, and back to me.

Yes, I have to run to the house to grab food. Yes, Erin will be with me at all times. And yes, I’ll hurry right back.

He hears me. He doesn’t like it, but he gives me a nod of assent.

Since Erin doesn’t ride horses, she drives me back in her SUV.

At the house, I hurry through the kitchen, chopping fruit and slapping together barbecue sandwiches.

Erin sits at the table, staring at the device in her hand with a pinched expression. She never initiates conversations and usually only responds with single-syllable answers.

Her brown hair smooths into a ponytail that sits high on her head. Minimal makeup highlights her sharp cheekbones, and cargo pants bunch around her slim frame. She’s pretty in a stern, militant way.

If I had to guess, she’s in her late-thirties and single.

“So…” I stuff the food into a large cooler. “Are you married? Any kids?”

“No,” she says absently, her eyes fixated on the screen. Then her teeth clench. “Dammit.”

A cold jolt flashes in my skull. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Yet.”

My feet carry me to the table, and my skin chills as I lean over her shoulder.

The screen in her hand is divided into multiple camera views of the vet clinic. Inside, outside, the footage doesn’t show Conor anywhere.

“An older woman brought in a Basset Hound.” Erin flips between camera angles, enlarging portions of each one. “She and Conor exited through the back door with the dog on a leash.”

“Oh.” A relieved breath slips out. “They’re just getting a stool sample.”

“Yes, I know. But the damn dog led the woman out of view. A minute later, Conor followed.” Frustration leaks into her voice. “I specifically told her not to leave the camera’s field of view. I even showed her where the boundaries are.”