In The Arms Of Danger

Hands fisted on her hips, Lacey flung back her head in challenge. “Well, sugar, we seem to have a teeny little problem here. A stalemate.”

A dark brow arched.

“The way I see it, I want through the door you’re standing in front of, and you obviously aren’t happy with the idea.” She grinned. “I believe what we have here, is what you cowboys deem a ‘Mexican stand-off’.”

The predatory gleam in his eyes darkened. A wicked grin split his lips. He folded his arms across his broad chest and cocked one hip against the doorframe. “Nah. What we have here, sugar,” he drawled in mock imitation of her Southern accent, “is Custer’s Last Stand, and I’m Chief Sitting Bull.” He moved toward her with a slow, lethal walk. “Guess who won that battle, bright eyes? Sheath your claws little cat, because this is another battle where the pale-face loses.”

In The Arms of Danger © 2008 by Jaydyn Chelcee

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

This book is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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eBook ISBN: 978-1-897559-08-6 First Edition * June 2008 Production by Eternal Press

In The Arms Of Danger

Printed in Canada and The United States of America.

In The Arms Of Danger

Book One of the Series Montana Men

In The Arms Of Danger

Jaydyn Chelcee

In The Arms Of Danger

Dedication:

In The Arms Of Danger

To: My husband, Earl, my very own ‘Danger.’

In The Arms Of Danger

Acknowledgements:

While browsing the Internet, I came across numerous quotes spoken by unknown people. I’d like to thank all those cowboys and cowgirls for their sense of humor and a thank you to the movie stars whose words I’ve “borrowed” or their famous lines from a movie. I’ve given credit where credit is due when ever I could find the source of the quotes.

In The Arms Of Danger

Thank you, Jaydyn Chelcee

In The Arms Of Danger

Prologue

“A very great vision is needed and the man who has it must follow it as the eagle seeks the deepest blue of the sky.”

Crazy Horse

Rimrock, Montana Blackstone Ranch Fri.7:20 a.m.

“Ayeeeee!”

“Heya.Heya.Heya.Heya.”

Sheriff Danger Blackstone switched off the engine of his ten-year-old Jeep

and listened to the noises that disrupted the early morning serenity. Danger narrowed his eyes as his grandpa chanted. The sound resonated across the back yard from inside the old ranch house.

And, he was beating on the drums, never a good sign.

Papa Joe must have had one hell of a vision.

Danger climbed out of the Jeep and paused to listen. His grandmother’s

high-pitched screech, “Ayeeeee,” blended with Papa Joe’s chanting. Danger shook his head.

His grandparents might be senile and did some rather odd things from time to time, but if Grandma Shalene was involved—then whatever had her shrieking along with Papa Joe’s chanting and drumming was major.

Side-stepping the dozen or so hens pecking and scratching in the dirt, Danger opened the back screen door and entered the kitchen to the tantalizing aroma of fried bacon. Concerned about why his grandparents were in a tizzy, he ignored the appreciative rumble of his stomach. At least the old folks had enjoyed breakfast right on schedule.

Maybe that meant things weren’t as bad as he thought after all. Danger paused. Entering Grandma Shalene’s kitchen made him feel as if he walked across the Painted Desert—blue table cloth, yellow walls, red and white curtains, everything sparkling clean and filled with the richness of color. Sure, his grandparents home was rundown, the ranch house old, certainly it had outlived its youthful sparkle, but he always felt welcomed. And loved.

His sister, Anna Leigh, leaned against the kitchen counter with her six month old daughter, Gidget. The baby was perched on her hip. Like clockwork, Anna stopped by every morning to cook breakfast and make certain the old ones didn’t burn down the house.

Milky drool slid down the baby’s tiny chin. Danger took her from his sister and mouthed, “What’s going on?”

Anna rolled her eyes and shrugged.

“She’s wet,” she warned as Gidget’s squishy bottom landed against his uniform shirt.

“Yikes! Take her. She’s yours.” Danger pointed her back toward his sister. “Come on. Take her back, Sis.”

Gidget’s bare legs dangled in the air as he held the baby at arms length. At the sight of her mother, the baby pumped her chubby little legs in the air and gurgled. Slobbers dribbled down her chin and neck and splattered his hands.

Anna giggled, folded her arms under her breasts, and shook her head. Her dark eyes sparkled with amusement. “No. You keep her. Wet diapers are a part of reality. You need to get used to them. You might get lucky and be a daddy one day.”

Danger scoffed and shoved baby Gidget at his sister. “Don’t joke about things like that. I don’t have a wife, so no, I don’t need to learn about disgusting wet diapers.”

Anna patted his shoulders in false sympathy and batted her eyelashes at him. “That diaper could be filled with something a lot more disgusting.” Anna clutched her side and doubled over. “You should see the look on your face.” She paused in her fit of giggles long enough to catch her breath. “Oh, it’s priceless. You look positively horrified.”

Danger held the baby outstretched toward his sister. “Ha. Ha. Take her back. Take her back, now.”

Anna wiped the tears from her eyes, finally gave in, and rescued him from the killer diaper. “Papa Joe’s in one of his moods,” she tossed over her shoulder, still laughing as she headed into another room to change her daughter. “As soon as I change Gidget’s diaper, I have to leave. There’s a teacher’s meeting before classes. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Danger acknowledged her good-bye with a wave of his hand. The rich aroma of strong, black coffee drew his gaze to the kitchen range. Yes. He felt like pumping his fist in the air in victory. His grandmother’s blue, chipped enamel coffeepot waited on a back burner. He knew from years of experience she kept a fresh pot of coffee heated for him.

Caffeine.

Having his morning coffee was a sacred ritual in itself, a necessity, kind of like dying and paying taxes. He wasn’t a happy camper if something came between him and his java.

Better than sex? Nope.

But the coffee was available.

Sex wasn’t.

No. That wasn’t exactly true, he reminded himself. Hell, just this morning Cynthia Hemphill, the mayor’s beautiful, red-haired wife offered him mindblowing sex. Actually, she offered him a blowjob. He could have taken her up on her offer. Lord knew it had been a long time since he’d done the wild thing in any form but Cynthia wasn’t particular who she slept with and he had a reputation to think about.

Being a bachelor and the sheriff gave him a status symbol in the community.

He snorted, yeah, an available status symbol.

Women came onto him on a regular basis. He just didn’t seem to be able to work up much enthusiasm for any of them, especially the mayor’s wife, but it wouldn’t have mattered who the woman was offering him sex. If she was married, then in his books, she was off limits.

Cynthia was always on the prowl for a new lover, everyone in town knew she was having an affair with Rodney Blake and had for years. Apparently, she’d set her sights on someone new and aimed her hunt in his direction.

By God, if he ever met the right woman and married, he didn’t want his wife playing bedroom hopscotch the way Cynthia Hemphill did. He wouldn’t be willing to turn a blind eye the way her husband, Clyde, did either.

Maybe he should have taken Cynthia up on her offer. A blowjob would have been nice. Hell, a steady woman would be great, but it wasn’t gonna happen—not in Rimrock. He might as well face it, as small as Rimrock was, he’d probably be as old as his grandpa before he ever met the right woman. Ah, well, someday that tiger he wanted in his life and in his bed would come along. He just might lose his gusto for coffee when she did.

Or not.

The steady beat of the drum in the background caused a dull throb to settle between his eyes. He grabbed a homemade earthenware mug from the cabinet and filled it to the brim with coffee. Thank God caffeine never kept him awake, because he had to have more before going off to bed for the day. Working night shift might be ruining his sleep pattern, but nothing was getting between him and his java.

He swung toward the sound of the drumming. His grandparents’ combined chanting hadn’t quieted down a bit throughout his and Anna’s tussle with the baby.

Holy shit. A buffalo horn headdress with a beaded headband was perched on the old man’s head. Where the hell had his grandpa gotten the thing? It had to weigh a ton. The headdress completely swallowed his head. The elder shaman resembled a turtle trying to poke its neck out of its shell.

Danger frowned. It didn’t matter how much the headdress weighed, his grandpa wouldn’t give it up without a battle.

He narrowed his eyes as he blew into the steaming liquid. His grandparents ignored him. They huddled together around the enormous round ceremonial drum and the free standing set of hand drums that took up an entire corner of the kitchen.

His grandpa prized those drums.

Danger grinned and shook his head. Grandma Shalene was as short and round as Papa Joe was tall and skinny. The old man kept reaching up to push the buffalo horns back in place. His grandpa paused long enough to untangle the snowy white strands of his hair from one of the streamers of beadwork on the sides of the buffalo head and then resumed his drumming.

Red, yellow, and purple stripes of paint slashed the old man’s dry, withered cheeks. Smeared across his scrawny hollow chest and stooped shoulders were several multi-colored handprints in stunning orange, vibrant red, and forest green.

Well, hell. They must have found the face paint his brother Coe had been dumb enough to buy for them last Christmas. He thought he’d hidden it well enough. Guess not.

Now, he could look forward to the old couple declaring war. When they were finished, multicolored symbols would emblazon just about everything that wiggled on the ranch.

Danger snatched a ladder-back chair and flipped it around. Straddling it, and armed with his coffee, he watched his grandparents and treasured the moments. He raised the thick-rimmed cup to his mouth, blew on the coffee and took a satisfying sip. Strong and black as the devil’s soul, just the way he liked it. He closed his eyes and sighed with content.

Pure bliss.

“Ayeeeee.”

His eyes popped open.

Maybe not.

Grandma Shalene left Papa Joe’s side and headed toward him. Uh-oh. No telling what she was up to. He kept a wary eye on her as she danced around the kitchen table. Her movements were slow and awkward. The long, colorful skirt she wore swished across the worn linoleum. Once upon a time, she’d danced with the graceful steps of a young woman, but now, she moved in a weird combination of a hop, skip, and jump. Her joints too stiff for agility.

She reminded him of a one-legged bird hopping around, as though a little uncertain as to exactly which leg was missing.

It took her some time to complete the journey around the long, rectangle table that could seat ten people at a single meal.

“Ayeeeee.”

Danger took another sip of coffee and watched. And waited.

“Ayeeeee.”

Why did she have to wait until she was right on top of him to yell? Apparently, she wanted to make certain he heard her because every time she reached him, she paused to sing out at the top of her voice. Then, around the table she went.

With each movement, she swayed like a broken reed in the wind.

Skirt swished.

Hop.

Skip.

Jump.

Stumble.

“Ayeeeee.”

He got dizzy, just watching her make the loop around the table. With every circle his grandma completed, Papa Joe started pounding the drums faster, as if celebrating her victory of making it around the table one more time without falling on her face.

“Heya.Heya.Heya.Heya.”

Danger thanked God for small mercies. At least, his grandpa was across the kitchen and not yelling right into his ears.

Abruptly, Papa Joe stopped chanting. He sucked in a lungful of air, reminding Danger of a pump sucking at the last drops of water in a pond. Papa Joe gasped, wheezed and fell into a major fit of coughing and gagging. The old man’s face turned tomato paste red. He gagged again, then finally resumed his chanting and drumming.

“Heya.Heya.Heya.Heya.”

Once again, the drumming abruptly ended.

Grandma Shalene froze in her tracks. One moccasin clad foot hovered in the air. She swayed and waited patiently for Papa Joe to untangle his hair from the headdress, speak, cough, gag, or return to drumming.

But Papa Joe did neither. Instead, he turned his face upward, lifted his arms over his head and chanted. He made odd gestures in the air above his head with the drumsticks. It looked as if he spoke with some unseen deity. The garbled words he spoke sounded like he had a mouthful of mush.

Danger blinked. Uh-oh. Papa Joe was in one of his non-English speaking modes. Dang it!

“Grandpa’s been watching one of those discovery channels on television again, Grandma,” he whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

His grandmother gave him a blank look.

“Which one?”

Danger steadied her as she reeled off-balance. “You know the ones where those isolated Pygmy tribes in the Amazon can’t speak a word of English?”

She shrugged. “Your papa had a great vision this morning, right after breakfast. You know what a powerful medicine man he is. When he sees things, it messes up his English.”

Danger choked on a swallow of coffee. How a vision affected his grandfather’s ability to speak English was a mystery he’d never quite unraveled.

“No telling when he’ll be able to speak the white man’s forked tongue again. Maybe—never, so I dance to help ward off the evil spirits that tangle your grandfather’s tongue.”

Danger sighed at the sly look on his grandmother’s face. “Uh-huh. What did he say, Grandma?”

He knew he wasn’t going to get anywhere with his grandfather. His grandmother would be the one to interpret.

Shalene shrugged and gave him a toothless grin, her pink gums wet and shiny as baby Gidget’s. “Beware of the white tiger. It’s coming to kill you.”

Danger spewed coffee across the room. His grandmother pounded his back with the flat of her hand as he choked, hacked and coughed. Jesus! He sounded just like Papa Joe coughing up his lungs.

“Okay, Grandma, I’m fine. No need to keep hitting me. I think I’ll live.”

Shalene frowned. “This is no time for joking. You must watch for the white tiger.”

“White tiger?”

Beware of the white tiger? Coming to kill him?

Well, that was a strange one, even for his senile grandparents. White tiger? His grandfather had always seen wolves or something equally more Native American in his visions. He might have even seen a white buffalo a time or two, but a white tiger?

What the hell did it mean?

His grandmother nodded and eased her foot to the floor. The thick, double ropes of salt and pepper colored braids that hung to her waist swung back and forth like pendulums as she wobbled unsteadily on her feet. “Beware of the white tiger with yellow eyes.”

She held up two white feathers and shuffled closer.

Danger jerked his head out of her reach. “Grandma, what are you doing?”

She gave a deep huff, her way of expressing her impatience, and boxed his ears. “Sit still! I am tying turkey feathers in your hair. They will ward off evil spirits. Stop the white tiger from coming to get you.”

“Those are chicken feathers.” Danger knew before he said it, he was wasting his breath.

“Turkey feathers.” She narrowed her raisin dark eyes at him, daring him to argue with her. With unsteady hands, she tied the feathers in his long hair with a leather thong and flashed her toothless grin at him when she finished.

Papa Joe nodded his head in approval and went back to his drumming.

“Heya.Heya.Heya.Heya.”

His grandmother resumed her dance routine around the table. He stroked the two feathers dangling over his right ear and rubbed a hand down his face.

Beware of the white tiger.

What was he supposed to do, tickle it to death with the chicken feathers? Hell, as far as he knew, the closest white tigers were in Las Vegas, several hundred miles away, living the good life at the White Tiger Habitat at the Mirage Hotel and Casino. Somehow, he couldn’t see Siegfried and Roy turning the rare animals loose on the citizens of Rimrock, Montana.

As soon as his grandmother drew near him again, he stood up, grabbed her by the shoulders to steady her, leaned down, and pressed a kiss against her aged cheek. “Thank you, Grandma,” he said humbly.

She gave him that toothless grin he loved, nodded, and went back to dancing. He knew his grandparents meant well and were only trying to protect him from harm. As he headed to his bedroom, he gave a two-fingered salute to his grandpa, who was busy shoving the buffalo horns back in place and untangling the drumsticks from his hair.

Danger closed the door behind him, shutting out some of the racket his grandparents made. If it helped them feel better, then he would wear the ‘turkey’ feathers.

What did it hurt to give them some peace of mind?

He just hoped Papa Joe finished his drumming soon so he could get some sleep. He wasn’t used to working nights. His body hadn’t adjusted to the change yet, and he found it difficult to get enough sleep during the daylight hours.

Danger kicked off his moccasins, stripped to his black boxers, and tossed his clothes in the laundry basket standing in the corner. A deep yawn surprised him. Fatigue melted into his bones, weighed him down, and lured him to the bed.

He jerked back the top sheet and crawled onto the lumpy mattress. Stretching full length, Danger piled two pillows beneath his head and tugged the sheet to his waist.

White tiger.

Jesus, where did his grandparents come up with this crap?

He closed his eyes. Closed his mind. Yawned. And drifted to sleep.

***

An hour later, Papa Joe peeped around the door to check on his grandson. He took one step inside the dimmed room, then backed out and closed the door quietly behind him. He drew his wife into his arms and patted her broad shoulders.

“She is coming for him. The pale tiger with yellow eyes will take him from us. We must do all we can to stop her.”

Shalene nodded her understanding of her husband’s perfect English. “I’ll get more feathers from the chicken house.”

Papa Joe sighed. “I think it’s going to take more than feathers. I saw the tiger point a gun at him. She means him harm. Her eyes glowed like pools of yellow flames. Her face burned with anger. Her words were shouted in a strange tongue, English, yet it was foreign English.” He grinned. “Like those Amazon Pygmies off the Discovery Channel.” His eyes glinted with determination. “We must stop this woman from harming our grandson.”

Shalene nodded her gray head. “How are two old crows like us going to stop the white tiger from devouring our grandson?”

“We’ll think of something. Maybe stake her on an anthill. Pour honey on her.”

“When is she coming?”

“I don’t know. But soon, I think. Very soon.”

In The Arms Of Danger

Chapter One

“Talk low, talk slow, and don’t say much.”

A reputed acting tip from John Wayne to fellow actor Michael Caine.

Rimrock, Montana Sat.1:00 a.m.

“Sheriff’s Department. Halt. Make another move and you’re dead.”

It wasn’t just the fact the man’s voice sounded low, hard, and full of authority that halted Lacey Weston’s long and purposeful strides, but that quicker than a rattler, he struck from the shadows of a dark, narrow doorway.

There’d been no chance to escape the steel-hewed arm he closed tightly around her waist. No time to react or to even draw a breath before he started to drag her deeper into the opaque blackness of the alley.

The unreliable glow from the sliver of moon that floated across the night sky had worked entirely to his advantage. The fact he claimed to be from the Sheriff’s Department didn’t comfort her, but increased the need to be cautious.

Dear God, he would murder her there in the shadows.

Terror trickled down her spine and chilled her blood. Her heart hammered a rapid ditty. The inside wall of her chest felt as if it was being pulverized by the paddles of a ceiling fan whirling at top speed, whumpwhumpwhump. Fear, a bone-dry powder, coated the back of her throat. It filled her lungs like chalk dust from an eraser, gray, gritty and flavored with the stench of death.

It had taken him hours to catch up with her, but now that he had, it was all over. He would kill her now. She’d die simply because she’d seen and heard too much.

Why did she always seem to be in the wrong place, at the wrong time? Dammit. She didn’t want to die. Not because she’d witnessed a brutal murder and now been captured by the murderer. Dark mist crept over her vision. If she didn’t do something, if she gave up, folded like an accordion, then yes, she’d die.

Suck it up, girl. You have two choices. Fight and live. Or fight and die, but whatever you choose, do it now.

Lord, she was such a coward.

She looked around, searching the night for someone, anyone to help her. There was no one. She dug her nails into his forearm and dragged them through his skin. Her hot pink, carefully manicured nails broke. He’d pay for that. When this was over, she promised herself a mint julep on her front porch.

A scream rose to the back of her dry throat like a thirty-foot tidal wave in a hurricane. It was abruptly cut off by a callused palm snaking around from the other side and clamping her mouth shut.

“Eeeek.”

“Don’t. I’m warning you. Don’t make a sound. And stop struggling.”

The sneaky dog, she’d barely let out a squeak.

Her one shot at rescue and he foiled it.

He tightened his grip around her waist.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t break free of his powerful hold. Why, it was pitiful how weak and faint-hearted she felt. No use denying it. She was a meek, mild-mannered woman—like that Superman person, Clark Kent— only female, without the superhuman alter ego.

A delicate flower of the South—that was Lacey Weston all right—a genteel lady who shouldn’t have to hear the raspy sounds of her own labored breaths leak between his fingers. She shouldn’t have to hear those ragged little wheezes burst free, faster and faster, until her chest burned as if a blowtorch seared a blistering path across it.

Abruptly, the man flattened his palm tighter across her mouth and nostrils, cutting off the meager amount of air she managed to drag into her starving lungs.

“Be still,” he ordered in an icy voice.

The sheer terror of her situation literally left her limp. The muscles in her calves quivered like Jell-O. If he wasn’t holding her so tight, she thought her legs would just melt away like butter in a hot skillet.

I’m going to die. I’m going to die.

The refrain played in her panicked mind like a reel in a silent movie rewinding itself over and over and a voice repeated I’m going to die.

After a long night spent avoiding captivity, it was hard to swallow the bitter metallic taste of defeat.

How many hours had passed since she witnessed the woman’s demise?

How many miles had she traveled on foot? Lost? Alone? Scared half to death?

She didn’t know. She couldn’t remember.

In her desperation to avoid captivity, time and distance lost its meaning. The only thing she knew with any degree of certainty was, even if this man relaxed his hold long enough to allow her to attempt an escape, at this point, she simply couldn’t do it. She was too exhausted to run any further.

It was plain ludicrous to wonder how the bastard had managed to get ahead of her, when he’d been behind her all night—stalking her.

The red and blue Atlanta Braves ball cap wedged tightly on her head struck just beneath the man’s chin. It enforced the fact she was smaller and frailer than the man who gripped her. She was at his mercy—and from the way he’d murdered the young woman, she knew mercy was the one quality he lacked.

Lacey stiffened as he suddenly removed his arm from her waist and locked it around her neck in a painful hold. He drew her closer and held her against his lower body. If he was trying to intimidate her with his sheer size and strength, then he’d succeeded beyond his wildest dreams.

She was scared, all right. Terrified even.

Acutely aware of the solid tautness of his powerful thighs pressed intimately against her bottom, cold, sticky sweat popped out all over her body. She closed her eyes and fought the sudden lethargy that floated over her like a shroud.

Don’t faint. Don’t faint.

If she fainted, she knew she was history.

Okay. So he was bigger. Stronger. He was damned sure stealthier and worse than a blind snake, but the hot blood of the South flowed through her veins. Rebel born and bred right down to her painted toenails, she’d be damned if she would make this easy for him. Lacey Weston, freelance photographer from Atlanta, G.A. might be a delicate flower of the South—she might not be brave, but she was a survivor.

Rage whipped through her, the emotion powerful and strong enough to fill her with the will to fight. She refused to surrender, not without a struggle, not this little Southern belle. She might go down, well, yeah, most likely she’d go down, but she’d bet her mama’s prized Georgian silver she’d take a piece of him with her.

With little effort, he quickly choked off the shallow breath she managed to draw. It left her lightheaded and feeling giddy again.

“Don’t fight me, boy. I have no desire to hurt you, but if it comes down to you or me, I’ll do exactly that. You understand me?”

Boy?

She didn’t know if he really called her that or if her oxygen depleted brain imagined it. Had he sounded just a little like Clint Eastwood in his ‘Dirty Harry’ roles?

Go ahead, boy. Make my day.

Splat.

You’re just a memory, boy. Mission accomplished.

Enough! She had to calm down. Becoming hysterical wouldn’t do her a bit of good. But hell, she was calm. If she got any calmer, she’d be dead.

No. This was not the time for calm. This was the time for blood-curdling screams, only she couldn’t—

“Do-you-understand-me?” he reiterated harshly.

Lacey groaned, barely able to nod her understanding. He forced her around and flattened one side of her face against the rough surface of a building. Raw pain lanced her right cheek as it scraped against the cool brick wall.

But he loosened his hold enough so the sweet, sweet air rushed into her starving lungs. It filled them and obliterated the black and yellow spots that danced across her vision. A strangled cry escaped her dry throat and she tried to wriggle clear of his grip.

“By God, I said don’t fight me,” he snapped.

One strong hand closed around the back of her neck. It smashed her cheek against the abrasive surface of the brick building. Tears rose. Her nose and eyes watered. He jammed a knee to the small of her back and kept her pinned against the wall like an insect in a display case.

There was nothing gentle about this man. Nothing soft. He was all honed muscle and steel power. She couldn’t so much as wiggle while he patted her buttocks and thighs with brisk efficiency, then skimmed his fingers across her stomach and ribs.

A large hand closed firmly around one breast.

“Get your filthy paws off me, you—you—perverted molester.”

“What the hell?” He dropped his hand abruptly as if he’d latched onto a hot potato. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he jerked her around to face him.

Lacey narrowed her eyes, but the darkness in the alley was thick as black smoke and almost totally concealed his features. She caught only a brief glimpse of piercing eyes and a wedge of tense jaw.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked.

Suddenly she realized he had no better advantage than she did. If she couldn’t see him, then he sure as sweet hell couldn’t see her. If she somehow managed to escape, he couldn’t describe her. Yes, indeed, that suited her just fine.

The man manacled both her wrists in one big paw and tugged. Whoa. This she did not like. He practically dragged her down the obscured alleyway. Escape no longer appeared to be a viable option. She dug her heels into the pavement, hampering his progress as much as possible.

“Let go of me.” She clawed frantically at the fingers bracketing her wrists. “You worm! Let go—or—or—I’ll have to hurt you. I’m warning you. I know Judo, Karate, and—and—FooManChu.”

He whirled around but didn’t let go of her wrist. In fact, he did just the opposite and tightened his grip. His fingers bit into her flesh like steel. “Quit clawing me. You keep this up and I’ll handcuff —”

“Whoo hoo,” Lacey belted out the whoop when the toe of her heavy hiking boot connected sharply with his shin.

“Ouch! Jee-sus Christ, you little hellion.”

“That’ll teach you to attack a helpless lady in the dark.”

“Lady, you’re about as helpless as a wounded bear.”

With neither finesse nor consideration for her delicate sensibilities, he hauled her off her feet, swung her over his shoulder, then proceeded down the alley limping with his burden, namely—her.

Her head drooped to his lean waist like a wilted flower. Her booted feet dangled several inches above the ground—useless, humiliatingly useless.

Lacey bellowed out a scream. She slapped wildly at his legs, but it was hard to do much damage to his kneecaps. If she could just get her face a little closer. There. She clamped her teeth onto his inner thigh and latched on like a newborn babe suckling for the first time.

“Let go! For crying out loud, turn loose.” He slapped the back of her neck over and over, as if he was beating ants off his leg. “Turn loose or I’ll smack you a good one.”

Her face slammed hard against the solid ridge of his thighs and it broke her hold on him. She figured she resembled a crippled insect with her arms flailing about and her legs churning and kicking in all directions, as though trying to get in gear. It was impossible to claim a smidgen of dignity with her butt hiked in the air like it was too. Damn him. It was more than any woman should have to endure.

He gave a grunt and moved forward, half-carrying, half-dragging her through the stygian gloom. “Lady, you’re worse than a rabid skunk.”

“Wha—” Lacey’s objection was cut short when he slapped her on the rear. “Be still or I’ll drop you on your head.”

His ragged breaths filled the air. Good. Maybe she’d get lucky and he’d topple over dead from lugging her around like a bale of cotton. It would serve him right.

He suddenly halted and kicked a door. The door crashed inward, the resounding pow loud enough to wake one from eternal slumber.

Lacey shrieked, terror grabbing her by the throat.

“Stop that damned caterwauling. Christ, lady, you sound worse than a bawling heifer in a hailstorm.”

“Wounded bear, bawling heifer and rabid skunks?” Lacey huffed indignantly. “You loathsome perverted—stop comparing me to insane animals!”

He lowered her to her feet and shoved her forward through the doorway. She supposed she should be grateful he didn’t drop her on her head.

Yeah, okay, she was grateful, the rabid whatever-was-worse-than-a-skunkand-heifer-rat-bastard.

Lacey whirled to face the man who was probably going to take her life in the next few minutes and swore she heard the theme from the ‘Twilight Zone’ accompanied by Rod Serling’s voice announcing, “You have entered another dimension.”

How she managed to keep her mouth from dropping open and her teeth from falling out in pure fright amazed her. She gaped at him like a fish out of water, round-eyed and a little dazed. Her entire body froze as the urge to fight ebbed away. A sense of the bizarre and unreal struck her with the force of a semi-truck.

“Oh—my—Lord!” The words escaped her as she stared at him, dumbstruck.

The man not only resembled the murderer she’d seen earlier tonight but he also looked like a refugee from ‘Buffalo Bill Cody’s Wild West Show.’

He didn’t say a word. He didn’t move. He remained in the open doorway. And waited. He stared back at her, calm, cool, his expression inscrutable, though he was breathing a little hard.

She stared back.

Fascinated.

Speechless.

Unblinking as the fish she’d compared herself to.

Her stomach knotted. Heat pooled between her thighs. Although she didn’t like it, and she doubted her sanity, the attraction was instantaneous.

Standing at least six foot two, he was big, handsome, rugged and intimidating as hell. He looked like a wild, untamed savage, as unfettered as the wind and just as unconquerable. Streaks of red and yellow paint slashed his forehead.

War paint?

Nah, surely not.

Then again, two—was that chicken feathers? dangled by his right ear. Gypsy black hair flowed long and unrestrained across his wide shoulders. The stubborn wedge of jaw looked as hard and firm as a granite mountain. Beneath slashing dark brows, eyes the color of a battleship glittered with feral alertness. A turquoise amulet rested against his brown throat.

Lacey decided he looked like an ancient warrior.

Proud.

Noble.

He feared nothing, especially not her.

“Lord-a-mercy,” she muttered beneath her breath.

He seemed to tower over the entire room, dominating her and everything else in his path. His lips tightened. The man was so not happy with her. Duh. She wasn’t exactly thrilled to run into him either.

His face, shadowed by a day’s growth of scruffy whiskers, gave him a rough and dangerous look. Sheer animal magnetism radiated from him. She’d never met a male more intensely masculine. It was clear he wasn’t a man one wanted to tangle with or one easily caught off-guard.

Behind his lazy perusal, sharp, gray eyes stared back at her. Studied her.

She gulped down a desperate breath.

He was civilized, dammit!

She knew he was civilized. Her common sense prevailed and told her this. Her eyes and her mind told her something else entirely different.

And he resembled the murderer. She must never forget that important detail.

“All right, KemoSabe, if you plan to kill me, I’m warning you, I won’t go down without a fight. Who are you and why did you kidnap me?”

A dark brow lifted. His scowl darkened. There was little doubt he wanted to throttle her. He quickly banked the flare of impatience that lit his gray eyes. “Actually,” he said smoothly, “KemoSabe isn’t a person.”

His voice washed over her, deep and masculine, dark and sinful.

“He’s not?” She knew darn well her jaw went slack again. She was back to looking like a gaping fish. “What about the Lone Ranger and his trusty Indian friend on the pinto?”

He shook his head. “It’s a word. No one is sure of the exact meaning, but it, supposedly means, ‘Trusted friend’ or ‘Long lost friend.’ I’ve read that the Navajo claim it means ‘soggy bush’ or ‘soggy shrub.’ ” He gave a half-hearted shrug. “For my part, I don’t want anyone calling me a ‘Soggy Bush’, if you get my meaning.”

He stared at her, his face stern, not a glimmer of humor revealed.

Lacey choked back a laugh. She got his meaning very well.

Soggy bush. So the man has a warped sense of humor, even if it’s delivered with deadpan stoicism. Go figure.

But this wasn’t a laughing matter.

Not from her point of view.

Still, she had her own brand of wicked humor. Or maybe she was just feeling a little hysterical and didn’t have any better sense at the moment than to poke a sleeping rattler.

“So-o, what’s with the costume?”

Pushy. Why did she always have to be so pushy? It had to be the journalist in her, because she simply couldn’t leave things alone. So let him take offense. Did she give a rat’s ass? “I know it’s not Halloween. Must be a big pow-wow or meeting of the big, bad warriors?”

“Yes.”

“A man of many words.” She cocked her head and waited for a response.

A sable brow lifted, but he remained stubbornly silent. He slid his gaze up and down her in a long, slow thorough inspection.

Lacey huffed and folded her arms beneath her breasts. His silence made her nerves jitter. She felt as twitchy as a bug on a hot rock. He stood there, tall and solemn as a giant oak tree, staring down his nose at her. There was something about him, something that was sinfully wild and untamed. Something lethal. This was one badass man. Tangling with him in a fight or even allowing him to touch her heart was bound to get her hurt.

Suddenly all she wanted was to flee, and he blocked her avenue of escape.

How could she feel the slightest spark of interest in this man? But she did. Damn. Why did he have to be the most attractive male specimen she’d ever seen? Disturbed by the knowledge she could go for him in a big way, Lacey lowered her gaze. Big mistake. Tight denim, softened by numerous washings, clung to his splendid thighs like bark on a tree. The button-fly shamelessly cupped an impressive bulge that left a woman in little doubt the man had a whopper.

Heat warmed her face. She forced her eyes up to his chest and struggled valiantly to keep from lowering her gaze once again.

Ah, hell, fuck it! She wasn’t stupid.

She dropped her gaze, and allowed it to linger with lip-smacking appreciation on the masculine package behind the row of steel buttons, until she heard him clear his throat. Her gaze shot to his face where she detected a hint of amusement glittering in his smoke-colored eyes.

She coughed. “Well—er, I always say, if you got it, flaunt it.”

“I’m sure I haven’t a clue as to what you’re talking about.”

“And I’m Mother Theresa.”

His lips twitched. “I doubt that. I doubt there’s one thing saintly about you.”

Lacey slid her gaze over him once again. One thing was certain—the man could tempt a saint into sinning. The smug sonofabitch knew he was hung like a mule and was damn proud of it. He knew those soft jeans lovingly cupped his sex. Yeah, baby!

Undaunted, she continued her blatant examination of him. She told herself she ought to feel ashamed. She sighed. She mentally shrugged. A lady had to do what a lady had to do. Sure, it was a dirty job, but she felt she really needed to complete her inspection of him, just to be on the safe side. In case—oh yeah—in case she had to describe him to the FBI or something.

Lacey eyed the five-pointed star pinned to his short-sleeved khaki shirt. Above it rested a narrow brass nameplate engraved with the faded letters, Sheriff D. Blackstone, below that, Rimrock County, Montana.

Cinched at his lean waist, a worn leather gun belt hugged his middle. A .38 caliber pistol rested snugly in the black holster draped at his hip. She cocked a brow and filled her voice with Mae West speculation. “You ever allow a lady to play with your. . . gun?”

“Only when it’s primed and ready to fire,” he shot back.

She felt heat sweep up her cheeks and into her scalp. Well, she’d certainly asked for that. The sneaky culprit was quick with his sharp answers. He had a sense of the risqué she couldn’t help but appreciate; in spite of the odds he was probably going to kill her.

So she had to ask herself if she was totally insane, figured she was, or she wouldn’t be flirting with the demon killer from hell. She returned her gaze to his crotch and knew she was totally insane for staring.

“Who are you?” he asked and shifted his weight to the other hip.

His face hadn’t lost any of its severity. If anything, he looked sterner. More distant.

Inside, Lacey cringed. A lawman.

Of course, he’s a lawman. Duh. He said he was already and the badge only reinforced his word. Girl, you gotta get your head screwed on straight or you’re dead.

Even without his having said it, the star pinned on his broad chest clearly declared his profession to all and sundry. The gun snuggled on his hip backed up his silent authority.

Hadn’t the woman been shot?

Yes. She’d definitely heard a gunshot.

And this man packed a gun. She’d give her eyeteeth to know if it had recently been fired.

“Done any target practicing lately, Sheriff?”

Lacey stifled a moan. What the hell was she doing? She wasn’t an investigative reporter. She certainly didn’t need to poke at a hornet’s nest. But wasn’t it damned convenient for him to have a revolver so close and handy?

“I took a few potshots at a nosy critter earlier this evening. Why?” Lacey swallowed hard. “Potshots?”

“Yeah, something that was where it had no business being and moved when it shouldn’t have.”

Now she knew how a mouse felt trapped in a corner by a rattler. Her heart pounded. Morbid fascination filled her until she felt as though she bubbled over with it. It was just her rotten luck she’d ran straight into the very last person she desired to run into—someone from the local Sheriff’s Office. She should have been more careful, more observant. That would cost her and was a bigger mistake than sneaking peeks at his crotch.

No doubt about it, she was in trouble here, big trouble. There was no one she could turn to or trust. How to escape was something she would have to figure out on her own, preferably when he didn’t have a loaded gun within reach.

She took a deep breath, slowly exhaled, and forced herself to remain calm. Later. Later, she would figure out a way to escape. Her attention drifted to the softly fringed, knee-high moccasins that hugged the calves of his powerful legs. She licked her dry lips.

“Hell, deny it all you want—you look like a KemoSabe to me.”

She sure as hell didn’t mean a ‘soggy bush’ either. It sounded, even to her own ears, as if she’d just discovered the national treasure. Maybe she had. The man was mouth-watering gorgeous.

He shook his head and stepped toward her.

Lacey backed up. Gorgeous or not, she didn’t trust him. He’d manhandled her. She wouldn’t put up with that from anyone.

He hesitated, stepped back, and planted himself solidly right back between her and the door.

Lawman? Huh.

The faint shadow of whiskers that blackened his obstinate jaw made this man look more like an outlaw on a wanted poster. Tingles raced down her spine. Whether from excitement or fear, she wasn’t certain. Perhaps a little bit of both. How did one define tingles? There was just something about a bad ass. . .

“You’re a County Sheriff.”

“Yeah, but it’s a small county, sweetheart.” His lips curved, whether with a smile or displeasure, she wasn’t sure. He dragged his gaze over her and frowned. “You’re trembling. What are you so frightened about?”

What was she so frightened about?

Lacey barely stopped herself from snorting. Was the man as crazy as the insane critters he’d called her?

He seemed to read her mind. He rubbed a hand down his jaw and across his mouth.

“If you’d have just stopped fighting me in the alley like a maddened steer high on loco weed, there wouldn’t have been a problem. I don’t make a habit of going easy on someone I suspect of criminal activity.” He shrugged. “But now that we’ve established what I am, let’s discuss who you are. What’s your name?”

Panic whipped through her. He wanted to know her name. The thought of giving him the information he wanted left her feeling raw, exposed and in immediate peril. Obviously he knew how she felt because he watched her with the feral eyes of a rogue wolf.

Oh yeah, definitely a bad ass.

She damned the terror two-stepping across her stomach. Cursed the attraction she felt for this man she suspected of murder. Yep. She was a sick individual.

Don’t tell him anything. The silent warning flashed in her mind like streaks of greased lightning.

Oh, but she would have to tell him her name. What choice did she have? There was no logical way around it. She couldn’t lie. Anyway, telling lies wasn’t something she did very well. She had an innate sense of honesty that forced her to blurt out whatever was on her mind and damn the consequences. If she started telling lies, she’d end up confused.

Rule number one: Don’t get caught in your own sticky web.

A genteel lady should never be confused or trapped in a web of her own making. That was important. Besides, it was possible he already knew her name and for some perverted reason played a nasty little game with her, a deadly, dangerous game.

The sick fiend.

Lacey glanced about the tiny office. She had to give herself time to calm down, get her thoughts in order, and rein in this feeling of being overwhelmed and out of control. She blinked and focused her attention on the countless wanted posters thumb-tacked to a cork bulletin board on the wall.

Hanging beneath the wanted posters were at least five black and white snaps of missing women. Kimberly Smith, eighteen, Jackie Hart, twenty-two, Mona Martin, twenty-eight, Debbie White, thirty, and Rachel Karr, twenty-one, all missing for different periods of time and from different cities across the western half of the United States, but all within the past two years. A newspaper clipping tacked to the board caught her attention: Local Woman Missing.

Below it, another clipping: Vandalism in the area on the rise. Hmm. It would seem the sheriff had a problem or two going on in his town. She wished there was a picture of the local missing woman, but a quick check

of the date revealed the woman had gone astray two weeks earlier. Lacey doubted if she was in anyway connected to the woman she saw die tonight. She wondered vaguely what had become of all those women. Maybe like her, they’d been kidnapped by a mean-eyed sheriff. Poor women. No telling what had became of them.

She shifted her gaze from the posters. A massive desk stood near the right side of the wall. It sagged beneath a mountain of papers piled on top of it. Jammed together on one end of the desk—and competing for equal space—stood a phone, fax machine, and a single, gooseneck lamp. An outdated computer rested on another table to the left of the desk.

In a corner a four-drawer filing cabinet tilted to one side, apparently as overburdened as the desk. A thirsty plant drooped lifelessly in a bright red flowerpot on top of it. Crammed behind the big desk, a had-seen-better-days, black leather chair waited on rollers. In front of the desk, a ladder-back chair stood like a sentinel on guard duty, waited for women like her to be seated and interrogated by Mr. Sexy.

Clearly, the sheriff did not waste the taxpayer’s dollar on decorating his office.

Her eyes zeroed in on a neat row of rifles sealed behind the glass doors of a locked gun cabinet. It stared back at her from the opposite side of the room.

An opportunity to escape? Surely. Because locked doors wouldn’t keep her from breaking the glass and taking a rifle if she needed it.

And she would definitely need it if she managed to escape.

She switched her gaze at the sound of his soft snort.

“Go ahead, break the glass. The rifles are all chained together and in turn, locked to an iron link in the wall behind the gun cabinet. You couldn’t get one out no matter how hard you tried.”

She flipped him the bird.

He arched a silken brow. “Anytime you’re ready, little cat.”

“That’ll be the day.”

“I’ll just wait right here.”

Lacey smothered a snicker. She’d never met a man who could stay one step ahead of her mind. Yet, here stood a man who barely knew her, who could do exactly that. He was rock steady and as solid as Stone Mountain.

Lacey steamed. The beast. How could he read her so easily? She shrugged and returned her attention to the cluttered office.

“You work in a pig sty.”

“I like it, so don’t even think about touching anything,” he said quietly. “I know where everything is. I have my own method of filing things.”

“You think.”

He flashed a warning look from eyes aged the color of pewter.

“All right! I won’t touch.”

Beside the gun cabinet, a long, narrow table rose on spindly legs and was burdened with an ancient Mr. Coffee Maker and a small bowl with an assortment of packaged creamers and sweeteners poking up from it.

A foul stench from the over-done coffee rose from the glass carafe. Lacey barely stifled a shudder, doubtful anyone was daring enough to sample the witch’s brew.

To her left and farther back in the room a single cell with dull metal bars lay in graveyard shadows, lying in wait like a gaping, black hole. Past that, and to the right, she could see a half-opened door and the ambiguous porcelain of a commode. A little further down the hall a smaller desk was pressed into service and weighed down with dispatch equipment. It appeared no one was home at the unit.

“I’m not in the habit of repeating myself.” The lawman’s voice rang sharply drawing her out of her inventory of the office.

“I didn’t touch anything!”

“I asked you who you are.”

Annoyance spread across his face. He wasn’t happy she was taking so long to answer him. Tough. That was the first word that came to mind, quickly followed by her stammering reply, “Lacey Weston. I—I’m Lacey Weston.”

Lacey clenched her fists, frustrated. Dammit! She didn’t want this man knowing even the basic information about her, but she couldn’t figure out a way to avoid it.

He gave the barest of nods. “Sheriff Danger Blackstone. Where are you from, Miss Weston?”

“Danger? Ha!” she snorted. “Pull the other one, why don’t you?”

Not a flicker of humor on his stone face. He just stood there staring at her with those wintry gray eyes that sent her goose bumps dive-bombing into overdrive. Hmm. Maybe the man didn’t have a sense of appreciation for the absurd after all.

Lacey blinked, attempting to pick up the threads of his interrogation.

“From?” she managed to ask.

His steady gaze flared with impatience. “Yes. Where are you from?”

“Uhh.” She stalled, but nothing came to mind except the truth. “You want to know where I’m from.”

She licked her lips nervously. Inwardly, she cringed. She had to stop acting like a babbling idiot. But she was babbling, and she knew it. She couldn’t seem to drag her thoughts into any kind of coherent order.

“Dammit, don’t act blonde.”

“I am blonde. Sort of. Kind of blonde. More like honey, if you want to get technical. Reddish—honey—blonde. Strawberry, really.”

She stifled a moan. God, she had diarrhea of the mouth. Surely, as a journalist, she could act and sound professional.

“Danger?”

Oh, well, that was much better. Very professional.

Why couldn’t she just get past his name?

She clapped a hand over her mouth, but in spite of it, laughter bubbled to the surface and spilled out of her. Maybe it was the entire night, the surreal, bizarreness of the whole thing or simply the need to relieve the stress like when people laughed at funerals, but she couldn’t help herself. A bad ass named Danger. There had to be a movie somewhere in that, like in the movie, ‘A Man Named Horse’.

Wasn’t it just her luck after witnessing a murder, she ended up kidnapped by a man named Danger? How much weirder could the night get?

She cleared her throat, gained control of her laughter and wiped the tears from her eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s just so—so—well it’s your name. . .unbelievable.”

Apparently, Hiawatha had lost what sense of humor he possessed, because his face now looked dark as a rain cloud and he sure didn’t look like a man interested in making peace.

“Now that you’ve had a good laugh, Miss Weston, perhaps you could answer the question. Yes, I’d like to know where you’re from. You are going to tell me. And yes, my name is Danger. A family joke. Not as funny as you seem to find it, but still, it’s my name. Now, may we proceed?”

She could do this. Right? Sure. No problem. She could make up any place, be from wherever she chose. He would never know the difference. Would he?

She didn’t have to tell him the truth. Did she?

“I’m waiting, Miss Weston. And take that damned cap off so I can see your face.”

Lacey jumped as his voice exploded with command. She wasted a perfectly good glare because he didn’t even notice she shot him a drop-dead look. With a huff, she yanked off the Braves baseball cap. She barely registered the soft gasp he gave as her hair tumbled across her shoulders and slid past her breasts.

She twisted the cap in her hands, her fingers digging into the stiff material, and wished fervently it was his neck. She glanced up in time to see his lips twitch, and wondered again at his sense of humor.

Did the man have no shame?

“Better?” she asked sweetly.

His gaze flickered from her hair to her mouth. He shifted and cleared his throat, still his voice rumbled, “You’re not from here.”

“Whoopee, give the man another chicken feather!” She scooped back her hair and shot him an angelic look. “Why do you think that?”

“Don’t try so hard to sound so damned sweet and innocent.” He narrowed his eyes. “There isn’t one thing angelic about you.” He glanced at the cap she continued wringing in her hands and then back at her. “It’s pretty obvious to me you want to run me over, preferably with a tank.”

“Oh, please. You hit me.”

“You bit me,” he shot back and rubbed his thigh. “You’re probably rabid. If ever there was a wildcat in need of taming, it’s you.”

He slanted his gaze at his thigh as if he thought he could see through the denim to where she’d bitten him. “I probably need a shot to counteract whatever venom you injected into my body.” He looked up, searching her face. “Have you had your rabies shots?”

“I can’t seem to remember.”

“Uh-huh. Like I said, you’re not from around here. You’re definitely not someone I’m likely to forget meeting.” He lifted a brow. “With that slow, honey and molasses drawl, I’d guess the South. But that encompasses a lot of space, sweetheart. I’d like a more detailed picture.”

Lacey recognized the banked heat in his eyes, and for some ridiculous reason, her throat snapped shut. Jesus, her brain felt as thick and sludgy as that coffee across the room smelled. She couldn’t think. It was unreasonable to expect a lady to think straight when a stud muffin, hung like a swamp donkey, stood right in front of her very eyes. But the image of him killing that girl wouldn’t get out of her head.

“I bet you would.” She bared her teeth in a smile that felt more like rigor mortis had set in than a genuine smile. The flare of awareness that brightened his intimidating gaze blazed with something she couldn’t quite determine.

Something undomesticated— Oh yeah, he thought she needed taming? Ha! Something that alerted her senses to a new peril she now faced—Uh-huh, a man named Danger, no brainier there and a definite peril—a Montana man, hard-bodied...long, hot nights...gave a whole new meaning to the Wild West.

Something that was raw and wild and somehow threatening—not life threatening, no, not life threatening—heart and soul threatening, and as elemental as time itself.

He remained motionless, but his eyes were as alive and alert as a predator’s. His whole body silently shouted, ‘I’m wary of you, woman. Suspicious. Don’t even consider lying to me.’

She felt her nerves stretch to the breaking point. Gosh, but the man could remain as still and silent as a mountain cat. Watchful. Damned watchful.

Lacey swallowed hard, pushing past the dry lump in her throat. “G-Georgia. I’m from Georgia.”

Way to go, Lacey. Spill your stammering guts. That will certainly make things difficult for him.

“What the hell kind of name is Danger?” she blurted, unable to keep quiet about it any longer.

“The kind that should caution little cats like you to stay out of my territory. It’s hunting season.”

Too late.

If she didn’t miss her guess, she’d already made the mistake of wandering onto his cherished domain. She had a feeling she was in deep shit here. Oh, yeah, very deep ca-ca.

And it got deeper by the minute.

“Hu—hunting season?”

Damn, she sounded just like a petrified, Victorian miss. Lacey squared her shoulders and did her best to look tough, not an easy accomplishment for a delicate flower from the South. She drew her brows together in a hard scowl, tightened her lips. She didn’t know if any of it fazed him, well, actually, she was pretty darn certain her brooding glares rolled right off his broad shoulders, but she didn’t dare let him know what a timid woman she was. Why, he’d annihilate her if he thought she didn’t have a backbone of steel.

“Stalking wildcats is one of my favorite sports.”

Great. Well, time to make an exit. She definitely had to get out of here. To hell with a steel backbone. It was nothing but a bunch of shiny, stainless metal anyway. First chance, she was out the door. Adios. Hasta La Vista, baby. And she wouldn’t be back.

But he was a big man. His powerful build alone was enough to persuade her to reconsider any plan to do battle with him. The aura of authority that surrounded him, cautioned her not to try. There was silent warning in those battleship-gray eyes, a flinty hardness that informed her he was just waiting for her to make a mistake. As wary as a bad-tempered wolf, he remained poised in the doorway. Attentive. Vigilant. Waiting.

He had her cornered, and he knew it. The animal.

Instinctively, she knew he wouldn’t hesitate to use any means necessary to prevent her getting past him. Uncertain whether she should risk it anyway or simply wait for a better opportunity, Lacey hesitated, wary of making a move toward him.

She might be a meek and timid person, but it simply wasn’t in her nature to give up. Though her hesitation was minimal, she saw his eyes flicker with understanding. Then cold warning silently frosted the gray depths.

“Don’t. There’s no way in hell you can get by me. No way in hell I’ll let you. Give it up, little cat, because if you don’t, I’m going to handcuff you to that chair behind you.”

Lacey lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. She drew a deep breath and started toward him. He was moving out of her way or else. Only problem—she didn’t know what the ‘or else’ would be.

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. His nostrils flared. “Come and get it, sweetheart,” he said quietly. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

She noted the slight tensing of his body. Oh, boy. He was just waiting for her to make the ultimate mistake of attacking him again. Her self-protective instincts kicked in. She halted and backed up a step. “I believe you, sugar.”

He looked at her sharply. Annoyance leapt to his eyes. She had the disconcerting feeling he purely hated her being here. She fought a smile. Mr. Tall, Dark and Studly would rue the day he ever tangled with Lacey Weston, she guaran-damn-teed-it.

Hands fisted on her hips, Lacey flung back her head in challenge. “Well, sugar, we seem to have a teeny little problem here. A stalemate.”

A dark brow arched.

“The way I see it, I want through the door you’re standing in front of, and you obviously aren’t happy with the idea.” She grinned. “I believe what we have here, is what you cowboys deem a ‘Mexican stand-off’.”

The predatory gleam in his eyes darkened. A wicked grin split his lips. He folded his arms across his mountainous chest and cocked one hip against the doorframe. “Nah. What we have here, sugar,” he drawled in mock imitation of her Southern accent, “is Custer’s Last Stand, and I’m Chief Sitting Bull.” He moved toward her with a slow, lethal walk. “Guess who won that battle, bright eyes? Sheath your claws little cat, because this is another battle where the paleface loses.”

In The Arms Of Danger

Chapter Two

“I was hostile to the white man. . . I was not allowed to remain quiet. I was tired of fighting . . . They tried to confine me . . . and a soldier ran his bayonet into me.”

Crazy Horse

Rimrock Sheriff’s Dept. Sat.2:00 a.m.

Lacey tapped one booted foot, counted to ten, huffed, and darted a glare at the sheriff whose wide shoulders seemed to take up what space there was inside the tiny office.

“Let’s get something straight here, Chief Crazy Horse. I’m not your average little cat. I keep my claws sharpened and extended at all times.”

He glanced down at her tapping boot. When he looked up, a grin played about his mouth. “Natives restless tonight, little cat?”

“That would fall under your expertise, not mine. I have to confess I have a major problem with someone who hauls me around, then blocks my way of escape. No, no.” She held up a hand as if to warn him away and shook her head. “Now I admit I’m a sweet-natured sort of gal, but if I start a war, I aim to win.”

She frowned. Heck, if the man could mock her drawl, then, she figured she could copy his mannerisms. “Just so you know, I’m not the barefoot, pregnant, obey-the-macho-male-type, either.”

His gaze settled on her belly for the longest moment, then moved back up to meet her gaze. He arched a silken brow. “Pity.”

Lacey muttered under her breath. “I’m not some little petunia you can trample all over with those moccasins.” Outraged, Lacey plastered her fists to her hips and narrowed her gaze. “I think you must be under the mistaken delusion that I might be your idea of an all day sucker.”

He snorted. “Believe me, Miss Weston, when it comes to you, I’m not under any delusions, mistaken or otherwise, and I’d never mistake you for a frail petunia.”

“Why—you devil. Are you laughing at me?”

“What makes you think that?”

Her mouth opened, but before she could speak, he interrupted. “Interesting you should call me Crazy Horse, such a magnificent, Lakota warrior. Brave. Fierce. Didn’t take shit from anyone, especially little cats with hot tempers and sharp tongues.”

“He was also stabbed in the back with a bayonet.”

“Thanks for reminding me. I’ll be sure not to turn my back on you, bright eyes.”

Lacey’s mouth snapped shut. She glared at him, fumed for a moment, then sent him a look meant to sear his socks. “I haven’t stabbed anyone—lately, but you never know, I might have to dig out my trusty bayonet.”

Lord, give me strength. I swear I’m trying hard to be nice. “The devilish man simply won’t let me.”

“Devilish man?”

She looked up to see laughter sparkling in his eyes. Darn, she hadn’t meant to say those words aloud.

“You do realize, little cat, I can arrest you for threatening an officer of the law with a bayonet? But then, I might lose the opportunity to discover just what it takes to make you purr.”

“Ooo!” The man was just plain ornery as a cornered snake. Why, it was enough to make Satan’s daughter throw fireballs at him. “Arrest me? I haven’t done anything to you—yet.”

She should never have made that comment about bare feet and pregnancy. Talk about leaving herself wide open for smart-ass remarks. Make her purr, indeed. He seemed to have a warped fixation with her and animals. The man was obviously a sick-o.

No one wore war paint this day and age, other than a Hollywood actor in a western, but they were hell and gone from Tinsel Town, so that left out that possibility.

And who the crap wore chicken feathers in their hair?

Poor chicken. He probably scalped it.

Lacey took a moment to mull that over. Best be nice to him. Insane people were unpredictable at best. A woman couldn’t be too careful when she dealt with the mentally unstable. “Before you arrest me, could you wait until I actually run you through?”

She fluttered her lashes and plastered an innocent smile on her lips.

***

Danger choked. Damn, but her mind worked like a computer chip. She was witty, intelligent and saucy as hell. Sparks flashed in her eyes as she darted lethal glares at him. The little honey had a temper, and she didn’t mind displaying it either.

She had claws all right—and more gall than he would have given her credit for. Yeah, the woman was in serious need of taming. He wanted to be the man who tamed her. Staying on his toes with her would be a challenge.

He’d seen the way she stared at his crotch. He wasn’t blind, nor had he been unaffected by her interested gaze. But he had a job to do. He refused to let her know how she turned him on with just a pointed look. That wasn’t acceptable.

She’d popped up from out of nowhere. He’d seen something from the office window, a suggestion of movement, a hint of a shape, a shadow, a suspicious stirring that might just have been a ripple in the night, but he switched instantly into hunting mode. He didn’t like someone prowling around in his town in the wee hours of the night, staying in the shadows. His suspicions howled.

Sure, he concluded it was probably just one of the teenage boys who’d made vandalism the new sport in Rimrock lately, but maybe it was Hank’s killer out to murder the sheriff this time. He had to check it out, and he was just pissed enough not to be gentle with his capture.

The seething anger he felt as he weaved in and out of the shadows remained pumped and primed. She tripped his inner alarm, when she nearly walked right over him. He’d barely had time to react, to grab her.

Now, he couldn’t shake the concern he felt. It bothered him that a woman alone, late at night, slinked in a dark alley for no apparent reason, a woman who was short on cooperation and with a tongue and mind as sharp as a honed blade.

The problem with the set-up was in his experience, someone who sneaked around in the dark was usually up to no good. Damn, he hated that, but just because she was beautiful didn’t mean she wasn’t up to something. The question was. . .what?

And if not, if he’d misjudged her, then why was she so hesitant to answer his questions?

He couldn’t set aside his suspicions of her. An explanation from her was critical. At the same time, he admired the way she fought him.

She was such a fierce little thing.

Brave. Valiant. Feisty as hell.

If he didn’t miss his guess, she was a ball of fire any man would be tempted to get burned by, but he had a feeling she was so much more.

There was a depth to her he’d bet few men had had the nerve to delve into. Exploring that inner sanctum would be a pleasure as well as a challenge. No doubt, she’d be a handful. Her courage was commendable. She was beautiful in a wild, untamed way. Something in her eyes drew him. Exotically tilted, they were a fantastic sunburst of vivid greens and gold, shiny as a new coin, but pure feline. Tiger-eyes filled with spitting indignation.

Tiger? Hadn’t his grandparents warned him about a white tiger? Huh. She didn’t look dangerous or life threatening to him. He figured, in a pinch, he could take her in a brawl.

He felt his grin widen as he nudged the door with his hip and closed it behind him. Yes, definitely a tiger. He liked that. He liked her voice, too. That slow lazy drawl of hers sent waves of heat rolling down his spine and straight through his belly to his groin. It hinted at honey and sweet smelling magnolias, steamy sex, and tangled sheets. Of love on a hot afternoon that would blister a man clear to his soul.

She moved toward him. Her exotic cat eyes glittered with malice. Silently threatening. Promising. The challenge issued. She wasn’t about to back down an inch. He loved the way she moved—with feline gracefulness—boneless, fluid—a graceful saunter that wasted neither time nor energy and sexy as hell. She moved as slow as she talked.

His sex twitched as he imagined her beneath him, moving in an unhurried rhythm he knew would make him lose control. Vivid images flashed through his mind of her moving leisurely over him, catlike, her breath warm and moist on his skin. Tongue hot and damp, licking his chest, trailing a path down his stomach, gliding lower and taking his cock—

Shit. Danger coughed and forced his gaze away from her. What the hell was wrong with him? He never reacted this way to a female prisoner. He was always courteous, but maintained a professional manner. Always.

His gut clenched with desire. His cock twitched, and his balls ached. If she turned him on any more, his damned dick would stand straight up and thump against the buttons holding it back. She awakened a need in him, stirred something raw and pagan to life, something long forgotten and elemental—hot, intense lust.

He skimmed his gaze over her. She was small, but there were enough curves to whet a man’s appetite—son of a bitch. The little minx still stalked toward him like a jungle cat on the prowl. It was plain she intended to give it her best shot and fight him.

Why did she have to be such a headstrong, determined little cat?

Bracing himself for her assault, he watched her struggle silently with herself as she debated the wisdom of following through with her desire to battle him.

Dammit! She set his teeth on edge.

He wanted to grab her and shake some sense into her. Okay. So she was a scrapper, he’d give her that. And so damned beautiful his heart ached, but he had a feeling she would drive him insane.

Her mouth—she had the most inviting, carnal mouth he’d ever seen. He swore softly beneath his breath as it suddenly hit him. She had Angelina Jolie’s mouth. Plump top lip, bottom lip luscious with a full, sexy pout that just begged for a man’s dick—Christ, her mouth ought to be illegal.

Danger inhaled deeply. Exhaled slowly. He didn’t like the fact that his mind kept heading south or the fact that what was behind the row of buttons stood up and waved for attention. With very little provocation on her part, his body overheated, and his cock started the fandango two-step.

A cloud of topaz-colored hair framed her lovely face. Highlights of red shimmered like rich jewels in the silky skeins. It rippled across her shoulders and down her back, glistening like a golden waterfall. Her hair was all the colors she’d stammered out before and even more. Eyeing the silken strands was like watching shimmering, variegated satin.

His fingers twitched. He ached to touch it, to curl his hands in the silken strands and force her mouth to his. He wanted a taste of her. A nibble. He’d be satisfied with a tiny bite of that sexy, bottom lip. One sample. It would surely appease his curiosity. He would know what she tasted like, then he could get on with this business.

He stifled a moan. This was not good. He had to do something quick to rein in his interest. But his gaze returned to her face and wandered. Her bones were fine and as delicate as a bird. If she attacked him, he didn’t want to injure her, and he could. He had no desire to destroy her wonderful spirit, but he couldn’t allow her to escape.

Danger drew a deep breath. “You don’t strike me as a fool, lady. So far, I’ve only been as rough as necessary in order to protect myself, but don’t push me. I promise you, I can be hell if the occasion calls for it.”

Fear rose in the intense depths of her eyes. Although he had a feeling she tried desperately not to let it show, she looked terrified. Visibly shaking, her eyes rounded with fear, and she took a single step back from him.

He suddenly realized she wasn’t just afraid. She was specifically fearful of him.

Now, why would she be so scared of him?

He’d never seen her before in his life.

The fact she was scared stiff of him hammered away at his mind, the thought somehow shocking. No woman had ever been horror-struck by him before. No wonder she was putting up such a fight. She was afraid and defensive. Guilt rose from his chest and lodged in his throat. He’d never meant to scare her. Not like this.

Okay, so he’d dragged her down an alley, mashed her face against a wall, frisked her, palmed her breast, and lugged her to his office across his shoulder. . .

Hell, he’d be scared of him too if he was her, but it didn’t set well with him that he’d caused the fright he saw on her face. Deeply shaken by the fact that he’d frightened her, he scraped his mind for a way to reassure her, but found his gaze settling on a jagged tear high along the outer seam of her dirty jeans.

A mouth-watering sliver of fair skin and red lace played peek-a-boo through the rip. The tempting glimpse of flesh and ultra-feminine lace tantalized his imagination. It made him think about what lay under the denim—behind that sexy bit of frothy material.

Danger stifled a groan and clenched his teeth against an onslaught of pure, unbridled hunger. Dammit. All he needed was his libido to kick in first gear because of a bit of feminine lace. It wasn’t as if he’d never seen silks on a female before. He glanced away from the eye-catching lace and zeroed in on the sleeveless red-and-white checked blouse she wore. Her shirttail hung halfway out of the faded denim that hugged her trim waist. Two top buttons were missing and the provocative edge of a red silk bra grabbed his attention. Shit. He was no better off than he’d been.

Oh, yeah. It was damned interesting and certain to raise the temperature of any hot-blooded male. If he kept this up, by God, he’d remain hard as a mountain stone.

A third button dangled precariously by a thread. His fingers twitched. The urgent need to rip that damned, dangling button off her blouse punched him with the force of a stallion kicking him in the gut. Damn, if he didn’t want to search out those soft, inviting curves innocently hinted at by the drape of her blouse and snug jeans. Curves that tempted—lured him like the snowcapped mountain ranges of Montana.

He reached for a khaki jacket lying across the desk and shoved it at her. “Put this on.”

“Why?” She reached for the jacket in an automatic response to him pushing it at her and flung it around her shoulders.

“Because you’re cold.”

She snorted. “I’m cold—or you’re just through ogling me, Sheriff? I do have better things to do with my time.”

She thrust her hands on her hips in a fit of pique.

“You ogled me—it’s only fair I had a turn.”

“I did not ogle you.”

“Sure you did and turn-a-bout’s fair play in my books.”

“What could you possibly find so damned interesting in a little rip?” She scowled.

He raised his head to focus on her face. “What did you say about better things and time?”

“You aren’t even listening to me. I’d like to report a crime,” she drawled acerbically. “You know? A crime?”

“A crime?”

“Yes. I’m fairly certain, with you being a sheriff and all, you’ve surely heard about crime.”

“Sure. I know all about it. I know about suspicious characters and criminals, too.”

She wasn’t amused, not if the way she clenched her fists was any indication. Judging by her expression, he figured she was back to wringing his neck.

Danger cleared his throat, wary she might see the raw hunger he felt mirrored in his eyes. Christ, he hoped not. It didn’t matter one whit how much he had an itch to scratch. It could never be. If he came home with a pale-skinned woman, Papa Joe would never speak English again. Not that the thought of taking this particular female home with him had crossed his mind. Shit, no. His grandfather was apt to go on the warpath for real!

Papa Joe had little use for Anglo women. And this Anglo was paler than most with her rose complexion and nearly red hair.

The woman was trouble, nothing, but trouble. He thought she’d face the Devil and spit in his eye if she had to, but as far as he was concerned, she was as off limits and as untouchable as the mayor’s wife.

He didn’t want to know anything more about her than his job required. This was business. He intended to keep it that way. He never mixed his professional life with his personal one. In his opinion, it was simply asking for trouble. Living by that code had worked so far. So if it wasn’t broke, he wasn’t fixing it.

But the streak of blood smeared across her right cheek and crusted on her right elbow concerned him. “What happened to you?”

She raised a hand to the abrasion on her cheek. “You mean—besides you, Sheriff?”

Danger started toward her, then changed his mind, his footsteps faltering as she paled. “Besides me. I know I didn’t do all this damage to you. Were you robbed?”

She looked like someone had given her a rough time. He didn’t much like the thought of that. He lifted a brow and waited for her to reply to his question. She touched her tongue to her lips. Swallowed hard, then did it again.

His dick twitched. Jesus. He wished she would quit touching her tongue to her lips. He really did. An elemental rush of desire surged through him every time she did it. He shifted, uncomfortable with the rapid changes in his body. Shit. Behind the metal buttons of his fly, his dick lengthened and swelled. Christ. This couldn’t be happening. He should have accepted the blowjob Cynthia Hemphill offered him yesterday morning, then maybe he wouldn’t be so damned needy now. If little Miss Magnolia Blossom would just stop unwittingly enticing him— maybe his dick would quit going into spasms every time she did it.

He choked back a moan. Dammit, his brain had all but settled in his crotch and turned to gray sludge. Essentially, she was his prisoner. It was unethical, to say the least, to have a sexual interest in her. He snorted. Try telling that to his cock, but if he reminded himself of this frequently enough, maybe sooner or later he’d believe it. But the heaviness flooding his loins told him his body wasn’t listening, said, go to hell and wasn’t the least bit interested in ethical issues, would even give him directions if necessary.

He blinked to dispel the power she held over him, but the feeling of being a rat trapped in a maze—scurrying around unable to escape refused to go away.

Danger shifted his attention to the crumpled baseball cap lying on the floor.

When had she dropped it?

He sighed. With that mass of silken hair tucked out of sight beneath the cap, and the vague shadow she’d cast in the darkness, he’d thought her a young male prowling around, looking for trouble.

How could he have been so wrong?

Maybe it was her irresistible scent wafting across the room to him, that soft, sultry, woman smell that tempted a man to dream foolish dreams. His body felt primed, like a hot-blooded stallion. He had her scent in his nostrils. Knew it— wouldn’t forget it. Ever. He took a slow, deep breath. Like some kind of spell, her dark scent drew him. It seemed to cover his body, his clothes. Without thinking, he took an involuntary step toward her.

***

Lacey gasped at his sudden, unexpected move. Her heart leapt to her throat. Damn the man and his uncanny ability to move like a fearsome predator. He strode toward her with cat-like fluidity. His thigh and shoulder muscles rippled sleekly with each step he took.

She backed away from him, until her spine connected with the high-backed wooden chair behind her. In reflex, she pressed a hand to her heart.

It was all she could do to keep from giving in to the knot of panic that twisted her insides and remain where she stood. It was enough to give a lady a heart attack. She didn’t realize she’d gone back to wringing her hands until his gaze dropped. She looked down and stilled her hands immediately. No need to give him more ammunition to use against her.

When he reached down, picked her cap up off the floor and tugged it down on her head, she nearly jumped out of her skin. She really wished he’d stayed by the door. She preferred him blocking her path to freedom than hovering over her.

“Easy now, sweetheart, I don’t know what the hell you’re afraid of, but it certainly doesn’t have to be me.”

Like hell.

Lacey stifled the absurd desire to giggle and stopped wringing her hands— again. She had every reason to fear this man and none to trust him. The chair wobbled behind her as she backed up another step. Huh, so much for facing the enemy.

“Don’t do that!” His voice sounded strained, tight.

This time she did jump. “What?”

He exhaled deeply. “Stop backing away from me. I won’t hurt you, little cat. You don’t have to be afraid of me.”

Lacey gave a derisive snort. Oh, right, he must think she’d awoken that morning stupid.

Both his brows arched. He held out his hand to her, as though trying to soothe a frightened mare. “Look, darlin’, I’m not going to hurt you. For Christ’s sake, quit looking at me as if I’m stalking you.”

“You are stalking me.”

His flinty gaze drifted to her mouth before returning to meet her eyes. Lacey licked her lips, then froze as she realized he was staring at her mouth. He suddenly lifted his gaze to meet hers. She didn’t know which was worse, him staring at her mouth or having to meet his cold eyes on an even keel.

“No, sweetheart, if I was stalking you, you can be damn certain you’d be mine by now.”

Hateful man. Hateful, hateful man.

She curled her fingers into tight fists to conceal their trembling. She’d read somewhere once to never reveal your fear, to boldly stare the enemy straight in the eye.

Hah. Whoever parted with that bit of wisdom hadn’t been standing toe to toe with Crazy Horse, the ravaging warrior, who managed to look both sexy and fierce, at the same time.

There had to be a law against a man possessing bedroom eyes from hell. Why those scorching looks he sent her could blister a woman clear to her soul and leave her begging for the heat to be riveted up another notch.

His eyes narrowed and his gaze settled on her clenched fists. She immediately relaxed her fingers. Abruptly, he reached past her, jerked the chair around, and pushed her onto it. “Explain to me, honey, just why in the hell you were sneaking around in the middle of the night. And your explanation better be damned good.”

“I wasn’t sneaking,” she denied vehemently.

Was he serious? He’d hauled her in here because he thought she was sneaking around buildings? Ha. Likely story.

“Sweetheart, you’re so jumpy, you might as well be a frog in a hot skillet of grease. And I know what I saw. You were sneaking, all right.”

She fluttered her eyelashes at him. “Are you always so suspicious of strangers, sugar?”

His mouth quirked, but he lost the battle, and the half smile managed to escape his control. “Only the ones I see trying to evade detection. That makes me suspicious of most people, not just strangers. Don’t,” he warned, as she started to rise. “I won’t say it again. You make one more attempt to get up, and I’ll slap you behind bars. I’ve a good mind to do it anyway, just on general principle.”

With a distinctive huff, she settled her butt back on the chair. Ooo, she hated the way his eyes crinkled with amusement. “Whose general principal? Certainly not mine!”

She gave an unladylike snort just to be certain he understood she was totally displeased with the situation. It didn’t faze the bull-headed man. He was like a slab of granite looking down on her from a lofty throne. Did nothing get to him? Well, of course not. If he was the cold-blooded murderer she suspected him of being, then he didn’t have feelings; murderers were like machines. Kill. Kill again. Then move on to their next victim.

“Cute. You’re a cheeky little thing. But I still want to know why you were sneaking around in the dark.”

Cheeky little thing? Jeez! He made her sound like one of the Little Rascals. Next thing he’d be patting her on top of the head like she was Bambi or something.

Lacey arched her head back and skimmed her gaze over him with as much interest as annoyance. “You know, Sheriff, you don’t look particularly obtuse, but then, who knows? I can’t see much behind all that macho bullshit you spout or that ‘I’m the man’ swagger.”

He swore softly—in a language she’d never heard before, but she knew he was swearing, the uncivil tone was too blistering not to be cussing, and obviously in his opinion, too raunchy for her ears. His eyes flashed, not a trace of patience in the mercury-gray depths. “For the last time, why were you hiding in the alley, Miss Weston?”

“I told you, I wasn’t hiding in the alley. You dragged me in there.”

“I dragged you deeper into the shadows, but lady, you were already there. I want to know why.”

“It’s none of your damned business!” Whoa, she hadn’t just screeched that...had she? Shit. She felt as if she was choking on hockey here. No way was this—this—miserable man going to allow her to get by with screaming at him.

“None of my damned business?” His voice rose along with both brows. “You listen to me, little gato. Last time I checked, I’m the man with the badge. Answer the question.”

Lacey stared at him. “My lips are sealed, sugar.”

Oh, God. He was so going to throttle her.

“I can keep it up all night,” he snapped. “Can you?”

Lacey bit her tongue. Don’t say it, she silently ordered herself. Don’t do it. Oh, crap. Why not? In for a penny, in for a pound, her granny always said. And she was a dead woman walking anyway, so why not?

She licked her lips and plastered on what she hoped was her most angelic face and widened her eyes with breathless innocence. “You can keep it up all night? You willing to prove it, sugar?”

Oh, shit. She was crazier than a Looney Tunes cartoon character.

He growled deep in his throat. His eyes, those beautiful, diamond sharp eyes burned with fire, then immediately the silver rims frosted with ice.

Ooo! Hot? Cold? Which will it be? She waited—and pondered.

He seemed fascinated with her mouth as once again, his gaze settled there before he lifted his head and his eyes met hers. His lips tightened. “You really don’t want to go there, little cat.”

“Oh, but I do. I really do.” She fluttered her eyelashes dramatically.

“Trust me. You don’t.”

Lacey’s head snapped up. She hadn’t realized she’d spoken the words aloud until this very moment. She bit her lip. Damn. She simply had to learn to control her runaway mouth. Patience was something she didn’t have much of and the damnable messes she constantly fell in were beginning to make her think she might be jinxed in some way. They kept her floundering around like a dying fish, flopping on a riverbank. Oh yeah, right, the fish thing again.

Here she was—caught in a viper’s nest. It wasn’t her fault. No. She was a gently bred Southern lady. She didn’t go looking for trouble. Trouble found her. It always had. She obeyed the law, had never even received a traffic ticket.

Murphy’s Law seemed to follow her. It was why she always fell into situations way over her head. Lacey sighed and chewed on her bottom lip. How was she ever going to outwit this dangerous man wearing a badge? She needed to get her head screwed on straight and think. Plan.

She shifted her gaze to the badge in question.

Why did he have to be a sheriff?

Worse, why did she have to be attracted to him?

Well, it was simple; she could no longer trust her own judgment and senses. Logic told her she dare not trust him.

What if he was the murderer?

His voice could be just as cold and demanding as the man she’d heard tonight, yet there were times she heard gentleness. At times, she saw a hint of softness in the polished silver of his eyes, traces of humor when his lips twitched, even when he tried to be a hard-ass.

She also read honest concern in his dark features, but still...there was that little voice warning her to use caution.

It had been so dark tonight. Things happened quickly. Sounds carried at night. They sounded different, surreal. She knew that. There was just no way for her to know if he was the one who killed that woman or not.

So where did that leave her? With judgment calls, and if she made the wrong decision, she could die. Dear God, what should she do?

What could she do?

She could hardly blurt out her suspicions.

She wasn’t fool enough to lay all her cards on the table. The wise thing to do was keep this man guessing. Wait—until she was dead certain—or just plain dead?

The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood up. A chill blasted her, leaving behind an icy prickle of unease. She shivered. She’d be dead all right, if she trusted anyone but herself. Except for her granny, there had never been anyone in her life she could trust but herself. No, she dare not put her faith and trust in a man she didn’t know. It was better not to second-guess her decision. She’d keep her mouth shut and not volunteer any more information than necessary. That path led to safety.

Her brows snagged together. Okay. In the meantime, she’d cooperate—to a certain degree.

Or not.

She swept her hair back from her face and gave him a cool, level look. “No, Sheriff, I don’t think I’m going to trust you on any count.”

She stifled a moan. Now, why had she said that? She hadn’t meant to tell him she didn’t trust him, for Pete’s sake. She could feel the tension in her tightly drawn lips, but she couldn’t seem to relax. Her body felt pinched with exhaustion.

His slow exhalation was a low rumble in the room like a big cat purring. He wanted her to trust him. No way.

“Why are you so frightened? I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You keep saying that, Sheriff. I have to wonder which one of us you’re trying to convince.”

“I’ll help you anyway I can, sweetheart. But in order for me to help you, you have to trust me.”

Ha. Did the man think she had stupid tattooed on her forehead? “No. The only one I have to trust is me. You have no right to hold me here.”

She heard the strain in her voice, as if she were wound tight as an eight-day clock and about to snap into a million pieces. She clenched her fingers to keep him from seeing the faint tremor. Tension, as thick and heavy as a swollen rain cloud, surrounded them.

“You were sneaking around in the dark, hiding behind buildings.” His voice had taken on a no-nonsense tone. “I get pissed when I see someone acting suspicious. I get especially pissed when someone puts a bullet through one of my deputy’s hearts, as someone did, yesterday.”

Lacey gasped. Alarm snaked through her. “Are you suggesting I murdered your deputy?”

“Did you?”

“Certainly not!” She wiggled her fingers. “See? No concealed weapons.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I’ve had just about enough of your games, Miss Weston.”

He leaned his hips against the wide desk and stared down at her with teethbaring fury, a dangerous man, Danger Blackstone. She felt as though she was caught between the snapping jaws of an iron beast.

Ruthless. Merciless.

Exciting as hell, but nonetheless terrifying.

Shifting his weight, he leaned toward her and tilted her face up with a fingertip placed beneath her chin. “Now, you listen to me, honey.”

He smiled at her disarmingly; nevertheless, Lacey heard the cold warning in his voice and was wise enough to heed it. She also realized she’d pushed him to the limit.

“I’ll admit I’m a naturally suspicious kind of guy. It comes with the job and has saved my life on a couple of occasions. The fact that I found you prowling around in the dark, and you didn’t want to be seen, rings all kind of alarms I find damned hard to ignore. I could lock you up—just because—and I could misplace the key for hours. Days even—if it comes to it. Do we have an understanding?”

She nodded. “Yes. I understand you’re threatening me.”

“Yes, I am. I’m glad you got the message.” He released her and leaned back. “If I believed for a single moment you killed Hank Hardesty, believe me, you wouldn’t be seated in that chair.” He rubbed his jaw as though puzzled. “With that cap on and in the dark, you looked like a young boy to me, an adolescent. I couldn’t see your face, your hair, or even discern your figure. I thought you were a teenager or even worse. But since there’s been a rash of juvenile vandalism in the area lately and a murder, I wasn’t about to take any chances. When you fought me, I sure as hell wasn’t taking a chance of you slipping a knife between my ribs.”

He paused, mumbled something about not believing he’d mistaken her for a boy, then his voice sharpened. “Add all this together, and I get real concerned when strangers pop into my town or my county. That’s why I nabbed your ass, sweetheart.” He jabbed fingers through his hair, dragging it back from his face. “I get even more concerned when said stranger is female, and she looks like she’s been dragged through the Gates of Perdition and barely survived the visit.”

Lacey wiggled restlessly on the chair. “Great. It’s not bad enough I witness something so horrible I just want to forget it. Oh, no. Now, I land in this little hot spot of crime as well.”

Danger’s head jerked as if he’d been shot. He drew a sharp breath. “What did you witness?”

Oops. Well, she’d certainly blown that.

She made no resistance when he suddenly grabbed her by the shoulders and lifted her from the chair. “Dammit! I don’t like not knowing what’s happening in my county. I get upset. Then, I get mad.”

Heat scalded her cheeks. They stood nose to nose, each glaring at the other. “I haven’t done anything wrong. I resent you’re insinuating I did. Turn me loose.”

He released her, but thrust her back onto the chair. “You’re just a bubbling fountain of information, bright eyes. Whether you’ve done anything wrong or not is a moot point, shades of gray. I know you’re withholding information. As far as the law is concerned, that’s a crime, lady.”

“So arrest me, sugar. Beat me with a rubber hose. I still won’t talk.” A russet brow shot up in silent challenge.

“Christ.” Danger rolled his eyes heavenward as if seeking help from the Almighty. Finally, he leveled a hostile glare on her. “You really want to do this the hard way? Fine. It’s no skin off my ass, woman, and makes little difference to me if you spend the rest of the night in a cell, or spend a week, month, or year. I’m not going anywhere, anyway. But you will go to jail, and I’d really hate to put you there, but don’t doubt for moment, I will do it.”

He perched himself on one corner of the massive desk and waited. After a few seconds of silence, he scowled. “Now, do you want to try again?”

Lacey hesitated another moment, then released a shuddering breath. She tipped her head up, drew in a deep breath and slowly exhaled. Her lips trembled.

“I’m in trouble.”

It was that exact moment Danger realized. . . he was, too.

In The Arms Of Danger

Chapter Three

If you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is stop diggin’.

Cowboy Quotes

Rimrock Sheriff’s Dept. Sat.2:30 a.m.

“What kind of trouble?” Danger asked.

The office felt as small as a cell with little room for maneuvering, but mentally, he took a step back from her. He couldn’t quite conceal the wariness in his voice or shake the fact the little wildcat with the big gold eyes wasn’t the only one in trouble here.

Christ, the woman’s eyes were a mirror to her soul. Inside, she must be as bruised as a shredded rose petal. The anguish on her face struck a chord of emotion long buried.

Nope. He wasn’t going there. No way. No how.

Just because he’d dug the hole didn’t mean he was willing to jump in feet first, lie down and pull the dirt over his head.

Who was he fooling? He’d spent his entire life choking back an inborn desire to protect and defend the things that mattered most in his life, his sister and brother. He knew the need came from the things he saw and heard when he was a child, things he should never have seen or heard.

Once he understood he couldn’t defeat his internal mechanisms, he finally gave up and gave in. It was an integral part of his nature. The man behind the badge, as well as the man he was when not wearing it. He’d learned to accept what he couldn’t change. Thus, the reason the badge stayed pinned on his shirt.

He included his grandparents, friends, the citizens of Rimrock and now, this woman, in the small protective circle he’d mentally created. It was an odd quirk in his personality, but he knew he’d always try and step between people and trouble. He was bigger, stronger, and tougher, except maybe in the little blossom’s case. Nah, he figured he could take her if it came right down to it. The way he saw it, it was a man’s job, his duty, to protect and cherish the smaller, fragile things in life.

Unexpected—and definitely a problem to his way of thinking—was this wild lust that boiled in his blood for the little hellion. He’d never felt like this before. To want a woman this badly, to want this Anglo so much it was a physical ache, staggered him.

Hell, he even liked her. Go figure.

Pure, base need in its rawest form swamped him. It sneaked its way past his defenses, as thick and smothering as slow dripping molasses. Raw and wildly elemental in its heat, all he could think about was that damnable slip of red lace and what it concealed.

He shifted, uncomfortable and overwhelmed by the vulnerable feeling that continued to invade his body. He hadn’t seen it coming.

He’d never needed before.

Wanted? Yes.

Needed? No.

Where this one female was concerned, every nerve in his body fired to life. It revved up his protective side. The urgency that flooded his mind told him this woman needed him too, but not in the sexual, elemental heat that fired away at his body and mind.

No, she was scared. She didn’t trust him and that knowledge tore at him. He’d fucked up. Frightened her. That meant he’d have to start over, convince her she could trust him, and he didn’t know what it would take to reach her. Working in the dark sucked. If he knew her better, but hell, he didn’t know her at all and certainly not well enough to make a judgment call. Instinct alone guided him and with her, it hadn’t been so hot.

He had a feeling depending on his gut with this woman was a one-way ticket to disaster. Danger blinked, then allowed his gaze to dwell on her face. For the first time her shoulders slumped. She not only looked defeated, but exhausted as well. Faint bruises lay like shadows under her eyes.

Where had the tigress gone?

She raised her head, her eyes filled with fire, fight and vulnerability, a wicked combination. His heart pounded. Oh, she might look vulnerable, but he didn’t think she’d keep her claws sheathed for very long. No matter how tough she came across, she reminded him of an abandoned orphan, desperate and swallowed by fear. Jesus H. Christ. Did the little hellcat have to look so damned defenseless? So helpless?

“What am I going to do with you?”

“Let me go?”

He snorted. “I don’t think so, little cat.”

Somehow, the minx had managed to creep past his defenses. That astounded him. She might not trust him, but that was a two-way street. He couldn’t let this burning attraction and need to protect distort his judgment.

“Look.” He cleared his throat and started over. “I’m here to help you any way I can.”

She darted a go to hell look at him and flashed her gaze away in an obvious attempt to avoid eye contact. Okay. He got the message loud and clear. She didn’t think much of his offer of protection.

Protective?

If she gave him a chance, yeah, he could do protective. No problem. Protect and serve, that was his motto. His job. The problem was she needed his protection about as much as a pit viper did. He had a feeling little Miss Georgia Peach could face a grizzly and come out the winner.

Guarding her was his job—and he did his job to the best of his ability. He could keep it impersonal. No emotional involvement. Yeah. She was a part of the job, plain and simple.

Sure.

When it came right down to it, the lady was no lady. She was a natural born fighter. Hell, she didn’t need his protection. And she certainly didn’t want it. She’d made that more than plain.

Lust? Okay. That was a different matter entirely. He simply wasn’t going there. He didn’t do lust. End of discussion.

Sex? He did do sex. All right. Where she was concerned, that could definitely be a big problem. His body, hell, his cock, was way too interested in her.

He hadn’t indulged in sex in a long time, longer than he cared to remember. One-night stands didn’t create lasting relationships. He couldn’t even recall the woman’s name or face he’d last got down and dirty with. Bang ’em, walk away, don’t look back. Never look back. A good philosophy, one he stuck to. No emotional involvement, no chance of heartache, no risks.

No ties.

He made a point of being careful. No woman was going to steal his heart or trap him in a loveless marriage or with an unwanted child.

He refused to think about the urgent need chewing at his gut.

Danger clenched his teeth, but the wayward desire didn’t go away just because he wished it so. The ache in his groin didn’t diminish no matter how many times he silently denied he wanted her. Desire gnawed at him. His body throbbed like a toothache.

He admired her beauty, but the inner strength, the fierce warrior hidden deep inside her drew him and held him prisoner. She deserved his admiration and respect. He didn’t think she realized just how much courage and strength she possessed.

The lady also appealed to him on a primitive level. Primitive, possessive, two things he’d never felt for a woman before.

He liked the way she stood toe to toe with him, drumming up her courage to fight him, even when she knew the odds were stacked against her. The fire in her vivid eyes fractured his soul. She was pure honey. That slow haunting drawl drew him like a magnet. It made him crave. . . for things he shouldn’t be hungering for—black velvet sin, hot steamy nights and two bodies entwined in tangled sheets. Nope. He shouldn’t be thinking about or wanting these things.

But he wanted her so badly, the ache wasn’t going away. The wanting, the urgent need to make her his own, scared the hell out of him. Having her wasn’t an option. Not for him.

Okay. So it boiled down to a matter of control.

And he had the control to leave her untouched. Uh-huh. You bet.

Christ, he’d seen first-hand the damage his mother did to his father. He wasn’t about to make a fool of himself, not like his father had over a damned Anglo female. Resentment boiled through him like molten lava. He didn’t need this woman barging into his life and complicating it.

He didn’t want her intrusion into his airtight, sterile little world, thank you very much! His job was his life; his work dangerous enough to keep him on his toes. He didn’t need more excitement. More challenge. And he’d always managed to keep his personal feelings separate from his professional—always. . .

Shit. Who was he fooling? With this woman, professionalism felt like a joke. A silent curse lodged in his throat. He ground his teeth. She could look at him with those big, cat eyes all she wanted. It wasn’t going to melt the ice that surrounded his heart. Hell, no.

Shoring up his resentment, he turned a hard look on her. He might desire her. What red-blooded male wouldn’t? Her sexy mouth alone was enough to make any man’s dick stand up and do a tango.

Given the opportunity, he might bang her. No, definitely, he’d bang her, but he’d walk away, heart-whole, and not look back. Keep to his philosophy. That was the safe, sane thing to do.

Having her once would be enough. That would purge this fire from his soul, the bone-jarring need. Get her out of his system, out of his blood. Yeah, once would be enough.

Danger shifted restlessly, acutely aware she watched him like a bug under a microscope. She watched as he walked over to the coffee maker and took a cloth from a drawer. He wiped the war paint off his forehead and cheeks. Sorely aggravated, he tossed the cloth in the general direction of the bathroom. What the hell, he had nothing to hide. But it irritated him that she looked at him with such obvious suspicion in her eyes.

Curious, Lacey studied him. What was he up to? Her suspicion of him bypassed all other gears and shot straight to overdrive. Oh, when he looked at her with that purposeful glint in his eyes, she knew she could stop wondering. The man desired her that was easy enough to see.

Seeing the paint come off his face eased her mind somewhat. At least now she didn’t feel as if she was facing a savage on the verge of scalping her.

She didn’t know this man. Hell, she didn’t know for sure exactly where she was other than somewhere in northern Montana. The glaring truth stared her in the face. She didn’t know anyone in the area, so there was no one to turn to for help.

It was hell being a stranger in a hostile environment. It only made sense to heed the silent voice urging caution. She wanted distance between herself and this dangerous man.

He did too. Or did he?

For all she knew, he was the murderer. Just because he wore a badge didn’t exactly strengthen her confidence or trust in him. If anything, it served to weaken it.

His height was almost identical to that of the killer, the same ring of authority resonated in his voice. Same hair, long, straight, definitely Native American.

Lacey shivered and fought the silent voice that whispered in her head, asking questions.

What if he wasn’t the murderer? What if she could trust him?

Damn it! She could dwell on what ifs forever and still make a costly mistake.

If she was going to survive, she had to do something. Trust someone. At the moment, Danger was her only choice. She hesitated, then sucking up her courage, drew in a deep breath and reluctantly admitted, “I witnessed a murder.”

Lacey watched him closely, but she couldn’t read any sign of guilt in his reaction. All she saw was the tension ease from his dark face, saw his chest rise and shudder with a deep breath, as though he’d held it pent up for much too long.

He couldn’t be the murderer. He wouldn’t have looked so damned relieved if he was the killer. Would he?

Still, there was no way to be certain.

God, a person could go insane trying to figure this out.

Danger frowned. She was possibly the only witness to his deputy’s death. He needed her and not in the sexual sense. She lowered her head. He didn’t like that. Refusing to sustain eye contact with him wasn’t a good sign. In his experience, when someone couldn’t look you in the eye, they were usually lying or hiding something.

“Look at me.”

Her head jerked up, and her eyes narrowed at his command. The look she gave him caused his breath to lodge painfully in his chest. Dammit, he felt like a goddamned warden who’d just given a prisoner on death row a walk to the electric chair. She stared at him as if he held a blade to her throat.

Delicately arched brows winged upward over each eye. Hell, she had the face of an angel. He figured she was closer to being the tiger her eyes took their color after.

She stuck out her chin, a stubborn, little tilt that spoke volumes. Squaring her shoulders, she met his gaze head-on, unable to conceal the obstinate streak in her nature. She was back to wringing her hands. “Look, Sheriff.”

“Danger. That’s my name, honey. Use it.”

Her lips tightened. She stared at him and said nothing.

“Please, continue, Miss Weston. Where did this murder take place?”

“I get the feeling, sugar, you’d prefer I just disappear. Kinda makes a girl wonder what you might have to hide.” She sent him a rueful look, her lips twisting with an edgy wryness.

Having patience was part of his training, but this woman would try the patience of a saint. “Let’s get something understood, Miss Weston. I’m in charge. I’m conducting this interview. If I have anything to hide, then it’s official business and none of yours.”

“Very well, Sheriff.” Her tone took on the same stiff attitude as his. “As I said, I saw a murder.”

“You saw my deputy murdered.”

Lacey shook her head. “No. Why did you say that? I didn’t.” Her brows scrunched with confusion. “Your deputy?”

His massive shoulders shifted. He folded his arms across his chest. The muscles of his biceps rippled. She blinked. “You know, handsome, you’re a bit of a distraction towering over me looking so damned fierce. I can’t think when you do that.”

“Fuck! Shit! Hell and damnation!”

Lacey grinned. “Well, understanding that requires no thinking.”

Irritated, Danger thrust fingers through his hair. “If you didn’t see my deputy killed, then who did you see murdered? Did you know the victim? Miss Weston, do you know the victim?”

“Stop shouting at me. It makes me nervous.”

He made her nervous? Hell, she made him twitchy as a joint snake.

“Yes, nervous. You’re never still. One minute you’re perfectly motionless, watching me with cat-like cunning. The next, you’re pacing up and down the length of the room, like now, frustration in every step.”

“Cat-like cunning?” He snorted. “I think you have a vivid imagination, Miss Weston. Very vivid.”

He settled on one corner of the desk, his eyes flicking over her. Perched on the edge of the massive desk like he was placed him above her, a superior position that gave him the advantage of looking down at her, a position he’d chosen deliberately. Idly swinging one moccasin-clad foot, he gave the impression he was relaxed and his thoughts elsewhere.

Lacey knew better. He possessed a keen mind that missed very little, and he was about as relaxed as a mountain lion stalking its prey.

“Who did you see get killed, Miss Weston?”

He wanted answers to his questions.

She didn’t have the answers. “I don’t know who she was.”

The warm, coffee-scented brush of his breath touched her face as he leaned closer and exhaled softly. “She?”

Lacey nodded.

“You’re certain it was a woman?”

“Yes.”

“All right, Miss Weston. Where?”

Lord, can’t he ask me something I can answer?

Lacey bowed her head. “I don’t know.”

She chanced a peek at him through her lashes. His keen eyes honed in on the way she twisted her hands together. Damn man didn’t miss a thing. She clenched them together, stilling them in her lap.

The flat of his hand whipped down, smacking the top of the desk.

Lacey jumped. “Bastard! You did that on purpose.”

He shrugged. Cold, calculated hardness slid over his dark features. “What do you mean, you don’t know where? You were there, weren’t you? Are you sure you even saw a murder? Were there any other witnesses?”

When she didn’t respond, he curled his fingers around her upper arms and shook her. “You were there—weren’t you?”

Both danger and vigilance exuded from him. The man was like a pit bull. He missed very little. He knew, damn well, he intimidated her, Alpha wolf to submissive female. The man was simply too masculine not to want to be the dominant partner in a relationship, even if that relationship was sheriff to suspect.

Lacey fought to hold her own. She’d never have survived the dangerous assignments she accepted if she allowed just anyone to push her around. This man managed it effortlessly. It made her uncomfortable to think he exerted that much power over her. That much control. Be damned if she’d let him crush her beneath his boot—er, moccasin heel.

“Yes. I was there. I just don’t know where ‘there’ is.”

All too aware of the man seated across from her, Lacey searched desperately for a way to convince him she was telling the truth. “I think.” She swiped her tongue across her bottom lip and started over. “I believe—it was somewhere west of here.”

“Ah. West of here. Kind of like you live in the South?”

Wary, Lacey nodded. “Yes. It was definitely west of Rimrock.” “I see.” He rubbed his bottom lip with a thumb-tip.

“Well, don’t you seem overly concerned?”

“If I seem doubtful, Miss Weston, it’s because my grandfather owns all the land west of Rimrock for fifty miles. He’s eighty years old. I can’t see him committing such a violent act as murder. Did you see the alleged murderer? Was he young, old, middle-aged?”

“About your age. Old.”

His eyes crinkled with amusement. “Sweetheart, I’m just about the right age.”

“For what?”

“For. . .whatever.” He lifted a brow. “Thirty-four is definitely old enough for whatever you have on your mind, little cat. I’m way past the age of consent. So are you.”

God, she hated that man. She truly did.

She hated the way he arched that devilish brow in single-minded mockery. She despised the way he towered over her making her feel small and insignificant. Rat bastard, smug-as-you-please, friggin’ miserable man. And all those other nasty adjectives that described Big Chief.

“Thirty-four?” She curved her lips in a sweet smile. No use being an open book and letting him read exactly how she yearned to choke out his guts.

He folded his arms across his chest, an unmistakable twinkle in his eyes. “Go ahead and say it. I think I know you well enough by now to know you have some catty remark to shoot my way or you’re just dying to ring my neck.” His gaze dropped to where she was wringing her hands again.

She choked. “Hmm. You’d best remember Crazy Horse died young.”

Dammit. How did he read her so easily?

“Oh, I’m not forgetting a thing, little cat.”

Lacey frowned. He thought he was so smart. So he was ten years older than her. Big deal. That didn’t mean he was smarter. Damned if she’d consent to anything. Hell would turn into a frozen lake first. The big bulge he was so proud of could shrivel up and fall off before he used it on her.

Heat scalded her cheeks as she saw his gaze touch on her mouth and linger. She wished he’d quit looking at her mouth that way—as if he had plans for it.

Was the man actually flirting with her? Wasn’t there some law against a sheriff putting the moves on a prisoner? Before she could determine an answer, he fired more questions at her.

“What did she look like, Miss Weston? Can you describe her? Did you get a name?”

Lacey slowly unclenched her fists and fought the urge to jump up and run screaming with pure frustration. Lord, did the man never run down? Her heart picked up rhythm and thudded painfully against her chest. She knew what he was doing. He was trying to rattle her, and the miserable man was succeeding.

He leaned toward her, bracing himself with one hand. “I’m asking you again, Miss Weston, where did this alleged crime take place?”

Lacey drew in a deep breath. It didn’t seem to do much to help her gather her scattered wits. Obviously he hadn’t liked her first answer. Very well, she’d give him another. “A—valley?”

He snorted. “Miss Weston, you have a way of giving bullshit answers that just annoy the hell out of me. I’m sure you’re well aware there are a lot of valleys in Montana. Big state, lots of valleys, especially where you’re talking about.”

His gaze dropped to her mouth again, lingered, then he slid off the desk.

There he went again! Jesus. Did the man ever stay put? Pace, pace, pace. No wonder she kept wringing her hands and sweating bullets.

He settled himself in the leather chair behind the desk, leaned back and made a tent of his fingers. At least he was no longer towering over her. And he wasn’t pacing or settling that scorching gaze on her mouth. She could be thankful for small favors.

“Would you care to be more specific?” he asked.

“I told you—I don’t-know-where—exactly.”

He fisted his hands together and rested his chin on top of them. “Do you do this deliberately?”

“What?”

“Are we playing games, Miss Weston? Because if we are, darlin,’ let me warn you, these pitiful little attempts only irritate me, and I’m not in the mood.” His voice bit like cold steel. “I don’t have time to waste. Unless of course, you have something else on your mind, perhaps another type of entertainment? I could make time for—”

“My God.” Lacey surged to her feet. She leaned forward and placed her palms flat on the old battered desk. “I don’t play sexual mind games, Sheriff.”

He snorted. “Sure you do.”

She felt ashamed. She knew deep in her heart he was right. Yeah, okay, so she’d played a few games with him, but on the whole, she had been serious. One couldn’t really fool around much when murder was involved.

“Look, I don’t know who she was, and no, I don’t know where it happened. I swear to you, a woman died tonight. I’m sorry if I seem a bit confused, but it wasn’t the highlight of my life. It was dark. I was scared and alone. I thought—I believed—I was going to die too.”

“Sit down, Miss Weston. Sit down!”

He drummed his fingers on the desktop as she settled back on the chair. “At last something comes out of your mouth besides half-assed, bullshit answers. What was her name?”

Lacey swiped at the angry tears sliding down her face. “Christ, I wasn’t there doing a goddamned interview. I never heard her name. Or his.”

“His?”

“The murderer.”

“Ah, yes, the elusive phantom killer, a murderer of some unknown woman, in some valley, in some part of Montana, possibly west or maybe south of here. Who the hell knows? Certainly not me and certainly not you, Miss Weston.”

She had to admit, phrased like that, it sounded ludicrous.

“Let’s start over, shall we? Was anyone with you? Someone who can verify your story?”

“Verify my story?” Lacey clenched her teeth, exasperated with his line of questioning. “I was alone.”

His attention strayed to the ribbons of hair spilling over her breasts. Lacey frowned as he drew his gaze back to her face. There was something in his eyes, a fleeting glance of raw hunger quickly masked by the sweep of thick, black lashes. His hot gaze shifted away, as restless as the man, then he looked at her again, and she decided she was mistaken. There was nothing warm there, just a cool, blank shield behind an icy wall of control. It was so obvious the man was determined to dislike her.

His next words belied the barely leashed hostility—the resentment that seemed to fill him. She knew he didn’t want her here. He didn’t like her at all. Why? Did he realize she suspected him of this heinous crime?

“Let me get this straight, Miss Weston. Are you telling me you were out there—in the mountains—the valleys—late at night?”

“Yes.”

“Alone?”

“Yes.”

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed. “Are you crazy?” He leaned back in the chair and glared at her through narrowed eyes. “What the hell were you doing out there?”

“A night shoot.”

“I’m afraid to ask. What is a night shoot?”

Lacey moistened her lips, surprised by the faint flaring of his nostrils as his gaze zeroed in on her mouth . . . again. She ignored the unsteadiness of the hand she raised to her throat and tilted back her head to meet his molten stare. “I’m a freelance photographer, sugar. As a rule, I work where and when I please. I recently accepted a contract to do a series of still shots on the nocturnal movements and habitats of animals inhabiting extreme climates in the United States.”

She blinked, noted she had his undivided attention and continued. “I came to Montana to do part of the assignment. I was working. I usually work alone. I like it that way.”

“I see. You thrive on flirting with—danger.”

There was that flash of humor again. Lacey couldn’t hold back her grin at his pun. “Hardly. I enjoy my work, Sheriff, and I try never to play with danger.”

His lips twitched, but his sense of humor swiftly departed. “The mountains are a dangerous place at the best of times, Miss Weston. Working alone is just plain reckless. You could take a bad fall. Break an ankle. A leg. Snake bite. Fall down a mountain. There are endless possibilities, all with tragic results.”

She laughed a little at that. “I’ve done shoots in places, sugar, which would raise the hair on the back of your neck. Last spring I filmed cobras in India, during their mating season. I was suspended over a pit by nothing but a rope for hours filming. You wouldn’t believe how damned far a cobra can spit.”

His eyes widened. Lacey continued. “The year before that I was in the swamps in Louisiana filming bull alligators in their natural habitat. I stood smack in the middle of this little swamp with stinking black water, doing my best not to get bitten by a cottonmouth that was pissed because I’d invaded its space, when one of those gators gave chase. I wasn’t sure I’d make it back to civilization with all my body parts. I ended up breaking my camera on top of its knobby head before making my escape. Next day I was right back with a new camera and film. That is what I consider dangerous.”

“Good grief. You are crazy.”

“No, Sheriff. I’m very good at what I do.”

He gave a strangled little cough. Amusement lit his eyes, that, and a hint of something Lacey had no trouble interpreting. Desire. Raw, male, desire. It glittered hotly in the pewter depths of his eyes. He wanted her. Lord, wasn’t she just playing with fire? Flirting with danger, just as he’d said?

“I’ve no doubt, Miss Weston, that you’re very good at any number of things. Having the good sense to practice safety doesn’t appear to be a quality I can attribute to you.”

Practice safety?

Lacey felt the heat climb into the roots of her hair, good Lord, but the man had a way of phrasing things that gave her thoughts free license and delicious ideas. No, she simply refused to allow herself to be distracted.

“I had no reason to fear the mountains,” she murmured. “I was mostly in the valley. I didn’t know I was going to stumble across a murderer. It was pure coincidence I was there to see it happen.”

Danger snorted. “There are all kinds of predators out there, Miss Weston. Mountain lions, bears, even bucks have been known to attack during rut season.” He held up a hand to silence her as she prepared to argue with him. “Even the weather can play a role in killing you.”

Lacey frowned. “All right, Geronimo, you can stop trying to frighten me. I don’t scare easily. It’s not the four-legged variety of animal that worries me, or the weather. Like I said, it was pure coincidence I saw the murder.”

“Wrong tribe.”

“What?”

“Geronimo was Chiricahua Apache. The great chief’s last battle was the last significant Indian battle fought. Sadly, he died a prisoner of war in 1909. He’s buried in the Apache Cemetery at Ft. Sill, Oklahoma.” He paused. “If you knew anything about history, you’d know I’m not Apache. I’m Cheyenne and Nez Perce. As I said—wrong tribe.”

He sounded mortally offended.

“I have a suspicion you have some Anglo blood as well, Sheriff, but apparently it’s not something you’re going to mention.”

“What I am isn’t open for further discussion. You’re nuts, lady. And ornery. You’re probably meaner than a blind rattlesnake in heat. I’d bet my badge you blithely sail into trouble without giving a thought to the consequences.”

“Really? You know me so well.”

“I know the type. But this time there’s a price to be paid, and dammit, I refuse to let you go off half-cocked. You’ll get yourself killed if you continue on this path of recklessness.”

He looked as if he was battling the urge to shake her the way he clenched and unclenched his hands. She knew exactly how he felt.

“It’s none of your business how I live my life, and I told you, it was all a matter of bad timing and coincidence.”

“Coincidence?” His lips split with a snarl, and he picked up the thread of her last words. “I’m willing to bet, Miss Weston, that your murderer doesn’t put much stock in coincidence. You’re damn lucky you weren’t killed, also.”

Danger drew in a deep breath, intent on remaining in control, but he was suddenly furiously angry with her. “How could you be so stupid as to risk your life going out there alone? In the past few hours, there seems to have been an enormous amount of violent activity in this area that has apparently ended in two deaths. I’d call that slightly more than coincidence. Wouldn’t you, Miss Weston?”

“Listen, Cochise, I haven’t committed any crimes. And stop calling me ‘Miss Weston’ in that condescending tone. My name is Lacey. L-A-C-E-Y! Lacey. Got it?” She paused, drawing in a deep breath. “To coin a phrase, ‘Use it.’ ”

“At least Cochise was friendly with the whites. That is, until some of his relatives were hanged by U.S. soldiers for a crime they didn’t commit. Then he got a little testy. One can hardly blame the man for getting pissed.” His lips twitched. “Believe me, I know your name, honey. I’m not illiterate. I do know how to spell. And stop calling me Apache names.”

She folded her hands in her lap, suddenly looking very prim and proper. “I’ll stop calling you names when you stop being bullheaded and listen to me.”

“Bullheaded? You’re calling me bullheaded?” He snorted.

“Yes. I need your help. No matter how foolish you believe me to be, there is a man, a man who committed a terrible crime. If he finds me, there could very well be three deaths for you to deal with.”

Danger stiffened. Abruptly he moved across the room and reached for the stained glass pot sitting on the blackened burner of the ancient Mr. Coffee. His gaze never left her as he filled a white Styrofoam cup with the sludge that passed for coffee.

He pushed the cup into her trembling hands. “Jesus, your hands are like ice.” He took the cup from her and set it on the desk. His big hands closed around her smaller ones and then he rubbed hers between his.

Danger drew a slow breath. Her scent hit him, blasting him with her sweet womanly fragrance. Combined with the sunshine and fresh air was the scent of— what? It tantalized his mind. He’d smelled the fragrance before. What was it? Then it dawned on him—baby powder. She smelled like baby powder.

He grinned. That was it. She smelled like baby Gidget after Anna bathed and powdered her. His body quickened. Hell, he didn’t know the scent of baby powder could be so damned erotic. He stepped quickly back from her, needing the distance between them. He had a feeling no matter what she wore, she’d turn him on.

“Drink that,” he said, after a few minutes and shoved the cup back into her hands. “It will help warm you up.” He watched her sip the coffee, then nodded. “I fully comprehend the seriousness of your position, but I’m working in the dark here. I can’t help you, if you refuse to be totally honest with me. My gut instinct tells me you haven’t been, and it’s rarely wrong.”

He returned to the coffee maker and filled a blue ceramic mug that bore the hand-painted inscription, ‘Have You Hugged Your Sheriff Today?’ glazed in bold white letters across it. A dainty, ceramic butterfly rested on top of the S, its yellow wings spread wide as though prepared to take off in flight.

At Lacey’s arched brow, a lopsided grin twisted his lips. “My sister’s idea of a joke. Anna Leigh has a warped sense of humor at the best of times.”

“Imagine that. Does she also wear war paint?”

“Only when an Anglo pisses her off.”

Lacey narrowed her eyes.

“The coffee won’t do you any good if you just hold the cup. Drink it.” His lips thinned once again into a flat line. “The caffeine will do you good. And start from the beginning. I want to get your story straight in my mind. I want details.”

Lacey nodded, sipped at the bitterly strong coffee and gave a deep sigh of appreciation. Caffeine was caffeine. She needed an overdose of it. The warmth helped soothe her inner chill. A sigh of appreciation slipped past her lips, and she relaxed. “As I said, I’m on assignment. I’ve only been camped out for a couple of days.” She paused, took a sip, then continued. “About eight o’clock tonight, I heard a gunshot, and a woman scream. I grabbed my camera, compass, and a flashlight, and took off on foot to investigate. Biggest mistake I ever made.”

Lacey shuddered and raised her gaze to his. “He killed her. I—I think he must have heard the snap of my camera or I made a noise or something, because he turned and shot at me. He came after me. And I—I ran—as fast as I could— and—uh—oh God—I just left her there to—die.”

Her throat tightened as tears slid down her face unchecked. “I left her there to die. I—I ran—and I kept on running—until I couldn’t run any more. I should have saved her. I should have done something to help her.”

Danger leaned closer, gripped her shoulders, and gave her a gentle shake. “Stop it. I said, ‘stop it!’ There was nothing you could do. What could you have done? You would have been killed.”

“No.” Lacey shook her head wildly. “No! I should have—”

“Lacey, don’t. You had no way to save her. You did the smart thing by running.”

She sniffed. “I fell down a slope and lost the flashlight and my camera. My compass shattered in the fall. All I could think about was escaping. I was terrified he’d catch me. I ran and ran until you—”

“Until I captured you. You didn’t return to your campsite?”

She shook her head.

“Why not? Didn’t you have a weapon? A means to protect yourself? What about transport?”

The faint masculine scent of his cologne drifted across Lacey’s face. Unwelcome warmth stole through her like the first swallow of finely blended whiskey. Desire surged through her. She felt boneless. Dampness spread between her thighs like liquid heat. She squirmed inwardly. Oh, God. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not with this man. She swallowed. Her throat felt as dry as gunpowder.

“I—I lost the keys to my Jeep.” She wasn’t about to tell him about the spare key hidden on the Jeep. That was her opportunity to get away if she ever escaped from Big Chief that is. “When I fell, they slid out of my shirt pocket. I couldn’t take the time to search for them. He was right behind me. I—I was afraid. Confused. I just started running. It never crossed my mind to return to my camp.”

“You had no weapon?”

Rugged, sharp angles slanted across his prominent cheekbones. His burnished skin gave him the brooding looks of a fallen angel. Lacey shivered. Tall and broad-shouldered, he commanded her attention. “A rifle, but I didn’t have any shells for it.”

“Cartridges.”

“What?”

“Shells are for shotguns, not rifles. Somehow, Miss Weston, it doesn’t surprise me in the least you don’t know the difference.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose as if she had given him a headache. “Why in the hell would you take a rifle with you and no rounds of ammunition?”

“I had shells. And for your information, I do know the difference. I asked for cartridges. The clerk gave me the wrong box and I didn’t notice until it was too late. I was already at my campsite.” Lacey brushed her hair back from her face and blew out a puff of air. “Look, I rented the Jeep in Chinook. A dirt bike, as well. I know how to rough it.”

He didn’t speak, instead, he just stared at her, a glower on his stern face. His brows furrowed. She saw his lips move soundlessly. Maybe he was praying or chanting. No telling what he was calling down on top of her head. Lacey squirmed. Drat the man. Was he counting to ten? He wanted his pound of flesh.

“All right. If you must know, it wouldn’t have made a difference if I had shells, cartridges, or what-ever-the-hell you want to label the God-forsaken ammunition—I don’t know how to shoot a gun anyway.”

“For heaven’s sake, Lacey.” He jumped up, thrusting agitated fingers through his hair. “You’re making me crazy. Do you know that? Why would you have a— no.” He held up a hand. “Never mind. Don’t answer that. I’m sure there’s a method to your madness only you understand.”

Lacey winced, and then glared at him, resentment seething. Had she really thought he was the hottest thing in moccasins? Had she really wanted to see him in a loincloth, wearing nothing but a loincloth? Well, yes. Sort of. Vaguely. Crap. She couldn’t even lie to herself. He definitely burned the senses. Sexy? Oh, hell yeah. The man oozed sex appeal, even when he snarled at her like a wounded beast. He was a living, breathing advertisement for testosterone.

Don’t go there. Don’t do it. You don’t have time or the inclination to deal with—what? Being female enough to appreciate a good-looking male? Being curious about how his mouth would feel against her skin? Having a strange desire to see him naked and fully aroused? Yes, Virginia, you are nuts.

Lacey stifled a moan. She was in enough trouble without adding to her problems. She needed his help. That was all she wanted from him. Wasn’t it? Help. It was all that mattered, all that was important. His help. His trust. There was the crux of the matter. Trust.

She didn’t have any, not where he was concerned. She didn’t dare. He wore a badge. A fact that automatically made him suspect. He’d attacked her in the alley as if he’d been waiting for her. Another fact that made her wary. Why had he been there if not waiting on her? She didn’t believe for one minute his tale of youthful vandals.

Suppose he’d just been waiting like a big, black spider?

What if he had a partner in crime? A deputy. A man who’d radioed ahead, warned him to be on the look out for her. Filled with unease, Lacey watched warily as Danger roamed about the little room, sleek and silent as an exotic panther on the prowl.

Lord, but he is one fine, put together man.

At last he lowered himself onto the chair and arched a questioning brow at her. “I take it you left the bike behind also,” he stated cynically.

Warmth burned across her cheekbones. “Well, yeah. It was out of gas.”

At his narrowed eyes she snapped defensively. “Yes. I left the bike. I didn’t exactly plan all this, sugar. Besides, the damn thing had a flat.”

He closed his eyes, squeezing the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger and slowly shook his head. “Darlin,’ how in the hell did you manage to escape? You have to be the most disorganized, ditzy female, I’ve ever met.”

Ditzy? Was that really a word? “I’m not sure I have escaped,” she replied softly.

His nostrils flared.

Lacey swallowed. How could she be attracted to a man she didn’t trust? But she was. Indeed, she was. And somehow the idea of wanting him was more frightening than suspecting him of murder. She almost snorted. Ridiculous. Her emotions were as unpredictable and wild as a ride on a roller coaster. The whole thing was ridiculous.

She took a nervous sip of the witch’s brew, and cursed her body for its wayward urges. He wasn’t her type.

He could be, a devilish voice whispered silently. Oh, yes. He could be.

Heat licked a fiery path across her stomach.

He could be my type, very easily.

What? Did she have a death wish or something?

She wasn’t that stupid.

She wasn’t going there.

Period.

So why did dismay leave the oddest little ache somewhere in the region of her

In The Arms Of Danger

heart?

In The Arms Of Danger

Chapter Four

There are three kinds of men: The ones that learn by reading. The few who learn by observation. The rest of them have to pee on the electric fence.

Will Rogers

Rimrock Sheriff’s Dept. Sat.3:00 a.m.

Danger studied Lacey with an icy reserve that belied the warmth flooding his groin. He didn’t like the feelings she so easily aroused in him. Dammit. He refused to follow in his father’s footsteps. He would not be led like a stud, gelded by his own libido.

Watching Race Blackstone die a little every day taught him a lesson in childhood he carried with him to adulthood. He was his own man. He would remain his own man.

And no woman was ever going to bring him to his knees. Especially not some little snip of a magnolia blossom who was part wasp and part lunatic, even if she did have the most fascinating eyes he’d ever seen, the sweetest accent he’d ever heard, and a sinfully luscious mouth.

Not to mention the firmest breasts ever to fill the palm of his hand. He shifted, uncomfortable with where his thoughts were headed. He couldn’t forget the memory of the way her breast had filled his hand, when he’d frisked her. Perfect. An exact fit, as if it had been carved to fit his palm in a clear-cut measurement.

Think of something else .

But up until now, his life had been nothing, but one long thread of misery. Until the day his mother died—he hadn’t lived. Even now, when it came to trusting a woman with his heart, he felt emotionally dead.

No, he couldn’t allow this woman inside or permit his emotions to rule him. But there were times when he needed an outlet. He turned his need for love and warmth to the caring of wounded animals. Even then, he attempted to keep a wall around his heart.

It hadn’t worked.

Every injured animal, wild or domesticated he came across, he nurtured. His reward was their devotion. In spite of everything, he loved them as much as they loved him.

Probably every shrink from Montana to California would have some snide comments about his turbulent childhood, the lingering pain, and his inability to commit, and it was true, but he knew how to protect his heart. If it worked, why change it?

His fingers tightened painfully around the blue mug as hurtful memories wormed their way inside his head. Danger halted his drifting thoughts. Ancient history.

But he never forgot the lessons learned as a child.

It was his personal rule to leave all Anglo women alone. Lacey Weston was no exception. Yet he couldn’t seem to control the compulsive desire he felt for this woman. It angered him, frustrated him to no end. It also confounded him.

He could honestly say this was the first time he’d ever felt this magnetic pull toward an Anglo woman. He didn’t like it. Hell, if he were honest, it was the first time he’d ever felt this drawn to any woman.

This woman, with her tiger-eyes blazing, and a voice dripping with a drawl thicker than molasses, could melt a man clear to his soul. She made him ache for things that could never be his.

With soul-deep resolution, he silently vowed not to let her draw him into her sticky web of deceit. She was hiding something from him. He knew he couldn’t trust her.

So what was he going to do with her?

Danger shifted his gaze away from Lacey’s flushed face to the traces of blood and dirt clotted in the silken strands of her amber-gold hair. Damn, he was to blame for the ugly scrape marring her cheek. Though he resented like hell this attraction burning in his gut, it hadn’t been his intention to cause her injury or pain.

Contrary to what she believed, he wasn’t a savage. But he hadn’t been willing to take the risk of getting hurt or shot by being careless either.

Realization that it was a woman he struggled with in the dark alley came with the scorching weight of her breast filling his palm, and the firm bottom pressed intimately against his crotch. He clenched his fingers. He could still feel the rounded firmness of her breast in his hand. Shit. He was back to thinking about it—and remembering the feminine curve of her ass rubbing against his cock.

His fingers curled into tight fists as he tried to ignore the itch to rip away her red silk bra, to have those delectable ripe curves fill his palm.

She was so obviously female.

He would never understand how he’d first mistaken her for a boy.

Even now, he wanted to lose himself in the shimmering threads of her thick hair. He wanted to see the silken strands spread across his pillow. Hell, he wanted to feel it wrapped around his body.

Disgusted with his overactive libido, he yanked open a drawer and pulled out a first-aid kit. “See what you can do with this.”

He slammed the kit on top of the desk in front of her.

Lacey dragged it closer and popped open the lid, prowled through the limited supplies, then removed iodine and cotton balls. “Do you have a mirror?”

“What for?”

“So I can see what I’m doing,” she replied timidly.

“You’re a lot of things, sweetheart, but timid isn’t one of them. You know it. I know it, so cut the act.”

She tightened her lips and looked up at him.

At the moment, she did look beat and too weary to battle with him anymore. He had a feeling she’d bite off her tongue, before she gave him the satisfaction of learning just how exhausted and overwhelmed she felt.

Danger shuffled through the contents of the first-aid kit and flipped the lid off a bottle. He palmed a couple of aspirins and shoved them into her hand, then pointed his coffee cup at her.

“Take them,” he said in a gruff tone. “What you could use is about twentyfour hours of sleep.”

“Sure.” Lacey tossed back the aspirins and took a hit of his cold coffee. “I can’t see that happening in the near future.”

He suddenly felt like the biggest brute walking, when he noticed the sheen of tears in her eyes. To cover the dismay he felt, he let his exasperation ring in his voice. “Give me that.”

Seizing the iodine, he twisted the flexible neck on the lamp and aimed the light toward her so he could get a better look. “It’s superficial.”

Gently, he wiped the abrasion on her cheek free of dried blood before applying the iodine. She reminded him of one of the little birds he cared for, small and fragile as spun glass. Tough as she acted, it still wouldn’t take much to crush her.

“Maybe it’s superficial to you, sugar, but it hurts like hell.”

Danger paused, drew a deep breath, and then continued dabbing at the scrape on her cheek. “It won’t leave a scar. There,” he said, tossing the stained cotton ball in a wastebasket. “All done.”

A sharp hiss escaped her as the iodine soaked into the raw lesion on her face and elbow. “Ouch! Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.”

Color leeched from her face. Sudden tears filled her eyes. She curled her fingers tightly around the chair arms and rocked back and forth. “Holy hell, that burns.”

“Jesus Christ,” Danger hissed softly.

Bracing his hands on the chair next to her fingers, he leaned down and blew gently on the wound on her cheek.

Lacey’s eyes roamed over him, lingering on the mass of gypsy dark hair that fell long and straight past his shoulders. His pursed mouth blew soothingly against her burning cheek. His eyes, sooty gray and surrounded with thick, black lashes, softened with sympathy.

She couldn’t suppress the shiver that shook her body. Lord, he’s gorgeous. The mere sight of him rattled her so much she couldn’t think straight. Her thighs heated and grew moist, and she wanted to squirm every time he came near her. She couldn’t remember ever being this hot for a man or having the inclination to simply strip him and jump his bones.

A corner of his mouth turned down as their eyes met. “Why are you so frightened of me? I might look like a savage, but I assure you, you’re safe with me.”

He slammed the lid on the first-aid kit and shoved it across the desk with barely contained violence.

Lacey grinned. “Sugar, what makes you think I wanna be safe—with you?”

The thought of being unsafe with him, greatly appealed to her rampant hormones. Vaguely, she wondered why they’d become so damned lively where this man was concerned. Shivers of excitement scaled down her spine in anticipation. Breathless, barely described how she felt. And, oh God, she just had to stop playing with fire before she got severely burned. This was not a man who played games. His face darkened and set with. . . what? Temper? Desire? Shock at her saucy reply? She had no idea. She only knew she’d left herself wide open for six foot plus of trouble.

“What did you say?” he choked.

He’d gone dead still. His lips plastered into a tight grimace as if he’d suddenly been stricken with pain. He dragged in a ragged breath, his wide chest expanding, then caving in like a deflated balloon.

“Damn, woman.” He sucked back another breath and slowly released it. “All right. I’ll rephrase that. You’re as safe as you wanna be with me.”

In The Arms Of Danger

Chapter Five

Maybe some women aren't meant to be tamed. Maybe they need to run free until they find someone just as wild to run with them.

Carrie: ‘Sex and the City’

Rimrock Sheriff’s Dept. Sat.3:10 a.m.

Danger swallowed hard and fought against the urge to drag her into his arms. Never before in his adult life had he been so frustrated—sexually, emotionally, or spiritually.

Nor had he ever felt so alive.

His senses jangled like the bare ends of electrical wires. Amazed at the demands of his body, he wondered how a man could hold any kind of defenses against a woman as beautiful, challenging, or as daring as Lacey Weston. She needed taming, all right. Or maybe she simply needed someone who was as wild and untamed as she was.

The heat he saw shimmering in the liquid depths of her eyes was his undoing. There was little doubt—she wanted him as much as he wanted her. His sex twitched and swelled against the button-fly of his jeans.

He gritted his teeth. Hell, he felt as horny as a service stud behind a mare in season. The small amount of breathing space between them was wrought with tension and as powerful as a black hole in the universe. Sexual awareness fogged his mind, heated his blood and sent it chugging to his balls.

He hoped to hell she didn’t decide to do one of her inspections of his crotch. There wasn’t a smidgen of doubt as to what her words did to him. His hard on rivaled a horny mustang’s, and he was standing far too close to her. If he moved a scant inch closer to her—Jesus Christ, he needed to get laid in the worst way. But not with this woman!

***

Lacey swallowed nervously. Why had she said that?

She shouldn’t have said that. Damn it, she wasn’t a tease. She’d always gone after what she wanted, but here, now, with this man, there was no doubt whatsoever that he could, and would, give her more than she could ever anticipate.

She’d practically asked him to fuck her. Or at least she’d left him in no doubt she was willing and that simply wasn’t true. Ah, well yeah, she’d be willing if she didn’t suspect him of murder but that sort of put a kibosh on a romantic interlude. She wasn’t one to just flop down and spread her thighs either.

She slid her gaze lazily over his face. Color stained the hard ridges of his cheekbones. His eyes shimmered like polished silver, hot, slumberous. Promising. Her soul had never felt this scorched.

He stared at her, his breath escaping in little hitches. His chest barely rose with each ragged breath. Mercy. He’d grown so still. Tense seconds passed. The silence lengthened, powerful in its very quietness.

At last, he drew back, as though determined to put distance between them, but not before he drawled thickly, “Anytime, sweetheart, just say the word. I’m at your service, ma’am, but be damn sure you know what you’re asking for and getting into.”

Oh, God. Lacey stood up, her lips trembling. Why couldn’t she learn to keep her smart mouth shut? “I—”

A resonated blast came from somewhere down the street and abruptly shattered the quiet. Gunshot.

Lacey reacted instinctively. She whirled, determined to escape what she imagined to be the killer closing in on her. In her haste, she stumbled and fell against Danger. She tightened her grip on his waist, unaware of the silent struggle taking place inside the somber man who was doing his best to get her out of his arms. “Please. Please, don’t let him hurt me,” she breathed. “You have to help me.”

He closed his arms around her shoulders in steadying reflex. “Hey. It’s a car backfiring. Nothing more.”

Danger gasped as Lacey’s slender arms captured his waist and tightened. She buried her face against his chest, her warm breath whispering through the cotton of his khaki shirt. The moistness of those shuddering breaths dampened his flesh through the material.

Dammit, he was getting hard again. His skin felt hot. Itchy.

He needed distance between them. Now!

But he couldn’t.

She clung to him like a cocklebur, and he couldn’t bring himself to push her away.

Lord, he couldn’t breathe—then, he could.

The soft, delicate fragrance of baby powder robbed him of the ability to think straight. He knew it, couldn’t stop it from happening, and damn if it didn’t feel good as the blood rushed to his cock.

Her firm breasts pushed against his chest. Christ, he was going to suffocate. She was too close. But she felt good. Too good. How could she feel so right in his arms when she was so wrong for him? Sweet, Lord, what the hell was he going to do about her?

How could one tiny female feel so damned soft? And fill his arms so perfectly? He couldn’t resist trailing his fingers through her hair, or fisting a handful of her wild mane in his hand.

Danger drew a deep, unsteady breath. She tilted back her head and gazed up at him. Their eyes locked, held. Her lips trembled, parted on a quivering sigh, lush, red, and as inviting as a ripe cherry. He stifled a moan. Her mouth—well, it was damned tempting. That’s what it was.

The sultry scent of this woman danced across his nostrils, tantalized him like wisps of erotic perfume, tempting him to do something he knew would be disastrous. A warning bell clanged its subtle gong in the back of his mind. He released the hold he had on her hair and captured her shoulders to gently push her away.

He needed space, room to think—to breathe, for Christ’s sake. He purely needed—

Danger’s heart thudded painfully against his chest. The blood in his veins thickened and chugged to a stop to all vital parts—except one. He removed her arms from his waist as gently as possible. “No one is going to hurt you,” he said huskily. “Do you understand? No one.”

Lacey shook her head and buried her face against his throat. He felt the brush of her lips against his flesh. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear she tasted him. Had that been her tongue against his skin?

Danger swallowed back a groan as her breasts flattened against his chest. He had to get free of her before she realized what she was doing to him. Sweet, Jesus. She was like a kitten curled against him.

Raw hunger slammed into him with the force of a sucker punch. Fiery tendrils curled through his stomach and loins. It came to him then, just how desperately he wanted her. A belittling smile, directed inward, curved his lips. Tightness settled in his chest.

Fool. She’ll break your heart. Right before she rips it out of your chest.

It was a moment before he could take in the air his lungs so desperately demanded. And when he finally did draw in a breath, he stepped back from her, mentally, as well as physically.

Lacey sat back down and reached for the cup of coffee Danger had poured for her earlier. Wrapping her icy fingers around the foam cup, she sought its warmth, but the coffee had grown as cold as her trembling hands. Somber, she watched as Danger sat down behind the desk.

He seemed to be looking everywhere, anywhere—but at her. His gaze finally settled on the ceramic mug he held between his big hands, and he glared at it as if it contained poison.

Something happened between them, something sweet and rare. Something neither of them was ready to face. Or accept. She didn’t know when the hunger had crept into her soul, but she suddenly knew this man was the one person she needed in her life at this moment.

He looked up. Their gazes collided and abruptly parted. Lacey’s heart stuttered, then picked back up its beat. Her lungs shut down. She felt as if her breath had just been stolen. In that brief moment, when their gazes connected, she saw shattering pain deep in his soul. And despair.

Who had caused this man so much hurt? A woman? Undoubtedly. She wished she knew him better, maybe then, he would trust her more. Maybe she would trust him more, too. She didn’t understand why he seemed to dislike her so intensely, yet at the same time, she knew she correctly read the raw hunger blazing in his eyes, when he looked at her, held her.

It had been impossible not to feel the change that took place in his body. And as much as she disliked the idea, maybe—just maybe, she could use his desire for her against him.

Lacey squelched the feeling of disgust that threatened her conscience. She had no one but herself to rely on for her safety. That’s the way it was and the way it had always been. She figured it was the way it would always be.

No matter what it took, no matter how cruel, she had to use whatever means she had, forget remorse, and get the hell away from here. The sheriff was a big boy. He could take care of himself, emotionally and physically.

Lacey looked up and barely suppressed a gasp. He was staring at her, reading her like a book. It startled her that he seemed to be able to figure her out so easily.

His anger was nearly palpable.

She saw it. Felt it.

His fingers wrapped so tightly around the ceramic mug she could see the white of his knuckles. He probably pretended it was her neck he had between his hands.

Lacey shuddered. She had the uneasy suspicion she was in immediate danger, more deadly than the individual stalking her. Desperation vibrated through her bloodstream. The need to escape slammed into her with an urgency that left her feeling confused.

She drew in a deep breath. Her main concern had to be with what was happening to her, now. And right now, her life was headed down the gaping hole of an outhouse.

“He’ll have to kill me, Sheriff,” she said quietly.

Somehow, she had to convince him her story was true.

The very quietness of her statement seemed to hold more impact than if she’d shouted the words at him. His head snapped back as if she’d struck him.

“No,” he stated fiercely. “That’s not going to happen.”

His voice was steady and reassuring.

Lacey chewed her bottom lip. Dammit, she knew something he didn’t know, something she dared not share. The slayer wore a badge. Whether this man was guilty, or if it was one of his deputies, the need for caution could not be ignored. She couldn’t afford to take chances.

Lacey leaned closer. “He shot her. I’m the only witness. He has to kill me.”

“What did you see, exactly, Miss Weston?” Danger drew closer. “Let me correct that. What do you think you saw?”

Her hesitancy was tantamount to waving a red flag in front of a bull. It created more doubt in his mind and made him wonder what she was hiding and why. There was something she’d said earlier that nagged at him. Something important that had slipped away. Her words would come back to him, eventually. “Did you see him pull the trigger?” he asked. “Did you see it, or—”

“No. Not exactly.” Color stained her cheekbones. She was back to wringing her hands. “I heard her scream. I heard shots. It all happened so fast.”

“How many shots did you hear?”

“I don’t remember.”

Danger gave a snort of disbelief. “You know what I think, Miss Weston? I think you were scared all alone out there. I think your imagination went crazy.”

“Damn it. I saw him kill her. I saw it.”

“No, Miss Weston, you said you heard gunshots. How do you know a woman was murdered if you only heard gunshots?”

“When I got there, he was carrying her, Sheriff. She was dead. My God, how graphic a picture do you want? How much proof?”

“He was carrying her? So she might have fainted or been ill. They could have been target practicing. Maybe she screamed, because she saw a snake. Maybe she was bitten.” He gave a low grunt. “There are any numbers of things to explain why he was carrying the woman. Right?”

Lacey looked doubtful. “What you say makes sense, except who would target practice at night?”

“You’d be surprised what people will do with a few beers beneath their belts. What if you’re wrong? What if you imagined the whole thing?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I won’t let you do this to me—or her. I know what I saw. I know it, damn it. Why won’t you believe me?”

“Unless you can direct me to where this happened, produce a body, a suspect, or proof of some kind, how can I believe you? I can’t just go racing off into the mountains and valleys simply because you heard gunshots.”

He leaned back, waiting patiently for her reply.

Lacey glared at him. “I got lost, Sheriff. It’s dark out there. I’m not familiar with the area. I told you, I lost everything. My compass. The flashlight. My camera. Believe me I wouldn’t part with my camera for anything. It’s a damned expensive item. Once the compass was gone, it was easy to get lost. Everything looks the same in the dark.”

“That’s it,” he said, snapping his fingers.

“What’s it?”

“You said you took pictures? He heard the click of your camera?”

“Yes. Little good it will do us, since I lost it. I’ll never find it, as I said; everything looks the same in the dark.”

“Miss Weston, everything looks the same in the daylight. If you’re sure you got a picture of him, I need the camera.”

She glanced around the tiny cluttered office, desperation and doubt in her voice. “I’m not sure. I think I got the snap, but I—I don’t know. The only thing I know for sure is Rimrock is south of Chinook and borders the Bear’s Paw Battlefield. I saw the name on my map, but I was never here until tonight. But I wasn’t in Chinook. I stumbled into your town by pure dumb luck.”

He tapped a steady rhythm on the desktop. The little vixen was still not forthcoming with everything she knew. His gut told him she was hiding something important, something she wasn’t going to share no matter what. She’d gotten the picture all right. He knew it. She simply didn’t trust him with whatever evidence she had.

He sighed. “Miss Weston, Rimrock is fifteen miles south of Chinook. There are a lot of valleys and mountains in between here and there. You better thank your lucky stars you stumbled in the right direction.”

He took a swallow of cold coffee and grimaced, got up and refilled the cup, grabbed hers and topped it, then returned to his chair. “How far into the back country would you say you camped?”

“Fifteen, maybe twenty miles. I’m not sure. I wasn’t keeping track. I found a place I liked and stopped.”

“You probably weren’t that far from here to begin with. You might have even set-up camp on part of my grandfather’s property.”

“It wasn’t posted or anything,” she said.

“It wouldn’t be. Papa Joe wouldn’t dream of fencing in the wildlife.”

“It seemed as if I wandered for hours trying to remain undetected.”

Danger agreed. “It was hours. You said you heard gunshots around eight o’clock. I found you at nearly two-thirty. That’s over six hours. It wouldn’t take six hours to walk ten miles or so. It’s possible you went in circles. We’ll search for the campsite at daylight; see what we can find—if anything.”

“No. I don’t want to go back out there.”

She didn’t want to go anywhere with him, particularly back into the wilderness. Maybe he just wanted to get her out of town, so he could kill her. She didn’t want to stay in Rimrock either, but as long as she was here, she felt a measure of security. It was a town, such as it was, but there were people who could help her.

At least, she assumed there were people—somewhere.

When she left this little town, she intended to leave alone. She could hire someone to retrieve her things from the valley floor. She never wanted to see Montana again.

Drawing in a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders. “Look, sugar—”

“No—you look,” he interrupted. “We’re going out there. Together. And it’s too damned bad if you have a problem with it.”

Lacey narrowed her eyes at his tone. Her decision was already made. He’d just have to deal with it.

“Can you describe the man you saw?” he asked. “I’ll contact the FBI if we find a body. I’m not contacting them without proof of some kind. A wild story from a hysterical woman would—”

“I am not hysterical. I don’t know where the body is, but if that’s what it takes to convince you I’m telling the truth, maybe you can find it. I’m not going with you.”

“Sit down,” he ordered calmly. “And quit yelling, or I am going to think you’re hysterical. Can you describe the man you saw?” he repeated.

Lacey’s mouth tightened. She’d give him a description all right, one that would curl his toenails. “He was tall, about six feet, broad shoulders, long dark hair, faded jeans, tan shirt. He was wear—”

Danger tossed down the pen. Disgust speared his dark features as he leaned back, made a steeple of his fingertips, and stared at her. In a blink, his eyes turned to frost.

Lacey looked up, innocence stamped on her face. “What’s wrong, sugar, premenstrual cramps of the fingers?”

He was dead certain the little witch was toying with him. She had given a deliberate description of him just to get a reaction out of him. Just like her saying she didn’t want to be safe with him.

Why had she made such a provocative statement?

Didn’t she realize a man could imagine all kind’s of games to play with her— all of them unsafe?

Was this some sort of perverted test? He suspected so.

“Wrong?” he asked sourly. “Hell, woman, you’ve just described me and nearly every man within a fifty-mile radius. I can assure you, the only place I’ve been tonight is here in Rimrock.”

“So you say, sugar. But how do I know that’s true?” She refused to back down.

“Are you accusing me of this alleged murder?”

“Well, now, I really don’t know if you were in Rimrock as you stated. Do I?”

“I don’t lie, Miss Weston,” he said coldly. “I don’t play games. I have no need to.”

“What do you do for recreation, sugar?”

He shook his head. “You don’t want to go there, honey. You don’t want to play with me. I’m warning you, don’t keep pressing my buttons. When I play, I play for keeps. I’m sure that word isn’t in your Anglo vocabulary.”

“My Anglo vocabulary? Talk about being bigoted.” Lacey huffed. “I guess you won’t know until you select a door, sugar. I’d suggest you go for door number three and see what the prize is waiting behind it.” Lacey fluttered her lashes.

“I don’t think so. I’m not much at playing guessing games.”

She shrugged. “Fine. I saw him kill her,” she said bluntly, reverting to the point of their conversation.

“No, lady, you did not see it.” Danger said through clenched his teeth. “You heard gunshots and then, you saw him carrying her, from there your wild imagination took root and grew out of control.”

“Look, sugar, at this point I don’t give a good damn, if you believe me or not. I know what I saw.”

“It’s not unusual to hear gunshots in the wilderness, Miss Weston. There are always hunters out there, men with guns, shooting old bottles, shooting at anything that moves.” Arching a brow, he finished quietly, “Rattlers.”

Lacey exhaled. “Contrary to what you seem to think, I’m not a fool, Sheriff. We have to do something.”

She had to do something. She had to distract him, play for time, until she could make her escape. Opportunity would present itself eventually. When it did, she intended to grab it with both hands and to hell with the consequences.

Danger grunted. “I have every intention of doing something, all right. At the top of my list is getting you and your sweet little magnolia ass out of my town.” He puffed out a deep breath loaded with frustration. “The only way to prove to you that you didn’t witness a murder is to return to the valley with you in tow.” Rising slowly to his feet, he curled his fingers around both her wrists and lifted her off her feet. “The way I see it, first things first, Miss Weston.”

Lacey gulped. “What do you mean first things first? Let go of my arm. What are you doing?”

“For starters, I’m going to lock you in a cell for your own protection. Come daylight, I might or might not take you back into the wilderness in search of your missing corpse. Depends on my mood, but for now, Miss Weston, for this single moment in your life, be silent and consider yourself a guest of the State of Montana.”

In The Arms Of Danger

Chapter Six

“A gun is a tool, Marion, no better or no worse than any other tool, an ax, a shovel or anything. A gun is as good or as bad as the man using it. Remember that.”

Alan Ladd: ‘Shane’

Rimrock Sheriff’s Dept. Sat. 4:00 a.m.

“Hey, Mr. Dances-With-Wolves, you can’t do that!” Lacey turned and twisted but couldn’t break the tight hold Danger had on her wrists. “I’d rather take the chance of surviving on my own than be locked away in a miserable jail, in a miserable town, run by a pokey sheriff. And I do mean pokey, literally.”

Danger choked back a laugh. “Mr. Dances-With-Wolves? Christ, woman. Well, you’re getting closer to my roots anyway. At least Dances with Wolves is a movie about the Sioux and not the Apache.” He grinned. “I do have a name you know, and no, it isn’t Kevin Costner.”

“Hah. I wasn’t even going there.”

She swore beneath her breath. He wasn’t exerting himself in the least bit to hold her still and here she was, too weak and defenseless to even break one little wrist free.

“I don’t give a good damn what your name is,” she related. “Let go. You’re not putting me in jail and leaving me defenseless.”

Danger frowned. “Dammit. You’re exhausted. Whether you realize it or not, you’re near to collapsing. You need someone to look out for you.”

Lacey muttered words she wasn’t sure even made sense.

“You’re hardly defenseless, Miss Weston,” he said dryly. “In fact, I can’t think of a single creature you’re more defenseless than.”

She looked at him through startled eyes. “Ha. What do you know?”

He might not see her as defenseless, but she felt like it.

His voice softened. “I can do a right proper job of taking care of you, little cat, if given the chance.”

Lacey blushed at his double entendre, wondering if he’d phrased his words intentionally.

Well, of course he did. Duh. He’s a man, isn’t he?

“I’m sure you won’t mind if I refuse your hospitality, will you, sugar?” Sarcasm laced her voice.

Danger shook his head at her provocative challenge. She was such an odd mixture of ragamuffin and a haughty Grand Dame. Of devil and angel. An unexpected wave of tenderness washed over him as he released her wrists.

He hated like hell to do this to her, but if he was going to protect her, then he had to put her somewhere safe. He had this need to keep her in his sight. To be there for her when she finally realized she could trust him.

Danger sighed. He realized she wasn’t going to like it one bit, but there was no other choice—at least, none he could live with. “I’m sure I will mind, sweetheart. In order for us to hit the wilderness, we need supplies. The stores won’t open for a few hours yet, and I refuse to leave here ill prepared. You need protection, Lacey. I can offer you that protection.”

She shook her head.

“Hush,” he ordered as she started to speak. “This isn’t open for discussion. I can keep you safe. But I have to know where you are at all times in order to do that.” He rubbed a hand down his face, chewed on his bottom lip. “Look, I figure it’s better to have you locked in a cell while I gather the things we’ll need, that way, I know exactly where you are until I’m ready to leave.”

Lacey shook her head vehemently. “You don’t trust me to wait right here for you? Is that it, Sheriff?”

“You got it, honey.”

“I won’t run away. I swear.”

Danger shook his head. “Huh-uh. You’ll stay here, all right. Right there in the cell, until I can get the supplies I need. Then we’ll go search for this woman you claim was murdered.” He paused, noted the paleness of her face and switched tactics. “Look, honey, it’s four in the morning. You’re obviously nearly out on your feet. You can’t keep running. Hiding. Sooner or later, you’ll make a mistake that could cost you your life."

He held up his hand a second time, when she opened her mouth to argue. “Just listen to me, Lacey. You can get a couple hours sleep, before we head out. There’s a storm brewing in the Bears Paw Mountains. It’s late spring. There’s snow melt. The snow melt can become floodwaters, catching the unwary off guard. I don’t want you caught in something like that.” He tucked his thumbs inside his gun belt, rocked back on his heels. “And, according to you, a killer is hot on your trail. I simply can’t allow you to go out there alone or to go on the run.”

Pausing a moment, he wondered if she was even listening to him. He had a sinking feeling she’d made up her mind about something, and no matter what he said, it wasn’t going to make a difference. But he couldn’t give up. “Honey, that storm is going to cause all kinds of hell in the valleys, rivers, and creeks around here. When the snows melt, it can be bad news. If you’re concentrating on escaping a killer, then you’re just liable to end up in some other mess just as dangerous.”

“I can take care of myself.”

He rubbed a thumb across his bottom lip, thoughtful for a moment. “I’m afraid you’re out of options. I don’t want you out there without protection. I told you before that it’s too dangerous for a woman alone.”

“You don’t even believe me,” she accused, glaring at him. “According to you, my imagination is working overtime and—”

“Miss Weston—”

“Listen Kawlija, you should be worrying about that killer, not me.”

“Now you’re getting nasty.” Danger laughed and shook his head. “Kawlija was a wooden Indian.” He rubbed a hand down his face and gritted his teeth. “Hell, I can’t believe I said that. What am I saying? He wasn’t a real Indian. He was a character in an old Hank William’s song. You’re driving me nuts. But you damned well know that, don’t you?”

Lacey grinned and shrugged as if to say, ‘Who? Little ole’ me?’ “You should search for the killer, now. Not hours from now. I suppose courage is something you’re lacking.” She stiffened. “Or else you already know who the murderer is,” she concluded.

“Christ, woman, if I knew who this killer is—if I was part of some damned conspiracy, don’t you think it would make more sense for me to just kill you and dispose of your body? Why would I even bother to go with you out there? You’re not making a whole lot of sense. You’re exhausted.”

“And you don’t seem in a hurry to catch this murderer, wooden Indian!” A nerve ticked frantically in Danger’s jaw. One eye twitched furiously. “God, you are the most stubborn, hardheaded, pain-in-my-ass female I’ve ever had the worst luck to tangle with. Dammit. You won’t listen to a thing I say.”

Anger surged forth, shadowing his eyes, darkening them to rain-washed blackness. He glared at her. “Don’t presume to tell me how to do my job,” he said quietly. Dangerously. “I lost a deputy yesterday. He wasn’t just my deputy. He was a friend and my sister’s brother-in-law. He wasn’t just shot through the heart. He was scalped. And I have to wonder with all the derogatory, racist remarks you’ve been making toward me—and blood-thirsty little savage that you are—if maybe you didn’t shoot and scalp him yourself.”

All color seeped from Lacey’s face. Her eyes grew huge and he couldn’t miss the anguish in the gold depths. She swayed unsteadily.

“Shit. Look, I’m sorry I said that. I shouldn’t have said that to you. I know it wasn’t you.”

Tears hovered in her eyes. She stared helplessly back at him. “No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry your friend died so brutally. I didn’t do it. I swear to you.”

“I know that, Lacey. It was a man. I found boot tracks too large for a woman to make. It doesn’t matter who did it. The end result is the same. Hank is dead.”

Danger rubbed the back of his neck before swinging back around to face her. “I was already shorthanded before all this happened. Until morning, I’m the only one on duty. My job is to protect the people in this county, not go gallivanting around the country at night, searching for a killer who may or may not exist. But if everything you say is true, then I certainly don’t want to contaminate the crime scene by stumbling around in the dark out there. Do I make myself clear?”

“As crystal,” she gritted. “You don’t want to help me. That’s very clear, Sheriff. News flash, I don’t want your help.” Her eyes churned, the storm liquid gold in the hot depths of her eyes. “I don’t need you, Chief,” she said, her head flung back in challenge. “However, I am sorry about your deputy.”

“For heaven’s sake.” Danger paused, drew in a deep breath and slowly released it. There was no use losing his temper with her anymore. It wasn’t going to accomplish anything. There was something about this woman that rubbed him the wrong way and sucked him in, pulled him further and further into the maelstrom of her sorry tale, her half-truths. He couldn’t determine what was true and what wasn’t.

She had a way of creeping under his skin, of causing his temper to soar. He slid his gaze down her body, back up, and lingered on her breasts, before settling on her luscious mouth. “I know exactly what you’re in need of, Miss Weston.”

He released a long, deep breath.

“Do tell, sugar?”

Danger sauntered toward her, noted the excited glitter in her eyes, the indecision on her face. She wanted to run. She wanted to stay.

The urgent need to draw her to him and press his mouth against hers was strong.

“Yeah, Miss Weston, I know exactly what you need.”

He slid his fingers just inside the open ‘V’ of her blouse. He knew exactly what he needed too; a satisfying lay to burn this woman out of his mind. Burn away the urgent need consuming him, a need as hot and addictive as the craving for a drug.

He should stop. He knew that, dammit. Yes, he did.

Still, he pushed her, pushed himself, and by doing so, fanned the hunger in both of them.

She moaned and swayed toward him. Her eyes widened as he reached out and toyed with the loose button on her blouse. Tension licked its greedy tongue all around them. If he touched her flesh, he didn’t know which of them might short-circuit first.

He couldn’t resist.

He stroked her cheek with calloused fingertips, a whisper of a touch. She should slap his face. Push him away. Anything, except stand there while they were both swamped by this riptide of heat and emotion.

“Stop it.”

Ah, at last, she’d found her voice.

He shifted his fingers, gliding them smoothly across the top of her red bra. He felt her breasts swell. Her nipples puckered into rigid little buds. Jesus.

Lacey drew in a sharp breath and delivered a sharp slap to his face. She gave no thought to the jeopardy she placed herself in, not until it was too late.

He stilled. The fiery imprint of her hand remained on his cheek. Tension speared through her, leaving her shaken. Oh, shit. She’d done it now. If looks could kill, she’d drop over dead any second.

She couldn’t breathe.

The only sound that filled the room was the slow swishing of the ceiling fan spinning somnolently above their heads. She blinked as she recognized the deviltake-it glint in his eyes.

He was too damned close.

She took a step back.

He shifted and edged closer.

Oh, God, her feet refused to move again. She stood there, super-glued to the floor as he slowly circled her. Her insides quivered, and her stomach bubbled with nerves. She waited for him to do something.

Anything—

Would he hurt her? Hit her back?

Lacey, you are definitely certifiable.

He paused in front of her. Close. So close, the silver chips in his eyes chilled

her soul. No warmth there now. No heat. Just a cold wedge of icy steel glimmered in those silver orbs. A slow, wolfish grin settled across his mouth. His teeth flashed straight and white. The unexpected smile softened his features. He was arrestingly handsome, his gray eyes warmer, but oh, so predatory. Like a wolf, he’d scented her, circled her, and now, he closed in for the kill, going for the jugular.

The smile evaporated from his face.

Lacey shivered, realizing she was in over her head, and she didn’t believe for an instant that the danger swooping down on her had anything to do with her witnessing a murder or slapping this man’s face.

“I’m afraid you misunderstand me, Miss Weston.” His voice was as deadly as a rattler. “I’m not offering you a choice.”

He slid the pad of his index finger beneath the red silk and stroked the lush curve of her breast. His fingertips were light as a breeze on her skin, but heat clenched deep in her belly. He continued the wispy strokes, gliding his fingertips back and forth. It was daring. It was bold. And it felt delicious.

Lacey slapped at his hand and took a step back. The wall came up hard against her back. Panic combined with excitement, stirring a fire in her blood. “I don’t think—” she breathed, then gave a startled yelp when the dangling button suddenly dropped off her blouse and clattered to the floor.

OhmiGod.

Danger’s gaze shot down. Soft laughter escaped his throat as he spied the button spinning across the floor. “I’ll be damned,” he muttered softly.

Then he looked up at her.

A sharp sound hissed past his lips. His eyes widened. Lacey glanced down and saw her blouse had gaped open. He could see the full curves of her breasts, the rigid thrust of her button-hard nipples against the silk.

She drew her gaze over his face, noted the wild color staining his high cheekbones, his erratic breathing. Oh, joy, he was as turned on as she was. They were both idiots.

“Come closer,” he said thickly, raking his thumbnail across one taut nipple through the bra.

She shook her head. “I’m close enough, Running Bear.”

A half-smile curved his lips. He shook his head. “You’re undoubtedly the weirdest female I’ve ever encountered. What, you don’t know ‘Running Bear’ is a song from the sixties? Hell, at least, he isn’t a wooden Indian like Kawlija. I must be stepping up in your estimation.”

She smiled sweetly and batted her lashes. “I wouldn’t count on it, sugar. From wooden Indian to male stripper Indian—well, that’s just not a big leap in improvement.”

Bull. Like she wouldn’t give her left breast to see him naked?

“Depends on if you’re the one being called a wooden Indian or not. Don’t you think? Besides, Running Bear, b-e-a-r is his name, not Running Bare, b-a-r-e.”

She shrugged. “I always figured he stripped before diving in after Little White Dove. That would then make him running bare-assed.”

He snorted.

Lacey shivered as once again his eyes turned to molten heat. She wanted to feast on his mouth until her hunger was appeased. She wanted him to lose himself inside her until he was weak and satiated and neither of them could move.

Dismay grabbed her. It rattled her, leaving her shaken. Her own body betrayed her, responding to the touch of his questing fingers. Hell, in another moment he’d have her entire breast cupped in his hand. Worse, her clothes were in league with him, buttons falling off for no damned reason.

Her nipples tingled as though a current of electricity zapped through her breasts as he continued to draw his thumbnail across the turgid peak. The man wasn’t about to let any of her quips keep him from his quest.

Lacey shook her head. Her lips parted in a whispered plea. “Don’t.”

“Don’t? You’re sure?” He slid his hands away from her delectable curves, his fingertips skimming lightly to the back of her neck in a gentle caress, as though he was soothing her, gentling her to his touch.

Those same warm fingers cupped her chin, tilted her face to his. “There’s no way I can resist touching you, angel,” he breathed. His breath escaped in a soft rush, feathering across her lips in the lightest of caresses. “Lady, I don’t even wanna try.”

Lacey’s legs buckled. She curled her fingers in his shirt and held on. She tossed back her head. Her body trembled. “Try,” she whispered.

“Huh-uh.”

“You don’t really want to do this. You know you don’t.”

“Oh, but I do,” he drawled lazily. “I really, really do.”

Innocence stamped her fine features, even as her lips parted in quivering invitation. Danger suddenly realized she had no idea of the provocative lushness of her mouth. A challenge he fully intended to accept, soon, but not tonight. Not here. Not now. “I knew you were going to be trouble the moment I saw you.”

God, he wanted her. And he would have her. But he wanted the time to savor, to taste every inch of her body, to explore with fingers, tongue and teeth.

She was fire and ice, seductive innocence, and yet as wanton as Eve. A man could drown in those tiger eyes and go down without a struggle. Her eyes flickered wildly, reminding him of a startled, unbroken filly, as green and feisty and just as wild. He wanted to reassure her, tell her everything would be all right.

He wanted to kiss her more.

Just one taste—one tiny little taste, but he wanted her to crave his kiss as he craved hers.

She didn’t. Not yet. But she would—

Oh, yes, he promised himself—she would.

Right now, she might desire him as much as he desired her, but she was afraid of him. He wouldn’t take a woman who feared him. Her fear wasn’t connected to this stormy attraction binding them together, and he wouldn’t allow it to come between them.

There was something more.

He wanted to know what that something was. He wanted to know what it was about him that frightened her.

Danger released her just as Lacey whimpered and jerked free of his touch. The motion sent rippling strands of her hair swirling across his chest. Fine gossamer threads clung to the folds of his shirt, tangled in the buttons, and danced around his throat in silken coils.

He was trapped in the sweet-scented web of her hair. Drugged. Seduced. Bound by something fine and alive.

He mentally shook himself.

Heat blistered his skin, drawing it tight as a stretched hide. Awareness burst through him, settling fully in his groin. His cock strained urgently against the metal buttons of his fly, full and engorged. Aching. He stifled a groan.

It was downright disgusting how anxious his dick was to become involved with her.

Oh, yeah. Little Miss Dixie Belle was trouble all right, and he was going to have a severe case of blue balls.

He wanted nothing more than to sweep the top of his desk clean and lay her there, remove the sexy red thing she was barely wearing, and wrap his tongue around those perky little nipples.

He wanted to rip off those red French-cut panties and taste the honey there, then slip deep inside her and satisfy this raw hunger gnawing at his gut. He wanted to take her, ride her hard and fast until he spent himself in her warmth. Then, he wanted to do it all over again. Slowly. . .

Danger contained the compulsion to reach out and touch her. Suppressed the hot need to take what wasn’t his. There was just no winning with this stubborn woman with her damnable eyes. Tension bubbled in his gut. He had a weakness for tilted, exotic cat-eyes, even ones glaring at him with anger and suspicion.

Slowly, carefully, he untangled the fine strands of her hair from his shirt buttons, setting her free—and himself. His breath escaped in a silent hiss of relief as she moved away from him and started across the room.

His jaw dropped. By God, the little witch was headed toward the door.

Lacey skidded to an abrupt halt as Danger stepped around her, planting large, firmly muscled legs and wide shoulders in her path to freedom.

His voice rumbled in his chest. “Where do you think you’re going?” He gripped her arm tightly. “You’re not leaving here, at least, not for a while, maybe not for a very, long while. Hell, you could have murdered the woman for all I know.”

Lacey flinched and raised her gaze to his face. “So, now you’re admitting there was a murder tonight?”

He shook his head. “I’m not admitting anything, sweetheart.”

She was acutely aware this man could be much more of a threat than the individual hunting her. By coming here, she’d awakened a sleeping predator. He was dangerous, quietly, efficiently deadly, and as raw and elemental as the earth.

His mouth twisted in a half-smile that held little humor. He could seduce her with his dark passions, burn her clear to her soul, and she would willingly go up in flames. She wanted to taste the raw power he brandished.

Trembling, she suddenly feared the fascination she felt for him. Damn it, she’d spent half the night running. Exhaustion poured through every bone in her body. Her muscles trembled. And all she had on her mind was sex. Hot, mindblowing, wild sex. She had to get her priorities in order.

She couldn’t just stand here and allow him to silently bully her with the enticing flash of those silver eyes and sexual innuendos. He wasn’t interested in her, not in that way. He simply wanted her to obey his every command. Typical male, he thought he could use sex to accomplish his goal. Well, he’d picked the wrong woman for that.

“Thanks for the offer of your hospitality, sugar, but I think I’ll just refuse. I’d like to leave.” She flipped the badge pinned to his shirt with a fingertip and flashed him a daring, impudent grin.

Let him make of that what he will.

But she knew she’d tweaked the tail of a tiger, when she saw his eyes flare. He was on her, before she drew her next breath. The only warning she had was a soft growl, then, she was pinned right back against the wall, his body, taut and hard, held her there as he spread his arms on either side of her head, palms flat against the rough wall. Bracketed inside the barrier of his arms she could only look up at him. Fascinated. Enthralled. His prisoner. She had to get away, now.

She licked her dry lips.

He leaned closer, his nostrils flaring. “Don’t do that again, or I won’t be responsible for what happens.”

“What? What did I do?”

He shifted, one muscled leg entwining itself between her legs. “Don’t lick your lips again, honey, unless you’re ready to take care of this.” He nudged her.

A solid ridge bumped against the notch between her thighs. Her stomach clenched in response at the unmistakable bulge. Damn, did he have a steel bar in his pants?

“I warned you, I don’t play games,” he said roughly. “You open this door you get the prize, no matter what the number is.”

“Bastard.”

“What’s the matter, did you think you get to make all the rules?”

Lacey exhaled sharply as he shifted back, allowing space between them.

“Let’s get something clear, Miss Weston. You’re not going anywhere. Not right this moment. I’m not willing to gamble with your life or mine.” He filled his palms with the thick waves of her hair, and tilted her head back. “At the risk of repeating myself, do I make myself clear?”

Lacey wasn’t willing to gamble with her life either. She didn’t know this man, and she wasn’t ready to take the risk involved in trusting him. Not quite yet. “I can take care of myself.”

The pressure on her scalp tightened as he brought her closer. “Maybe you can, but I take my job very seriously, Miss Weston. If you’re in jeopardy of losing your life, then the only place you’ll be safe is here in jail. Try to understand. I’m not locking you up because I think you’re guilty of a crime, but because you could get hurt or killed without my protection.”

She shook her head. “You don’t understand. I can’t allow you to hold me in jail for any reason.”

Danger’s brows arched in surprise. He hadn’t expected her cooperation, but he had expected her understanding. Hell, she wasn’t going to cooperate. Or understand. She was going to give him trouble.

The light of battle glinted in the gold depths of her eyes. He should have foreseen her plan of action. He should have. But he didn’t.

Lacey launched herself at him so fiercely he staggered backward with a surprised grunt. The hold he had on her hair slipped loose as she jabbed her knee into his crotch. White-hot pain splintered through his groin. His breath erupted in a long whoosh.

He doubled over in an explosion of agony. Beads of sweat popped out on his forehead and above his lips. He dropped to his knees groaning, cupping his crotch with both hands.

“Shit, woman. Are you crazy?” The words squeaked past his drawn lips. Nausea swirled like grease in his stomach. He lifted his head and drew a shaky breath. “You—”

He froze, his croaked words breaking off on a low moan. He shook his head. “I don’t fucking believe this. Put it down, sweetheart,” he ordered, trying to rise to his feet. “Shit!”

He fell back to his knees, his big body quivering with pain. Sweat popped out on his forehead all over again, not from pain, but because she stood there with his .38 gripped in her shaking hands, the business end of the gun leveled squarely on his chest.

“Don’t—don’t move,” she breathed.

Seething, Danger knew when to take heed. Looking down the black hole of a gun wasn’t good. Ever. He’d always felt there was nothing more lethal than a woman with a gun in her hands.

Unless it was a nervous woman, with a loaded gun in her hands, and one who’d already admitted she didn’t know how to shoot. “Jesus, honey, I couldn’t move if I wanted to,” he groaned. “Put the gun down, Lacey.”

He was wary when it came to dealing with jumpy, crazy women, and he’d just decided Lacey Weston was certifiable. The way her hands shook, she’d either accidentally shoot him or injure herself. He wasn’t pleased with the thought of either event taking place. Dammit. And damn her.

He swallowed the bubbling nausea that burned the back of his throat. His balls throbbed like a mother. Even if he could stand, he couldn’t rush her. He could barely draw in breath, but his senses were alert to any weakness she might display.

Other than shaking like a leaf in a storm, she was calm and in full control. She was smart enough to stay out of his reach.

She was scared and desperate, and frightened people were unpredictable. She’d shoot him. If he forced her hand, she would kill him. He knew it instinctively.

Lacey backed up, putting more space between them. “In answer to your earlier question, sugar, no, I don’t expect to make all the rules, just the important ones.”

Danger gritted his teeth. When he got his hands on her, he was going to wring her beautiful neck. Then, by God, he’d fuck her senseless, right after he kissed her breathless. She’d beg. Oh, yeah, revenge, so sweet he could taste it. And then—well, that was just a start. Christ, she was magnificent!

Her hair rippled with hidden flames, a wild, glorious tangle around her shoulders. Those tiger eyes glowed like newly minted coins, bright and shiny. He could hear her ragged breaths. See the way her rounded breasts rose and fell with each breath she drew in. Wild color stained her cheeks cherry red.

Ironically, he found himself wanting to hold her. Comfort her. Assure her he would help her any way he could, if he ever got to where he could stand up straight again, that is.

Lacey flashed him a worried look as she ducked around him. She gripped the gun with both hands. Lord, her insides were in knots. He was angry. No, not angry, that was too mild a word. Furious was a much better word. His lips were drawn tight, his eyes mere slits of gray fury, but he was also pale, as if she’d scared the crap out of him or hurt him badly when she kneed him.

And oh, there was a promise of retribution in those stormy eyes. There was something savage in the way he looked at her. Possessive. Lethal.

Her chest tightened. She could barely breathe. If he ever got his hands on her—he’d kill her—stabbed—shot—dead. She’d just have to make sure he never got his hands on her.

He drew in a deep breath and rose slowly to his feet, both arms raised in the air in silent surrender. “Now what, Miss Weston?” he asked shakily. “You gonna shoot me?” A cynical smile twisted his lips. “Put the gun down, sweetheart, before one of us gets hurt or worse.”

Lacey shivered, accepting the fact that Danger Blackstone had just become her enemy. He would come after her. She tightened her lips. Oh, God. What had she done?

With a boldness she was far from feeling, she said, “You’re the only one apt to get hurt, sugar. Much as I might derive some satisfaction at shooting you in the leg.” She let her gaze settle on his crotch for an infinitesimal second, just so he would have no doubt as to which ‘leg’ she referred. “I have no intention of doing that.”

At his arched brow, she rushed on, “Unless you force me. Now, move.”

“Honey, you don’t want to do this. It’s a bad mistake.”

Lacey shivered at the lethal glint in those silver chips. “I’ll have to come after you,” he warned. “And I promise you, you won’t like it when I do.” His voice rang like cold steel slicing through iron.

Her courage wavered. He frightened her on several levels.

No. She couldn’t let him do this to her. She had to get out of here, get away from him. Standing firm on her decision to leave, Lacey waved the gun around, motioning for him to step around her.

Savage fury darkened his face, but there was nothing he could do but turn his back to her and move forward, give her the space she demanded.

“Since you think so highly of these accommodations, I’m sure you’ll enjoy spending what’s left of the night in your jail.” False sweetness coated her words.

Danger lowered his arms. “Damn it, woman.”

She prodded him in the back with the gun barrel. “Up. Get your arms up, and just get in there, Sheriff.”

Lacey moved to one side, keeping the cell door between them. The look he turned on her burned with savage promise. She realized it would be wise for her to keep the row of steel bars between them. And miles. Yes, lots of distance would help.

Danger turned and backed slowly inside the cell. Folding his arms across his broad chest, his face looked like thunder. “Holding a gun on me is very serious. When I get my hands on you again, I’m going to lock you up and throw away the key.”

“Just, shut up.” Lacey grabbed the handcuffs he’d carelessly left lying on top of the desk. She tossed them toward him. Danger caught them with one hand. He stared at the clinking pieces of steel as if they were a cobra in his clutches.

“Put’em on,” she ordered.

“What?”

“Put them on. One on your wrist, and lock one onto a bar on the cell door, no, on second thought, put them ‘round both wrists behind your back.”

“Now see here, Lacey. You can’t—”

“I can, Little Big Man. I have the gun. I can do anything I please. Do it, but first, toss me your clothes.”

“What?”

“You heard me. All of them, even your under—what are you grinning about?”

“Christ, woman, if you wanted me naked, all you had to do was ask. I’m an obliging man—under the right circumstances.”

“Funny.” Lacey waved the gun at him. “Do it, Sheriff.”

“You’re not serious.”

“Ohh, but I am. I’m very serious. Come on, now, Sheriff. Don’t be shy. Let’s see some skin.”

“God damn it, Lacey.” He paused, chewed on his bottom lip, then shook his head. “Don’t call me Little Big Man. He helped with the murder of Crazy Horse you know. He held Crazy Horse’s arms, while a soldier ran his bayonet in his back, or so the story goes.”

She arched a single brow. “I know. Just cooperate, please. We’ll both be happier. At least I will be, and I won’t have to dig out my bayonet.”

“I don’t believe this,” he muttered, unbuttoning his shirt and flinging it across the tiny cell.

Lacey’s gaze settled on the broad expanse of his smooth, bronzed chest. Glory be. He was one magnificent man.

Danger kicked off his moccasins, swearing beneath his breath. Slowly, he unfastened his jeans, slipping each metal button from its slot, one at a time. She could see an arrow of soft, dark hair spearing downward beneath the band of his jeans.

She touched her tongue to her lips, saw his eyes narrow dangerously, and thought better of it. It wasn’t wise to push her luck. Not wise at all.

By the time he hooked his thumb in the elastic band of his black bikini briefs her mouth was as dry as cotton.

“Are you certain you want me to continue?” he asked, a devilish twinkle in his eyes.

Lacey lifted her gaze, but not before she saw the huge bulge straining against his briefs. Heat swept up her face. “Yes. No. Uh, leave the underwear.”

“Leave it—where? Exactly?” he taunted.

Oh, but he was a devil. Drat the man. He knew exactly what he was doing to her. “Leave it on.” She released a shaky breath. “Just, leave it on.”

“Right,” he breathed. “Sure?”

She was still waving the gun around, a fact that sent chills down his spine. So, why the hell was he standing here grinning like a sick calf?

“Yes, I’m sure. Poke your clothes through the bars,” Lacey instructed.

“Be careful with that thing. It’s not a toy. It’s a real gun, with real bullets. You go ‘round pointing it, you’re likely going to kill someone. I’d rather it wasn’t me.”

“I know that,” she yelled. “Quit yelling at me. It makes me nervous. I might accidentally pull the trigger,” she added with a nasty ring to her voice. “Toss me your keys and then, lock the cuffs around your wrists.”

Digging the keys from his jeans pocket, he flung them between the bars and snorted. They landed on the floor at her feet with a soft clink. “Before I’m through with you, lady, you’re going to have reason to be edgy.”

He jabbed his clothes through the bars.

“You have to catch me first.

He folded his arms across his bare chest and rocked on his stocking feet. “Just to let you know, sweetheart—I’m the best damn tracker in this part of the country. I’ll find you—believe me—I’ll find you.”

She snatched up the keys, and his clothes, keeping her gaze locked on him. “I don’t think you’ll do that, at least not for a while. Toss me your moccasins, too.”

“Never doubt it, woman. I will find you, and when I do, heaven help you.”

Lacey grabbed the moccasins and wadded them inside his clothes. “Your wrists, Sheriff, put them behind your back, now.”

She intended to put several miles between them in the time she’d allotted herself, before he was discovered and set free. “Where’s your car?” she asked, looking back over her shoulder as she ran over to the bathroom.

Danger watched in awe as she stuffed his clothes and moccasins in the commode. He snorted when she leaped back as water overflowed onto the floor. He swore softly. The damn little minx, he was going to wring her neck.

She placed the gun on the desk, well away from his reach. Cautiously, she opened the cell door and stepped inside.

For a moment, Danger stared at her bent head as she checked to make sure the cuffs were in place behind is back. Her thick mass of hair slid across his chest and belly. He barely stifled a moan. She was killing him. He’d never in his life felt so damned helpless, nor so hot. Another time, another place, he might not mind the handcuffs or her mouth so close to his—

He swallowed the lump that had become a tender ache in his throat and shifted to one side. Let her have her moment of triumph. It would be short-lived. He knew for certain she wasn’t going far in his Jeep. The gas tank was almost empty, and there wasn’t a gas station open at this hour of the morning, not in Rimrock.

But if there was truly a murderer out there, she could die before he found her. And it would be his fault. He should have handled her differently.

“Lacey?”

She looked up, her eyes questioning. “What?”

“Please. Don’t do this.”

She watched him. “I have no choice, sugar.”

He bit back a curse. “You’re headed for serious trouble.” Accepting that she wasn’t going to change her mind, he sighed. “There’s a black Jeep out front. Rimrock Sheriff’s Department logos are on the doors. You can’t miss it.”

She nodded.

Abruptly, Lacey stood on her toes. She glided her hands along his firm jaw and framed his face, then she pressed her mouth to his. “For luck,” she whispered against his lips.

The kiss, for all its briefness, sizzled.

Danger growled deep in his throat and wished his hands were free. God, he didn’t want her to go. He wanted to seize her and show her just how he liked to be kissed. He wanted to lose himself in the wonder of her sexy mouth.

But he couldn’t.

She was leaving him with little choice. So instead, he said quietly, “You’re going to need it, lady. Damned if you’re not.”

She stepped back, gave him a wobbly smile, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “So are you,” she replied, then slammed the cell door behind her, locking it in place. “I’ll just keep these, Red Cloud.”

She stuffed the cell keys inside her jeans pocket.

Danger stared at her. Something inside him softened. “Red Cloud was a great Sioux chief. There’s no disgrace in being called by his name.”

Lacey hesitated. “I know who he was. One of my majors in college was on the American Indian wars and history.” A faint smile tugged at her lips. “I meant no dishonor in calling you by his name.”

Damn, but the woman was full of surprises. No wonder she could rattle off Indian names without pausing to think. He shouldn’t give a shit, but he loved the way she called him by all the different names. He couldn’t think of a single woman who could name historical Indian chiefs right and left without an ounce of hesitation and knew their history as well.

He shouldn’t give a shit that she was headed into trouble either, not on a personal level—but he did. The problem was he liked her too damn much. No woman had ever stood up to him like she did. Lacey Weston stood toe to toe with him and challenged him. Infuriated him. Tempted him. Threw history at him at the drop of a dime and knew what she was talking about.

He wore a badge, and he’d upheld the law to the best of his ability. What she was doing was serious. Still, he had to admire her courage. Her tenacity. “I can’t believe you’re doing this,” he said softly. “It’s crazy.”

She hesitated. “Freedom. To you it might be crazy. For me, it’s a necessity. A flee to safety.” She whirled and headed for the front door.

“Hey!”

She turned back, her hand resting on the doorknob. “Yeah, Sheriff?” “You’re quite something. Aren’t you?”

She grinned, shrugged. “Guess you’ll never know, sugar.”

Danger muttered an oath as he watched her shut the door quietly behind her. Outside, the Jeep engine roared to life. Silence. She was gone. He’d had no choice but to let her go. She’d surprised him, outwitted him, and then, faced him with courage and defiance.

She’d stripped him, handcuffed him, and threatened him.

Kissed him.

His mind, his entire body switched to hunting mode. A feral, corner-the-prey instinct settled deep in his bones. He felt his lips curve with a slow, predatory grin. There might or might not be a killer after her, but one thing he promised himself with anticipation—he would find her.

Heaven help her, when he got his hands on her. The lady had made a monumental error in judgment. She’d opened door number one, when she kissed him.

And he wasn’t the prize—she was.

He was going after her. She’d be wearing silver bracelets when he brought her back.

In less than an hour, he’d have her in custody.

In less than an hour—he was going to show Miss Magnolia Blossom exactly how he liked to be kissed.

In The Arms Of Danger

Chapter Seven

Sometimes you get. Sometimes you get got.

Cowboy quotes

Montana Backcountry Sat.7:00 a.m.

Rain started to hammer the Jeep just before dawn. It battered the roof for what seemed like hours to Lacey. She narrowed her eyes, but it was impossible to see through the sheet of water sliding down the horribly scratched windshield of what must be Sheriff Blackstone’s prized possession.

The last thing she heard him yell as she closed the office door behind her was she’d better not let anything happen to his Jeep.

She snorted. It was amazing the things men cherished.

Thank God the hardtop was on the sacred vehicle or by now she would have drowned. To run out of gas, just when she’d managed to put a few miles between her and that arrogant beast of a man, was enough to make a grown woman cry. She just knew the sorry dog had done this to her deliberately.

But worse, she’d run out of gas right in the middle of a creek bed. But at least it was a shallow creek bed. Impatient with the delay, she drummed her fingers against the steering wheel and silently fumed.

Out of gas.

How could she have stolen a get away vehicle so damned low on fuel? The dratted devil was probably sitting there in that damn cell snickering at her feeble attempt to escape.

She eyed her torn fingernails. She’d add snickering along with the ruin of her precious manicure to his list of crimes. Oh, yes, she was definitely keeping count of his sins against her. Trying to lock her in a cell took the place of honor at number one. He’d have to work long and hard to top that one. Miserable man.

When she’d stolen the Jeep, checking the fuel gauge hadn’t been a priority. Escape—yeah, that had been her first concern . . . and avoiding death. She winced. Of course, now the Great War chief was probably going to throw the book at her and then burn it afterward. Clearly, there had been pure revenge in those silver rimmed eyes.

She was pretty sure holding an officer of the law at gunpoint, handcuffing and locking him in his cell, and stripping him was against some kind of law. Not to mention the little fact of jamming his gonads up to his eyeballs.

Lacey glared at the gauge pointing to the empty mark. Apparently Danger Blackstone didn’t concern himself with keeping a full tank. Jeez, hadn’t the blasted man ever heard of being prepared for an emergency? It was probably some kind of tactic to slow down would-be criminals like her.

Metal scraped the glass of the windscreen and Lacey winced. Giving a soft hiss, she snapped off the wipers. He didn’t concern himself with the upkeep of the wiper blades either. They were old, dry, and the rubber finally crumbled off after about thirty minutes of use.

It wasn’t her fault his windshield now had deep grooves cut into it. The man needed to take better care of his possessions.

Irritated with the mess she’d landed herself in, she swore and muttered under her breath. Restlessness swamped her. She was a woman of action who’d been broadsided by a sneaky, underhanded snake. She could be sitting here forever.

Was he out there somewhere, bent on settling a score?

Oh, hell yeah. She could be certain of that. The sheriff would come after her, pistols drawn, ready to take her down.

And where was the murderer? Was he searching for her?

Maybe he would meet up with the war chief, and they’d annihilate each other.

Lacey snorted. Yeah, and maybe frogs could fly.

That lawman would be hot on her trail all right, just like a damned bloodhound. Most likely, he was involved in the whole murder thing and had simply been trying to confuse her with his innocent act.

Oh, but he’d looked so yummy in those tight, skimpy briefs. She’d nearly swallowed her tongue, when he’d peeled away the layers of clothing and left an Alpha male staring her down with dangerously glittering eyes that had enough slumber in them to make her think of him and her and a bedroom.

But he’d been grinning, too.

For heaven’s sake, what had he had to grin about? She’d stood there with a gun trained on him and not too steadily either. He’d had nothing to grin about.

Duh. The perverted fiend had enjoyed his little striptease. He hadn’t minded stripping for her. What he’d minded was the loaded gun pointed at him.

Well, okay—anyone would mind having the business end of a gun pointed at them. But he’d shed his clothes with little protest. Of course, he could have been afraid she’d jab his balls up his throat again.

She swallowed hard. She couldn’t get the picture out of her mind of him standing there nearly naked. Damn, he was one well-hung man. The major bulge concealed behind those little black bikinis had made her mouth water.

From the little she’d seen—wrong choice of words—from the lot she’d seen filling his underwear—well, suffice it to say, nothing to disappoint a lady there.

He was all bronzed muscle and sinew. Sheriff Danger Blackstone had nothing to be ashamed about. The man was built like a sleek mountain cat, emanating strength and grace. A formidable power of virility had been revealed in every hard plane and long bone of his body.

A little shiver of desire rippled through her.

Watching him unfasten the button-fly had been more nerve racking than forcing him inside a cell. She’d waited breathlessly for him to finish sliding the jeans down his hips, watched with dry mouth and pounding heart as the smooth, silky hair that arrowed down his wash-board abs came into view and then, disappeared into the waist band of the bikinis.

Lacey squirmed in her seat. Even now, her breasts ached and tingled. Her nipples tightened into taut little peaks that strained against the red bra beneath her blouse.

She’d kissed him. Okay. So it couldn’t really pass for a kiss, it had been too brief. But hadn’t his lips parted, just a little, in response? Hadn’t she heard his sharp intake of breath? Had she really felt the touch of his tongue against her lips? Had she?

Had she felt his dick rise up and poke her in the belly? Oh, yeah, it had poked her all right, like a damn nightstick. And he hadn’t done one thing to keep it from stabbing her. He hadn’t given a shit that she knew he had a steel rod packed inside his briefs like a concealed weapon, a weapon that clamored to get out.

Excitement stirred to life deep inside her. The very core of her womanhood clenched with damp need. She pressed her thighs together, but the rampant ache remained. There was no getting around the fact the man turned her on. She wanted him.

Wanting, needing a man was something new to her.

Frustration consumed her. Her nerves felt as ragged as her nails looked. An edgy, achy need flooded her body, creating heat in forbidden places. She had to get away from here. Get out of Montana. Get far away from the handsome sheriff with the killer eyes and a body to die for.

She couldn’t afford to sit here and daydream about a man who was possibly, most likely, a murderer, or at least, somehow involved. She needed to get back to her campsite, collect her gear, get her wallet with her ID, locate her camera and get the hell outta Dodge.

If she could find her campsite, surely it couldn’t be much farther, but she had a bad feeling that without a map, she might have been going in circles. Once, she left the main highway and hit the back roads, the terrain all looked the same with dusty roads weaving in and out of barely there trails that intertwined at the base of the mountainous terrain. The roads wound through virgin timber and wild, rough landscape, beautiful, treacherous and confusing without a map.

And her map was at her tent.

She needed a full tank of gas and wipers that worked.

Hot tears burned her eyes and then, scalded her cheeks.

Oh, no, Lacey. Don’t do this to yourself. Don’t give up hope. Not when escape is so close you can taste it.

She sniffed back tears, wiped her cheeks dry and stiffened her upper lip. If the rain slowed her down, then maybe, it slowed her pursuers, including Sheriff D. Blackstone.

Lacey leaned her head against the back of the seat and gave into the overwhelming need to close her eyes. The sound of the kick-ass rain beating the hell out of the metal roof top soothed her weary mind. Tiredness sapped her energy. She gave in to a fitful yawn. Exhaustion wormed its way in and turned her brain to slushy mush. Keeping her eyes open was no longer an option. Her head felt thick and heavy from lack of sleep. Hunger gnawed at her backbone like a bloodhound on a hot trail, and she was in dire need of a bathroom.

She could take care of the pressing need to empty her bladder. The whole blasted valley lay at her disposal. Completing her body’s demand for relief, Lacey slipped back inside the Jeep. She wiped water off her face with the damp tails of her blouse. Well, that had been wet and wet. She wrinkled her nose, nothing like taking a pee in the rain to make a lady feel dry and secure.

Now, she knew her brain had shut down, when she was thinking such silly thoughts. She allowed her mind to shift to the man who’d delayed her in Rimrock. Danger had slowed her down, forcing her to lose precious time. She didn’t know if he was part of what happened. But she didn’t know if he wasn’t either, so she hadn’t dared relax her guard with him. Not until she got somewhere safe—like another country.

Despair nipped at her as painful and nagging as a toothache. Danger. The man was the kind of man she needed fighting on her side. Strong, powerful, but was he trustworthy? She had every reason not to trust him, but she wanted to. Desperately.

There had been something, some inexplicable steadiness in his light-colored eyes that drew her to him, something powerful and hypnotic. An element of honor and strength exuded from him. And courage. She’d wanted to confide in him, but there had been something dangerous about him, too, besides his name.

She blinked, trying to concentrate. If he was innocent, then, she didn’t have the right to involve him, without him knowing all the facts. He wouldn’t know from which direction trouble could erupt. But she had no way of knowing how much, or even if he was already involved.

For her own safety she had to go with the assumption he was guilty. Therefore, her only chance lay in escaping the area, maybe get to Helena and contact the FBI. Yes. That would work. Let them decide who was involved and who wasn’t.

Perilously close to tears again, Lacey sniffed. She just needed to rest awhile. That was it. Rest. She yawned. Stretched. Her eyelids felt as heavy as a bag of wet sand. So heavy. Her thoughts rambled. Dangerous—

Her eyelids fluttered drowsily. Yes, it was all so dangerous—

She rested her head on the back of the seat.

Could she—or couldn’t she trust him?

Did she even want to?

Dare she trust a man named Danger?

Her mind said no. Her heart argued the point.

Danger.

Her brain shut down. Her eyes drifted shut, and an image of the man clad only in a loincloth danced through her mind.

***

The rocking movement of the Jeep startled Lacey awake. For a moment, she thought she’d dreamed the awkward motion, and then, she felt it again.

Dear God, what is happening?

The terrible pounding on the top of the Jeep sounded like a waterfall crashing down from heaven or rising from hell, depending on one’s point of view, since she could hear the rush of water moving beneath the vehicle also.

Beneath?

Crap. She hadn’t considered the possibility of becoming trapped in a flood, even though Mr. Totem Pole had warned her about snowmelt. She should have paid closer attention to his warning. She knew Montana had problems with flooding at times, and floods were swift and dangerous, especially this time of year. She had no one to blame, but herself for this fine mess.

It was just that worrying about floods hadn’t been one of her major concerns at the time.

The Jeep suddenly lurched and groaned like an old lady with stiff bones. The water outside it rumbled with an answering challenge. The vehicle moved, an awkward creature awaking from a deep sleep. Lacey screamed, but the shrill sound was lost in the sliding, bucking movement of the Jeep. The abrupt motion hurled her forward, then slammed her sideways against the door on the driver’s side. Excruciating pain shot through her left shoulder and elbow as she slammed against the metal frame. Her heart thundered with terror. She clawed her way toward the passenger door. “Oh, my Lord.”

Panic rushed over her along with icy water that felt like it had bounced its way up from the Antarctic. The cumbersome vehicle sprung back at an awkward, ungraceful angle, and then tilted precariously onto the driver’s side.

Lacey toppled sideways slamming into the driver’s door once again. Something popped and sharp pain tore through her left shoulder. The agony of dislocating it punched a hole in her belly and filled the yawning cavity with greasy, green bubbles of nausea. She swallowed hard. She couldn’t give up now.

If she didn’t escape this tin can, she would drown inside the confining walls of the Jeep.

Clawing her way upward with one hand, she reached the opposite door a second time. Suddenly the Jeep started rotating, spinning wildly like a top out of control. Lacey toppled forward. Her forehead struck the hard frame of the dash. For a moment, she saw stars, bright, dancing stars that splintered a path through her skull.

Then the icy water sloshed upward, wetting her from beneath. It flooded the interior, surging up to her breasts in seconds.

God was punishing her. Oh, yes. He was collecting His dues.

She was going to die right here inside the damned Jeep she’d stolen.

Lacey kicked frantically at the door on the passenger side until it popped open. Then, she pulled herself upward one-handed until she could see out the open door. “Oh God.”

Rain slapped her in the face with vicious ferocity as though attacking her for daring to poke her head out the iron shell she was encased in. Lacey’s lips worked in prayer, but all she managed to croak was, “She-eet.” Then, her throat clamped tight.

She couldn’t make the tiniest sound after that, but she knew she wouldn’t drown inside the Jeep. Oh, no. She was going to drown outside the Jeep in the river of rushing water that surrounded her and the cumbersome vehicle.

The shallow creek was no longer ankle deep, but had become a maelstrom of churning, boiling, muddy waters that looked as wide and lethal as the Mississippi River.

Lacey sucked in a sharp breath. All right. Okay. She was a good swimmer under normal conditions. Normal conditions? These were floodwaters, for Pete’s sake, icy, mountain snowmelt, floodwaters, way beyond her scope of experience, raging, angry, bubbling water with—things swimming in it, unknown, unidentifiable—living—things. Monsters with claws, pinchers and sharp little teeth—creepy, crawly, things!

She shuddered at the idea of joining whatever hungry fiends were taking a swim.

However, as what seemed to be her way of life lately, she lacked a choice.

Sucking in a self-encouraging breath, Lacey straddled the door frame. She gave a yelp as her fingers slipped off the wet metal, and she nearly toppled head first into the raging water.

Daringly, she stretched out one slender, jeans-clad leg, and placed her booted foot in the water. The frigid water swirled over the tops of the boots soaking her feet and congealing the breath in her lungs. Forget drowning. Oh, no, she wouldn’t drown. She would simply ice over in the refrigerated water instead.

The Jeep lurched, heaving farther onto its side. Her fingers slipped, and she toppled headfirst into the freezing waters. She rose from the churning mass, gasping and slapping at the hair blinding her. Looking around, panic engulfed her. It was a moment before she realized her boots were touching the rocky bottom.

The water wasn’t over her head. Not yet. But it was lethally cold, nearly up to her neck and rising like a tidal wave. Her blood slowed as if it had turned to gel. She struggled awkwardly with one good arm against the violent force pulling and sucking at her. At best, she wouldn’t drown as long as it wasn’t over her head, but hypothermia was a mean possibility in the lethally frigid water.

Taking measure of her options, Lacey started swimming, but it was more like she was flailing. She managed to draw a little closer to the bank where the Jeep finally came to rest, but the current was swifter and pulled her back to the core in what seemed like a heartbeat. Floundering, she opted for the other side, battling to keep her head above the churning water as she struggled slowly toward it. She was nearly to the bank, when she realized her mistake.

Beneath her, the undercurrent churned, sucking at her boots. It was powerful and persistent, threatening to drag her under the hungry maelstrom. The temperature of the water left her arms and legs feeling like dead weights anchored to her body. She could barely move. The dragging heaviness of her soaked jeans and boots, along with the fierce waters swept her into exhaustion. It was like slugging her way through a giant, semi-frozen cloud, and she was getting nowhere fast.

At last, she was close enough to the bank to reach out and grab onto a small bush. She gripped the flimsy limb and tried to heave herself up. The edge of the bank crumbled, her boots slipped in the mud, and the weak stem of the bush snapped in half.

Lacey whimpered and clawed uselessly at thin air before toppling backward into the icy water. In those treacherous seconds when she’d been out of the watery grave, it had risen. She resurfaced, emerging through the roaring tide that held her hostage. Coughing, she treaded water. Lacey swiped a strand of wet hair out of her eyes and looked around.

“Oh, Jesus!” She gasped at the wall of water looming down on her. The tremendous roar of racing water sounded like a freight train bounding toward her. Terror gripped her heart. Dear God, she would be hammered to pieces by such an almighty force.

She whirled with some thought to escape, but barely had time to draw in a deep breath before it struck her. The violent impact crushed the breath out of her lungs and swept her under the powerful debris of shattered tree limbs and brush. Mud and water filled her ears, her mouth and throat. She couldn’t see as silt caked her eyes, leaving them filled with grit and burning.

Lacey clawed her way to the surface, but the raging water beat her down. Down, until her lungs felt as if they would explode with the urgent need for air. Bits of broken tree limbs and bark slammed into her, scraping her face and arms, tangling in her hair, dragging her deeper beneath the conquering force.

She spun helplessly in an angry vortex that finally tossed her to the surface as if it had tasted something sour and decided to spit her out. Lacey’s head bobbed up like an animated cork, breaking through the swirling mass. Ragged coughs tore from deep inside her. Gasping and choking, she gulped in deep breaths of air, desperate to soothe the raw hunger tearing at her scalding lungs.

Frantically, she searched for a way out. Nothing looked familiar. The wall of water had swept her miles downstream.

Where she was now was anybody’s guess.

The worst of the raging tide sped on past her, leaving her behind in a whirlpool of shattered tree limbs, bark and trash spinning in the brown, murky water.

Her heart raced painfully in her chest.

Thank you, God. Thank you.

Exhilarated, she laughed out loud. She was alive! The worst was over. She would dance a jig, if she was able to move her legs.

Lacey’s eyes widened in alarm as the shattered remains of a tree trunk shot out of the swirling water and straight at her with deadly accuracy. It smacked the side of her head with fierce momentum. White-hot pain flared through her skull and exploded like a bottle rocket on the Fourth of July.

A tiny sound slipped past her frozen lips. She reached up and touched the warmth flowing down the side of her face and into her eyes. Bright red liquid stained her fingers. How odd. Why was she bleeding? She stared at the crimson stain, shivering. Funny, her hair seemed to have developed a life and will of its own, tangling in the protruding branches of a bobbing tree as it raced by on its journey to nowhere.

Weak and exhausted, Lacey managed to wrap the arm that wasn’t injured around the limbs. God only knew where the tree was determined to take her.

It would stop somewhere—eventually, she told herself as a kind of dull acceptance settled over her. After all, didn’t all creeks and rivers end somewhere?

Yeah. The friggin’ ocean. Duh.

Lacey sighed and gave into the darkness that closed around her.

In The Arms Of Danger

Chapter Eight

Lettin’ the cat outta the bag is a whole lot easier’n puttin’ it back in.

WillRogers

Rimrock Sheriff’s Dept. Sat.6:00 a.m.

It was two hours before Danger’s relief made an appearance. When Coe Blackstone finally entered the tiny office, he froze in the open doorway, a comical expression flitting across his face.

His eyes widened. His mouth dropped open. He barely smothered a guffaw. Coe stared at his brother as if he’d never seen him before. “What the hell are you doing in there, Danger? Naked. Uh—nearly naked?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? Get me outta here!”

Coe folded his arms across his chest. His lips twitched. “Oh, I don’t know, Sheriff. You look kind of cute in there, wearing only handcuffs and—is that a breechcloth you’re sporting?” He wiggled his brows. “I didn’t know you were into the kinky stuff.”

“You’re not funny, Coe,” Danger said through tight lips. He muttered a pithy comment beneath his breath. “What the hell are you doing coming in so late?”

Coe arched silky brows. “Actually, it’s my day off. You’re lucky I’m even here. Looking at you, I’m damn glad I didn’t come in any sooner,” he teased. “I might have seen something I wouldn’t want to see.”

He closed the door and headed for the desk. He riffled through the stacks of papers littered across it. “Where are the cell keys?”

“Get the spare set out of the top drawer.”

Coe hesitated, then snickered. “Who did this to you? The Mayor’s wife? She’s been tryin’ to get you outta your pants for years. So was it worth it? Is Cynthia any good?”

“Hell no, it wasn’t Cynthia. And if you wanna know if she’s any good, find out for yourself.”

Coe couldn’t contain several ripping snorts.

“Don’t enjoy yourself so much, Coe. It’s not that damned funny.”

“You’re not seeing it from this side of the bars. I’m not going to ask where the other set of keys are. Uh-uh. I’m not going there.”

He unlocked the cell door and released the cuffs from around Danger’s wrists.

“Stop cackling or I’m going to expect you to lay an egg. Christ, it’s not a bit funny. What it is—is humiliating.”

Coe grinned. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you caught with your pants down before.”

Danger glared at his brother. “Shut up. Why are you here if it’s your day off?”

Coe coughed, struggling to maintain a serious face. “I remembered it was Hank’s scheduled day to be here at four a.m. I wasn’t sure you would think about it, so I came on in, just in case. Sorry I’m late, but uh—I got tied up tracking Hank’s killer. I lost the tracks in the valley.”

He paused, his eyes crinkling with silent laughter.

Danger glared at him. Hell, any second now his brother just might cave in and fall down laughing.

“I’m trying like hell not to snicker here—I just can’t help myself. How the hell did you end up naked and handcuffed in the cell?”

Danger ignored the question, frowning instead. “You were in the valley, last night?”

Coe nodded. “Yeah. All night. Let me tell you, it was dark as a mother humper out there, just a sliver of moon. I couldn’t see a damned thing for the clouds.”

“You hear any gunshots? A woman screaming?”

Reaching for the coffee pot, Coe sniffed the questionable brew, then grabbed Danger’s mug and filled it to the brim. “Nope. You going to tell me how you ended up a guest in your own cell? Naked? Where are your clothes?”

At Danger’s warning glare, Coe held up a hand. “Sorry. Do I have to guess what happened?”

“A woman took my gun. She held me at gunpoint, right after she rammed my balls up my throat. Satisfied?”

Coe spewed coffee across the room and gave into hysterics. Wiping the tears from his eyes, he snickered. “You’re joking.” The rage he saw on Danger’s face convinced him otherwise. “You’re not joking. Uh—did she ram your balls up your throat before or after she stripped you of your clothes?”

Danger grabbed a rifle from the gun cabinet and snatched an extra box of shells from the desk drawer. “It doesn’t matter. What matters, little brother, is the fact that we have trouble.”

“Trouble?”

“Yeah, trouble.” Danger shoved his pistol back inside its holster and hoisted the gun belt around his waist. “The little hellion witnessed a murder out there, last night, or so she claims. She practically accused me of being the killer. Described me.”

Coe sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh, shit.”

“Exactly,” Danger replied. “And since you were in the valley, and we are identical twins, guess whose ass is on the line?”

“Hey. I haven’t killed anyone.” Coe ran a weary hand over his face. “I didn’t kill anyone. Hell, I didn’t see or hear anything. What are you doing?”

“That should be obvious. I’m going after her.”

“Who? The woman who locked you up? Like that? Naked, with just a—loaded gun?” Coe gave a half smile. “Ya gonna shoot her?”

“For heaven’s sake, Coe.”

Coe shrugged. His lips twitched. “I’ve never seen you so rattled before. Where are your clothes?”

Danger glanced toward the bathroom. “She stuffed them in the toilet.”

Coe lost it then. He gave a whoop of laughter and clutched his belly. “This is just too good to be true,” he said, wiping tears from his eyes.

Danger grimaced. “I need clothes. Go to the ranch and saddle Diablo and bring back a couple of pack horses with enough supplies for a week. Pack me a couple of extra pair of jeans and several shirts. Bring me back some extra socks and another pair of moccasins. I can’t believe the little witch stuffed my clothes in the toilet.” Danger paused. “I’ll call Jim Waters and get him to open his store early. I’ll need extra supplies.”

Coe arched a brow. “You figure on this taking awhile?”

“Yep,” Danger replied, a feral curl to his top lip. “I think this may take a good long while, and I think I’ll have a fight on my hands just getting the little witch back to Rimrock.”

“I’ll see you, when I get back with the horses then.” Coe waggled his brows. “And some pants for you, can’t have the sheriff running around naked. It would frighten the ladies.” He paused. “Any messages for Blake or Anna Leigh?”

Danger shook his head absently. “Tell Blake I’m sorry, but I might not be back in time for Hank’s funeral. And pack some extra blankets.”

“Blankets?”

“It gets damn chilly at night.”

Coe grinned. “Right. Blankets. Anything else?” His lips twisted with laughter. “Condoms?”

Danger snorted. “For what? I’m not planning to fuck her. I wouldn’t touch her—no, no condoms. And stop grinning. I owe her, but sex isn’t what I have on my mind.”

Coe hooted. “Uh-huh. Sex is what I’d have on my mind if a female stripped me of my pants. I haven’t seen you in this much of a tizzy in years. What did she do to you, besides lock you in jail, and kick you in the ba—”

“She kissed me!”

“There you go.” Coe chortled. “That’ll get a woman locked up every time.” He laughed, slapping his leg as he snorted. “The lady must have guts if she dared to kiss the serious and stodgy Sheriff of Rimrock.”

“Shut up, Coe. She broke the law.”

“Whose? The county or yours?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Danger shoved bullets into a Winchester rifle.

“Forget it.” Coe smirked. “But I’d sure like to meet this lady. Is she pretty?”

“Dammit, Coe, she’s a criminal. She pointed a loaded gun at me. She could have killed me! I’m going to toss her ass in jail and throw away the key.”

“All right. All right. But even you have to admit that pointing an unloaded gun isn’t much use to anyone.”

At Danger’s dark scowl, Coe held up his hands in surrender. “I’m just curious about her.”

“Get moving. I’m already running behind.”

“I’m going, already. Jeez.” Coe pulled open the door. “Looks like snuggling weather, brother, gonna piss and pour. Sure you don’t want those condoms?”

“Get out of here,” Danger growled.

Coe burst out laughing and started through the door.

“Hey,” Danger yelled.

Coe paused, looked back and arched a single brow in question.

A grin tugged at Danger’s lips as Coe faced him. “She’s not pretty—she’s fucking beautiful.”

Coe grinned and winked. “Already had that one nailed, brother.”

***

It was another two hours before Danger finally left Rimrock. He felt like beating the hell out of someone, anyone, only there was no one he could blame for this mess but himself. He’d never been so frustrated or angry in his life at the delays that had piled up and kept him from heading out after Lacey in a timely manner.

He’d sworn to protect her. Instead, he’d driven her away.

Remorse and concern mingled together, increasing his feelings of guilt. He’d

forced her to make a perilous choice, not deliberately, but, if anything happened to her, he’d never forgive himself.

Cursing beneath his breath, he halted the blood-red stallion and rested against the saddle horn. He squinted his eyes and gazed at the valley before him. Surrounded by a wall of purplish-blue, snow-capped mountains, he knew it remained extremely cold in the higher elevations. The mountains hovered, majestic and stark in their treacherous beauty.

The spring thaw was underway. The volley of rainfall coming down was going to play hell with the smaller creeks and rivers in the area. He settled his butt closer in the saddle and ignored the rain that had finally gone from pounding the crap outta him to a steady drizzle that seemed to find every available crack and crevice between his shirt and his neck to slide down.

Between the snowmelt and the torrents of rain that had driven him to seek shelter beneath an outcropping of rock until it let up, it was going to be bad. The unwary and inexperienced hikers and campers were going to be in real trouble.

It was a fact of life. It happened every spring just like clockwork. Greenhorns set out to explore the rugged beauty of the Montana wilderness and ended up in a dilemma. They never once considered the fact that bears, cougars and other dangers prevailed. Hell, one year a man actually picked up a small rattlesnake after his girlfriend convinced him it was a harmless garden snake.

Danger shuddered at the reckless disregard some people had for their life. The slicker he wore was little protection against the onslaught of Mother Nature. Underneath it, his clothes felt damp and clammy against his skin. Cold. He sincerely hoped that little Miss Southern Belle was just as cold, wet and miserable as he was

Because of the wild terrain and the weather, he’d decided to hunt for Lacey on horseback. It was slow going, but he wouldn’t run out of fuel or have to turn back. In the mountainous terrain, a horse could go places a Jeep couldn’t. There was one valley close to Rimrock. He suspected it was this valley his little peach had been camped in.

Following his hunch, he’d been lucky enough to spot the Jeep tracks as soon as he turned his white extended cab Ford truck and horse trailer off the main highway. He’d driven in as far as he could, but when he saw the direction she’d turned the Jeep, he knew it was time to park and saddle Diablo.

But now, most of the tracks were gone, washed away by the downpour and he was stalled by exactly what he’d warned Lacey could happen. High waters. Now he didn’t know if he needed to go up the creek, down it, or take the risk of trying to cross it. But since there was only one access road in and one way out, he wasn’t afraid of losing her, at least not in the wilderness. He knew the country on this side of the creek.

If she couldn’t lose him, then the odds were she couldn’t lose who ever wanted her dead. He had to find her and soon. He couldn’t shake the feeling he was running out of time.

In The Arms Of Danger

Chapter Nine

We can’t all be heroes because someone has to sit on the curb and clap as they go by.

WillRogers

Montana Backcountry Sat. 4:00 p.m.

It was the red and white checkered material that first caught Danger’s attention. One minute he was making his way up and down the bank where he’d set up camp for the evening, searching for the safest way to get back on the right side of the flood waters, when he saw the shattered remains of a large stump bob to a halt against the opposite side.

He stopped dead.

For a moment, he stood there too stunned to believe what he saw, then he blinked. Blinked again. Aw, hell. It was sure enough her, all right. Like a runaway fishing cork, her head bounced up and down, in and out of the roaring, destructive monster the little creek had grown into.

Lacey’s slender fingers clung to the battered stump of the tree trunk. He swore viciously. Her ribs had to be taking one hell of a beating by the chewed-up end of the tree.

He propped his Winchester against a big rock, cupped his mouth and yelled over the roar of the raging water. “Hey, Georgia. Don’t let go. Hang on.”

Lacey’s head swiveled slowly as if she barely had any muscle left in her neck or the energy to look toward him.

“Hu—rry,” she wailed. Her head sank, then rose as she struggled to keep it above water. “Fre—ezing.”

I know darlin’. I’m hurrying. “I see you managed to land your ass in a fine mess.” He dropped his gun belt and shirt on the ground. “No! Don’t let go!”

Jesus, his heart pounded like a ten-pound sledge hammer driving through a pile of rocks. He watched helplessly as her head slipped beneath the icy water then shot back up. “Don’t you dare drown on me,” he shouted. “I have a nice set of bracelets waiting with your name on them.”

He figured his words would piss her off enough to fuel her fighting spirit. He cussed like a sailor on a long haul at sea. Damn woman was going to be the death of him, yet. Hell. He was no one’s hero, but he couldn’t let her freeze, or drown, though he figured if it came right down to it, she’d somehow manage to get her ass out of the water. The lady was definitely trouble. He dug his wallet and loose change out of his pocket and dropped it by his gun and shirt.

“You say you’re freezing?” he yelled. “And whose fault is that?”

Talk to me.

He had to keep her talking. Make her angry. Rile up her fighting side, else she was going to sink like a rock. He had no idea how long she’d been in the sub-zero water, but he knew she couldn’t hold on much longer before her strength played completely out, and she slipped beneath the water—permanently.

She sent him a fulminating glower across the water. “Don’t—just stand— there grinning like—a possum eating sh—”

The look was wasted as her grip slipped and her head vanished beneath the water. She bounced up, spluttering and gasping for air and fighting to grab hold of the crumbling limb.

“Hur—ry. I can’t. . .”

Danger spat a raw curse as her words trailed off, and the skinny limb she clutched with the tips of her fingers started to disintegrate. With a snarl, he ripped off his moccasins and socks and plunged in the arctic violence of the creek.

“Fuck.”

The water felt sharp as a knife, a deadly combination of glacial snowmelt and spring rain that bit deep into his chest. His lungs felt like slush, the breath drained right out of him. His chest heaved as frozen fingers of icy liquid closed over his bare shoulders and seemed to turn the air whooshing in and out through his parted lips into solid ice. Piercing, needle-like pain shimmied across his chest, arms, and thighs as if he’d been stung by bees all over his body.

Talk about blue balls. It felt as if his had shriveled to the size of peanuts. What was it with this woman and his gonads? She wouldn’t be happy until his dick was served on a platter to her. Something that was likely to happen quite soon, since it felt like his cock was frozen as solid as an icicle and liable to snap right off any second. An image of his frozen dick lying in his hand as he presented it to her flashed through his mind. Bull shit. No way. He had to hurry up and get them both out of this water.

At last, he was within reach of her.

Danger curled his fingers in the thick mass of Lacey’s wet hair and drew her toward him. Unfortunately, his fingers slipped. He lost his grip on the slick strands when she suddenly whirled and clamped an arm around his neck so tight he couldn’t breathe.

Her blouse ripped free of the tattered tree limb. The sudden release sent her catapulting against him. Danger grunted and staggered backward. Trying to keep both of them afloat suddenly turned into a battle with the elements and a war of wills. His. Hers.

And they crashed under the water like a stone, then slowly bobbed back up, both of them coughing and spluttering.

The moment their heads bounced above the churning water, Lacey screamed like a crazed banshee and curled herself around him tight as wet seaweed. She locked her legs snugly around his waist and kept her strangle hold on his neck with one arm.

Danger staggered, his momentum once more thrown off-balance. “Let go of me.”

Lacey shook her head fiercely and tightened her arm and legs. He stumbled three steps before they both plunged under the icy waters again. They shot back up through the roiling swell like twin buoys bouncing across the surface of a stormy sea.

“Let go, Lacey!” Danger jerked her arm from around his neck.

She shook her head again and clamped her legs tighter about his hips. Shit. They bobbed down. They shot up. The entire time he pried at her legs. Nothing doing. Down in the water. Up in the water. She clung to his hips like a limpet on a slippery rock and there went the arm back around his neck.

“Jesus H. Christ, woman. Will you let go?”

He clawed at one of her legs, managing to pry it from around his hips. Right back around it came, coiling about his hips like a damned snake. Danger swore viciously. They spun around and around in the water like a drunken merry-goround out of control. He gritted his teeth. Fighting Lacey was like wrestling with an octopus. She was going to drown them both if he didn’t do something quick.

Thwack. The sharp sound filled the air.

Lacey stopped struggling and flung back her head. Her teeth chattered, and her lips looked as blue as wild mountain berries. A dark purple bruise marred her right cheekbone. Blood streaked down the left side of her face. He felt sick to his stomach, knowing she was injured. He’d slapped her.

She didn’t say anything, just looked at him, her lips quivering, silky lashes spiked, and those big gold eyes wet with unshed tears.

Danger’s temper darkened. His soul rebelled at the ugly fact he’d hit Lacey. How did she manage to make him feel like the lowest creature crawling? He’d never in his life struck a woman.

“Jesus Christ,” he tilted her chin, so he could get a better look at her face. “You are undoubtedly the most troublesome female I’ve ever had the misfortune to tangle with. You make me crazy.”

She didn’t argue with him. Shit. That wasn’t a good sign.

“I’m—so—cold.” Her voice quivered. She shivered uncontrollably. Her eyes glazed over. She looked around in confusion. “Whe—where are we?”

Danger wrapped his arms around her. “Near Dancing Star property, unfortunately, it’s the backside of thousands of acres of virgin timber land.”

Tucking her under his arm like a football, he paddled for the creek bank. It took him a minute to realize she was swearing softly. He grinned at the one distinct word she said that questioned his legitimacy. Little witch. She might be down, but she wasn’t out by any means.

“Shut up,” he said, but there was no bite to his words as he struggled up the slippery bank and out of the water.

When she didn’t, he shifted her across his shoulders like a sack of potatoes and stalked toward the camp.

Lacey thumped him weakly on his back. “Ca—ve dwe—ller!”

“As a cave dweller, I’ve already built a fire.” He lowered her to her feet and sagged to his knees. “Take off your wet clothes.” He panted, shivering. “They’ll only make you colder.”

Water sluiced in icy rivulets down his face and neck. He slicked back his hair with one hand and stared at her pale face. She was just standing there, looking dazed and a little lost. He struggled to his feet. “I said get out of those clothes.”

His lungs burned and his breath escaped in short, ragged bursts. “Do it. Now!” He ripped the front of her blouse down the middle and yanked it off her. “Bra next. Pants. Panties. Out of them. Everything.”

Fury beat in rhythm to the fierce drum of his heart. He tossed her soaked blouse aside, and his jaw clenched tight with the need to yell at her. Instead, he shoved her fumbling fingers aside as she fought with the top button on her jeans.

“Damn it, I warned you this is treacherous country. But did you listen? Did you pay the least bit of attention? Hell, no. You just had to go dancing off on your merry way, blithely ignoring everything I said to you. You’re sick, lady. Anyone who’d risk life and limb the way you do has to be fucking nuts. Oh, yeah, we already agreed, you’re crazy.”

Lacey opened her mouth.

“Don’t say a word,” he said roughly. “Not one word.” He breathed in. Breathed out. His chest lugged with furious bursts as he sucked air in and out of his lungs. “Right now, right this moment, you’re teetering on the edge of getting bent over my knee and having your rebel ass blistered.”

“Don’t—”

“You’re damned lucky I don’t slap a pair of iron bracelets around your wrists this very second. Don’t you have better sense than to get swept away by floodwaters?”

Danger reached for one of the colorful blankets from the short stack nearby. “Why am I even asking you these questions? I know better. Bra. Get outta of it.”

When she hesitated, he reached behind her and unhooked it with fingers that weren’t quite steady and had nothing to do with being cold. The bra slipped from his fingertips and landed on top of the discarded blouse. He stepped back from her and took a look, a long draught, as if were a man dying of thirst and she was a frosty mug of beer. Air slipped from his lungs, a slow hiss of leaking oxygen. Oh, yeah, he deserved this little reward.

The flesh across her chest and belly was an unhealthy, chalky white, but her nipples. Christ. Okay. So he was a louse and this probably wasn’t the time to steal a peep. Then again, he might not ever get the opportunity to see them again, and he was so a breast man. And hers were perfection. He could no more resist the allure to look than he could stop breathing, which considering how tight his chest felt, he might have already done exactly that.

His gaze dwelled on the ice-pink tips chilled to tight, mouthwatering buds, his eyes skimmed over the firm slopes. The sight of her breasts sent a tingle through his palms. He ached to touch her skin, trace the faint trail of veins that networked her breasts. He wanted to explore every inch of her, from her mouth to her toes and up again, capture her shoulders, glide his hand down the ladder of her spine, the crease of her butt. He could taste her skin as he imagined tracing his tongue down her throat and belly. And lower.

He cleared his throat and quickly draped the blanket around her shoulders to remove the temptation of those firmly rounded globes.

Danger pulled the blanket snug beneath her quivering chin as she stared at him with accusing eyes. Shit. Well, hell, it wasn’t as if there’d been somewhere better to cast his gaze. He wasn’t stupid, either. Yeah, he’d snatched a quick look, so hang him.

He coughed again. “Okay. Well—uh, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. Your breasts are beautiful.”

“Not—not embarrassed.”

“No?” He spread a second blanket on the ground then completely opposite of the stern tone of voice he’d been using he helped her to lie down on it.

“So—o—rry bout Jeep. I—ran out—of gas right—in the mid-dle of—the creek.”

Lacey’s teeth knocked together. She clutched the sides of the blanket under her chin and shook.

Danger looked up, searching her pale face. He so did not give a shit about the fucking Jeep, but she needed a distraction. Hell, he needed a distraction. Otherwise, he was going to rip that damn blanket right off her and take another gander at her beautiful breasts.

“If you’d— filled your—gas tank, I—wouldn’t have been—caught in the flood.”

“Ho, you’re not blaming me for this, Georgia. You stole my Jeep. I don’t think I’m obligated to provide you a full tank of gas for a getaway.” He tugged at her boots and socks and left them piled in a heap near the destroyed blouse and bra. Those soggy-ass jeans were coming off her next and then, shit, the French-cut panties.

Swearing, he jumped up and tossed more wood on the fire. Images of red silk panties floated through his head. Lacey ones. Plain ones. Low-cut. High-cut. Cotton. Crotchless. Shit almighty. He was so fucked. He kicked one of the chunks of wood deeper into the fire and scowled at the flames.

“Danger?”

He whipped around. Right. Back to his job. She needed him and here he was killing time because he knew he wasn’t going to be able to take his eyes off the silk between her thighs. Shit. Shit. Shit. He coughed and moved back to where she lay on the blanket staring at him.

“And just exactly where is my Jeep?” He hunkered down beside her and grabbed another blanket. He spread it over her then tucked the edges around her hips.

Danger glanced up when she didn’t answer. He frowned at the ribbon of blood sliding down the side of her colorless face. Not good. A head injury was not his idea of fair play. He tilted her head to one side and swore beneath his breath. “Where else are you hurt?”

“Everywhere—and your—little car—went for—a swim.”

“What?”

Lacey bit her lip. “Not—not—my fault. The—thing—just—floated away.”

Danger snapped his teeth together. “Lady, you are a walking disaster. Floated away? In other words you lost it and have no idea where it is?”

“My—my head. A—a log hit—my—head.” Lacey locked her fingers around his wrist.

“What-are-you-doing?”

“Getting you out of these wet jeans. You’re cold as a fish.”

“The hell—you—are—Jay—Jay Silverheels.”

Danger leaned back on his heels and eyed her. “You’re calling me Tonto?”

“No, I—called—you—Jay Silverheels, he—he played Tonto.”

He groaned. “Dammit, woman, I know who the hell Tonto is. I really don’t want to play this game with you right now.”

Tears filled her eyes. “I—need—to, take—my—my mind—off the—cold. I— hurt.”

Danger puffed out a disgusted breath and nodded. “Don’t cry. Okay? You wanna play, we’ll play. Silverheels wasn’t even American born. He was born in Canada.”

Lacey’s teeth clacked together like a jackhammer at work. “He was—a—fullblood Mohawk. That makes—him Indian. His real—name was—uh—Harold J. Smith.” She giggled. “Smith. Such—a common—name.”

For a moment, Danger couldn’t say a word. The tone of her giggle was such a foreign sound, nothing like her light, teasing laughter. Lack of concern and poor judgment were signs the hypothermia was winning. He didn’t want to play this little trivia game she seemed determined to play. Not now. Not when he was so scared she would die.

“Lady, I don’t give a flying fuck if his name was Smith, Jones or John Henry. I don’t give a shit about Tonto or who the hell he was.”

Lacey gasped. “He—was—Ca—na—dian.”

“Yeah? Then let ‘The Lone Ranger’ give a flying fuck.”

He fumbled beneath the blanket. “Lift your butt.”

She didn’t budge. Danger looked up, his jaw tight. He felt a twitch at the corner of his left eye. It had been a very long time, since he’d undressed a woman, certainly never one who glared at him with daggers in her eyes and a touch-meand-you-die warning burning in her eyes.

His patience dangled by a thread, bobbed like a fucking yoyo at the end of a string. The longer she took to undress, the worse her condition was likely to become. The ground was wet beneath the blanket. He needed to get her inside the tent, but he wanted her out of the wet clothes first and thawed some by the campfire before he moved her. He wanted out of his wet clothes too, but she came first.

This morning, when she’d escaped, well, it seemed a long time ago now. His ass had bounced in a saddle most of the day. He’d misjudged the distance she’d traveled. He’d finally figured he was going to have to cross the creek. The waters had risen swiftly since he’d crossed. By God, now they were stuck on the wrong side of the bank, with no way back across.

He had a sinking feeling the creek hadn’t reached peek stage yet, so there was not going to be a way out of this for several days. He figured they had until sometime tomorrow, before the water crested and went over the banks. They needed to be on higher ground by then.

He was cold, bone-tired, hungry and scared. And if this woman died, he’d never get it off his conscience. She was stripping bare-assed naked whether she liked it or not and shocker, so was he. Eventually, she’d have reason to become alarmed because both of them were naked, well, that was just asking for trouble.

“Look, you’re cold and wet, and I suspect you have some hidden injuries. I don’t have a choice but to undress you. Hypothermia can kill, and your body temperature is low, cold-fish low. I have to get you dry and warm. Now, lift your ass so I can get these fucking wet jeans off you.”

A faint grin touched her blue lips, and she let go of his wrist. “Canadian— huh?”

She sounded so weak.

His throat constricted. He swallowed hard. Fear knotted his gut tying his insides together like a damned Christmas bow. “Yeah,” he said, clearing his throat.

He jerked the jeans down her hips and legs beneath the blanket and tossed them on top of her boots.

Christ, the woman had a set of vocal cords.

He sincerely doubted she was anywhere near death. By the time he had her down to her panties, he was nearly deaf. “Christ woman, would you stop that bellowing? You aren’t the first nearly naked woman I’ve ever seen and certainly not the most tempting. So shut the hell up.”

Her mouth opened, worked, then tightened as she clamped her lips together like a vise. He shoved the blankets aside before she had time to change her mind and scaled his gaze up her slender legs. He did a double-take. Well, hell. Okay, so he’d lied about her being the most tempting female he’d ever seen, but she didn’t need to know that, not right now.

But this, this was beyond tempting. This was just plain old sexily alluring and his eyes fastened on the tat at the inner curve of her left thigh as if it was a lifeline. There, a tattoo of a bow and arrow. The bow was drawn back, the arrow aimed exactly toward her—

“Jesus Christ,” he choked

Red, French-cut panties, clung wetly to her flesh. Oh, yeah. The real thing was so much better than his imagination. He licked his lips. His breath lodged in his chest. He was dying here, but he deserved this treat. He really did. After all the yelling he’d just had to put up with, after fighting her in the water to keep them both from drowning, he deserved these few seconds of pleasure.

“Bastard,” she groaned. “You’ve been—trying to—undress me from—the first mo—ment we met.”

Danger shot her a startled look and then snorted. “Now, little cat, that’s just not true. You’re the one who held me at gunpoint and forced me to strip. At least, I’m not holding a gun on you.”

“That was—business. Not—pleasure.”

“Oh, like hell. Was that kiss business?”

She moaned. “Yes. F—for luck. Obvious—mistake.”

Lacey moaned as she attempted to sit up, then fell back. Danger swore softly at the pool of blood that trickled down her right thigh. He rummaged through the pile of clothes and dug her blouse out then folded it into a pad and pressed it against the wound. He drew his gaze down her entire body with a detached, impersonal inspection then helped her into a sitting position.

Lacey closed her eyes and groaned while he probed at the multiple scrapes and bruises on her ribs and back. She bit her lip as he turned her head to look at the laceration on her left temple.

The two-inch wound disappeared into her hairline. Danger gently pushed back the wet strands of her hair for a closer look. He wondered how in hell she was still conscious. Still alert.

He lifted the ragged scraps of her blouse from the wound and took another gander at it. Blood quickly filled the gaping tear and ran down her thigh. He slapped the pad back in place and applied more pressure.

Lacey moaned and turned a sickly gray. Her eyelids fluttered. She gave a choking little gasp and went limp as an over-cooked noodle in his arms. Her head lolled lifelessly against his chest.

“Lacey? No. You can’t do this!”

Frowning, he briskly rubbed her icy arms and legs trying to stimulate her circulation. She was so cold. So still. Incredibly pale.

“Lacey? Answer me, dammit. Don’t do this to me.”

Helplessly, he watched her chest rise on a single, ragged breath, then she breathed out, a long slow whiff of air, then her chest stilled. Panic swept through him. His ears roared. His heart stuttered, then hammered his chest. He couldn’t breathe.

“Baby, come on. Breathe goddammit!”

Gently, he stretched her out on the blanket, pinched her nostrils tight and covered her mouth with his. Her chest rose with the air he forced into her lungs. Three breaths. Check for pulse. Three breaths. Again the EMT thing. Breaths. Pulse check.

“Talk to me,” he rambled between rounds of the George Clooney ER doc thing. “I promise not to pick on you anymore. You can hold a gun on me. I’ll strip completely naked for you if that’s what you want me to do.” Three breaths. Check the pulse. “If it makes you happy, you can kiss me for luck.” Breaths. Pulse. “You can call me any damned Indian chief you wanna call me. Dammit, don’t you fucking die on me!”

No response. She was still and silent as a grave. Her face, chalky pale and as waxen as a magnolia blossom, reminded him of a corpse. Her lips were dull blue. Nails cyanotic.

Danger stared in utter disbelief. He suddenly felt as fragile as spun glass. He bowed his head, his wet hair closing around her face as he dragged her into his arms and rocked back and forth.

That quickly, he’d lost her.

In The Arms Of Danger

Chapter Ten

It don’t take a genius to spot a goat in a flock of sheep.

Cowboy Quotes

Rimrock Sheriff’s Dept. Sat. 4:15 p.m.

Coe Blackstone settled into the worn-out leather chair behind Danger’s desk and scowled. Damn, what a miserable mess this had all turned into. Of all the nights for him to have chosen to go for a night ride, he had to choose last night.

This was not good.

He couldn’t just sit here on his ass at the office, while Danger stumbled around out there in the wilderness searching for a woman who’d already held his brother at gunpoint once already—no telling what he might find.

He looked up as his brother-in-law Blake walked in and headed straight for the coffee pot. “Blake, you shouldn’t be here.”

Blake rubbed a hand down his face then stared at nothing, his eyes redrimmed and tired. “I couldn’t stay in the house any longer. It was driving me insane hearing Mom cry.”

Coe nodded. “Jacob’s got your shift covered for the next three days. You don’t have to stay. Up to you.”

Blake gave a single jerk of his head, his long, dark hair falling past his shoulders. “Any monkey grease left in old man coffee?”

“Sure. Fresh pot.”

Blake poured a cup, topped Coe’s, and ambled back to the coffee maker. “You going out there?” He turned and blew into his cup before taking a sip. Coe shrugged. “I just don’t like him being out there, alone.”

“You went out there alone.”

“I did, but I had the dark to help conceal me. If there’s a predator still out there, and I think there is, then it could be this woman Danger’s hunting. It might also be someone else and that leaves him possibly targeted by two people. I don’t like those odds.”

“Go,” Blake said. “I don’t like those odds for shit either. I already lost one brother, you feel me?”

“It means neither of us will be here for Hank’s funeral tomorrow. I’m sorry.” Blake nodded. “I’d rather you find his killer. I’ll get extra help in here to cover your and Danger’s shifts. Don’t worry about things here. Just be careful and keep your eyes open.”

Coe stood up, stretched and took a final swallow of the black brew in his cup. “I’m going to get a couple of horses from your ranch. If I go out to the grandparents, they’ll ask questions I don’t want to answer. And Danger’s place is too far out. I’d lose more time going there and coming back.”

“Take Sam and Molly, they’re both sure-footed animals. They won’t panic if they catch a whiff of bear or mountain lion.”

Coe unlocked the gun cabinet and grabbed a rifle and a box of cartridges. “You know how Fox Creek floods. If Danger ended up on the back side of the creek, he’d be on the far end of Jace Remington’s ranch.”

Blake looked up. “Shit.”

“Yeah. That’s been bugging the hell outta me all day. He’d be there in a virgin wilderness that spans thousands of acres. If he needed help, it would take him days just to reach Jace’s ranch.”

“You honestly think this woman is a threat to your brother?”

“I don’t know. The only thing I know for certain is she pulled a gun on him, and there’s a killer out there who has no mercy.”

In The Arms Of Danger

Chapter Eleven

There are very few personal problems that cannot be solved through a suitable application of high explosives.

Cowgirl Quotes

Montana Backcountry Sat. 4:30 p.m.

“Not. . .dead. . .”

As the wisp of broken words trailed away from Lacey, Danger gave a crack of laughter and squeezed her tight. Tension and grief slammed through him and out in a hiss of breath.

“Thank God,” he murmured. He pushed her back, so he could get a good look at her face. “You’re still pale as a ghost. Those wounds haven’t stopped bleeding, but I can live with that as long as you’re breathing and talking.”

“You kissed me?”

“Nah. When I kiss you darlin’, there won’t be any doubt in your mind you’ve been kissed. I was helping you breathe, a little mouth to mouth.”

“When you kiss me?” she croaked.

“Yeah. I don’t kiss females cold as frogs. It’s unlucky. Our lips might get stuck. You know, like when one sticks their tongue to an ice tray?”

A ghost of a smile touched her blue lips. “Now’s the time to do it, while I’m weak and helpless and can’t possibly fight you off.”

“Uh-uh. I like a good fight. It makes the blood hot and the effort so much more worthwhile.”

“Darn. I just don’t think I’m up to a worthwhile fight right now.” She shivered. “I’m so cold.”

“I know.”

Danger stood up and stripped the soggy jeans off his hips. “I’m cold, too. We’ll get warm.”

He glanced up, saw where her eyes dwelled and grinned. She frowned when he dragged a blanket across his lap then reached under and tore off his underwear.

“I don’t give peep shows.”

“Why the hell not?” she complained.

Danger arched a brow. “We have enough problems without complicating things.”

“We do?”

“Yep. In another few minutes, those black clouds rolling our way are going to dump a ton of rain on us. I want you inside the tent with some warm food shoveled in before that happens.”

Lacey closed her eyes, battling a wave of nausea. She was hungry. She couldn’t remember when she’d last eaten, but the thought of food made her stomach churn. Her head felt as if a ten-pound hammer had crashed down on it, and her skull had fragmented into a million pieces.

And he was right. The issue of sex between them was not a good idea. Not because she was frozen to her marrow, but because anything between them would never work. Contrary to what he might think about her, she didn’t do casual sex. She’d had two relationships; one had ended when she caught her fiancé in bed with her best friend. The other ended when Matt Lewis, her partner and second fiancé, had been shot by a poacher while they were in Africa. He’d died in her arms, three years ago.

Now, she traveled the globe alone. After what happened to Matt, she refused to take anyone with her and risk the loss or grief that could rain down on her in perilous countries. She lived life to the fullest and on the edge, but she didn’t want the responsibility or worry of another.

Danger’s life was here. Settled and laid back. And although his job placed him in peril, it wasn’t the same as the risks she took in third world countries. She didn’t think Rimrock, Montana was usually a hotbed of crime. Even without these differences in their professions, her life was settled in Georgia. She owned a plantation, a home and land that had been passed down for generations. Someday, all that would be handed down to her children.

She didn’t think Danger would leave the open plains of Montana for the cotton fields of Georgia—his life, his family was here. She didn’t have any family left, but her roots were in the South. The question strangling her mind was could she give it all up for him?

And why was she even thinking thoughts like this. It wasn’t as if they had any kind of relationship. He hadn’t asked her to give up anything for him. But she had a feeling if things progressed between them, he’d want forever. She didn’t know if she could do forever anymore. Not with her history.

So far, the only thing between them had been a gun, a peck of a kiss, and a lot of hostility.

Yeah. Warm food. Hot liquids. That was a much better idea. They sounded wonderful, and she did need her insides heated up, and not from an encounter with the bulge.

She hadn’t accomplished a thing by running, other than getting herself injured and nearly killed. She was right back to square one, trying to figure out a way to escape and disappear. Right back where she started, a witness to a murder, a sheriff who could very well be the murderer, and she was once again his prisoner.

Only, things were worse now, because there was no way she’d escape him a second time.

“Can you stand up?”

Lacey jumped. Danger’s voice startled her, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“I can try.”

He leaned over her and helped her to her feet. The moment she settled her weight on her injured leg, she swayed like a broken reed and crumpled against his manly chest.

Danger swore and grabbed her before she collapsed to the ground. As he lifted her in his arms and started to the tent, he glanced down at her white face.

“Shit, this is not good. You need a doctor. You could have internal injuries.”

“I think you’ll have to be my doctor.”

He sighed and laid her gently on the double-wide sleeping bag. “Yeah, I knew you were going to say that.” Whether he liked it or not, whether she liked it or not, he was going to have to stitch up the jagged tear on her inner thigh and on her scalp.

“All right, little cat, looks like we got our work cut out for us.”

Lacey nodded and closed her eyes. “Do what you have to do.”

“That’s my little rebel, tough to the very end.”

Lacey eyed him through her lashes. “Yeah, that’s me all right. Lacey, the rebel soldier, marching on no matter what.” She gave him a faint grin. “Besides, I’ve never played doctor before.”

Danger shot her a startled look. “No? First time for everything, honey.”

He stood up and eyed her for a moment. “Just remember, I’m the doctor. I’ll be right back.”

Lacey closed her eyes and nodded. “I knew you were going to say that.”

Chapter Twelve

In The Arms Of Danger

Courage is being scared to death—and saddling up anyway.

John Wayne

Montana Backcountry Sat. 7:00 p.m.

When had he found her?

Memory floated in a black hole filled with the infinite darkness of space and just as far out of reach. Why did everything seem so hazy? Why did she hurt. . .all over?

Lacey opened her eyes, scrunched her face as pain invaded every muscle in her body, and tried to recall the answers to the silent questions tumbling through her head, but nothing much came to mind.

Maybe it was because her head felt as if nails were being driven in one side and out the other that she couldn’t concentrate. Nausea bubbled in her stomach and rose to the back of her throat. She swallowed hard and fought the urge to retch.

There was nothing in her stomach, but a little of the rabbit broth Danger had insisted she chug after he’d stitched her wounds. Now, that was a memory she’d rather forget. Pain. Endless pain. Every jab of the needle burned like fire. More pain.

With a sigh, she closed her eyes. Mmm. Now this was pure bliss. She thanked God for allowing her to drift back into the pain-free void she’d spent the last few hours slumbering in. She dropped off the edge of the world into the soft, cottony cloud of no pain and a gap in her memory. She hoped she stayed there until her body healed, and her head no longer felt as if it was splintered into a billion littler pieces.

When next she opened her eyes, Danger sat outside the tent near a low fire. She could see him through the slit of the open flaps. Early evening shadows closed around the campsite. If anything, his face was grimmer than before she’d passed out.

She skimmed her gaze over him with something between admiration and disbelief. In place of a shirt he wore a soft, sleeveless doeskin vest. A leather thong with some kind of amulet rested against his dark throat. His black hair fell long and unrestrained past his shoulders. No chicken feathers? No war paint?

Her brow furrowed. Now, why would something like that enter her mind?

The dark, smooth flesh of his bare shoulders and sleek muscles rippled like polished mahogany through the flames of the fire. Her hands twitched. She had the strangest desire to stroke her fingers over the unyielding ridges of bronze skin, to tangle her fingers in his glossy, black hair. She didn’t remember him being so warrior-like. So majestic. So splendid. What she recalled was danger. Oh, yeah, his name was Danger. A perfect fit for a perfect specimen.

But did she know this man? Yes—and—no.

A woman could live several life times and never truly know a man such as this. He was both savior and nemesis. Predator and protector.

And he was between her and freedom. Again.

Why was he always between her and the path she needed to escape?

Lacey frowned, letting her gaze glide over him. He caressed the shiny blade of what looked like a tomahawk. Alarm spread through her.

A tomahawk?

Who did he think he was, Red Chief?

No, it wasn’t a tomahawk. It was a hatchet.

Was there a difference?

Of course, there’s a difference, she told herself. One is for splitting wood— and one is for splitting skulls.

Big difference!

Just how he intended to use the one he so obviously admired was the major question in her mind at the moment. She had a feeling she knew the answer.

Lacey swallowed back the moan that fought to escape her throat.

Indians didn’t really scalp people anymore. Did they?

Of course not.

Then again, she seemed to recall he was angry at her for misplacing his Jeep. Oh, but it was just a little misunderstanding. She was willing to go out of her way to help him find it, for Pete’s sake. How difficult could it be to locate a drowned Jeep in the middle of a flooded valley?

She bit her lip. But then. . .there was the little matter of her holding him at gunpoint. She’d locked him in jail, and took his clothes. No, he was certainly not happy with her.

Her eyes drifted down the black jeans snuggled against his muscular thighs. A wide, brown leather belt rode low across his waist. A gun and holster nestled snugly against his left hip.

He was certainly prepared for battle. Hysteria bubbled in her stomach and mixed with the uneasy sea of nausea. Who was he prepared to battle? Her?

I’m no threat to him. Or am I?

She guessed it boiled down to what he thought.

She already knew he detested her.

My God, he’d threatened to drop her back into the icy water and let her freeze or drown. Or both.

Which was it? Her memory wasn’t too clear.

Oh, but the psycho war chief hit me.

She definitely remembered that. He’d smacked her good, right across the cheek. Pow. She eyed his powerful thighs. He was seated on the ground, legs crossed Indian fashion. He stared silently into the flames of the fire, not blinking, but quietly brooding over something known only to him. His brows, thick and dark, were drawn together in a heavy frown of concentration.

Lacey watched the sweep of his thick black lashes as he reached for the coffee pot and filled a metal cup. There wasn’t a trace of softness in his face. She wondered what could have happened to cause him to wear such a remote and forbidding expression. He wasn’t aware of her scrutiny, and he didn’t know her well enough for it to be directed at her.

She gave a soft gasp as a dark, menacing shadow took shape near his side. Jesus. A large wolf lay curled at his feet. Quiet growls of satisfaction rumbled from the animal’s dark throat as it contentedly washed one paw with its pink tongue.

OhmiGod.

Her lips parted in stunned disbelief. Confusion knitted her brow. Nope, she had to be imagining this. She gave a bewildered moan and her eyelids fluttered closed. She wanted nothing more than to block out Danger’s disturbing image and the view of the fierce animal beside him.

They would go away. They had to go away!

She didn’t want this man interfering in her life. She didn’t want to be anywhere close to him or his little pet.

***

Danger stiffened at the sound of Lacey’s soft moan. Issuing a quiet order to the magnificent animal resting beside him, he flicked a glance toward the tent. He could see her face between the flaps. Her bright eyes looked wide and frightened.

She stared, mesmerized, at the wolf, before switching her gaze to him. Her eyes widened fractionally as if he’d suddenly sprouted horns.

“You’re still here,” she said, her voice rising. “I thought I was having a nightmare.”

He lifted his lips in a slow grin. Thank God, she was finally awake and sounded normal, at least, normal for her. Revenge was definitely going to be sweet. He would make her pay for every humiliation she’d heaped upon his innocent shoulders. Just as soon as she got back into the spirit of the battle, that is. He had a sense of fair play. He’d wait until she could hold her own with him.

She struggled to sit up, but froze when the wolf gave a low warning growl.

“Don’t make any sudden moves, and Pagan won’t bother you,” he warned quietly.

“Sud—sudden mo—moves?” She touched her tongue to her dry lips. “No—I— I won’t move.”

Danger uncurled his legs and slowly stood up. He towered over the campsite like an avenging angel. He issued another soft order. The big wolf rose to all fours and with a disdainful sniff of the air it vanished into the surrounding darkness.

“Oh yeah,” Lacey muttered. “You can go with your little pet. I’ll be just fine.”

“That’s not in my plans. Sorry.”

Danger propped his rifle against a big pine tree. He paused. His eyes adjusted to the darker shadows as he thoroughly searched the outlying darkness. Earlier, he’d felt the presence of another, of someone watching, waiting for an opportunity to strike, but he didn’t think anyone was out there now. Not anymore.

The hairs on the back of his neck relaxed. The creepy feeling of being stalked had finally left him. Whatever or whoever had been there through the late evening hours was gone for now.

He turned toward the tent and rested his gaze on Lacey. “How do you feel?”

“Like I was hit by a truck,” she rasped hoarsely, “then dragged across a sandbar.”

“Probably did feel like a truck,” he stated flatly. “The wall of water that swept by was powerful enough to slam-dunk anything in its path.” His moccasins crunched against the rough ground as he entered the tent and knelt down before her on one knee. “How’s your vision? Seeing double or blurred? How many of me do you see?”

“One, thank God! I couldn’t handle it if there were two of you.” Lacey shook her head, then, moaned from the pain caused by the sudden movement.

He gave her a twisted smirk. “I see you’re your usual gracious self.”

Lacey sighed. Oh yeah, the man was still pissed at her, but he controlled it, gently raising her head and tipping a canteen to her lips.

Water trickled over her swollen tongue and down the back of her dry throat like honeyed ambrosia. Using the tip of his thumb, Danger slowly rubbed the excess moisture from her bottom lip. The unintended caress was incredibly erotic.

Confusion overwhelmed her. Aware of the panic suddenly leaping to claw at the back of her throat, she lowered her gaze, determined to hide her vulnerability.

Recapping the canteen, Danger stood up and tossed it to one side. “There’s some coffee. Still some soup left, if you’re hungry. Just tell me when, and I’ll get it for you.” Frowning darkly at her, he searched her face. “I’m sure you have a concussion, so no sudden movements or moving about unnecessarily.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

“You’re welcome. I don’t want you to get dizzy and pass out on me again. How does your head feel?”

“Like I’ve had a needle rammed in my eye and out the back of my skull.”

“Hmm, that’s exactly the kind of answer I’d expect from you.”

Lacey barely kept herself from rising to her knees, mainly because she knew she’d crash on her face at his feet. Wouldn’t he just love that? Arrogant swine. His voice was fire and ice. One minute chilling her, the next warming the blood that pumped through her body. She flinched as he leaned closer.

“Where were you going?” he asked softly, but that softness didn’t disguise the thread of steel laced in the question, the hard glitter in his smoke-colored eyes or the thread of anger in his voice.

Lacey knew he’d run out of patience where she was concerned. The gentleness in his voice was a thin veil that covered the harshness just beneath the surface. He wanted answers. She could not—dared not—give them to him. Nothing had changed.

“Where are we?” she asked, attempting to delay a showdown between them. Questions of her own whirled like a propeller inside her head. “How long have we been here?”

“A few hours. We have to move away from here in the morning. Waters rising. We’ll be lucky if it doesn’t go over the banks before morning, but I didn’t want to risk moving you. Hopefully, we won’t have to pack up and move in a hurry.”

Lacey glanced up at him, suddenly realizing she’d asked the question aloud. The man stared at her. Hard. Apparently he was in a slow burn mode. His silver gaze glowed with seething rage.

“What the hell are you looking at, Iron Eyes Cody?” Lacey winced at the harshness of her words. But Jesus, the man tramped on her last nerve.

He arched a brow. Ooo, how she hated it when he did that. She touched her tongue to the rough surface of her cracked dry lips, moistening the blemished lines of her mouth.

A light film of perspiration dampened her skin. Tendrils of hair drifted across her forehead. She felt like shit. Worse, like hammered shit.

“My God, woman, where do you come up with all this crap? Even when you’re down, you want to play games.”

He blew a puff of air between his lips as if to say ‘All right. I’ll play your little game.’ “Iron Eyes Cody, huh? He was an actor who spent his entire life claiming to be a Native American, although he was of Italian-American birth. He claimed to be part Cherokee and Cree. He was also known as the ‘Crying Indian,’ because of the ecology commercial he appeared in with a single tear rolling down his face after looking at a polluted river. He appeared in more than a hundred westerns and television shows. He died in 1999 at the ripe old age of 94.”

Lacey nodded then sat halfway up, resting her weight on one arm. A gentle breeze lifted strands of her hair, exposing the bandage he’d applied to her forehead. Silky wisps of hair tangled against the gauze as she raised a shaky hand to brush it back.

“Don’t do that,” he said firmly, reaching out to gently move her fingers away from it. “The flesh around the dressing is swollen and bruised. You don’t need to be probing at the wound.”

She flinched and shied away from him like a startled doe. Danger muttered beneath his breath. “After everything, you’re still afraid of me?”

Lacey looked away. She just needed some rest. Some time to think. His anger and frustration were stamped on his face. Yes, she was still wary of him. Just because he’d fished her out of the water didn’t mean he wouldn’t kill her later. “Leave me alone,” she said. “I’m tired.”

She closed her eyes and shut him out.

Danger frowned. He wanted to know why she was afraid him, but she wasn’t in any shape for him to hound her for answers. There was no way he’d cause her more stress. She had to learn to trust him of her own free will. And he was going to have to figure out a way to earn her trust. Everything she did, everything she said, was in direct response to the hostility he revealed. If he gave her attitude, she gave him lip. If he came on to her, she backed down. If he ignored her, she came on to him. Three steps forward and five steps back. They both lost.

He didn’t like it one bit, but he couldn’t seem to conceal any of his feelings from her. It mattered little whether those feelings were anger or the desire to make love to her. He gritted his teeth. He was just no good at hiding how he felt. He never had been.

Narrowing his eyes, he raked her slender form with icy regard. She was wearing one of his shirts. Except for her jeans, her clothes had been nothing but rags. Her jeans had holes all in them. He could probably salvage a pair of shorts out of them for her.

How long would it take her to realize she wore only his shirt beneath the blanket?

How angry would she be?

Danger reached out and gently caressed the red scrapes on her hands. Her nails were broken and raw. Scratches darkened the smooth skin of her face and arms. Disheveled, she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

And the most challenging.

Her long legs captivated him, filling his mind with erotic images of the two of them.

Caught off guard by the surge of heat pooling in his loins, Danger shifted uncomfortably. He rarely acknowledged or allowed the basic part of his sensual nature to emerge. He swept his gaze over the tangled skeins of her hair. Earlier, he’d washed it for her after she’d flaked out, washing the mud, leaves and blood from it. As the silken threads dried, he’d brushed the snarls from it, enchanted by the golden strands curling around his fingertips as if they had a fiery life of their own.

He’d held her in his arms warming her and listened to the rhythm of her gentle breathing. Her soft breasts brushing against his bare skin had nearly driven him up the nylon wall of the tent. The tiny, kittenish whimpers that slipped past her lips drove him crazy. His body, as always when he was near her, stirred with wild desire.

She belonged to him in ways that could never be explained. She was his, without sex ever being the forerunner of possession. If he closed his eyes, he could envision her. Every delectable, tantalizing curve that taunted, invited, and tormented, was burned in his brain.

God knew he didn’t need this upheaval in his life. She was dependent on his protection, and he had to let it end at that. Wary and defensive, he deliberately made his voice hard. It was time for answers.

“I asked you where you were headed.”

Chills speared down his spine at the sudden thought that Lacey might have been trying to track the killer herself. “Surely, you have enough sense not to attempt tracking down the very man you’re running from,” he snapped.

Fear that she’d possibly had that thought in mind made his voice harsher than he intended. Unshed tears glistened in her eyes. Her lips parted in silent helplessness. Moisture rushed to her eyes and spilled down her pale cheeks.

Jesus, she’s crying. Panic rushed through him. He couldn’t deal with her tears. Clearly she wasn’t up to battling with him if her feelings were that tender. Okay. He’d have to take a different approach and try to reassure her.

When he spoke again, he softened his voice. “I have to ask you these questions.”

Damn, if I don’t sound apologetic for doing my job. I’m allowing her to get to me. And it has to stop. I can’t let her tears unnerve me. . .but they did.

His muscles tensed with painful awareness every time she sniffed. The little sniffs ripped at his heart. Her scent teased him. The tantalizing, elusive fragrance of baby powder would forever haunt his senses.

His stomach clenched.

For a long moment, she stared at him as if she was trying to figure out just what it was he wanted. Then, she simply turned her face away, but not before he saw her bottom lip quiver helplessly. The soft sound of her sob went straight to his heart.

Danger clenched his teeth against the onslaught of emotions swamping his senses. He’d seen the glittering sheen of tears filling her eyes, before she turned away.

Don’t cry.

Her tears were the last thing in the world he needed right now. Besides, his insides suddenly felt like Jell-o. He wasn’t up to conducting a harsh interrogation.

He’d wait until she felt better.

He’d leave her alone for a while, let her settle down and fight her demons her way. He swept his gaze over her back. Her slender shoulders trembled as she silently cried. It wrenched his heart to see her trying so desperately to hide her tears from him.

Well, hell. Helplessness surged over him. He wasn’t going to be able to walk away.

He paced, rapid, long-legged strides that left him inhaling and exhaling ragged breaths. God, he didn’t want to be involved with her. He had no room in his life for a slow-talking Georgia tigress, but in his secret, innermost regions of his heart, he knew it was too late.

He was involved.

Danger had the strong, unwarranted desire to take her in his arms and protect her from the world. He shook his head, knowing he couldn’t do that. Hell, she’d probably scream her damn fool head off, if he came near her, but neither could he turn his back on her.

She was in trouble. He felt it bone deep and clear to his soul. He also knew it was unrealistic to even think about holding her in his arms. Now that she was conscious, she would never allow it.

Danger squatted down and touched her arm.

She jerked away from him.

Lacey sat upright, facing him. Her body trembled violently with rage. “Stay away from me.”

Danger could see ridges of panic blooming on her face. Her golden eyes darkened with the onslaught of a coming storm. He heard the hysteria in her voice. “Hell, I knew it. I knew you’d scream if I came near you.”

She gave him a look filled with wariness. Her entire body was rigid as an iron rod. She looked like a frightened little bird on the brink of flight.

Exasperation swamped him. “Relax, little cat. I have no intention of coming anywhere within touching distance of you. When you’re feeling stronger, I’ll take you back to Rimrock. That’s as close to you as I intend to get.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she declared. “Don’t you—don’t come near me.”

She held out her hands as though bracing him away from her.

Her eyes were wide and frightened. Her lips trembled as she fought against the deluge of tears that threatened to fall again.

“Calm down,” he ordered, trying to remain reasonable and rein in his rising temper. “Jesus Christ, you act like I’m going to murder you.” His voice shook with frustration. He wasn’t in control enough to cope with her, if she started crying again. “I’m not going to hurt you, for Christ’s sake. I’m trying to figure out the best way to help you.”

“I’ve heard your thoughts on helping me before, Sheriff. I didn’t like them then, and I sure as hell haven’t changed my mind.”

“Oh for heav—don’t you want me to help you?”

“Like I want a hot poker shoved up my ass. I seem to recall you didn’t believe me or want to help me before. So I want to stay. . .right here.” She patted the sleeping bag as if it was something sacred and the most comfortable spot in the world. “Right here is just fine.”

“We can’t stay here,” Danger snapped. He captured her arm. “You’re hurt, and a doctor needs to check you. You could have some broken bones. We have to get out of here at first light, or we’ll be up to our asses in the freezing water, again. And I can take you anywhere I damn well please. I’m the sheriff.”

A spasm of pain splintered across her face, leaching her of color. She gave a tiny whimper and shuddered, as if an explosion of agony racked her body. He figured her head must be pounding. He knew very well she had to be concussed. Danger cursed, suddenly remembering how badly dislocated her shoulder had been.

Granted, he’d put her shoulder back in place, while she was unconscious, but as bruised as she was, it had to be very sore.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, appalled that he’d caused her more pain. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, but you’re in serious trouble in more ways than one. You have no clothes. When we leave here in the morning, we’ll be climbing. It will be a lot cooler than it is here in the valley. You’re injured and need my help, though Heaven only knows why I should go out of my way to help you. You held a gun on me, handcuffed me, stripped and ogled me, and stole my Jeep. Then, by God, you let it get washed away. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t arrest you on the spot.”

“I kissed you?”

In spite of his anger, his lips twitched. “There is that, if you wanna call it a kiss.”

He tightened his fingers on her flesh. “I admire your courage, Lacey. I really do, but—but I won’t tolerate your rebellious behavior.”

Danger took a deep breath, winding up for battle. “And another thing, your criminal tendencies have to go.”

“My what?”

Danger nodded. “Kissing aside, which wasn’t really a kiss since your lips barely grazed mine, you heard me. You can’t go around handcuffing and stripping law officials. It—it isn’t dignified, for Christ’s sake.”

“Turn me loose, you. . .you demon savage.” Lacey swung at him, her hand connecting weakly against his cheek. “I meant to barely kiss you. I wasn’t after a tongue and swap spit kiss.”

His eyes slowly raked over her. “Now, that’s a real crime, sweetheart, because that’s the only way to kiss.”

Danger stood up, bringing Lacey with him. She swayed like a broken reed and slumped against him.

“Aw, shit.” He swung her high into his powerful arms. “Woman, you had best be still. Be still,” he ordered as she continued squirming. “Lady, you’re one hell of a pain in my ass!”

“You don’t understand. I can’t stay here. I must get away.” She buried her face against his chest and sobbed. Her warm breath brushed the flesh beneath the open vest he wore. His nipples tightened in response, and his dick twitched to life. His balls tightened, and pain shot through the family nuggets. She’d nearly emasculated him with her direct jab to his balls, and he still wanted her.

Good God, but she devastated the senses.

He wanted to press her closer, feel her tongue taste him. Jesus, where had this raging need come from?

Within the span of a heartbeat, Lacey saw a myriad of expressions flash across Danger’s dark face. Disbelief warred with caution and desire. Need battled with torment and despair.

What had happened in his life to make him look as if the world would come crashing to a fiery end, if he needed someone or needed them to care for him?

Lacey refused to acknowledge the turmoil and desire on his face and began to struggle. A grunt of pain escaped him as she smacked him in the mouth.

Danger glared at her with equal hostility as her flailing arms connected across his face. “Damn it, woman, quit fighting me. I swear I’ll toss your butt right back in those waters and let them carry you away. It would save me a whole heap of trouble, not to mention the satisfaction it would give me to be rid of you”

“I believe I’ve heard that threat somewhere before,” Lacey shot back.

Danger carried her outside and lowered her to a blanket near the fire.

“Yeah? Well, take my word for it, I don’t make idle threats. Keep pushing me, little cat, and you’ll be sorry you ever met me.”

“What the hell makes you think I’m not already sorry I ever met you, you cretin?”

“God damn it, Lacey!” Danger straightened up and drew in several calming, fortifying breaths. “Try to relax. I’ll get you some more soup. We’ll straighten things out in the morning.”

“I need to pee.”

“What?”

“I said I need to—”

“I heard you.”

“Well, you said what.” From the look on his face, you’d think she’d said she needed to do the other.

“Christ. Okay.” He lifted her back into his arms and carried her to the edge of a thick brier patch then lowered her to her feet. “Do you need help?”

“I can manage.” She swayed like a drunken sailor on shore leave.

“Uh-huh.”

“I said I can manage.” She circled around the brambles in a slow, unsteady gait and disappeared from site.

“Don’t go far.”

“Turn your back.”

“I can’t see you, Lacey.”

“I’m not going until you turn your back.”

“Christ. Okay. I’m turned.”

Lacey started to squat to do her business, but the soft rustle coming from the brier patch changed her mind. She stared at the thick mass of brambles but it was too dark to see. There could be anything in there. Leaves rattled. Long, skinny runners parted to make way as something charged out the berry patch. She yelped, tripped over a rock and landed eye to eye with a set of shiny, black eyes. The thing balked and hissed.

God and his angels heard Lacey’s terrified scream.

Danger leaped into motion. Racing around the brier patch, his heart jumped to his throat. He skidded to a halt. Lacey lay sprawled on the ground. Quickly, he snatched her into his arms and circled back to the camp. “What is it? What happened?” He lowered her gently to the blanket. “Did something attack you?”

“An animal.”

“Animal?” He hadn’t seen an animal.

“Yes.”

“What kind of animal?”

“A big one, with—uh, fur.”

The leaves in the brush rattled. Danger stood up, backed up a step, and pulled his gun from its holster. He got off two rounds before something with shiny eyes sped out of the patch and straight toward him and Lacey.

Lacey screamed and covered her face and failed to see Danger’s mouth gape.

He reloaded his revolver and shoved it in his holster. “You can look now, Lacey.”

She kept her eyes squeezed tight and shook her head. “What was it?”

“It is a giant raccoon, a big furry one with the meanest damned eyes I ever saw. Trust me; I scared the hell out of it.”

Her eyes popped open. “You shot a helpless raccoon?”

“No. I aimed too high at the big animal with fur.”

“Oh.” She blinked.

Danger glared at her. “I thought you go on perilous shoots, undaunted and unafraid. Perilous Pauline, you screamed at a little raccoon.”

Lacey felt heat bloom across her cheeks. “Well, I never did it concussed.”

“Concussed?”

“You said, I have a concussion. I’m sure it’s done something to my vision. I mean, yeah, oh yeah, I’m seeing two of you.” She slapped an arm across her forehead. “Oh, God. How will I ever deal with double Dangers?”

“Lacey?”

“Yes?” She dropped her arm and grinned.

“Shut the hell up.”

“Danger?”

“What?”

“I still need to pee.”

In The Arms Of Danger

Chapter Thirteen

Never drop your gun to hug a grizzly.

Cowboy Quotes

Montana Backcountry Sat.10:00 p.m.

After Lacey finished her business, Danger swept her into his arms and carried her back into the tent. She knew his temper was on the short end of a fuse. Everything she said or did annoyed him.

His silver eyes flashed a silent warning as he lowered her onto the sleeping bag. The sweep of his black hair flowed over his shoulders as wild and untamed as he was.

She watched his chest heave as he struggled with his temper. Suddenly nausea roiled in her stomach. The intense throbbing in her head sent shards of brilliant lights dancing through her skull. She couldn’t stop the soft gasp of pain.

Oh, God, I’m going to be sick.

Concern replaced the temper in his gaze. He leaned closer. “What’s wrong? Is your head aching?”

Lacey swallowed hard and gave another moan. She didn’t answer him because if she did, she’d hurl. She knew it. It was right there, in the back of her throat.

He clenched his teeth, frustration lined his dark face. “Look, lady, I’m not the enemy here. I’m only trying to help. It would be nice if you’d be a little cooperative.”

She swallowed hard and held back her gorge.

Why couldn’t he just go away, just get out of here and leave her alone? Please, God, make him go away.

He sighed, straightened to his full height, then left, but returned almost

immediately with two aspirins and a cup of water. He held the pills out to her. Lacey swallowed the tablets, then lay back and closed her eyes. Hesitantly, Danger leaned over her once again. “Is there anything else I can

do for you? Would you like some more broth?”

Her eyes popped open. She made a strangled, little sound, her eyes wild. She lifted her hands to shove him away, but it was too late. She threw up, all over the front of his vest.

Danger stared at her, his mouth working, but no words formed. He shut his eyes and whispered a single, four-letter word that sent color flooding back to Lacey’s ashen-colored face.

Yep. He ought to do exactly what he’d threatened earlier. Toss her back in the flood waters and leave her to sink like a rock. He’d give it serious consideration. He really would.

But Lacey was the kind of person who came up smelling like roses no matter what. He was the one that smelled. Uh-huh. To be more precise, he smelled exactly like the soup he’d fed her earlier.

Well, maybe not exactly the same.

It hadn’t smelled nearly as foul as it did now.

Swearing softly, he stood up and continued muttering beneath his breath. Lacey gave him an exhausted, apologetic smile, and lay down. “I tried to get you out of my way,” she called faintly.

Danger whirled around with his mouth working. His left eye twitched. “Lady, you’re a walking catastrophe!”

Lacey closed her eyes. “I know.”

In The Arms Of Danger

But Danger didn’t hear her words. He’d already left the...

In The Arms Of Danger

Chapter Fourteen

“I’m always wonderful at night.” Mae West: ‘I’m No Angel’

Montana Backcountry Sat.10:00 p.m.

Danger left Lacey alone inside the tent. As fresh night air washed over him, he wrinkled his nose in disgust at the sour smell that clung to his skin and vest.

“Damn woman.”

Hell, he hadn’t thought the soup he’d fed her was that bad.

The little cat could have apologized for upchucking all over him. But had she? Oh, no! She’d simply grinned as if the thing she’d done had delighted her clear to her soul.

He glanced down at his clenched hands. He ought to march right back in there and give her hell. He knew she’d aimed right at him. Of course, she had. She hated him. Lacey Weston thrived on making his life miserable. So far, she’d done a damned fine job of it, too.

Danger jerked off the smelly vest and tossed it to the ground. Squatting down beside the bank of water, he splashed his bare chest with the icy liquid, then rinsed off the vest.

By the time he made it back to the campsite, the fire was nothing but red glowing embers. After tossing some wood on it, he rummaged in his saddlebags and found a navy blue T-shirt. Slipping it over his head, he turned to stare at the tent’s entrance.

He’d be damned if he was going to take the chance and re-enter that blasted thing. What if she was waiting to waylay him? She was probably just marking her time, waiting for the opportunity to hurl all over him again.

He sighed and reached for the coffee pot. Right now, he felt as if he could drink three pots. He needed coffee and lots of it if he was going to survive the Delicate Rose of the South. It would behoove anyone not to get between him and the black gold. Not that there was anyone here but him and the little blossom.

He poured a cup of the brew and took a sip. At least he had plenty of coffee. Coe had packed a gallon size Ziploc baggie full of fresh grounds. He eyed the black clouds that boiled across the frail moonlight. Yep, sometime between now and mid-morning, it was going to downpour.

Swallowing another sip, he lowered the cup and cut his gaze toward the tent. Hell! He would have to check on her. She was in no condition to manage for herself, but a strong sense of self-preservation prevailed. It gave him reason to pause at the tent’s entrance. Up to this point, she’d certainly not proven herself trustworthy. She could be waiting to conk him over the head and make another escape. He wouldn’t put anything past her.

Muttering beneath his breath, Danger ducked his head and entered the tent. He hesitated just inside the entrance.

She looked up at him, suspicion in her eyes. “You look like a hunted man.” She winced and closed her eyes. “If you’re itching for a fight, I’m simply not up to doing battle.

Danger figured she must feel pretty rotten to admit to that. Begrudgingly, he asked, “How are you feeling?”

She massaged her temples. “Not so good. Not that you really care.”

He grunted and stormed from the tent, only to return in a matter of seconds. He held out his open palm where two aspirins lay, then thrust a cup of water at her with his other hand. “Try to keep these down this time, and if you can’t, don’t point in my direction when you lose them.”

Lacey stared at the white tablets as if he held a snake in his hands.

“For Pete’s sake,” he growled. “Take the damn things. It isn’t poison.”

She grabbed the pills, swallowed them down, then lay back. Her gaze followed his movements as he started out of the tent. “Thank you,” she said softly.

Danger hesitated at the entrance. “If you need anything else, just let me know.”

Lacey closed her eyes. “You’ll be the first.”

He watched her turn on her side and heard her groan. She had to feel like one big bruise because her body was black and blue. Maybe the aspirin would allow her to rest a bit.

It was some time before he ventured back into the tent. However, necessity won over courage. The rain had started again, not the down pour he expected, but a slow, steady, bone-chilling drizzle that sent rivulets of icy moisture trickling down the neck of his shirt.

Shivering, he refused to sleep outside with the horses and in the inclement weather one miserable moment longer. By God, it was his tent. Why should he be out in the cold and rain suffering?

Slipping off his damp shirt, Danger dried off with it and eased down beside Lacey on the sleeping bag. She was sound asleep, but shifted toward the warmth of his body. His lips parted in a silent groan as she twined herself around him like satin ribbons.

Her breasts pressed gently against his arm and chest. Her lips brushed against his throat. Threads of electricity jittered through his body. Danger muttered and turned his back to her. She edged closer, spooning against him and curling one arm around his bare waist. His breath lodged in his throat. At this rate, he’d never fall to sleep.

Restless, Danger shifted again and finally relaxed enough to drift off, only to awaken to discover Lacey nearly lying on top of him. Her lips were pressed against his chest. Her warm breath lightly teased his nipple.

Heat speared through his body, sneaking into all the little crevices of his spine and shot straight to his groin. It spiraled out of control, red-hot coils of desire. He scooted over another inch. That didn’t help. She simply clung to him like a tick and went with him.

Her hand slid downward, slowly descending, until her fingers reached the straining flesh that throbbed against the damp denim. His body jerked. Sweet Jesus! If her goal was to torture him to death then she was succeeding with flying colors.

Swearing softly, Danger removed her hand from his crotch, then turned, easing her closer to him. He shuddered as her hair caught around his throat. Her lips parted slightly, making a perfect little moue of temptation and invitation. Puffs of warm air escaped her mouth and brushed his throat.

He groaned as the scent of baby powder invaded every pore of his skin. Dammit, he was on fire here. How could one tiny creature who was nothing but hair and legs, arouse him so completely?

Shit! He drew in a sharp breath and jerked back, rolling away from her. She whimpered, but didn’t awaken. Rising, Danger stepped out into the cool, rain washed air. He paused, drawing in sharp, ragged breaths. That was one mean, sneaky female. She did it to him on purpose. He knew it! She intended to torture him until he surrendered his body without a fight. The woman was dangerous, that’s what she was.

Slowly, he moved toward the water’s edge. Thank God it hadn’t started to rise any higher yet but it was still too rough and cold to swim in. He wished fervently he could jump into it. It would take the place of a cold shower rather nicely and certainly help him get his libido under control again.

The next morning, he watched Lacey awaken with a slow sensuality that only whet his sexual appetite for her. Of course, she knew exactly how to stretch like a kitten. She’d snuggled, licked her lips, and cupped his sex so many times in the night he was about ready to explode. Sure, she’d slept like a baby. He hadn’t slept a wink. He’d made several trips to the creek bank to cool off, but hell no, he didn’t sleep.

A startled yelp filled the tent as her eyes popped open. Horror filled her wide gaze as she realized he lay there beside her. Nearly on top of her. Wild color swept up her face.

“What are you doing here?” she screamed. “Get out. Get out, now!”

“It’s my tent, Lacey.”

She tugged the top of the sleeping bag across her breasts.

“I haven’t touched you, little cat, which is more than I can say for you.” He pushed free of the sleeping bag and stormed out of the tent. Damn, did the hellion have to act as if he’d molested her?

Lacey followed him through the opening of the tent, was in fact, right on his heels.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she spewed. “I wouldn’t touch you if you were bare-ass naked, grilled, and offered up on a serving platter with an apple crammed in your mouth!”

Pouring a cup of coffee from the metal pot, he glanced around at her. “Is that right?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Uh-huh. Well, let me tell you, little cat, you couldn’t keep your hands off me. You had your hot little paws on my—well, they were on my—on my—”

“Ha. You can’t even remember where my hands were.”

“I remember.”

He trailed his gaze over her. His thin, white T-shirt clung to her breasts. She wore nothing else. Dear God, he knew that. Yes, he did. But did she?

He swallowed hard. “Jesus H. Christ, woman, put on some damn clothes. You can’t walk around nearly naked in a shirt so thin the morning sun shines right through it—and—and expect no response from me. I’m not a machine.”

“And just whose fault is it I’m dressed like this?”

“I would have to say it’s your fault, Miss Weston.”

Lacey huffed, whipped around and marched stiff-backed inside the tent.

Danger grinned, when he heard the rasp of the zipper sealing her inside. He glanced down at the knife lying near his foot and shook his head. He could cut the tent and get in if he wanted. He took a deep sip of his coffee.

He wasn’t quite ready to die.

In The Arms Of Danger

Chapter Fifteen

“It ain’t no sin if you crack a few laws now and then. As long as you don’t break any.”

Mae West

Montana Backcountry Sun.7:00 a.m.

Lacey glared at Danger as he tossed her what used to be her jeans. He’d cut them off with his knife leaving the edges so badly frayed it looked as if they’d been attacked by a swarm of hungry locusts. A clean shirt swatted her lightly on the side of her head.

The lethal glare she flashed him was totally wasted.

Worse, she had to request his help with her hair.

He edged as cautiously toward Lacey as if he approached a grizzly. She

wanted desperately to throw his hair brush at him, but her arms remained weak and badly bruised at her sides. She had no choice but to let him braid it for her.

Danger twisted the thick strands of Lacey’s hair into a braid with hands that weren’t quite steady. When he finished the task, he cleared his throat and stepped away from her as quickly as possible.

Lacey’s eyes flashed as she tested the strength of the piece of leather Danger handed to her. “Next thing, you’ll be painting my face with war paint.”

“I’d want to paint more than your face,” he mumbled.

Lacey jerked her gaze toward him. “What did you say?”

She hadn’t understood him, because he hadn’t spoken English.

“Nothing.”

She wrapped the leather binding around the end of the braid, twisted it into the strands of her hair and eyed him with suspicion. “Was that your native tongue?”

“Uh-huh.”

“What is it?”

“Pygmy.”

“What?”

“Never mind. We have to make tracks.”

Not so much as a ‘thank you’ had crossed her lips after he finished brushing her hair and braiding it. The little hot-house blossom irritated the hell out of him. No wonder Papa Joe detested Anglos. He began to understand why.

Danger glared at her with disgust. Heaven forbid she be grateful for anything he did for her. Little witch.

He handed her breakfast, a breakfast he’d cooked. She tilted her chin. “You plan on tracking down the killer?”

Her lips pursed, and she blew at the steaming cup of coffee she held between her palms. She watched him like an eagle. Her gold eyes glittered like topaz, full of wariness and faintly accusing.

Desperation clawed at Danger. By God, he had no reason to feel so damned defensive. All he’d done was take care of her. She was the one who’d been all over him; rubbing her body against his like she was some kind of cat in heat. The way she looked down her nose at him, damned if he didn’t feel like her royal subject.

A peon was more like it.

Well, he wasn’t her peon, and he’d let her know it in no uncertain terms. “Is your name really Danger?”

“I thought we’d settled that.”

“No.”

“Why do you want to know?”

She smiled sweetly, causing his breath to catch painfully. It sent an ache straight to his heart, even though the smile was patently false, and he knew, he just knew she was going to let him have it with both barrels.

She tossed her head like a high-strung filly. “I like to know the true name of a man when I sleep with him.”

That did it! Sleep with him? Hell’s bells.

He noted the furious, righteous glitter in those gold eyes and impotent rage filled him. She was still pissed because he’d slept beside her.

An invisible little demon suddenly attached itself to his shoulders, one that urged his husky reply. “Honey, you haven’t slept with me—yet. When you do, little cat, I assure you, my name, or lack of one, will be the last thing on your mind.”

“When I sleep with you?” Lacey’s eyes widened at his sensual threat. Her fingers curled into tight fists. “Don’t hold your breath, Sheriff.”

A red flush crept across Danger’s dark face. “I’m making you a promise, little cat. You will sleep with me, sugar. And you won’t be sleeping, I promise you that.”

“The hell I will.”

“You will. You know why?”

“Why?”

“You’re curious. You want to know if a red man does it as good as a white man. And, you find me irresistible.”

She snorted. “In your dreams.”

“You’re making me nuts. You know that?”

“Why, because I won’t sleep with you? Where on Earth did you get the notion I’m curious if you perform better than a white man?” She laughed.

“What’s so damn funny?” He glared at her, a frosty snap in his eyes.

“You. You just put on four shirts.”

“I’m cold.”

“Really? You look hot to me. Sort of feverish, your face is flushed,” she pointed out serenely.

“That’s anger, little cat, pure, unadulterated anger.” He pulled the shirts off over his head and crammed them inside the saddlebag, mumbling beneath his breath the entire time.

“Are you speaking Pygmy again?”

“Damned right.” His entire body was stiff with impotent fury.

Lacey giggled again then sobered when he flashed a furious look at her. “You’re starting to look like a wooden Indian.”

“You think this is funny? We’ll see how funny it is when you’re looking at me through cell bars.”

Lacey’s shoulders tautened, but she gave no reply. She wasn’t going to argue with him about that. She wasn’t worried about going to jail. She had other, more important concerns at the moment. “What are you doing?” she asked tensely.

It suddenly dawned on her that Danger was saddling a horse, and he must have the insane idea she was going to ride the fierce stallion with him.

Danger whirled around to face her. “What the hell does it look like I’m doing? We’re getting out of here. I’m tired of this little game you’ve been playing.”

Lacey’s thoughts raced in frantic overdrive. God, she couldn’t ride a horse. She was terrified of horses. She’d never conquered her fear after being thrown when she was a child. Her left arm had been so badly broken it had taken two operations and months to heal. She still remembered the agony she’d gone through.

She hadn’t been back on a horse since. No way in hell was she riding now, and especially not this ferocious-looking animal with his equally ferociouslooking master.

A scowl pleated her forehead. She didn’t trust this man who alternated between hostility, kindness and sex-on-the-hoof in equal turns. Didn’t want her to touch him, but lay down beside her shirtless and her barely clothed.

But worse than all of this was the fact she hated like hell to admit to him she was scared of his damn horse. She, who was stubborn and bullheaded to a fault and wasn’t afraid of anything. Well, except for wild-eyed raccoons. She, who prided herself on having nerves of steel, could never verbally admit to being afraid of anything. Could she?

Lacey tried desperately to come up with some excuse not to ride with him, but nothing came to mind.

By the time Danger packed all the gear and loaded the two packhorses with a fierceness that made her nauseous, Lacey had managed to conceal her fear behind a bland facade. Covering her lack of nerve behind a wall of uncooperative silence, she bravely decided not to protest riding the demon horse from Hell.

Maybe Danger would change his mind. Yeah, and maybe Hell would freeze over and they could both go ice-skating.

Damn his soul.

He stood there cool as could be, motioning for her to climb up on the rumbling, fire breathing giant. Lacey glanced at the horse and shuddered. The fires of Hell gleamed in the stallion’s demonic, blood-red eyes. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear its eyes glowed with pure evil and smoke belched from its nostrils. Demon horse. That’s what it was. Like its master. She took a step back, shaking her head fiercely. She just couldn’t do it. She wasn’t that brave.

“Come on, Lacey. Now that I’ve provided your entertainment for the morning, let’s go. We don’t have all day,” he said impatiently. “More rain is on its way. We have to get away from this creek.”

Lacey shook her head again, sending the braid cascading across her shoulder. The silken weave rippled with a fiery life of its own in the early morning sunlight.

Danger curled his fingers into his palms to keep from reaching out for her. There was an odd light of vulnerability on her face. What little color she had, had leached away. She looked like a piece of white chalk as she stood there looking as if she was about ready to pass out again. Her gold eyes, huge and round, glittered with feverish horror.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly.

“Nothing,” Lacey shouted. “Just leave me alone.”

Her hands were clenched into tiny, impotent fists. Rebellion and defiance marched across her face as she threw him a look meant to make him drop like a dead fly.

“Leave you alone?” Danger’s lips tightened. “Lady, I’d be more than happy to accommodate you, but even I, savage that I am, can’t leave you here alone to fend for yourself.” He drew in a deep breath. “Now get your butt in gear, and get on this horse so we can get out of here, before you bring another disaster down on our heads, like an earthquake to go along with the flood.”

Lacey flipped her long braid across her shoulder. “Ah, a savage with a sense of humor. Ha!”

“I’m fast losing it. Now get on the damn horse.”

Danger started toward her in slow, precise steps, determined to pick her up and throw her on Diablo, if necessary.

Panic shot through Lacey. Frustrated and frightened, she gave Danger a wide berth then backed up three steps. “Stay away from me, lawman, I give you one warning only, then I’ll—”

“What? Shoot me? Handcuff me? Strip me?”

“Now there’s a thought.”

His eyes narrowed. “I don’t think so, sweetheart.” He took another step toward her. “I’m not in the habit of making the same mistake twice. It’ll be a cold day in hell before you get the drop on me again.”

Lacey whirled and took off at an unsteady run.

“Hey,” Danger exploded. Swearing, he took off in hot pursuit. “Damn, crazy woman!”

Danger caught the long braid flying out behind her and gave it a sharp yank. She yelped and spun around so quickly he barely had time to duck the wild swing she took at him.

“What in the name of God is the matter with you? Every time I get near you, you kick me in the balls, pull a gun on me or hurl on me. Can you cut me a little slack here?”

He glared at her, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. “I swear you’re crazier than a piss ant with its brain in backwards.”

Lacey blinked. A piss ant with its brain in backwards?

Where in the hell did he come up with these things to compare her to? She slapped her hands on her hips. “Whoever heard of a piss ant with its brain in backwards? For that matter, who ever heard of a piss ant with a brain?”

“Me.”

Lacey snorted. “You’re the only one.”

Danger scowled at her pale face. A fine sheen of perspiration dotted Lacey’s upper lip. Every ounce of color had bled from her face. She looked like a corpse, for Christ’s sake. For a moment she stood before him, her body swayed like a dead leaf in a storm. “What is wrong with you?”

At last, she dropped her head against his heaving chest. Soft sobs racked her slender frame. “I can’t ride that—that thing,” she spluttered.

“That thing?” Half the time he had no idea what she was talking about. The woman had a unique way of driving him crazy.

“Yeah. That—that big, furry beast.”

“Diablo?” Incredulity rang in his voice. “You’re referring to my horse as a big, furry beast?” Torn between laughter and despair, Danger wasn’t quite sure how to handle this situation. Helplessly, he stared at her bowed head.

The nape of her pale neck invited his touch. His fingers itched. He curled them into the palm of his hand. God, but she had a way of touching his soul. Involuntarily, he gently raised her head, his thumb idly brushing across the fullness of her bottom lip.

Lacey backed away from his touch. Sliding her tongue along her dry lips, she watched him, uneasiness clouding her eyes.

Fascinated, Danger frowned as he correctly read the fear on her face. “Look, honey, you’re going to have to trust me, in all things. I can control Diablo. I would never allow you to be hurt by him. Besides, he’s a perfect gentleman when it comes to a lady riding him. Come on, sweetheart. I’m not kidding when I tell you we have to leave here and soon.”

Lacey shook her head and backed up a step.

“Come on, little cat, there’s no way in hell I’ll ever believe you’re afraid of that bag of bones. You’re not afraid of anything. You have more courage in your little finger than most men I know have in their entire body.”

Careful not to make any sudden moves that would frighten her, he held out his hand and waited patiently for her to place herself and her trust in his care.

She hesitated.

Come on, sweetheart. Trust me. Just once, trust me.

He hadn’t realized how a moment’s hesitation could cut so deeply. Swallowing back the ache, he asked huskily, “Will you trust me?”

Danger studied her pallor. Christ, but she was driving him insane. She had a way of getting beneath his skin, and like most things that burrowed into one’s flesh, once embedded, it was nearly impossible to remove. He didn’t seem to have any control over anything anymore, least of all, her.

He snorted. Hell, since having the misfortune of meeting up with her he’d lost his capacity to even think straight. He was like a piss ant with its brain in backwards. So how could he possibly control the situation?

To his surprise, she placed a trembling hand in his. Danger swallowed the painful lump lodged in his throat and led her slowly toward Diablo. “Let him get your scent. Don’t be afraid. I won’t let him hurt you.”

Lacey hesitated. Danger pressed her palm against the stallion’s side. “Talk to him, sweetheart. He won’t hurt you. I promise.”

She slid the inner surface of her hand down the stallion’s face, jumped when Diablo snorted and tried to chew on her hair. The big stallion pawed the ground with one hoof and nudged Lacey with his wide head. Lacey’s startled laughter surrounded them. “I think he likes me,” she whispered softly.

“What isn’t there to like?”

“What?” Lacey scratched between Diablo’s ears and turned curious eyes on Danger. “Are you speaking Pygmy again?”

“Seems like it’s become my second language.”

She laughed.

“Are you ready? Because I damn sure am.”

I’m hard as a brick, and if you keep stroking that damn horse, I’m going to explode.

Abruptly, Danger lifted her onto the back of Diablo. Lacey gave a strangled sound and grabbed for the reins lying across the saddle. “Damn you, I wasn’t ready.”

“You’re on him, aren’t you?” Danger swung up in front of her. “But I’m warning you, little cat, if you throw up on my horse, we’re parting ways. I don’t take that from anyone and neither does Diablo.”

Lacey’s giggle shot straight to his heart.

At that moment, Danger Blackstone lost the battle and became hers.

In The Arms Of Danger

Chapter Sixteen

Sex is a misdemeanor. The more you miss, the meaner you get.

Mae West

Montana Backcountry Sun.10:00 a.m.

It didn’t take long for Lacey to decide that being afraid of Diablo was foolish. Riding behind Danger gave her the perfect opportunity, and excuse, to wrap her arms around the sleek muscles of his waist.

Ahh. Now this was pure perfection. Her fingers curled and itched to trace the ridged abs beneath his shirt. She didn’t think feigning a dizzy spell would let her get by with tracing her fingertips along the hard muscles.

So far, she hadn’t had to worry about what Danger thought of her forwardness. After all, frequent dizzy spells bombarded her. She could get by clinging to him. She decided she might not be in such a hurry to escape him after all or get well.

Lacey watched, with acute interest, the play of muscles quivering in his ropy biceps as he held the reins in his powerful grip. His thighs rippled with each movement the steed made beneath them. Her palms grew moist with sweat and burned to touch him in a most intimate way.

How peculiar. The mere thought created an assortment of sensations that was acutely arousing. He’d already cradled her through the night, so why did she ache to be held in his muscular arms now? Duh. So he’d held her before, she’d been too ill to appreciate it then.

Waking up this morning to discover him watching her with that ravenous expression on his face had both excited and frightened her. He’d looked like a starving man who’d discovered a delicious banquet spread before him, and he could have his choice of rich, creamy desserts as an added incentive.

“Where are we going?” Lacey asked abruptly as she suddenly realized Danger had turned in the opposite direction of where she now knew Rimrock lay.

“According to the last set of tire tracks I saw, you were headed west before you turned to cross the creek bed. I figure that must be the direction you want to go. The flood washed you miles to the south. Lucky for you I knew the path the high waters would take.”

A smile played around her lips, but Danger couldn’t see her face. “Yes,” she said softly, “but we’re headed north. I want to go west.” Pressing her face against his wide back, she continued. “I have a campsite to the west, although I don’t think it’s on this side of the creek. Once we get back across and I get my bearings, I’ll show you where the murder took place. It was less than a quarter of a mile from my camp.”

Danger twisted around in the saddle, his brows drawn together in a quizzical frown. “I thought you didn’t know where it happened?”

Had she lied to him? If so, how many other lies had she told him?

Lacey sighed. “I didn’t know in Rimrock. I don’t know from here, either. Once I’m back to the familiar, I’ll know.”

“I hate to rain on your parade, darlin’, but getting back across isn’t going to happen. Those flood waters are just getting started. I’m taking us to Jace Remington’s ranch, the Dancing Star. It’s to the northeast. You need a doctor.”

She chewed on her bottom lip as Danger faced forward again. Damn. She had to get back to the campsite. All her identification was there. If the killer found it first, she’d never be free of him. She couldn’t let that happen.

It was nearly noon when they finally halted for a break. Lacey was certain it was the pounding rain that forced Danger to stop and seek shelter, instead of the urgent need for food. He’d located a rocky ledge big enough for the two of them and a stand of trees clumped close enough together to give the horses some shelter. The problem was they were all already soaked to the bone and shivering.

Danger lifted her from the saddle and steadied her for a moment before releasing her. He looked around, eyeing the area.

“What is it?” Lacey inquired, having noticed him searching the area with keen eyes.

“Nothing.”

She frowned. “I have a feeling your nothings might be something.”

“Uh-huh. You just watch your step when you go behind the bushes. I’ll build a fire so we can get dry.”

Lacey nodded and headed toward the clump of bushes he pointed at.

“Hey.”

Lacey paused and turned back. She barely had time to catch the rifle he tossed toward her. “Take it with you.”

She eyed the rifle with distaste, but held on to it anyway. One never knew what was hiding in the bushes but she couldn’t believe he’d trusted her with a gun.

“It only has one bullet in it. I don’t think you’d waste it on me,” he said as if reading her mind. “If you see something you’re afraid of, shoot in the air. That should scare it away.”

Lacey nodded, gave a small salute and vanished from sight behind the bushes.

“Watch out for snakes,” he yelled, grinning at the sound of her startled squeal coming from the bushes.

“That’s not funny!”

Danger laughed softly. The rusty sound of his laughter surprised him. How long had it been since he’d shared a simple thing like laughter with someone? With a woman?

Too long.

He sighed. Lacey’s demand for a personal relief break had been a Godsend. The soft brush of her firm breasts against his back all morning had driven him slowly insane. His control dangled by a thread thinner than a strand of hair. One more jiggle of her breasts against him and his cock was going to explode. He turned his face toward the heavens.

I need a little mercy, here.

A scowl darkened his face as he turned and watched Lacey looking down and stepping cautiously through the grass and weeds as she headed toward him, the rifle cradled in her arms like a baby. She looked up and froze. Her mouth gaped and all her color drained from her in one smooth leaching of the flesh.

He thought for a moment she was having another one of her dizzy spells and was going to pass out. He started to stand up from where he squatted to build a fire.

“No,” she said in a soft whisper. “Don’t move!”

He stilled. Cold chills raced down his spine as he suddenly realized she wasn’t looking at him, but over the top of his head. What the hell was the wacky woman looking at? He couldn’t sit here not knowing what was behind him. Shit. Knowing her and the way she’d reacted to the raccoon, it was probably a rabbit this time. Unable to just remain there, Danger jerked up and whipped around. His breath caught, then escaped in a long, slow hiss.

Jesus Christ. He grabbed for the gun on his hip only to realize he’d removed it and placed it by the saddle on the ground, too far away for him to ever reach it in time. He backed up one step, then froze.

The muscles in the tan-colored cougar crouched on the rocky ledge above him tensed and trembled. Fuck. The thing was huge, at least six feet and two hundred pounds. A female. She was ready to pounce. Ready to rip out his throat. Ready to kill.

“Shoot her, Lacey.”

Okay. So she must not have heard his order to kill the lion. “Shoot her.”

A shot rang out. A single shot, not aimed at the cougar, but into the air above the cougar’s head. Lucky for him, it was enough to startle the mountain lion. The animal whirled and bounded away in a giant leap as long and smooth and spectacular as her well-honed body.

It was enough to infuriate Danger.

He whipped around and marched straight at Lacey, strangulation on his mind and on his face. He jerked the rifle from her hands. “Why the hell didn’t you shoot it? Next time I tell you to shoot something, by God shoot it!”

Swearing softly, he yanked a canteen off the packhorse and tossed it toward her.

Lacey caught it by the strap, flashing him a look of impatience. She took a sip of tepid water, spilling water down the front of her shirt as she jumped when Danger gave a sharp whistle.

“What are you—ohmiGod.” Lacey’s eyes widened, and her jaw dropped open in stunned surprise. The canteen slipped from her nerveless fingers, falling to the ground unnoticed.

Danger reached out and pressed her lips together with his thumb and forefinger.

Lacey made a muffled sound and slapped at his hands. “That’s a wolf. A big wolf.” She looked at him with rounded eyes. “I—I thought I’d dreamed it.”

“His name is—”

“Pagan. I remember.”

She sucked in a sharp breath as the huge animal stalked lazily toward them. She cringed as the wolf’s warm breath brushed hotly against her bare leg, and the massive animal moved past her to Danger.

Danger grinned and patted the wolf on the head. “Pagan likes to wander about, but he always returns.”

Lacey watched with curiosity and admiration as Danger took care of the horses and fed Pagan. The man was in his element, completely relaxed around the huge wolf. She didn’t know which surprised her more: the wolf or the change in Danger’s appearance.

Working near the animals enhanced his savageness, his rugged masculinity.

She slid her gaze over him with appreciation. Abruptly he lifted his head and shot a look toward her. The silver depths were so damned heated she could almost feel the flames scorch her flesh.

Raw color swept upward and flared across his cheekbones. He drew in a ragged breath, exhaled and slowly turned away. Muscles rippled and tightened as he checked the saddle, checked the supplies, talked softly to Diablo and Pagan, and pointedly ignored her.

Why did he always turn away from her?

She thought she’d all but thrown herself into his arms, but still he refused the invitation. Very smart. The last thing she needed was a love affair with this untamed man. Hell, she wasn’t even taking birth control. The pills she’d been on had made her ill and she’d gone off them right after her return from Africa. There had been no need to restart a different kind.

Danger didn’t want to acknowledge the desire he’d seen on Lacey’s face. It made him ache. Ache to taste her mouth. Her body. Ache for things he could never have. Irritated with what he felt for the bothersome woman and what he’d read in her eyes, he reached for the canteen she’d dropped earlier.

Frowning, he tossed it across the packhorse, boosted Lacey astride Diablo, and they were on their way once again. The noon meal had been deliberately quick, salt bacon and beans.

“I’m sorry I didn’t shoot the cougar. I could have gotten you killed.”

“Yep. You’re lucky it didn’t leap on me.”

“I’m lucky?”

“Yep. When she finished with me, she would come after you.”

“She’s too beautiful to kill.”

“Beautiful, but deadly that close up and personal. Her species name means ‘cat of color.’ ”

“Cat of color?”

“Yeah, kind of reminds me of a certain little cat I know, all gold and tawny.”

As Lacey slid her arms around his waist, he had a feeling he would long remember tangling with this female who seemed determined to invade his space. He’d probably regret it for a lot longer.

In His infinite wisdom, God had run out of mercy for him. When it came to dealing with Lacey Weston, he decided he was probably better off bargaining with the Devil.

Still, he clamped his hands around hers where they rested against his waist and instructed her to hold on tight. “The terrain is getting rougher and the next round of rain promises to be even more severe.”

Glancing over his shoulder, Danger spotted the wolf he considered a friend. Along with Diablo, Pagan was the other love in his life. Besides his family, they were the only things he truly loved—until now, a voice whispered.

He frowned as his thoughts drifted to the woman seated behind him. No, he wouldn’t allow himself to care for her. He would stick to Pagan and Diablo. He knew without a doubt Lacey could do a lot of damage to his heart if he let her.

His mind cried out with the hurt he knew was inevitable.

His heart would heal—eventually.

But how was he going to stop her from destroying his soul?

In The Arms Of Danger

Chapter Seventeen

Few men know how to kiss well. Fortunately, I’ve always had time to teach them.

Mae West

Montana Backcountry Sun.4:00 p.m.

Danger halted the powerful stallion and scanned the distant snow-capped mountains. The clouds drifted low, thick and heavy, like fingers of fog curling along the ground. Less than an hour ago they’d spent a miserable time huddled against the wet and cold beneath a tiny outcropping while the wind and rain lashed at them.

He’d barely found enough of a tree break to shelter the horses because the higher they’d climbed the smaller and patchier the trees were. It was hard riding, with loose rock underfoot, made more treacherous by the wet weather.

His clothes clung to his flesh like cold, wet cement. He’d kill for a cup of hot java. He knew Lacey was as miserable as he felt and just as soaked. A quick look revealed her face was pinched and she looked totally washed out.

But she’d been a trooper, no complaints voiced. In fact, for her, she’d grown exceptionally quiet, which only proved she felt like hammered shit.

She clung to his waist as if afraid if she let go she’d topple off Diablo. Her lips were drawn tight, shoulders drooped and her auburn brows were scrunched together as if her head ached. He knew all the jostling around on a horse couldn’t be helping her concussion one bit, but staying here in the wilderness could prove fatal for both of them.

They both shivered with cold and were ready to call it quits for the day. The horses were just as exhausted. The entire afternoon the ride had been a steady incline over rocky ground and along narrow trails where Diablo was forced to walk gingerly. Sheer cliffs with jutting canyons and ridges of solid rock lay below the narrow edges.

Danger squinted against the brief appearance of the late afternoon sun. Jesus, what was he looking for? There hadn’t been a hint of a lone killer, a campsite, or a murdered woman. He hadn’t expected one on this side of the creek, but he couldn’t shake the feeling they were being watched. Stalked. The hairs on his nape told him someone was behind them.

Someone evil. Someone stealthy. Someone with murder on his mind?

Tiredness seeped into every pore. Maybe it was just his imagination. Sleep had eluded him the night before what with little miss hot hands visiting his crotch so frequently. He was way past the point of being sick and tired propped up on the back of a horse, frustrated with causing Lacey more discomfort when he knew she needed proper rest. He clenched his teeth. Her arms wrapped around him constantly and her fingers scant inches from his fucking zipper were enough to make any man feel as if he was going to explode.

That woman knew how to keep him in a constant state of semi-arousal. His damned cock ached. His balls throbbed and if she kept her fingers on the top button of his jeans much longer, he was going to embarrass himself. He snatched her hand away and placed it higher on his waist.

“Sorry,” she muttered sleepily and yawned.

He told himself not to be so hard on her, that she didn’t realize what she did to his libido. She was as tired and drained as he was. He worried he’d miss something. He couldn’t watch every direction at once.

If he didn’t know better, he’d swear they were going in circles. But he knew they weren’t. Twisting the lid off the canteen, Danger passed it to Lacey. “Have a drink and wake up. You need to help me keep an eye out.”

And she needed to stay awake. Her being drowsy might not be such a good sign.

She tipped the canteen against her lips and swallowed. He watched her throat work and imagined her wet mouth taking his cock, sucking the head deep in her throat—shit! He had to stop this.

Lacey’s eyes flashed like burnished gold in the faltering sunlight as she handed him back the canteen. She reminded him of a kitten as her tongue struck out and she lapped an errant drop trickling down her chin. He stifled a moan.

She’d glide her tongue over his cock in just the same way, tasting every inch of him.

Raw heat licked at his groin as he imagined her tongue on his body, felt its smooth texture in his mind as she slid it over his burning flesh. Smothering a groan, Danger closed his eyes and tried to ignore the way his manhood sprang to attention.

What would she do if he took her hand and wrapped her fingers around his dick?

Not for the first time, he wondered what it was about this woman that drew him, turned him on. She continually surprised him. She rode Diablo as though born on the back of a horse.

“Why are we stopping?” she asked.

“We’ll set up camp here.” Danger lowered Lacey to the ground and watched as she leaned forward and casually scratched Pagan behind his ears. She gave a startled yelp as Pagan growled low with pleasure, then licked her hand.

“He likes you,” Danger said huskily.

Lacey flashed the wolf a wary look. “Unlike his master,” she quipped.

“I never said I didn’t like you.” Hell, the problem was he liked her too damned much.

“Oh, so you do like me?” She grinned, obviously pleased at the thought. “No.”

The grin faded. “Ass.”

“Could be.”

Danger jerked his gaze away from an errant trail of water trickling down her throat, watched it slide between her—he cleared his throat. “Stay here,” he ordered, and wrenched a pair of binoculars from the saddlebag.

She watched Pagan lope off to the outer edge of the bent and gnarled trees. “That wolf doesn’t hang around long.”

“He never has. He just likes to drop by and let me know he’s near.”

Danger brushed past her. “I’ll be right back.”

Grimness settled over Danger as he climbed the rocky rise jutting off to his right. He squinted through binoculars, searching the land that stretched endlessly before him. Hell, there were hundreds of places a man could conceal himself. There were too many outcroppings of rock that made a perfect blind. They could ride into a trap and never see it coming.

He lowered the binoculars then abruptly jerked them back to his eyes. Sonofabitch! There in the distance, a faint cloud of smoke rose above the treetops then dissipated.

Danger lowered the binoculars. So what? That didn’t prove a thing. He would have been more surprised not to find a sign of life on Jace’s land. There had to be ranch hands camped out checking fences and searching for calves dropped early by their mamas.

But maybe this was the man Lacey claimed was after her. If it was, then he’d somehow circled around them and was miles ahead of them. He didn’t know which was worse, having someone at his back or someone in front lying in wait for the right moment to strike.

Danger turned to retrace his footsteps and swore softly. There she was, standing right behind him as if she was connected to his shadow. She flashed an impudent grin at him and held a hand to her forehead, searching the hazy distance. “Did you see anything?” she asked.

“Smoke. Need these?” A trace of sarcasm touched his voice as he held the binoculars out to her.

Lacey hesitated.

“Be my guest,” he said sourly. “Hell, you might as well.”

“Thanks.” Lacey grabbed the glasses and held them to her eyes and ignored his pettiness. “Is that smoke? Really smoke? Yes. It is. Isn’t it?”

Hell’s bells, in another moment she’d be jumping up and down in her excitement. Danger gave a sigh of defeat. “Yes. I told you I saw smoke. It’s real.”

“I wish I had a gun, I’d go down there,” she replied ruthlessly. “I’d make him pay for what he did.”

Danger’s lips tightened. He jerked the binoculars from her hand and slapped the butt of his revolver in her palm. “Go ahead. Do your worst. But Princess, you better be damn sure of what you’re doing. Ranch hands camp out here. Hunters camp. Hikers hike. Sometimes, even freelance photographers go where they shouldn’t.”

Lacey pressed a hand across his mouth. “All right, I get the picture, no pun intended.” Her lips turned down at the corners as the heavy gun wobbled in her hand. She held it toward him, barrel pointing to the ground. “I don’t want this thing,” she said.

“Lady, you sure as hell want something. And if you keep coming on to me, you’re going to get it.”

“It?” She blinked at him, then her eyes widened as she understood his meaning. “I don’t want it.”

“Apparently you do,” he snapped. “Every blessed time I look around you’re underfoot. You attach yourself to me like a. . . a damned leech. You can’t keep your hot little hands off my zipper or away from my crotch. I’m giving you this one last warning. Give me some breathing space and stay the hell away from me!”

Lowering her hand, Lacey let the gun hang uselessly at her side. “As you wish,” she said quietly.

Danger stopped at the bottom, pausing to listen to the sound of Lacey’s boots slipping and sliding on the loose rock behind him. He looped his way around Diablo, his mind tortured with images of Lacey lying naked beneath his thrusting body.

The soft thud and mild shriek he heard made him pause for an instant, but he didn’t have to see first hand to know what had happened. His mouth split into a wide grin. She’d landed on her shapely ass. Maybe it would teach her to do what he told her. Right! The woman was never going to listen to a thing he said. He’d lost track of the times she ignored his orders or warnings.

“Thanks for the help,” she yelled. “Such a gentleman.”

Danger ignored her outburst and moved to the other side of Diablo and loosened the cinch. And he waited patiently for Lacey to catch up with him. She’d just found firm footing on solid ground when he glanced up and saw her skid to a halt. Her eyes widened. Her jaw gaped. She stood there as still as a statue.

“What is it?” Danger circled Diablo, then froze as he heard the low, soft whir of a rattlesnake. The blasted thing was mere inches from her booted foot. “Better not move,” he warned.

“It’s a snake,” she squeaked.

Didn’t the woman know he had enough sense to see the damned thing?

She took a shaky step back. Loose rock slid forward. The snake reared its triangular head. Rattles buzzed furiously. Definitely, the rattler was in a snit at having its hunting ground invaded.

“Lacey. Dammit, don’t move!”

The vibration of the rattles grew louder. More ominous. Danger felt his throat tighten with fear. The faint whimpering sounds escaping Lacey sent chills up his spine.

“Don’t move,” he repeated in a softer tone. “Please.”

Lacey’s slender arms trembled, and she backed up another step, unable to bring herself to obey his order not to move. “I can’t stand snakes,” she breathed.

Danger looked up in surprise. “This from the woman who photographed mating cobras?”

“They were in a freakin’ glass cage!”

“For God’s sake, Lacey, for once, do as I say, stop moving.”

Lacey raised terrified eyes to his. “I’m not moving. It’s moving! It keeps coming closer. And—it’s looking at meee.” Her voice screeched on a broken note.

Danger swore softly. “It’s a prairie rattler, probably not long out of hibernation, hungry and pissed. You have to keep still.”

He raked his mind, trying to remember if Coe packed an anti-venom kit. He didn’t think so. If she was bitten, she could die before he could get her to help. The very thought turned his blood cold.

“Do something,” Lacey implored as the scaly creature crawled forward, deadly in its determination to edge closer to its prey.

The snake’s black, forked tongue whipped in and out tasting the air. It was evil. Something so foul, its musty scent permeated the air with wicked intent.

Danger glanced resolutely in the direction he’d spied the smoke, then back at Lacey. A gunshot would alert whoever was out there. If it was the murderer, then he’d be giving him plenty of warning that they were closer than he realized. If he didn’t do something, Lacey could die. He had no choice.

“Sweetheart,” he said very softly. “Have you ever fired a gun at all?”

“Never. Can’t you shoot it?”

Danger muttered beneath his breath. He could never get the Winchester from the pack horse in time. The slightest movement from him might cause the snake to strike at her. It was big and mean. It could strike the length of its body. If it did, it could get her in the face or throat.

He drew in a sharp breath. “You have the gun, baby,” he answered quietly. “Point it at the damn snake and squeeze the trigger. You might even get lucky and hit the damn thing.”

He’d said it so calmly, Lacey’s head jerked up with a snap. “Easy for you to say, you’re not looking at those beady, little eyes. What if I miss?” Lacey wrung her hands. “Oh Lord, I’ve never shot anything helpless before.”

Danger blinked, his lips parting in surprise. “Helpless? Jesus H. Christ, woman! What the hell do you think it is, a damned puppy?”

He released a deep breath. Good God, she’d not hesitated to hold him at gunpoint, yet she couldn’t shoot a snake?

Okay. All right. She’s scared. He understood that. He sucked in a deep breath and slowly released it. He could feel her fear. He could even sympathize, but damn it, she had to shoot. “You have to kill it, sweetheart,” he said gently. “Go ahead, little cat. Shoot.”

Lacey hesitated. The snake moved closer. She gave a whimper. Her hand trembled as she pointed the gun at the snake.

“Shoot, damn it. Shoot it,” Danger yelled hoarsely.

Lacey nodded. Slowly, she leveled the gun at the venomous reptile, but instead of squeezing the trigger as Danger had instructed, she suddenly drew back and hurled the gun at the rattler.

Danger’s eyes widened with stunned disbelief. “Shit.”

What in hell did she think she was doing?

The rattler darted back in a slithering motion, startled by the heavy object weighing down its thick coils. It gave an awkward, wobbly movement as it tried to maneuver from under the gun’s weight. It sidled back and slowly slipped away, disappearing beneath an outcropping of rock. The steady whir of the rattler verified the snake’s impotent rage, but it had lost the desire to wage war.

Both anger and relief surged through Danger. Nausea roiled and mixed with the quivering ballet his insides were performing. Perspiration slid down his face and neck. By God, he was going to wring her neck! The woman was completely unmanageable. He gave full vent to the fury that enveloped him. “Son of a bitch!” he bellowed, striding toward her in a fiery rage.

“Did I miss it?” she asked faintly.

She had one palm pressed across her eyes as she swayed like a leaf in a breeze.

“Did you miss it?” Danger gave a low growl. “Are you nuts? Sure you are. Why am I even asking?”

Lacey dropped her hand and slowly opened her eyes. Big mistake.

Danger towered over her like an avenging angel, his face black as a storm cloud. He shook her. His powerful fingers bit into her shoulders and he shook her. “Are you crazy, woman? Yes, of course you are. What the hell were you trying to do? Piss the damned snake off even more than it already was?”

His fingers squeezed painfully into her flesh and he shook her again. “Don’t you have an ounce of good ole’ American horse sense? Why didn’t you shoot it? I distinctly remember telling you if I told you to shoot something, shoot it. Were you trying to get yourself killed? Yes. You were. You were!”

Lacey’s head bobbed like a lifeless flower on a broken stem as Danger continued shaking her. Then he started swearing—in two languages—maybe three, she wasn’t sure. He probably spoke his Native tongue, and of course, there was the Pygmy he spoke when he was good and pissed. She definitely recognized the English words though, and they weren’t complimentary.

A muscle throbbed in his cheek. His left eye twitched to the point she thought his eyelid was going to be permanently damaged. He clenched his teeth. At last, he loosened his grip on her shoulders only to jerk her into his arms and give a low moan. A fine tremor shook his taut body as he cradled her protectively against him. “Christ, you’re going to be the death of me.”

Ahh, now this was better. This she understood in any language. Lacey didn’t know which of them was shaking more. She didn’t know which of his stormy questions she should try to answer. Well, as far as that went, he’d answered his own questions before she could breathe a reply anyway.

Still, she figured he deserved some kind of explanation. “I—I couldn’t kill it. I don’t even kill mice. When I capture one, I—I always set it free. I mean—they’re so small and—and soft and—and gray, the—the exact shade of your eyes.”

Danger plunged his fingers through her tousled hair and tilted her face to his. “What in the hell are you babbling about?”

Lacey’s lips trembled. “I don’t know.”

His eyes darkened to soft pewter. “You are undoubtedly the craziest female I’ve ever met.” His hands trembled as he sifted through the hair at her temples. “Crazy and beautiful.”

He lowered his head, his mouth swooping down on hers with gentle rage.

Lacey expected a certain amount of masculine roughness. After all, he was very upset. But not this. Not this unbelievable, incredible drowning of the senses. Not this raging tenderness filled with controlled fury. Not this powerful urge to crawl inside his heart and soul and lay claim to the man forever.

The hot possession of his mouth weakened her knees. If he hadn’t been holding on to her, she knew she’d collapse at his feet. Lacey parted her lips, gasping as his tongue edged inside her mouth, searching, until it curled around her tongue, and he gently suckled. She moaned as exquisite pleasure flooded her senses. Moist heat made a lazy trail down her spine and settled hotly between her thighs. She would never get enough of this, never get enough of her body crushed against his.

Her mouth was made for kissing, Danger thought. For kissing—and God knew—for numerous other things he had no trouble imagining. He could lose himself in the sheer pleasure of mating with her mouth.

The feelings growing inside him, inside his heart were dangerous to his peace of mind. He reached deep into his inner most soul to find the scraps of the wall and brick it back in place. He had to seal her out. But some of the critical pieces were gone. The wall had crumbled one brick at a time, and he couldn’t seem to find the missing parts.

His voice wasn’t as harsh as he intended when he finally broke the kiss. “You scared the hell outta me. As a matter of fact, you’re always scaring the hell outta me.”

Lacey blinked. She looked dazed, her eyes a little blank. “There’s an old Mae West quote,” she breathed softly.

He lifted a brow. “What?” What was she rambling about now?

“Yes, it goes something like this: ‘Few men know how to kiss well.’ There’s more, but what I’m trying to say is: You don’t need any lessons.”

He rubbed his thumb across her bottom lip, his eyes darkening. “No? Well there are a few lessons you need to learn, sweetheart, but not about kissing.”

Danger glanced down and saw the warm laughter sparkling in the golden glow of her eyes. I shouldn’t have kissed her.

For three whole seconds he argued with himself, listing all the reasons he shouldn’t touch her again. But his gaze returned to that incredible mouth. Too late! He’d already tasted the heat there, the silken fire. It only made him hunger for more. Hell, he’d better take advantage of her now, because at the rate she was going she was going to get herself killed.

That was all it took, just that little bit of encouragement of his words and he gave himself permission to kiss her again. He stole her mouth with reckless abandon and defiance. This time, there was no gentleness. He felt savage. Ruthless. This time he kissed her with all the pent-up hunger twisting his guts. This time he kissed her exactly the way he liked to kiss. Hot. Carnal. And a lot of tongue.

He slanted his lips over hers, hard, and possessive. He owned her mouth as he slipped his tongue inside and waged a battle he had no intention of losing. He conquered with a sensual dance of desire.

Through the roaring in his ears, he heard her soft moan and swallowed the sensuous sound. Lacey swayed toward him. Danger cupped her buttocks and lifted her against the hard on crowding his jeans. He ground his hips against her. Christ, he was going to come if he didn’t stop.

Lacey moaned as he slowly released her. She swayed again and clutched at the front of his shirt with unsteady fingers. Panic slapped her with a healthy dose of reality. They were pressed so intimately together, she’d just rode his cock. She made a strange, choking sound. “Oh God, I think I’m going to be sick.”

Danger’s eyes widened in alarm. “Oh, hell! Not again. You wouldn’t dare throw up on me again. Would you?”

“I might,” she threatened.

“I can’t recall my kisses ever making a woman nauseous before.”

“It isn’t your kisses. I was just remembering the snake and how close it came to biting me.” Uh-huh. She’d been thinking about a snake all right, one that was hard and smooth and had come close to filling her body. If he’d wanted, he could have done her right here, standing up.

“And I attack you, ready to jump your bones as if I’m a sex-starved fiend.” He pulled her into his arms and gently rubbed her shoulders. “It’s gone, sweetheart.”

She looked up at him with eyes that had gone glassy. Danger swore softly as her eyes rolled back in her head. He swept her into his arms. “Don’t you dare throw up on me,” he ordered.

Lacey slipped her arms around his neck. “I’m sorry, she whispered softly. She nestled her face against his throat. “I was so scared. I feel really sick.”

He carried her to where he intended to set up camp and lowered her onto a large boulder. Color slowly crept into her face. “Just take some slow, deep breaths.”

He rubbed her icy hands.

“I could have been bitten.”

“Yes, you could have. Do not move off this rock. I’ll be right back.” “Where are you going?”

“To get my gun.”

“But—”

“Forget the snake.”

“Forget about it? Doesn’t it concern you that I might have been bitten, that I could have died from that creature’s nasty poison?”

Concern him?

Was the woman nuts?

Didn’t she understand just how scared he’d been for her? “It sure does concern me,” he said, brushing tendrils of her hair back from her face.

“I would hope so,” she exclaimed. “After all, it was your fault for leaving me behind.”

“Ho, don’t you even go there, lady. You weren’t invited to climb the slope with me. As a matter of fact, I distinctly remember telling you to stay put.” Danger turned away, determined to leave her seated on the rock and go get his gun.

“Oh! So you’re saying if I’d been bitten it would have been my fault entirely?”

“You got that right, little cat,” he snapped, turning to face her. “This whole damn mess is your fault.”

Danger blew out a disgusted breath. Damn it! He knew her angry words were a result to her near encounter with the snake.

His anger was caused by. . .what? Unfulfilled lust? The way his cock ached, oh yeah, unfulfilled lust would work.

He took a closer look at her. At least her color was back to normal.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she demanded. “I don’t believe you would have cared at all.”

“I’d have cared,” he snorted, turning back around. “It’s damned hard to dig a hole in rocky ground.”

“Well forgive the hell out of me for any inconvenience I may have caused you.”

Danger grunted. “Christ, woman, anyone who can throw a gun at a rattler and live to tell the tale doesn’t need my concern. Just cool down. You’re upset. It’s not good for your concussion to get upset.”

“Not good for my concussion? Ooo! You’re damned right, I’m upset. You’re the snake I should have shot.”

Danger’s lips twitched. Abruptly, his mouth tightened. “You should have shot the snake, little cat. Sometimes, one chance is all you get.”

“You’re such an ass!” she shot back.

Lacey rubbed her temples. God, she was so tired, and here they were bickering over the most ridiculous things. She touched her tongue to her lips and tasted him on her tongue. Anger and fear had been in his touch. But there had also been need—hot, burning need. She didn’t know which she feared most—him kissing her again, or him going back to ignoring this need building between them. Maybe if he’d just done her, the explosion building between them would be done and over and they could get past it. They’d both be satisfied and—shit. She didn’t want just a temporary fix. She wanted him and she wanted him to care about her.

He wanted to shut her out of his life.

She suddenly decided she wasn’t going to let him.

Yes, she might be uncomfortable with this thing that was overwhelming them both, but she knew deep in her heart, she wanted to know exactly what it felt like to win the heart of this man. She wanted to know what it felt like to be held in the arms of Danger.

In The Arms Of Danger

Chapter Eighteen

Men are all alike--except the one you’ve met who’s different.

Mae West

Montana Backcountry Sun. 6:00 p.m.

The sun dipped slowly behind the snow-capped mountains, a weak, watery ball that sank into an ocean of angry, black clouds. The threat of rain looked promising as the clouds churned their way over the horizon and headed straight toward them.

Danger reached for the coffee pot and filled his cup. He settled against a dead log and stretched out his long legs. The first sip of the steaming brew was pure ambrosia. Yeah, he could sit here all night and just indulge his senses with caffeine and the beautiful sight of Lacey.

Shadows drifted leisurely across Lacey’s face and painted the campsite with a curtain of deepening purple. In less than an hour it would be totally dark, but this moment was meant to be savored.

The tent was set up, the horses fed and sheltered under a lean-to he’d made from tree limbs. Supper was finished.

Earlier, he’d had a thorough, delicious taste of Lacey’s mouth and he fully intended to taste more of her. Later.

Nothing, but nothing could get him down—except the weather. “Shit. Looks like more rain.”

Lacey flashed him a tired look. “Crap.”

“Uh-huh.”

He was just as sick and tired of being wet and cold, but at least he had dry clothes to change into. Well, actually, so did Lacey. She wore another one of his faded T-shirts and nothing else—again. His shirt swallowed her petite form, lending her a degree of modesty, although he was very aware of her nakedness under it. And the temptation to seek out what he knew was there.

Her boots and socks were placed close to the fire in hopes they’d dry before the rain hit and doused it. A few minutes ago, she’d draped the cutoffs across her boots, wincing when she stepped on a sharp stone. He’d listened to her mutter all the way back to the rock.

“What did you say?” he asked.

“You didn’t understand me?” she asked sweetly. “I spoke very plainly in your favorite tongue.”

“When did you get fluent in Pygmy?”

Lacey boosted herself up on the edge of the big rock he’d parked her ass on earlier. “I’ve listened to you mumble it all day. It wasn’t difficult to learn.”

“Uh-huh.”

She kept crossing and uncrossing her bare legs. Every time she went through the little skit of cross, uncross, the shirt climbed a fraction higher baring more leg. She’d done it so many times now, it was up to mid-thigh. She didn’t seem to notice that a delicious amount of dewy skin was exposed to view. Or maybe she was getting a thrill out of torturing the hell outta him.

“Jesus Christ, can’t you sit still? You’re worse than a Mexican jumping bean.”

“Oh joy, it’s not bad enough you compare me to all sorts of insane animals, and a brainless ant, but now I’m some sort of worm in a bean. I’m sitting here minding my own business. Am I bothering you?”

Cross. Uncross. More skin revealed, a little tug on the hem of the shirt that did absolutely nothing to slow the heat rushing to his groin.

Hell yeah, she bothered him. Bingo. His cock twitched and rose majestically behind his zipper. The damned thing might as well stand up and howl the way it pounded the front of his pants demanding freedom. He choked on his coffee.

Danger discreetly adjusted the front of his pants. All the little witch had to do was show a little leg, lick her lips and he turned to stone. All this togetherness was driving him crazy.

“Where are you going?” she demanded as he leaped up and moved to the edge of the woods that surrounded their campsite.

“I’m going to check on the horses and take a walk.”

“I’ll go with you.’

“The hell you will. Lady, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep that pretty little ass parked right where it is.”

She settled said ass back on the rock. “Jeez, you’re such a bear. Drink some more coffee. Maybe it will soothe your surly temper.”

Danger turned on his heel. Uh-huh. There was only one thing going to soothe his temper. He didn’t think she needed to hear that he wanted her flat on her back and his cock shoved inside her.

“At least we’ll be warm and dry inside the tent when the next storm hits,” she shouted at his back.

Uh-huh. And he’d be miserable lying beside her. He kept right on marching to the woods. Swear to God, if he felt her fingers heading south of his zipper, he was going to roll her beneath him and shove his cock so deep in her, she’d— what?

Nothing. He wouldn’t touch her, not if she didn’t want him to, but damn, did she have to sit there so blithely unaware of what she did to him?

After making certain the horses were secure for the night and giving them a drink from a nearby stream, he returned to the camp in a better frame of mind. Now, if Lacey gave him a little breathing room and didn’t resume that cross and uncross thing she did so well, he’d be just fine. He refilled his cup and settled back against the log.

After he took several sips of the coffee, he allowed his gaze to roam over her. Oh, yeah, she was in a snit all right. She pointedly ignored him, her gaze rising to a place above his head. She eyed the forest behind him with acute interest, as if she’d never seen a friggin’ tree before now.

The bruise on her forehead looked like crap. The grape colored flesh was still swollen. He wasn’t the best person to stitch someone, but at least her scar would be hidden by her hair. She must still have a headache because she kept rubbing her temples. He knew her inner thigh where the stitches were must be sore as hell because he’d heard every groan she gave astride Diablo today. It had to hurt like the blazes just riding astride, but she’d refused to ride sidesaddle or in his arms.

“You want a couple of aspirins?”

She shook her head. “No. I took some earlier.”

She wouldn’t look at him. She’d barely spoken at all since he’d kissed her. Well, that was just fine with him. He didn’t give a good damn if she talked to him or not.

“Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

“Why do you want to know about me?” She sounded as if he’d ask her to dissect a snake. Eyes remained above his head.

“You don’t trust me.”

“Where’s the chicken feathers? I’m sure you earned one with that guess,” she snapped.

No eye contact.

“Oh, right. You can sleep with me, ride behind me, wear my clothes, eat my food, but when it comes to trust, well that’s a thin concept.”

“You said I haven’t slept with you.”

No eye contact.

“Near enough. And would you have the courtesy to look at me when you’re talking to me?”

“Miserable man.”

Eye contact.

“Loco woman!”

Her mouth worked but no sound came out.

He lifted a brow. “Nothing to say?”

Hell, he didn’t think she could be silenced.

“I’m thinking. Please shut up while I do.”

Danger grinned. She was the damndest woman he’d ever met. He shook his head and remained silent so she could think in peace and quiet.

The mountains reached outward with invisible fingers, sending a chilly breeze racing through the campsite. It didn’t do a thing to defuse the tension between them. If she crossed and uncrossed her legs just one more time . . . well, he just might have to kiss her again.

He snorted. Right. He hadn’t been able to get those damnable kisses he’d shared with Lacey off his mind. By God, he wanted to do it again. Taste her mouth again. Kiss her all over and leave her quivering with desire. He wanted her equally craving his possession, and he wasn’t sure she did.

Yes, she’d kissed him back . . . but would she have kissed any man the way she’d kissed him?

Take any man the way his mother had? This was the demon that rode on his shoulder, the trepidation he couldn’t let go, the fear that Lacey would go away after he’d given her his heart.

Danger shifted and took another sip from the cup in his hands. His cock throbbed with an urgency that if he was standing would surely have him doubled over with the force of his need. His determination not to get involved with her had petered away like a wisp of smoke. She’d won him with one flash of those big gold eyes and melt-in-your-mouth kisses.

The sad thing was he’d initiated the damn kisses himself. He hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her a moment longer or, more precisely, his lips off hers. He had only himself to blame for starting something that could never be finished.

Damn fool.

His sex continued to throb. Fire raced to his balls and settled in for a nice, slow roasting.

Damn her.

And double damn me for wanting her.

Frustration gnawed at him. He’d had enough aggravation with her to last him a life time. The sooner he got Lacey out of his life—no—out of his town—better still—out of the state of Montana—the sooner his life would get back to normal.

And as soon as she was gone, he’d find a willing woman and banish Lacey Weston from his mind. Forever.

Darkness settled around them like a giant, thick blanket. No stars, a wisp of a moon that barely managed to filter a watery glow through the tumble of black clouds. Danger eyed the rugged mountainous terrain that rose like dark granite statues around them and wondered just how long it would take them to reach the Dancing Star.

Scrub brush clung to every nook and cranny with steadfast tenacity. The prairie beyond the mountain range stretched endlessly, a vast land, rich with an abundance of animal life. Antelope, elk, moose, mountain goats, and bighorn sheep roamed the land, not to mention the bears, wolves and other wild predators. The wildlife in Montana was more varied than any other state in the lower 48. It was like a giant, natural, animal preserve, and he loved it.

Once they left the shelter of the mountains and the trees, they would be vulnerable. Danger raked fingers through the dark tangled strands of his hair. He could see Lacey through the dancing flames of the campfire as she filled her tin plate with a second helping of the canned chili he served tonight.

The woman seemed to attract trouble like a damned magnet.

***

Lacey watched Danger through the thickness of her lashes. He tied a red bandanna around his forehead and poured himself another cup of coffee. His third. Or maybe his fourth. She’d lost track. He seemed to inhale the damn stuff. She’d already discovered not to get between him and the first pot of coffee in the morning. He was wickedly ill-humored if he didn’t get the first cup.

She’d never met anyone more addicted to caffeine. Lord save them if they ran out before they got to the ranch where he was taking her.

Her heart thudded against her ribs as she remembered his kisses. She didn’t know when she had quit thinking of him as the enemy and started to accept the attraction between them.

It had to have been after the kisses. Or maybe it was when he did the little striptease number and his obvious delight while doing it. God, he’d looked sexy as hell, handcuffed and wearing nothing but his underwear. She’d wanted to drag off the skimpy material that covered him and have her way with him right then. She’d known then if they’d met at another time, another place, she’d have fallen into bed with him in a heartbeat.

Maybe it was the way he was gruff as an old bear, but his hands touched her only with gentleness. He’d cared for her, helped her with her personal needs, and yeah, sure, no doubt, he’d sneaked a few peeks of her body, but hey, he rescued her from the flood, risked his life to do so. That said a lot for the man. He was willing to die to save her.

Her mouth tingled every time she thought about the way he kissed her. He’d fanned the simmering attraction she felt for him into a raging fire only he could put out.

She’d known she was attracted to him, but she’d controlled it. In some animalistic way, she recognized the attraction and shied away from it. He was handsome, although not in the time-honored way. His face was far too craggy with rough, rugged planes and sharp, angular contours to be smoothly handsome.

No, he wasn’t Hollywood handsome—until he smiled. Then his dove gray eyes glittered like precious silver. His face softened, transforming him into one hell of an appealing man.

She had every reason to distrust him. Certainly nothing had changed. He wore a badge. The murderer had been wearing one, too. It had been too dark to tell for certain, but the man had long, dark hair. He was tall and the flash from the badge pinned on his chest had sent chills down her spine. And the killer knew very well she’d taken a couple of snaps of him.

Danger had also tried to put her in jail. Why? Had he been trying to detain her for some unknown reason? She didn’t know and she’d been too scared to give it any thought. But one thing was clear, if he wanted to kill her, he’d had ample opportunity. He could have left her to drown and her death would have been declared an accident. She would trust him fully, except for the one tiny fact, the killer wore a badge. So if it wasn’t Danger, then it was someone from his office. A friend? A relative?

Dammit, she wished these continued doubts would just go away. They robbed her of the fragile trust she wanted to give him. The man had taken care of her when she’d been injured. He deserved her trust, but she couldn’t afford to lower her defenses.

In spite of the doubts and the simmering distrust, he touched her heart. She loved the cocky little grins he flashed her when he was amused, loved his confident swagger. Treasured the unexpected softness of his rare laughter and adored the way he reacted to the crazy things she did. The man would spend a lifetime getting over her throwing his gun at that rattler. His shocked expression would have won her an award if she’d been able to snap it.

He stayed right with her when she played her trivia games. He was the first man who’d ever realized when she tossed out the bits of trivia she was really asking, ‘Do you know?’ and he did know. Her lips twitched. She’d promised herself she’d make his life a living hell if he came after her. To some degree, she figured she’d accomplished that, but things had changed now. She didn’t want to fight with him anymore.

Instead, she just wanted to reach out and touch him. Hold him. She’d never wanted a man like she wanted Danger. The aching need deepened with every hour that passed and showed no signs of going away.

Lacey frowned, wondering what kind of emotions and ambitions drove a man like Rimrock’s Sheriff Blackstone? He kept his inner most feelings deeply hidden. She couldn’t read the man or his emotions, and it irritated her.

Something of her yearning must have been obvious to him for he shifted uncomfortably. Clearing his throat, he frowned fiercely at her, his eyes flashing with heated warning. “You keep looking at me the way you are, little cat, and I’m not going to be responsible for my actions. You’d best keep an eye out for other things.”

She glanced quickly around.

Danger shook his head and smiled. “Damn if you aren’t a skittish little thing, but you can’t ever tell where this killer might lurk.”

“So you believe me? You believe I witnessed a murder?”

“Didn’t say that.”

“Could you?”

“Could I what?”

“Say it, just once.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t know if I believe you.”

“But—”

He held up his hand to stop her from speaking. “You’d be surprised at the games people play or how idiotic a hunter can be when he’s had a few beers under his belt or the taste of whiskey on his tongue.”

“I thought I was on private land.”

“Doesn’t mean people don’t trespass, honey, you did. And on this side of the creek, Jace can’t watch every inch of his land. I know you think you saw a murder, and if you did, I can’t imagine the killer hanging around this long just to get you. It’d make more sense for him to run.”

“He might not think like you or I would think. Maybe he’s insane.”

“Lacey.” He sighed. “He might be calculating, but I doubt he’s insane.” At her look, he sighed again. “All right. Even if he is insane, he’d be trapped on the other side of the creek. That’s the side you believe the murder took place. There are miles and miles between us and there. You were washed way down the creek, way past where you think you were camped. You’re lucky I was downstream when you came floating by me.”

Lacey tightened her lips.

“Look, I don’t think he’d linger around waiting for us.” Danger tossed the dregs of his coffee in the fire. The flames leaped in the early darkness with a sharp hiss. His face darkened, cold and slightly hostile. “I also think you have one hell of an imagination.” He stood up. “I’m going to have a look around. Stay put just in case I’m wrong.”

“Are you ever wrong?” Sarcasm laced her words.

“What do you think?”

There it was again, that cocky grin that made her heart skip beats. Damn him. He had to have his pound of flesh. Always. “I think you’re probably always right,” she replied, certainty lacing her words as she stood up to join him, even though he’d told her to stay put. Again.

Chips of rock burst in sharp slivers behind her, peppering her back and arms. For a second, she stared in stunned amazement at the droplets of blood on her arms before the sound of a second shot echoed. A third bullet whizzed past her ear thudding into the log Danger had been propped against.

Lacey froze unsure which way to run, but suddenly realizing death was a certainty if she stayed where she was. She was a wide-open target for the shooter.

The fourth blast echoed before firm hands wrapped around her and dragged her to the ground. Danger crawled over her, draping himself protectively over the length of her body. Folding his arms across her head, he shielded her from harm from head to toe.

“Ohh,” Lacey cried out with the sound of the fifth shot.

She hastily covered her eyes as dirt flew in myriad directions.

Danger grunted. The hard body spread over hers tensed. “That was too damn close.”

Insistent hands pushed her closer to a large boulder as they scrambled for cover. Bullets rained down around them like balls of hail. The horses neighed wildly, frightened by the spray of bullets that peppered the ground and ricocheted off the big stones surrounding them. Pagan sprang from a nearby boulder, growled noisy protests and vanished behind a cluster of tall saplings.

“Shit!” Danger yelled as another rain of shots rang out over his head. “Are you all right?”

His voice was rough and sounded shaky to Lacey’s ears. He continued to push her until they were both on the other side of a string of giant-sized boulders. Protected by overhanging bluffs, they were secluded from the destruction raining down from overhead.

The gunfire stopped abruptly, the sudden silence as nerve racking as the gunshots had been. “It’s my imagination working overtime, huh? What’s your excuse now, Sheriff? Is a ghost shooting at us, sugar?”

She rubbed her eyes. The fine particles of dirt felt as large as gravel. Her eyes watered and burned. Dazed and terrified, she struggled to get away from his powerful arms.

“Let me go.”

Hard fingers dug into her shoulders. Danger shook her, fierceness in his tone. “You can’t go back into the open. You’ll be killed!”

He held her closer, providing her better protection from the possible sniper fire above them. He pulled Lacey’s hands away from her face. His eyes glittered with rage as he searched for her injury. “Where does it hurt?” Holding down the hands she struggled to bring back to her stinging eyes, he searched her face. “There’s not a scratch on you.”

“There’s dirt in my eyes. I can barely see you. Would you please let go of my hands? My eyes hurt!”

“All right, but don’t rub them. It’ll only make it worse.”

Cautiously he moved away from her and belly crawled to where one of the canteens lay near the campfire beside his rifle. He grabbed the rifle and hooked a finger around the canteen strap. “Son-of-a-bitch!” He swore, crouching into a tighter ball as a volley of bullets ricocheted around him. One pinged off the metal of the canteen. The canteen flew through the air toward Lacey. It landed at her feet with a soft clunk.

Danger stayed along the edge of the shadows and hurried back to her. Breathing heavily, he fell beside her and grabbed the canteen. “Thank God, the bullet didn’t pierce the canteen. We need it.”

He jerked the bandanna from his head and twisted the lid from the canteen.

“You said he was on the other side of the creek,” Lacey accused.

“You’re the one who said I’m always right. Not me,” he shot back at her. “And how am I to know it’s really him? It could be anyone camped out here. For all I know, it could be someone who likes to play sick games.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake, just shut up,” Lacey snapped. “You haven’t believed me from the very start. Well, sugar, let me tell you, you’ll believe it when he puts a bullet between your eyes.”

Danger poured water over the kerchief, drawing it back as she reached for it. Amusement glittered in the silver depths of his eyes. “Honey, if he puts a bullet between my eyes, I sure as sweet hell ain’t gonna’ know anything.”

Lacey gave an unladylike snort and reached for the bandanna again.

“I’ll do it,” he muttered.

Using a fingertip, he wiped away a tear sliding down her cheek. He dabbed her eyes gently with the corner of the bandanna until, with an irritated cry, she grabbed it away from him. “I can do it!”

Lacey rubbed at her eyes for several seconds, until she realized he was just sitting there watching her. “What are you doing?” She stopped cleaning her eyes and glared at him. “Well? Go after him. It’s not as though you don’t know where he is.”

“I know exactly where he is. Unfortunately, he knows exactly where we are, too. Neither one of us is moving from this spot,” he snarled. “He’s above us. If we try to leave, he’ll pick us off like ducks on a June bug.”

“We can’t sit here forever.”

“We have cover. And water. We don’t dare move, at least not until the campfire dies down more. He’d like to force us into the open. We’re not going to cooperate.”

“So you’re saying we have a stand-off? Is that what you’re telling me?”

“He kept firing at us when he should have been long gone. That tells me a lot.”

“What? Because it doesn’t tell me anything.”

“He wants you dead, little cat. The first shot was aimed at you. If you hadn’t moved when you did, you’d have a bullet in your head right now. He has to kill me too, now. What the hell did you stumble into?”

Ignoring his question, she gave him a dubious look. “I really think you should have brought some deputies. You’re going to need help.”

Danger looked down at his badge then met her cat-colored eyes. Removing the badge, he pinned it on her shirt. “I brought a deputy.”

Her eyes widened. Gold-tipped lashes swept upward with disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding,” she gasped.

She fumbled, trying to unpin the shiny badge.

His fingers closed over hers. “No, I’m not,” he said seriously. “You better realize something right now. If anything happens to me, you’ll be on your own. Here.” He took his revolver and placed it in her hands. “If it comes down to it, you have the authority to shoot him. It would be self-defense anyway, but now there will be fewer questions. And, honey,” he paused, his eyes intent on hers, “if I tell you to shoot, don’t throw the damn gun at him.” He winked, arching a dark brow. “He’s certainly not going to throw his at you.”

Lacey’s lips trembled. Tears glistened in her eyes. “I’m more apt to shoot myself or you,” she said shakily.

“You won’t shoot yourself, sweetheart. You can hit a man. He’s bigger than a snake.”

She wished he would quit referring to the damned snake. She eased onto the ground, tugged the shirt down as far as she could and drew her knees up to her chin. Danger sat down beside her, silent, until Lacey swung quickly around to meet his direct gaze. “What if he found my campsite? If he’s discovered who I am, where I live—” She shuddered. “He— he was so—” she broke off, wary of revealing too much.

“Please continue, Miss Weston. And this time, try telling the complete truth. I’d certainly like to know what I’m fighting against. It could save both our lives.”

His voice was hard, but his touch was gentle as he reached out to brush an errant strand of hair off her forehead.

Danger had fast come to the conclusion he didn’t care if she ever told him the truth. It no longer mattered. He just wanted her trust. He wanted her to believe in him and have faith that he’d take care of her to the best of his ability.

“You know more than you’re telling, don’t you? Do you know who did it? Is that it?”

She shook her head. Her shoulders slumped in defeat and she withdrew from him. She wasn’t ready to give him her complete trust. “No. I don’t know anything more. I don’t know who he is.”

“You are a beautiful liar, Lacey Weston,” Danger whispered. “There’s something you’re not telling me, but you will. When you’re ready to trust me, you’ll tell me everything.”

“I’m in trouble, Danger. We’re in trouble. We have to get back across the creek. I need to locate my campsite. All my identification is there. Where I live, debit card, credit cards. Deposit slips, everything. I don’t want him to have this kind of knowledge about me. I’d never be safe.”

For a moment his hands tightened on her arms then he relaxed. He slid comforting arms around her and drew her close. Lacey sighed, allowing her head to rest against his shoulder.

“Where exactly is this camp of yours?” he asked. “Will you trust me enough to tell me that?”

Lacey wasn’t certain of anything anymore, except she knew Danger wanted her trust, yet. . . he didn’t trust her. He kept things from her, things that had scarred his heart and soul. She knew he’d been hurt terribly by someone in his life, perhaps a woman. From the very start, she’d sensed his pain.

She’d have to earn his trust as he would have to earn hers. It was that simple and that complex. Trust earned trust. Sadly, they both lacked that quality for each other.

But one fact remained; she could not reach her campsite without him.

Sighing, she slanted her eyes up to his. “My camp is at the base of the old boot and spurs rock, if you know where that is. I don’t know where it is from here.”

“I do,” Danger whispered. He tightened his arms around her and brought her head to rest against his chest. “Thank you, God,” he mouthed silently and released a slow, deep breath. “But we can’t get to it, not with all the high water. So he can’t either. For now, your identity is safe from him.”

He brought his chin down to rest on top of her head. He was so deeply tangled in her life it was hard to remember when she wasn’t a part of his. His expression turned grim. He would protect her with his life. He had to make her realize this.

But he didn’t know how to make her have faith in him, to believe in him, but telling him where to find her camp was at least a beginning. If she’d only told him from the start what it was near, he could have taken her there right away.

It would be days before they reached Jace’s ranch and then her camp. Still, it was one giant leap in the right direction. His heart suddenly felt lighter. He could wait a little longer for her complete trust.

He was, after all, a patient man.

In The Arms Of Danger

Chapter Nineteen

He who hesitates is a damned fool.

Mae West

Montana Backcountry Sun. 7:30 p.m.

Without so much as a shred of evidence to back Lacey’s tale of murder, Danger had still swallowed her story hook, line, and sinker.

He’d had reason to give her tale some credence, but at the same time, he’d also had reason to suspect her. She hadn’t been honest with him from the get-go. He’d known she was hiding pertinent information.

In which case, he wasn’t about to divulge information to her, not until he had all the facts. Until the gunshots, he’d felt like a fool chasing after her, intent on searching for a body he’d felt certain might not even exist anywhere but in her imagination.

Now, he wasn’t so sure.

He’d like to believe the man above them was just a thrill-seeker shooting at them, but the hairs on his nape told him differently.

He swore beneath his breath.

If Lacey had been lying, then fate had certainly contrived to make her tale believable. He figured they’d moved way past the notion that she’d lied about anything. The only thing left to do to make her story real was find the woman’s body. He highly doubted he’d find it on this side of the creek. It also meant it was going to be several days before he could even attempt a search for a body and by then the weather and animals would have destroyed any evidence left behind. Hell, he’d be damned lucky to find any remains.

God knew he didn’t want to find a body in the first place.

He prayed Lacey was mistaken. Shit. The problem was he had a woman missing from Rimrock, Julie Parks, a young waitress who worked at the Blue Goose Café. The woman had gone missing two weeks before Lacey arrived on the scene. He didn’t think Lacey’s victim was Julie Parks.

Julie wasn’t a local, but a woman in her early twenties passing through the area. When she went missing, he hadn’t thought much about it. Young people like her left without a thought or a moment’s notice. He’d done a routine investigation, filed a report, asked a few questions around town, but no one had seen her or knew where she might have gone.

He hadn’t shared this information with Lacey. For one reason, Julie Parks had made noises about leaving as soon as she’d saved enough money. There were no signs of a struggle in her apartment and all her clothes were gone. There had been no reason to suspect foul play.

It had been at the back of his mind to teach Lacey not to play games with the law, he wished now the thought had never crossed his mind. Something was terribly wrong, and he was afraid Lacey was involved right up to her pretty neck.

There was something she wasn’t telling him, and he damn well knew it. In the mean time, he was responsible for protecting her, for keeping her alive. The responsibility weighed heavily. But when he’d kissed her, everything had shifted. His involvement became personal.

And dammit, he hadn’t wanted or needed her in his life— until now. He’d thought himself too experienced from his mother’s behavior to be caught in Lacey’s silken web, but she’d wormed her way into his heart. She wrung emotions from him he’d rather deny.

True, he wanted her. The wanting was a risk he’d rather not accept. He wouldn’t allow himself to take the chance of enduring more pain in his life, but he couldn’t deny the ache for her was there, real and demanding, and it wasn’t going away.

His breath caught sharply in his chest as he faced the truth—if he got the chance, he would take her.

But he had every intention of walking away unscathed and his heart free.

Coward. The message thrummed steadily in his brain. Go ahead, let your mother win. Let her destroy any chance of happiness you might ever have.

He closed his eyes, trying desperately to shut out the message clicking away like an old telegraph key that tapped a hot dispatch to his brain. Coward, coward, coward. Click. Click. Click. Sure, walk away after using her. Stop. After destroying her. Stop. Coward. Coward. Coward. Stop. She already has your heart tied in knots. Stop. You might walk away, but you will never walk away whole. Stop. Stop. Stop.

“I wish I’d never come here,” Lacey suddenly murmured.

That makes two of us, little cat.

“I wish I was home. I’d soak for hours in a steaming tub of water and bubbles.”

“Home?” Danger threaded his fingers through her hair in a gentle caress.

“Atlanta. Glorious palm trees. Blood-red dirt, kudzu and Georgia peaches.”

“Magnolia blossoms.” Tangled sheets during and after sex.

“Yeah.” Lacey sighed. “Sounds yummy.”

Danger swallowed hard. For a moment, he thought she’d read his mind. He eased her away. Rising to his knees, he stretched out flat on his stomach. He fumbled blindly for the Winchester lying on the ground. When it was in his grasp, he said quietly, “I’m going to make a run for those rocks over there. When you see where the shots come from, shoot back.” He thrust the rifle into her hands and retrieved his revolver.

“I’ll never hit anything from here,” she protested. “It’s dark. I can’t see him.”

Her fingers curled around the rifle, but her eyes were wide with doubt.

“You don’t have to hit him. Just shoot in his direction. He’ll move on if he thinks I’m charging him. At least, I hope he’ll move on.”

“Be careful,” she cautioned. “What if you get shot? Or worse?”

“Worse?”

“Uh, like dead?”

He grinned. “I’ll do my best not to get shot or worse.”

“Good, because I’m lousy at digging out bullets.”

“You’ve dug a bullet out of someone before?”

“Once. That was enough.”

“Africa?”

“Yeah. The agent who helped me escape took a bullet in the arm. It had to come out. I was the only one available. I puked afterwards.”

Danger grinned and shook his head. The lady was packed full of surprises. “I bet you did.”

“I did!” she insisted, “thought I was going to drop at his feet in a dead faint.”

“You didn’t though.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You did what you had to, Lacey. That makes you what you are.”

“What? What does that make me?”

“Strong and courageous.”

“I’m not strong or courageous.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Yeah, sweetheart, you are.”

Lacey twined her fingers around his arm. “Why don’t we wait until later, then slip away?” she asked quietly.

Danger hesitated. She looked scared there in the early twilight. Her eyes glittered in the shadows. He gently traced a fingertip down her smooth cheek. Heat leapt from her to him. He grinned, lifting a dark brow. “Now, darlin’, you wouldn’t be worrying about me, would you?”

“Yes.”

“It’s too dangerous to try and make an escape in the dark. There’s no moon. Traveling in pitch black isn’t something I relish. The horses could stumble, break a leg. We could go over a cliff. I’m not taking those kind of risks and neither are you.”

He winked at her, but he’d grown very still, his eyes searching hers for the answers he sought. Suddenly he pulled her to him. “I might not be able to see him to hit him, but I can scare the hell outta him. Make him move on. Hopefully.” Thrusting his fingers through her hair, he tilted her face up to his. Danger lowered his head and rubbed his mouth against hers. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to wait much longer,” he whispered huskily.

His mouth closed over hers hard and rough. There was no gentleness this time. He didn’t feel gentle, but a man who desperately wanted and needed his woman. His aim was to leave her in no doubt as to exactly how he felt.

Danger groaned and locked his fingers in her hair as he eased his tongue past her lips and tasted the honeyed sweetness of her mouth. He took his time, sipping and deep stroking until his body ached and she was climbing into his lap, moaning, giving back as good as she got.

Slowly, he retreated, freeing her lips. He flashed a devilish grin at her and arched a brow suggestively. “Like I said, lady, I’m not going to be able to wait much longer.”

Lacey’s eyes widened with sudden understanding. “Oh,” she murmured faintly.

She discovered she was clutching his shirt with trembling fingers and somehow, she’d ended up in his lap. He didn’t bother to hide the fact his erection throbbed against her butt. She squirmed, rubbing against him like a cat in heat.

“Don’t sweetheart,” he said huskily. “I want you too, but we can’t, not now.”

Very gently, he removed her hands, giving them a light squeeze as he searched her eyes for answers to questions that hadn’t yet been voiced.

“I can’t wait much longer, either,” she said faintly.

And there was her answer. She didn’t care if he knew she wanted him, too.

Danger slid his gaze over her mouth, lingering for a charged moment. God, he would like nothing better than to slowly nibble his way down, starting at her luscious mouth and stopping at her slender, pink toes. He wanted to taste all the secret hills and shadowy valleys in between. By God, he would, too.

His mouth suddenly felt like it was stuffed with cotton. He couldn’t swallow past the dryness. “Another time, little cat, I could do quite well by you,” he breathed. He drew in a ragged breath. “Just do as I tell you,” he ordered huskily then sat her aside and turned away. Ducking for cover as the first bullet ricocheted around him, he belly-crawled out of sight.

“Shoot!” he yelled back over his shoulder.

Zigzagging across the rocky ground, he rose to his feet, but kept low, ducking behind boulders as he ran. Lacey flinched as she saw dirt poof up near his moccasins. She rested the rifle she held in her hands on the boulder she was behind and squeezed the trigger. The rifle barrel jerked spasmodically, but at least she got the shot off.

A second later Danger disappeared into the deepening darkness. The killer returned fire at her. Bullets sprayed dirt and rock in myriad bursts of granules near her head. She ducked, pinned down for infinite seconds.

Cautiously, Lacey peeked over the ridge of boulders. Stiffening her shoulders, she aimed the rifle at the flashes of orange light spewing from the gun now being fired in the direction Danger had disappeared in. She squeezed the rifle’s trigger and kept firing until the gun clicked on empty.

Fear, so tangible she could nearly taste it, crept over her. Nausea filled her stomach and bubbled like a geyser. It rolled across her insides in a greasy mixture that left a bitter taste in her mouth.

She peeked over the boulders, searching desperately, hoping to catch a glimpse, but Danger was nowhere in sight. A tormented cry died in the back of her throat. She sat back against the boulder and prayed he would be all right.

“God, let him come back to me. Please, just let him come back to me.”

Lacey pressed trembling fingertips to her lips and thought of the hungry kiss he’d pressed there. It had been so full of promise, so heated. So demanding.

And what was that he’d said about not being able to wait? And oh, God, what had she said back to him? She’d given him the green light, hadn’t she?

Did he mean what she thought he meant or had she misunderstood?

Heat scalded her cheeks. She didn’t think she’d misunderstood him at all. He was a difficult man, complicated to the nth degree, but she knew she’d read the stormy desire in his eyes, the intent, the promise and silent warning correctly. He was through flirting, through playing games.

Indeed, she believed he could do quite well by her, too. And she didn’t doubt for a moment he had every intention of doing exactly that. Her nerves tingled in anticipation.

He would have her. She was very much afraid she had no objections to his possession.

If one could get past the damnable walls he kept erecting, he just might be the kind of man a woman could depend on, perhaps even win his love. His trust.

Lacey muttered, prayed, and waited.

Time seemed to stand still. Seconds passed and turned into agonizing, nerve racking minutes. The night deepened around her. The campfire settled into glowing embers, an occasional snap and crackle filled the air from the dying coals.

Desperation and fear mingled. Her chest tightened, choking off her air. She inhaled deeply. Exhaled slowly. Lacey brought her knees up and tucked them under her chin. She tapped her bare feet on the ground. Tears shimmered in her eyes, and she glared at Danger’s rifle with seething hostility. Empty, the thing lying useless beside her. If Danger was dead, she would have no weapon left at her disposal.

And if he needs my help?

She shuddered, afraid she would fail him.

They would both be at the mercy of that man. And dear God, she knew he had none.

Dammit, where is Danger? He’d been gone way too long.

A shot echoed, snapping the eerie silence with a sharp pop.

Lacey’s head jerked up like a puppet on a string. She rose up and looked over the boulder toward the rocky ledges in the distance. Gunshots blasted in rapid succession. Powpowpow. Lacey flinched with each echo, shuddered with dread of the potential disaster that loomed like a black cloud. Somewhere up there, Danger gambled with death. For her.

Oh, God, why does it have to be this way?

She crossed her fingers and cursed the childlike, superstitious action, but she couldn’t bring herself to uncross them. The very thought of Danger dead or dying, felled by the killer’s bullets, sent shudders through her.

Damn him for leaving me alone like this.

She sat back down behind the boulder and waited. Tears slid down her cheeks unchecked. She waited. Nerves jangled. Heart hammered. Feet tapped. Sweat popped out over her brow and upper lip. Her palms grew moist. Moments passed with infinite slowness. Lungs ached, starved for air. She drew a sharp breath, rocked back and forth. And still. . .she waited some more.

Lacey rose to her feet and peered over the boulder in the direction of the sniper. It was too damned dark to see anything. Silence settled around her, so thick she thought she would choke if something didn’t happen to break it. Chill bumps raced up and down her spine. The hair on the back of her neck quivered.

Dear God, where is he?

If Danger was lying up there in those hills wounded and needing her help, she was powerless to give him that help. She slid back down onto the rough ground. Her legs felt too shaky to hold her up another moment.

God, at this very second, that horrible killer could be creeping up on me.

The hand that lightly touched her shoulder sent a chill down her spine. A strangled cry leapt from her throat as she spun around in the loose dirt and took a wild swing at the dark shadow lurking over her.

“Sshh, it’s all right. It’s me.”

Danger’s voice soothed as he cupped her face between his hands. His touch slid over her delicate features, acquainting his fingertips with the contours of her face, the fragile network of bone. Lacey shivered and pressed her face against his chest.

“It’s all right, honey. He’s gone.”

“Damn you,” she cried, lifting a fist to beat angrily at his chest. “Do you have any idea how scared I was? I thought you were dead!”

A soft chuckle escaped his lips. “No such luck. You’re still my captive.” He released her, moving to place wood on the fire. He searched through one of the bags from the pack horse. Removing several items, he tossed them to her. “There’s soap, towels, even a bottle of shampoo. I’ll heat you some water in a pot and you can wash.”

Lacey hesitated. “What’s to stop him from doubling back?”

“Pagan.”

Lacey snorted. “The wolf? He high-tailed it after the first gunshot.”

Danger grinned. “Nah, honey. He just ducked for cover like we did. He’s out there, guarding the camp. Nothing will get past him.”

She nodded. At least knowing Pagan guarded their campsite made her feel better.

“What about a bath for you?”

“While you’re bathing, I’ll heat more water for me and then I’ll wash up.”

He grabbed his rifle from her and shoved cartridges in it. “Just in case our friend decides to return.” Danger grabbed her hand and turned her toward the tent. “Scoot. I’ll bring you the water when it’s ready.”

Lacey stared helplessly at him.

“What? You said you wished you could take a long, hot bath. I can’t provide you with a tub, but you can at least feel clean.”

“But—”

“But what?” he asked. A puzzled look swept across his face. “I went chasing after him to speed him on his way so you could have a bath. Are you now saying you don’t want one?”

“But you were supposed to catch him, not chase him away,” she declared.

“I’ll catch him later,” he answered, confidence in his words. “Right now he seems to have plenty of ammunition, water, and food. But it won’t last. I’ll overtake him eventually.”

“It’s not the time to say so, but you’ve been wrong before,” she quipped, a tiny dimple appearing at the corner of her top lip.

He had the sudden urge to touch his tongue to that sweet curve. To nibble. To taste her sweetness. “Was I wrong about you wanting a bath?” he asked huskily.

“No. I’m dying for a bath. Where will you be while I’m bathing?”

“Watering the horses, making another pot of coffee, and heating more water, I won’t glance your way a single time. I promise.”

“Pity,” Lacey muttered.

Danger grinned.

Lacey paused just outside the tent. She suddenly remembered she’d been wearing one of his shirts when she’d regained consciousness.

Only a shirt.

Of course, she was wearing only a shirt now, but she’d dressed herself.

Heat scalded her face. She whirled, flashing him an accusing glare. He stared back, clearly puzzled. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

Lacey spun around, turning her back to him. That sneaky, low-down, silvertongued devil, he’d seen her naked! Totally naked. Why hadn’t she thought about it sooner? Ho, probably because she’d had the headache from hell and hadn’t had her wits about her. She’d figured he’d sneaked a few peeks, but not the entire enchilada.

Heat flooded her face.

What’s wrong, indeed?

What was she going to do? To say?

What could she say?

How could she face him?

He’d seen her in all her glory. Well, maybe not so glorious the sad shape she’d been in, but he’d seen her.

Had he touched her?

A shiver coiled down her spine. Surely he hadn’t taken advantage of an unconscious woman. Had he?

No, of course not. He wouldn’t do that. He was a sheriff. A man of the law. A man of honor. A man.

One, who’d, most certainly gotten an eyeful, the rat!

She heard the crunch of his moccasins as he started to her. Panic and embarrassment slammed into her. “I’m—fine! I—I—I’m just so tired of all—of everything,” she blurted, grasping for anything to say that would halt his progress toward her. She glanced at him over her shoulder.

He was looking at her as if she’d lost her mind. Then his eyes darkened, softened. Flames settled in the silver softness. Lacey barely stifled a groan. She felt like a juicy piece of meat, and he was coming to devour her. The fiend!

“You can trust me, little cat,” he said softly.

His voice sounded wistful, uncertain. That wasn’t like the man she’d come to know. He was handling her with kid gloves. He didn’t have a clue what she’d realized, but he knew what he’d done, the beast.

Mumbling beneath his breath, he said patiently, “Sweetheart, I would never harm you. Trust me.”

Trust him?

Lacey snorted. Not in this lifetime, buster. The sonof—

“I know,” she replied. She filled her voice with sugary sweetness.

She would get her revenge. But what could she do to him to pay him back? Never mind. She’d think of something.

Lacey sighed as it suddenly hit her that yes, she could trust him. She’d trusted him with her life for quite awhile now. Deep in her heart she knew this man had earned her trust. But that same inner voice whispered, “But what if your heart is wrong?”

For a long moment Danger watched her, hands fisted on his hips. Shrugging, he turned and walked away. “Women,” he mumbled.

Lacey stepped inside the tent and released the flaps. “I’ll just leave it unzipped until you bring me the water,” she called out.

If Danger heard, he didn’t bother to reply.

If he hadn’t placed a lantern in the tent earlier, Lacey figured it would be like stepping inside a tomb. Instead, it was all nice, warm and cozy. She tugged the shirt off over her head and tossed it in a corner. The cool night air brushed across her nipples causing them to harden. She imagined Danger’s mouth on her breasts.

She jumped when he called her name just outside the tent. “Lacey, I have your water. Two pots. One for washing and the other for rinsing.”

Lacey peeked through the flaps, her fingers curled along the edges to hold them together. “Sit them on the ground and turn your back.”

He sighed, but set the pots of water down and walked away. “Don’t take all night. It’s getting late and we need to get some rest. We have to put as much distance between us and that sniper as we can tomorrow. That means riding hard.”

Lacey grabbed the water and set it in the far corner away from the bedding. She moaned as she ran the lathered cloth over her skin.

“What’s wrong?” Danger called from outside.

“Nothing.”

“Then don’t moan. I’ll think something’s wrong and come to your rescue.”

Lacey lathered the washcloth and stifled a moan as she rubbed it over her bare shoulders. It felt wonderful. The warm cloth broke the chill that had touched her skin when she’d stripped. She’d be glad when they finally did get to her campsite. She had clean clothes there, clean underwear.

A frown darkened her face as she lathered soap on her body. Just what had Danger done with the underwear he’d removed from her when she’d been barely conscious? She hadn’t found her panties when she’d slipped into the cut-off shorts he’d flung at her. He hadn’t said and she hadn’t asked at the time, but now she wondered. And her bra was missing too. Had he burned them?

As she washed her breasts, she paused, removing the leather tie from her hair and loosening the braid, then she poured the orange-scented shampoo into her palm and lathered it in her hair. A slight smile played at her mouth. Orange. How odd that a man as masculine as Danger would select orange-scented shampoo to bring along on what was essentially a manhunt. Had he done it for her?

Once her hair was scrubbed clean, Lacey tossed the bottle of shampoo to the side and rinsed the fragrant suds from her hair. It wasn’t easy getting enough water on her hair from what was basically a small pot, but she managed. Once she was dressed in another one of Danger’s clean shirts, she tied back the flaps of the tent.

“Danger?”

He was squatted in front of the fire sipping coffee. At the sound of her voice, he jerked to his feet, his hand making an automatic gesture for the revolver he usually wore at his hip, but was now tucked into the holster draped across a nearby boulder.

When he realized it was Lacey and not the man who had shot at them, he uttered a soft curse. He captured her arm in a fierce grip. “Don’t ever do that,” he ordered.

“I’m sorry!” Lacey gasped, tugging her arm free. “What is wrong with you?”

She stood fiercely proud, her chin tilted in defiance, though he detected a faint tremor in it. She was upset with his attack. Well, by God she’d be more upset if he shot her by accident.

But he couldn’t blame her for his mind wandering. Being lost in his thoughts could get them both killed. He didn’t think she realized that, but he damn sure did. “No, I’m sorry,” he said soothingly. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. Forgive me?”

The scent of soap and tangy orange wafted to his nostrils. He narrowed his eyes, shielding the sudden rush of desire flooding his senses. Damn Coe for packing that shampoo. He must have raided Anna Leigh’s supply of shampoo.

But the rush of heat, of passion, he felt, couldn’t be blamed on the shampoo. Lacey was so damned beautiful, his teeth ached.

Her hair fell in a natural part in the middle and the damp strands curled past her hips. In the firelight, her skin glowed like rich, polished jewels. She was ‘woman’, as mysterious as Eve, and just as alluring.

He could smell her. He recognized her scent. His soul cried out to mate with her, to forge the bond that would make them one and bind her to him in every way known to humanity.

Restless, he shifted, trying desperately to ignore the ache tormenting his body.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked softly.

Danger blinked. “What?”

Lacey swallowed hard at the sudden change in his features. He looked ready to pounce on her. She backed up a step at the fierce look that crept over his face.

His eyes darkened to pure hot silver, nostrils flared. He inhaled a sharp, ragged sound that expanded his chest. There was something raw and elemental in the way he stared at her mouth. His gaze shifted, skimming the curves of her breasts beneath his shirt.

He may as well have put his mouth to them the way her nipples tightened in response. The soft cotton of the damp T- shirt was suddenly abrasive against the sensitized tips of her engorged breasts.

Her heart picked up its tempo, rapping against her chest like a drumbeat. The air thickened. Her breath lodged in her throat. Her lungs burned, demanding fresh oxygen. She could see the slight quiver in Danger’s body as he struggled for control and lost the battle.

Lacey wondered if he had any idea how sensuously he moved. The fluid movement of his body fascinated her and oh. . .so deliciously tempting. His sleek, boneless walk reminded her of a dangerous predator on the prowl.

Heat curled in her belly. The flames licked their way downward, leaving a fiery trail that wandered at will. A shiver of fear or perhaps anticipation slid through her. Tonight in this strange valley of darkness, he was different from the man she’d known through the day as her protector.

He was now more dangerous than any animal. And she was his prey.

It had been unintentional, but the fact remained that somewhere along the way he had claimed her. She’d become his without the physical act of being joined. It frightened her even as it excited her. As he raised a hand to tentatively place it on her cheek, she gasped and spun away.

Doubts assailed her. She wasn’t ready for this!

There were too many unanswered questions between them. Neither trusted the other completely. And they had separate lives, lived in different areas of the country. They could not give in to this overwhelming need they both felt, not when there was only raging desire pulling them together. If there wasn’t enough glue to build a foundation, then everything between them wasn’t worth spit. She didn’t want that.

She didn’t want him to walk away once he got what he wanted from her, and she was very much afraid that was his intent. She wanted more, more than he was ready to give, more than he might ever be willing to share with her in a lifetime.

“There is something you can do to help,” he whispered, placing his hands on her shoulders and turning her to face him. “But somehow I don’t think you’re willing.”

Lacey sighed. “I don’t know you. I can’t complicate my life with a man I scarcely know.”

Not when something more evil and deadly than Danger could or would believe was out there, waiting for them, and not if he was a part of that evil.

She knew without a doubt she was in serious trouble. The man standing before her stalked her with a heated intent that was so much more deadly than the murderer bent on ending her life. If that man succeeded in killing her, then it was all over.

But if Danger succeeded in his goal, he would possess her body, her heart, and her soul. Everything would change. Her life would become his. Could she accept that?

She glanced up at him. His eyes burned hotly, drifting over her body with barely concealed hunger. She felt as if she was on the verge of being ravished.

God, what a word. Ravished.

Yes, he would ravish her and she just might never get over it.

Danger touched her, the faintest caress down the long, thick swath of damp hair.

“You know me, Princess, probably better than anyone else.”

His hand came to rest at the curve between her hip and waist. She shuddered, her skin sensitive to his touch, even through the material of the shirt. A whisper of sound grated harshly in her ear, disrupting the haze of desire spreading through her.

“If you think for a moment I would touch you when you make it abundantly clear you abhor everything about me, you’re mistaken. I have no need of a woman who one moment doesn’t know where she’s been, refuses to trust me, yet looks at me with hunger burning in her eyes, and still she keeps me at a distance.”

He laughed bitterly. “You must think I enjoy pain. Worse, you must think I’m the world’s greatest fool.”

For a moment, they stared at each other, tense. Lacey’s heart beat out a rapid rhythm. She touched his face, stroking his firm jaw. She wanted to comfort him, needed to comfort him. She blinked desperately, refusing to let him see the tears in her eyes. He would hate her if he thought she felt pity for him. And she didn’t, truly she didn’t.

It was just that she would have to give him so much of herself. He needed so much, would demand her complete surrender. And he would give nothing back in return. He would tear her love to pieces and toss the fragile, broken fragments carelessly aside. She couldn’t survive having her heart trampled on again.

Lacey took a step back.

His expression darkened. Contempt slashed across his rugged features and, that quickly, he shut her out. “Don’t tease me again,” he said harshly.

With the sweep of his dark lashes he’d swept her out of his way. Discarded her like so much unwanted garbage. The contempt in his eyes cut her like a knife. Her lungs expanded painfully as she drew in a sharp breath. She had to try and make him understand.

“I want you, Danger. I do. In my heart, I do,” she said softly. “But I. . .I can’t.”

A ragged breath passed through his lips. His chest expanded, then he slowly exhaled. “I don’t care anymore, Lacey,” he said quietly. “It’s all right. Some things aren’t meant to be.”

Lacey swallowed hard. Oh God, no. I can’t bear this.

Defeat deepened the lines around his eyes. A bitter smile rested on his firm lips. “I’m tired of feeling as though you’re hiding something from me, but I can deal with it. I just want you to be the beautiful woman you are,” he said quietly. “A woman not ashamed to give herself to the man she wants. Needs. A female who has needs and desires of her own to equal her man’s, one who is willing to place herself into the care of that man that plainly says to the world she trusts and believes in him.” He hesitated, then said softly, “When you’re ready, I want to be that man, Lacey.”

Lacey felt her insides cave in. Her stomach turned to mush. “Do you trust me?” she asked in a quivering voice. “Are you willing to place yourself into my care? It works both ways, you know.”

Consternation speared his face. The truth was ugly. She was right, damn her! She was right, and the answer was ‘no.’

So how could he expect her to surrender her heart and body if he wasn’t willing to do the same?

His voice was surprisingly gentle when he spoke. “Witch. Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?” He gave her a faint smile. “Yeah, you know exactly what you're doing to me, don't you?”

He turned away from her, his back rigid.

“What?” she whispered.

He whirled around, hostility replacing the earlier gentleness in his voice. “You’re driving me crazy! Do you know that? Do you even care?”

His voice broke, and his eyes darkened with uncontrolled emotions. He reached for her but let his hands fall away before touching her. “I can smell you, woman. Your taste still lingers on my tongue. I’m dying here, and you—you just keep pushing me away.” His face tightened, darkened. “I know I shouldn’t touch you, but my body betrays my common sense.” Heat shimmered off him, scorching her. “I don’t want to want you,” he said desperately. Raising stricken eyes to her, he added somberly, “I seem to have little choice in the matter. I can’t help myself.”

He spun away, the dirt and rocks crunching beneath his angry steps. Long after the sound faded, Lacey stared after him. Hot tears slid down her cheeks, unheeded. She shivered as realization slammed into her soul.

I can’t help myself.

She’d just made a terrible mistake. In her desire to protect her heart she’d just destroyed Danger’s. She hadn’t handled things well. He was a threat to her. A sensuous, devastating hunk of male, and she’d hurt him deeply. Not purposely, but all the same, the damage was done, the pain there in his eyes for her to see.

What am I going to do? I’m dying here, too.

Lacey shook her head attempting to clear her thoughts and suddenly realized there was more between them than she’d thought. Like everything else in this wild, beautiful land, Danger was unpredictable, but he’d been there for her from the very beginning. She battled herself as much as him, but she wasn’t one to admit defeat, not to a murderer, rattlesnakes, or steely-eyed sheriffs.

In her young life, she’d never been tested the way she was being tested now. If she survived this trek into the backcountry of Montana, she didn’t think she’d ever be quite the same, and she didn’t think she would ever forget the man who was with her doing his best to shield her from death.

She prayed this would all be over soon, before she became forever lost to her real self and to the real world that lay like a hazy mist in the back of her mind.

She wanted her life back.

She wanted the man she loved. But that man had to love her in return. Danger Blackstone would never do that, not now, when she’d proven she would only hurt him.

God, help her, she’d been foolish enough to fall in love with a man whose hard ways and tough exterior promised a woman both heaven and hell. If she should choose to share his life in this mountainous region, what kind of life could they have?

He didn’t care who she was. He’d made that abundantly clear. Did that also mean he didn’t care about her?

For the first time, Lacey wondered about the depth of emotions this strangely quiet, lawman kept such a tight rein on. She thought of the kisses they’d shared, and knew it wasn’t enough.

Lacey shivered, anticipating that very soon he would demand a lot more than she might be willing to give. He wanted her, but he wanted her without ties. She couldn’t accept that, but her heart betrayed her. She was in love with him. Dear God, when had she fallen?

She wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure of anything, and she’d been unsure for a very long time.

I don’t think I’m going to be able to wait much longer.

The cool night air was suddenly chilling.

She didn’t think she was going to be able to wait much longer herself, and the thought devastated her.

In The Arms Of Danger

Chapter Twenty

Anything worth doing is worth doing slowly.

Mae West

Montana Backcountry Sun. 9:00 p.m.

Danger stood near the edge of the fire immersed in his lonely thoughts. Bitter disillusion filled his soul; even so, the hollowness in his gut had never been satisfied. He knew his family loved him, his grandparents, his siblings, but it wasn’t enough.

There had to be something more.

He needed more. The constant yearning for more had left him unconsciously looking for the right woman to give his heart to.

The only thing he’d ever wanted, needed, was a family of his own. A wife. Children.

What was it about him that made it so impossible for anyone to love him?

First, his mother. Now, Lacey.

A strangled laugh tore from his throat as bitter memories filled his heart. Even with all her spouting off Native American history, maybe it was his bloodline that held Lacey back. He was part Cheyenne and Nez Perce, with his mother’s Anglo blood tossed in for good measure.

The fact that he, as well as Coe and Anna Leigh had Anglo blood was a taboo subject in the home he grew up in. Papa Joe forbade all three of his grandchildren to admit to even a dab of Anglo blood tainting their gene pool. In the old man’s mind, it was a disgrace and something best ignored and forgotten.

His grandfather, Joseph Hiram Walker Blackstone, was full-blood Nez Perce, and a medicine man. Grandma Shalene was full Cheyenne. Both grandparents lived by and believed in the old, traditional ways of tribal life. Papa Joe had little use for the white man or his ways—less use for their women. He had yet to forgive his only son for marrying an Anglo woman and propagating, a fact proven by Papa Joe’s refusal to speak a single word to his daughter-in-law, Sheila Court Blackstone simply because she was pale-skinned.

It didn’t matter that Sheila was the mother of the old man’s grandchildren and he loved them dearly. Papa Joe despised his daughter-in-law. When it came to accepting Anglo women into the family, he could be stubborn as sin.

If he bothered to speak to Sheila, he spoke in a language she was sure not to understand. Actually, Papa Joe spoke in a language he himself didn’t understand, because his grandfather made up the dialect as he went. Pygmy. It had become a family joke, but the pain and suffering they endured because of Sheila was no laughing matter. Papa Joe’s refusal to speak to Sheila Blackstone had lasted nearly thirty years, until her death six years earlier.

Danger couldn’t really blame his grandfather for hating Sheila. Their entire family had nearly been ripped asunder by the chaos she’d created. Lord knew the Blackstone family had more than had a bellyful of her kind.

Turning toward the tent, Danger’s thoughts returned to the woman inside it.

Waiting. But not for him.

Lacey. . .

Lacey had made it abundantly clear she couldn’t bear his touch, let alone love him. His painful erection reminded him there was an urgent need for relief, or he was going to be thoroughly miserable all night, or humiliated by a wet dream.

Mumbling beneath his breath, he kicked off his moccasins. He unfastened his jeans and tore off his T-shirt. Wadding it into a ball, he stuffed it inside the saddle bag that was now beginning to bulge with his soiled shirts and underwear. The water he’d heated for his bath had cooled off, but maybe the cold water would wash away the need Lacey ignited in him. He doubted it, but maybe.

There were ways he could relieve himself, he thought bleakly, but it wasn't something he relished doing.

Self-disgust rode heavily on his shoulders. She’d reduced him to this. He hadn’t thought of or even needed that type of physical manipulation to relieve his needs since puberty. Somehow, she lit his fire. Why? Why this particular, willful, headstrong female?

Because she handles anything you dish out and gives as good as she takes.

The overwhelming need to possess her burned him alive. He’d never felt the desire to bind a woman to him the way he wanted to bind Lacey. The need to drive himself deep inside her was as primitive and foreign to him as seeing a cave man.

Danger soaped his body and rinsed away the day's tension as well as sweat and grime. Toweling dry, he tugged on clean jeans and fastened all but the top button. A whisper of a breeze cooled the air. It brushed his sensitized skin and made him yearn for Lacey and the touch of her mouth against his flesh.

He frowned suddenly realizing his jaw ached from clenching it so tightly. Something had to give. He’d sleep outside, stay away from her and her inviting body. He couldn’t take much more of the constant togetherness.

In the distance, thunder rumbled. A moment later, the sky lit with brilliant streaks of lightning. The flash of radiance relieved the pitch blackness for mere seconds then vanished into the dark clouds. But he saw enough to know he wouldn’t be sleeping outside the tent.

Sighing, Danger made his way toward the tent. Like the storm brewing, Lacey had entered his life like a whirlwind, bringing about a change in him that had become increasingly familiar. The latent fire she’d built in him left him achy. He wanted her.

Worse, the want had turned to need. And the need was overwhelming.

I should never have kissed her. Never have taken the first sweet taste of her—but I did.

Dear God, he craved the flavor of her sweetness on his tongue just one more time.

He wondered what she’d do if he marched inside the tent, grabbed her and kissed the hell out of her. That would be a laugh. She’d probably throw a gun at him.

A grin tugged at his lips. The man who was lucky enough to win Lacey Weston’s heart would never have a dull moment in his life. She’d keep him on his toes. Yeah, she’d sure do that.

Lacey.

It probably wasn’t even her real name.

What did he actually know about her?

Not a damn thing.

He halted just outside the tent. Maybe it wouldn’t rain.

The first big drops peppered his back. Well, that doomed that hope. Shit. It was definitely going to rain.

A scowl darkened his face as he tore at the flaps.

“Coming in,” he announced and entered the tent.

Clenching his fists in frustration, Danger froze the instant he straightened and saw Lacey. She stood across from him holding a towel in front of her. It didn’t take long to realize she was naked behind that minute barrier. Her eyes were big gold pools of light. Her breasts rose and fell behind the terry cloth.

Danger swallowed hard. His gaze zeroed in on the rounded fullness he knew lay there. “Dammit, Lacey. I said I was coming in.”

“I know.”

Then she dropped the towel. It floated to the nylon floor and landed near her bare feet. His gaze followed its descent and for some reason, he couldn’t take his eyes off her toes. Those intriguing, bright pink toenails held his attention. Oh, shit. Now he knew he’d lost his mind. He’d never had a fetish for toes, painted or otherwise.

Slowly, he slid his gaze up past her slender ankles, her knees, up her thighs where a row of healing stitches followed the line of her inner thigh. He settled his gaze on the intriguing nest of honey-blonde curls. Danger swallowed hard before moving on to the concave of her belly, the tiny turned in navel, past the little mole just beneath her right breast he’d discovered when he’d stripped her before and finally to her up tilted breasts where her pink-as-strawberries nipples tempted and invited.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered.

Lacey stood there, head bowed, her skin flushed bright pink.

“Sweetheart, look at me.”

She raised her head, her eyes questioning.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed about. You’re beautiful.”

Danger reached for the top button on his jeans.

“Let me,” she whispered, her cheeks pink and a hint of shyness in her voice.

She moved to stand in front of him, a little hesitant. “I want to undress you. I want to touch you all over, kiss you all over.”

His breath caught somewhere between his lungs and his throat and no words formed on his tongue. He nodded certain he’d never be able to speak again. Her fingers trembled against his belly. She fumbled with the button on his jeans, looked up, and licked her lips. “It’s already unbuttoned.”

He nodded, his lungs aching for air.

She moved to the next button working it through its slot. The backs of her fingers brushed his erection. Jesus, if she took much longer he was going to die. He gripped her shoulders.

“Lacey.” He growled her name.

“What?” Her eyes widened. “What?” she whispered again.

He lowered his head and anchored his mouth against hers. She shuddered. Her fingers curled into his biceps and she leaned into the kiss, accepted the penetration of his tongue, a hot, wet mating with hers.

“Mmm.” Lacey’s eyes fluttered shut as she savored the warm sensations flowing through her. He nibbled at her mouth with a leisurely thoroughness that intoxicated. There was no hurry. No need to rush. He simply relished the delicious taste of her mouth.

He tightened his hands on her waist and tugged her closer. There was no space now between their bodies. Hardness pressed against softness. Male against female. Invitation given and accepted.

Danger moved restlessly. He stroked the pads of his thumbs across her nipples, skimmed his fingers down her back and cupped the curves of her buttocks. He loved the feel of her skin, so soft and smooth beneath his fingertips.

“Touch me, Princess,” he whispered against her mouth. He worked off his jeans and groaned. “I’m dying for your touch. I need to feel your hands on me.”

He captured her hand and brought it to the hard, swollen ridge pressed tautly against her belly. He looked down at her slender fingers wrapped around his aching cock. The broad head of his penis filled her hand. He heard her stunned gasp at his size. He was thick, too thick for her fingers to reach completely around.

“I don’t think we’ll fit,” she said. She licked her lips and eyed his jutting cock with doubt. “You—you’re so—”

“We’ll fit,” he whispered against her ear and closed his hand over hers, guiding her in a smooth stroke of his cock. “I’ll go easy, we’ll fit.’’

“You kissed me,” she said and cupped the spongy sac at the base of his burgeoning cock. “After the little incident with the rattlesnake, you kissed me. I haven’t been the same since.”

He laughed softly. “Yeah? Mmm, don’t stop, sweetheart. That feels good.”

“Twice!” she accused, sounding a little breathless. “You kissed me twice, maybe even three times. I lost count.” She gently squeezed the nuggets, halted the stroking that was driving him insane and walked a fingertip up the endless length of his shaft.

“Yeah,” he breathed huskily. “So I did, Princess, but those weren’t kisses. Not real kisses and certainly not the kind I want to give you. Think of them as appetizers.” He moaned as she explored the tip of his shaft smoothing a finger over the head and catching the pearly drop of fluid there. “And my appetite has barely been whetted.”

She caught her bottom lip with her teeth in that sexy way that drove him nuts.

He gasped as she explored his cock with hesitant fingers. His eyes darkened with warning. “Harder,” he instructed. “I won’t break. And if you expect gentle, little cat, you’ve chosen the wrong man.” He took a deep, ragged breath. “I’m not gentle, Lacey. I don’t know how to be. Tenderness is something I’ve lacked in my life for more years than I care to remember.” He moaned, moved against her hand like a rising swell. “I’m as savage as I look. I like my sex hot. Hard. And deep.”

Lacey swallowed at the masculine hardness that suddenly burgeoned against her palm. A hint of red tinged his high cheek bones, but he made no move to stop her as she worked his penis faster in a steady rhythm.

“Be very sure you want this, little cat, because if I touch you, make you mine, there’s no going back. I won’t go back.”

“I don’t want to go back. I want you; so much I can barely stand it. Make me yours, Danger.”

His breath chugged out in a long, slow hiss. “Jesus, Lacey, I’m giving you the chance to say no. Take it now, while I can still stop.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I’m not asking you to stop.”

“Good. Because I won’t, I told you, I won’t. If we start this, we finish it. I’ve waited forever for you to come into my life. I’m not going back to just existing and marking time on the calendar.”

“Shut up and kiss me,” she breathed.

He closed his fingers around her wrist, halted her stroking. “No more or it will all be over.”

A spasm gripped Lacey’s womb as his hardness throbbed urgently against her belly. God, she didn’t know she could ache like this. Need like this. She searched the charcoal depths of his eyes. He breathed quickly, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

Whatever he thought or felt, he was on the edge of breaking.

He slowly slid his hands up her shoulders, and very carefully, as though he thought she was too fragile to handle, drew her closer. “You shatter my control, Lacey. I have to taste you,” he whispered. “You’re a fever in my blood.”

He dipped his head and claimed her mouth. There was only this moment, this man, his mouth on hers, the whisper stroke of his tongue, and the passion that rocked her to her toes. White-hot fire clawed a path down her spine, curled its flames inside her belly and settled into a hot, bubbly simmer of desire. It lingered there for mere seconds before the avalanche of smoldering need spread. She squirmed when the moist heat pooled between her thighs.

He seduced. She surrendered.

And they gave in to the heat that consumed them.

Her knees trembled.

Lacey anchored her hands against his waist but the sensation of losing control and free-falling didn’t go away. She plummeted. Down. Down. Slowly, he released her mouth and the magic let go of its hold over her. She opened her eyes, blinked and drew in the breath her lungs so desperately needed.

She didn’t know how or when he’d accomplished it, but they were on their knees facing each other. She barely had time to catch her breath before he skimmed a trail of butterfly kisses down her neck to her breasts. He closed his mouth around a pebble-hard nipple and drew deeply. Her womb clenched. She wanted to be closer. She ached to be closer.

Lacey explored the sculpted planes of his hard chest, thrilled to the tactile sensation of his heated flesh beneath her fingertips. She drew her nails across his nipples, a teasing scrape that caused the flat buds to tighten. He shuddered and reclaimed her mouth. Hot. Hungry. Thorough.

She loved his kisses. Like the man, they were a little untamed, a little desperate, packed with a lot of heat in the sexy, one-two punch he delivered. Oh yeah, the man’s mouth was dynamite and he knew how to use his teeth and tongue. In truth, he could melt the polar icecaps with his kisses. She’d never met anyone more ruggedly appealing.

Now, as he lifted a hand, he gently captured hers and held it against his hardness. She thought she’d die from the aching need that slammed into her body. He glided his fingertips done her spine, teased the crevice of her buttocks, moved to part the feminine folds and dip inside. A second finger and he stroked, teased the tiny nub. He removed his fingers and turned her away from him. Gently, he pushed her head forward and lowered her hands to the bedroll so she could brace for his penetration from behind her.

He covered her, his body so much larger than hers. The feel of his big cock nudging her nether lips apart caused her to tense. She stiffened and held her breath.

“Relax,” he whispered. “I’ll go slowly.”

He parted her, working two fingers between the slick folds, opening her, then he guided the broad head into her hungry channel, slowly, inch by inch. She moaned. Jesus, he was big. Big and thick and he was barely in and she felt stretched to the limit.

“Easy,” he said. “Don’t move, sweetheart. I’m not in, yet.”

He pushed deeper,

“Oh, my God,” she groaned. “Wait a minute. Give me a minute.”

She panted as he stilled his penis no more than half-way inside her.

“I don’t think I can take anymore.”

“You can,” he said quietly. He moved, sliding in a little more. “I’m almost in.”

With one more thrust, he pushed past the tight inner muscles.

Lacey cried out. She’d never felt so invaded or so full before.

“Jesus, you’re so damned tight I’m going to explode.” Danger groaned in the back of his throat and moved his hips. “Relax, sweetheart. I’m in. Are you all right?”

“Now I know how a stuffed turkey feels.”

He laughed softly. “You are stuffed. Christ, I didn’t think you were going to take all of me.” He kissed the nape of her neck, slid his hands in front of her and cupped a breast. “Lady, you nearly drove me mad with wanting you, but the wait was worth it.”

He tweaked her nipples, rubbing and teasing them. She bucked against him, grinding her hips against his cock as he moved in a long slow rhythm.

Danger set the pace, at first slow and easy, allowing her body to adjust to his thickness. Then gradually, he increased the rhythm, pumping hard, fast and deep. Lacey shuddered, on the verge of climaxing when he pulled out of her, rolled her to her back and thrust deep inside her.

She bit her lip, meeting each powerful thrust. Lacey dug her nails in his shoulders and shuddered as the powerful climax slammed into her. Her womb clenched. Her inner muscles clamped around his penis. Danger threw back his head and shuddered, his body trembling with his release.

“Oh, shit,” she groaned, clawing his shoulders. “Stop. I’m not on the pill. You can’t come inside me.”

Their gazes locked, both aware there was nothing between them, just skin to skin, heat to heat, and friction to friction and jetting warmth that spread inside her.

“No use pulling out of you now,” he said. “It’s too late.”

He didn’t sound smug or pleased. He simply stated the fact as it was. He’d emptied his seed in her. He moved, still hard inside her. He made no move to pull out of her, but set a slow, intense rhythm. They stared at each, both knowing he had no intention of pulling out of her this time either.

He closed his mouth around a jutting nipple.

Lacey cried out and bucked beneath him.

He was right. He wasn’t a gentle lover. He demanded her all, using teeth, tongue and his body to gain the responses from her he wanted. She touched, stroked and tasted every inch of his body within reach. She lost count of the number of times she climaxed beneath his skillful tongue. She lost track of how many times he came in her.

When he finally pulled out of her, it was nearly dawn. She was exhausted. Sated, but utterly worn out. She moaned as he drew her close in his arms.

“Sore?” he asked, brushing a kiss against her ear.

“Mmm, but I feel good. Well loved.”

He pulled her closer, kissed her mouth and sighed.

Danger listened to Lacey’s soft breathing as she fell asleep.

Well loved.

He doubted that. Well fucked, maybe, but he doubted love entered his little belle’s heart, at least where he was concerned.

His throat constricted with emotion. He gave a low groan and closed his eyes. “Please,” he whispered, “don't be sorry.”

In The Arms Of Danger

Chapter Twenty-One

Everything worthwhile, everything of any value, has its price. Everything anyone has ever wanted has come neatly wrapped up in its penalties.

Loretta Young

Montana Backcountry Mon. 6:00 a.m.

The first fingers of dawn played across the cloudy sky as Lacey eased from the tent. She paused and glanced back over her shoulder at Danger. He slept soundly on his right side, the sleeping bag pulled up to his waist. His dark hair fell long and silky across his shoulder.

She wrinkled her nose at the musky scent of sex that lingered in the tent as she closed the flaps behind her.

God. What had she done? She paused to stretch. Her body felt sore and tender and well used. A satisfied smile teased her lips. What had she done? What hadn’t she done? And what hadn’t he done to her? She’d spent the most incredible night, having the most incredible sex with the most incredible man she could have ever imagined, a man who’d taken his time and loved her well. She could still feel him buried deep inside her body, his seed wetting her womb each time he came.

Why had she allowed him to make love to her without protection? When this was all over, she had a career to return to. A home. The last thing she needed was a baby. She’d never been one to be irresponsible, never left anything to chance when it came to sex. Not that she’d had many lovers, but even her first time, she’d made sure her college sweetheart wore a condom.

Of course, with Danger, things had happened pretty fast. She hadn’t thought to warn him in time she wasn’t protected, but that didn’t excuse their reckless— caught-in-the-moment actions the following four times he made love to her.

She should have insisted he not come inside her. She hadn’t. She hadn’t said a word in protest and he hadn’t stopped or pulled out of her any of those times.

Lacey counted in her mind and bit her lip. Why, of all times of the month, did this have to be when she was ovulating? It would be just her luck; she’d be a Fertile Myrtle.

She yawned and stirred the bed of coals to life, added water in the coffee pot and set it on to heat. Danger’s saddlebags lay on the ground near the log he’d rested against last night. She rummaged inside, fished out the baggie that held fresh coffee grounds and eased back the plastic zipper. She turned to head back to the fire when it dawned on her just what she’d seen deep in the corner of the saddlebag.

She paused, turned back and flipped up the leather top—sure enough, there they were, staring back at her, plain as day. She grabbed the box and stared at it as if she’d just found a scorpion in her bed.

The sorry bastard.

Not only had he planned her seduction, but he’d brought condoms, not that he’d bothered to use them.

“Hey. You’re making coffee?”

Ooo, didn’t he sound happy? And wasn’t hell fire and brimstone about to rain down on his head and shoulders? You bet!

She whipped around and hurled the baggie at him. In automatic reflex, he ducked, but the bag smacked him in the chest. Coffee grounds flew through the air and spilled down his chest and inside the unfastened top of his jeans.

“What the hell?” He brushed at the grounds flowing down his chest.

The box of condoms slapped his shoulder next and bounced to the ground at his feet. He ignored the box and eyed the grounds, then flashed a shocked look at her. His mouth gaped. “That’s the coffee. Coffee. My coffee.” He moaned. “No more coffee on the trail. I’ll die. No caffeine? No coffee?” He sounded like someone in agonizing withdrawal or in the depths of grief. “How could you do that to me?”

He rubbed his forehead. “No, coffee.”

She stared back, furious. “Would you like to tell me just exactly what those are?”

She pointed at the box on the ground.

He bent down, picked up the box and read the label. “French Tickler. Mango flavored. Glo-in-the-dark. Red. Blue. Black. Grape flavored. Ribbed for extra pleasure, condoms. They’re rubbers.”

“I know what they are.”

“You asked.”

“Would you like to explain to me just why you didn’t use them?”

Danger raked his gaze over her, hid a grin at her tapping foot and her neatly folded arms across her breasts and imagined her discovering their son’s first condom. She’d make a wonderful mother. “That’s eight rubbers, honey. Even I can’t last through eight times at once. I need a break between times. But if you really want to try for that many times, I’ll do my best to keep up my—er, strength.”

She snorted. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

He eyed her belly. He could very well have made her pregnant. Lord knew he’d done nothing to prevent it from happening and he could have. He couldn’t find any regrets in his heart over the possibility of a child.

He met her furious gaze. Obviously, she wasn’t happy with the idea of conceiving his baby. He cleared his throat. “Uh, well now, I could say I had no idea they were in the saddle bags, but from the look on your face, I don’t think you’d believe me.”

He waited for her denial.

“They’re your saddle bags. Why would I believe you?”

“Right. Well, I guess that leaves the obvious fact I didn’t want to use them.” “Why would you want to deliberately make me pregnant?”

“Why do you think?”

“I have no idea.” She flung out her arms let them drop to her side. “I just want to get the hell outta here. Away from you, away from Montana and I hope I never to see this state again. Give me the sunny South. I hate it here.”

Danger swallowed hard. Chills raced over him. Her words left him feeling cold and abandoned, but he didn’t take the step to bring them back together. She’d judged him, found him guilty.

“Fine. I’ll do my best to get you back to Rimrock so you can be on your way, Miss Tulip. It can’t be too soon for me, either!”

“Fine.”

Danger marched to her, captured her wrists and held her against his chest. “One last thing, Miss Weston, before we’re finished.”

He lowered his head, took her mouth with a fierce kiss and backed her inside the tent. He lifted his shirt off her and cupped her breasts.

Lacey moaned. “We shouldn’t.”

“We should,” he whispered and closed his mouth around her nipple, sucking it.

He tossed her shorts to one side and lowered his jeans. His erection sprang free, full, hard and aching. Danger dropped to his knees, leaned back and pulled her down to him. He impaled her in one smooth thrust of his penis.

Lacey moaned and sought his mouth. He gripped her hips and moved her, working his cock hard and fast, a furious mating that left his chest heaving with ragged breaths and Lacey screaming her release at the moment his semen jetted hotly inside her. Slowly, he loosened his grip on her thighs and pulled out of her, helped her to her feet, then refastened his jeans. “Now, Miss Weston, I’m guilty of all those accusations you made earlier. I didn’t use a fucking rubber just now, because I didn’t want to. When you figure out the reason why, you let me know.”

He turned on his heel, parted the flaps and left her standing there alone in the tent.

Lacey grabbed her shorts, wiggled her way inside them, then yanked the discarded shirt over her head and raced outside.

“You bastard. That was cold!”

He whipped around, still breathing hard. “Let me assure you, little cat, it was anything, but cold. It was hot as hell, and honey let me tell you, your body milks my cock dry every time I come in you. You like it. In fact, you love it.”

“Bullshit.”

“What did you think was happening between us?” he asked quietly. He captured her hands and drew them behind her back. “Did you suppose I would be content with a few kisses last night, maybe satisfied with a single fucking? Or did you simply want to discover what being my woman for one night would be like? Lay with the red man. Find out if he fucks as good as a white man? Is that it? No real involvement? No commitment? Just sweet, hot sex, and then you’re done? In the morning you can pretend nothing happened between us? Pretend we didn’t get down and dirty, hot and sweaty. You liked it all right.”

He shook his head. “I’ll be damned if I’ll play your little Anglo games,” he finished harshly. “I want more than a quick tumble with you, Princess. I want the whole deal and I won’t be satisfied with half-measures. I didn’t know the box of rubbers was in my saddle bags, but I wouldn’t have used them if I’d known they were there. I’m not playing games. For me, it’s for real. I can’t—” His voice broke. “I just can’t play games. I want things real between us. Honest. And honey, let me tell you, I’ll fuck you every chance I get and no, I will not, now, or ever, wear anything that comes between the heat of being buried deep inside you.”

“Hello, the camp.”

Danger let go of Lacey’s arms and spun around. “Yo! Come on in!”

“Wanna call off the wolf?”

“Pagan,” Danger yelled. “Back off.”

“What are you doing?” Lacey squeaked. “It could be the murderer.”

“I know the voice, Lacey. Christ, would you have a little faith in my judgment?”

“Not hardly. Not when you just told me a relationship with you could end up with me being pregnant every nine months.”

“I could work on making that every couple of years or so, until we have half a dozen kids or so.”

“We’ll negotiate later.”

Danger flashed a grin at her, but his attention was snagged by the man entering their camp, a man who walked casually toward them bearing a rifle nested in his arms. He moved with a slow, long-legged gait, a tall, lean and meaneyed man who wasted little time glancing around the camp, but sped his piercing blue gaze up and down Lacey and dismissed her. His eyes went cold, hard and unfriendly.

His dark beard looked about a week old, his hair black as pitch and long and shaggy about his ears. His voice sounded rough, as though he wasn’t used to talking much. He couldn’t be more than thirty, but there was a toughness about him that made him seem older. Wiser. The wariness in his eyes clearly said he distrusted the world. Although it was apparent he and Danger knew each other, it was more like they were friendly enemies, each wary of the other. His voice didn’t warm when he spoke.

“Lawman.” He nodded at Danger.

“Wild.”

“Got you a bit of trouble, have you? Heard shots last night, thought I’d investigate this morning. You have a friend keeping mighty close tabs on you?”

“Could be,” Danger replied. “You mind pointing the rifle in another direction?”

He lowered the rifle. “Could use a cup of java if you’d be of a mind to offer.”

“So could I. We don’t have any left.”

“No? Pity.” He glanced over his shoulder, frowned, then returned his cool gaze to Danger. “Your friend laid up there among the boulders a long time, the wet ground held his imprint. Patient sonofabitch, I’d say. He had the advantage of higher ground and able to watch you for miles. I found several empty casings up there.”

He held out his hand with a piece of paper folded over the casings. “Brought you a few of them. I didn’t touch them with my hands and I didn’t trample where he lay, picked the casings up with a twig.”

Danger unfolded the paper where three casings laid, all bright and shiny. He held one up and eyed the markings on the bottom. “Thirty-thirty. It’s a common enough gun in these parts, enough power to get the job done. Gonna be hard to trace to an owner.”

“I thought so. Makes a mighty big exit wound in a man, especially if he’s using hollow points. You wanna watch your back, Lawman. He’s watching yours. Long gone now, though, but I’d count on him coming back. ”

“I’ll do that, Wild. How far are we from the ranch?”

“Few days on horseback. Keep heading east. Let Jace know I’m still alive out here.”

“I will.”

“Cabin’s only a few hours away, if you wanna stop by. Door’s unlocked.” A twinkle flared in his eyes as he turned his gaze on Lacey. “Got plenty of coffee.” He turned his attention back on Danger. “I’ll be on my way. Think I’ll do a bit of hunting, see what I can jump up.”

“We’ll keep heading east. This is Lacey Weston. My deputy.”

“Deputy? Is that what you call it? Gotta be goin’, Lawman. Like I said, you got a hunter on your back.”

“Wild?’

“Yeah?” The man turned back, question in his sharp gaze.

“You heard any other gunshots out here lately?”

“How lately?”

“Two, three nights back?”

“Yep. Heard a woman scream, too, damned rain washed away the tracks. Had to beat it back to this side of the creek, you know?”

Danger nodded. “Thanks.”

“Anytime, Lawman. I live to serve.”

He left as quickly as he’d appeared.

Lacey blinked. “Wow. Is his name really Wild?”

Danger turned to face her. “What is it with you and names? Yep. His name is Wild, Wildorado to be exact. He’s Jace Remington’s younger brother, in fact, the baby of the bunch. He’s a recluse, doesn’t care much for people. And he’s dangerous, Lacey. I wouldn’t want to be on his bad side.”

“Why?”

“He isn’t in a real good mood.”

“I see. I hate to tell you this, but he sounded like he has a grudge against you.”

“He does.”

“Why?”

“He just got out of prison for manslaughter.”

“So why take it out on you?”

“I’m the one who arrested him.”

“And you don’t think he’s the one who fired those shots last night?”

“No. Isn’t his way to snipe hunt, he’d walk right into the camp and gut shoot me, leave me to die a slow, agonizing death. Besides, the sniper wasn’t taking potshots at me.” He stepped around her. “Forget breakfast. We need to make tracks. We’ll stop mid-morning and eat.”

Lacey saw the coldness settle on Danger’s face and knew he was back to raising walls between them. Hell, no. She wasn’t about to let him go back there. He refused to use a condom, he paid the price.

Emitting a low growl, Danger grasped her shoulders and jerked her closer. “Jesus, Princess, don’t look at me like that or we’ll be right back inside the tent. I’ll have you flat on your back and inside you so fast—and no dammit, I won’t be wearing one of your friends. Let’s get the hell outta here. Now!”

Lacey nodded, picked up the box of condoms he’d dropped back on the ground and studied them for a moment. A grin played on her mouth. Suddenly she drew back and flung the box in the woods. “No unnecessary baggage to slow us down.”

Danger swallowed hard. “Right. Let’s get the fuck outta here.”

Lacey shook her head. “Uh-uh. I’m not ready to leave yet.”

Danger’s eyes widened. “No?”

She shook her head slowly, backed him inside the tent, and zipped the flap. “This time, whadda ya say we take it slow and easy?”

“I can do slow and easy,” he said huskily, watching as she stripped off his shirt. “I can do slow and easy all day, if that’s what you want.”

“I know,” she breathed. “Come and get me.”

In The Arms Of Danger

Chapter Twenty-Two

There’s something about death that is comforting. The thought that you could die tomorrow frees you to appreciate your life now.

Angelina Jolie

Montana Backcountry Mon.1:00 p.m.

Lacey sighed.

And for pure orneriness, tightened her arms around Danger’s waist and snuggled against his back. She couldn’t count how many times he’d growled and moved her fingers away from the top button of his jeans.

The hot sex they’d shared only a couple of hours ago had done nothing to ease the tension between them. They’d managed to hit the trail about eleven, but she knew Danger had been reluctant to end their loving. He’d forced himself to leave the tent and saddle Diablo. He’d insisted they had to get moving, but neither of them had been ready to let go of the other.

Early afternoon, she knew he was in a foul mood because he hadn’t had his shot of caffeine. The lack of coffee turned him into a snarling beast or a more apt description, a silent one since he’d stopped talking three hours ago. Silence. Utter silence. It drove her crazy. She wanted action. Conversation.

“I think we should get married,” he blurted as if reading her mind.

Lacey nearly toppled off the horse. On second thought, forget the conversation.

“What? Why?” Talk about breaking the silence. He sure knew how to do it.

Danger reined Diablo to a stop, slid out of the saddle and helped her down. After tying all three animals to a tree, he turned to face her. “Why? I would think it would be obvious why we should marry.”

“Obvious or not, I’m not marrying just because we might have made a baby together.”

“Good, because that’s not why I think we should get married, either.”

“Then what?”

“You can’t keep your hands off me.”

She snorted.

“It’s true. You were dying to jump my bones from the very first.”

“In-your-dreams.”

“You wanted me all right. Still do. Admit it.”

Lacey clenched her fists. “You listen to me, Chief Smug-Smug Smart Ass, I did not, repeat, did not want to jump your bones from the get-go.”

He laughed. “I don’t remember a Chief Smug-Smug Smart Ass, but, oh, hell yeah, lady, you did. You wanted to jump my bones. You’re crazy about me. You can’t keep your hot, little hands away from my top button. Hell, I thought you were going straight for the gold several times.”

“You are so damned egotistical.”

“Sweetheart, that’s not ego talking and since it isn’t, and you tossed the condoms, it stands to reason you don’t give a good damn if I make you pregnant or not. You’re in love with me.”

“I am not!”

“Yeah, you are, so therefore, I don’t mind telling you when I’m not inside you, I feel incomplete, unsettled. Hell, I wanted to jump your bones too, from the getgo. I haven’t changed my mind just because I’ve had you a dozen or so times now. The wanting hasn’t come close to going away. I’m still just as hungry for you.”

Her mouth worked. Silence. She tried again. Swallowed hard. Silence.

He waited. Grinned. Waited. Grin slowly faded. “Well, what do you have to say to that, Miss Magnolia Blossom?”

“The killer wore a badge.”

“What?”

“The murderer wore a badge. He had long, dark hair, sort of like you, although there was something a little odd about his hair.”

“What? What was odd about it?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. It was dark, remember? I couldn’t see and everything happened so fast, but he sort of looked like you. I—I mean, he was tall, lean, his voice a bit hard like yours can get when you’re pissed.”

His mouth worked. Silence. His fingers clenched. Unclenched. He grabbed her by the shoulders, shook her. “Are you insane? What the fuck are you saying? Are you accusing me of killing the woman? I didn’t do it!”

“Of course I’m not accusing you. You idiot. I’m telling you I love you.”

His fingers slowly relaxed and he let go of her. “Okay. All right. At least we have that clear. You love me. Shit.”

He raked fingers through his hair.

Lacey stared at him. Blinked. Waited. Nothing.

She watched him pace, long-legged strides, back and forth. He chewed on a knuckle. Stopped. Eyed her, then went back to pacing. She felt itchy, like there was a knife shoved between her shoulder blades or she was in the cross-hairs of sniper’s scope.

What the hell was the matter?

She’d given up her last secret to the man and all he said was “shit” and paced.

Lacey plopped her hands on her hips. “Well, aren’t you going to tell me you love me?”

He stopped pacing and glared at her. “I already did.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yeah, I did, when I said I couldn’t stand not being inside you. Sweetheart, I would never have made love to you without protection if I wasn’t in love with you. I’m not in the habit of running such risks. In fact, I’ve never taken such a risk. You knew what I was going to do and we both knew exactly the risks. I don’t think either of us cared.”

“So, what are you telling me?”

He swung toward her. “I only have two deputies left, my brother-in-law and my brother.”

“Oh.” Chills raced down her spine. “That’s not good,” she said quietly.

“Worse,” he replied. “My brother is my twin.”

“Shit.”

“That’s what I said. Worse still, he was out there the night you heard the gunshots.”

“Oh, shit.”

Easing down on the ground, Danger raked trembling fingers through his hair as he rested his shoulders against a large boulder. The strangled curses Danger growled were explicit, vulgar, and didn’t help a bit. “Dammit, I know he isn’t a murderer.”

A man with a badge. A killer with a badge. A murderer who looked like him.

Jesus Christ. Knowing this, it was a wonder Lacey had ever allowed him to touch her. She must have been terrified of him in the beginning. No wonder she’d wanted to escape. The man strongly resembled him. Thoughtful, Danger chewed on his bottom lip.

God, what a mess.

What was he going to do?

Coe was like an extension of himself, his right arm. He couldn’t imagine his brother murdering anyone. Coe was a prankster. He loved life. He loved women. There was simply no way he’d believe his brother killed a woman.

Then there was his dead deputy. Throat cut, scalped, body mutilated. He didn’t for one minute believe Coe did that either and certainly there was no way his brother-in-law murdered his own brother.

Two crimes, only hours apart and a local woman missing.

Were they somehow connected? Acts committed by the same perp?

He didn’t have the answers, so where did that leave him? Accusing Lacey of lying or making a mistake? She seemed so sure. She might not have told him all the truth in the beginning, but there had been little doubt she had her facts all straight. Hell, she was a photographer. Images probably naturally snapped in her brain and remained there. She had to have seen something more. Something she saw that didn’t fit. And that something would clear Coe, their brother-in-law, as well as himself.

“Sweetheart, I want you to go over everything you saw. Think clearly. Try to recall every little detail.”

She sat down beside him. “You believe me?”

“I do. But I think there’s something you’ve blanked out. Something that wasn’t important to you, so you haven’t mentioned it to me. I need to know what that something is.”

Lacey had revealed something very dangerous to him, dangerous to his peace of mind. Exasperation for her taking so long to reveal everything she knew clouded his mind. It was hard to get his thoughts together.

How could he think straight when all he wanted was to be inside her? Was this hunger for her ever going to be sated? He didn’t think so. If he’d thought one night with her would be enough, then he was wrong. He would never have enough of her.

How could she have believed he was a murderer?

She’d witnessed a heinous crime. A crime she’d suspected him of committing. Christ. Now he had to unravel and dig past what she’d told him and find the one single hidden detail that would clear him and the others.

Frustration gnawed at him as he listened to her story. Same damned tale.

“Again. Tell me again. Take your time.”

“I am taking my time. You don’t believe me.”

“Yes, I do. Tell it to me, again.”

He glanced at the darkening sky. Damn. It was going to start raining again. They needed to get out of here. He watched her pace. She chewed on a knuckle. He grinned and wondered if she realized her actions were a mimic of his.

He couldn’t get his fill of looking at her. He slid his gaze over her flat belly and felt his heart speed up a bit at the thought of his child one day nestled there.

He snorted. One day my ass.

As many times as he’d came inside her, making Lacey pregnant was a pretty sure bet, especially since she told him it was her fertile time. He didn’t care if he’d made her pregnant.

When had she become so damned important to him?

Where had these powerful needs come from?

He, who’d shut everything and everybody from his life a long time ago, needed her. It wasn’t just sex anymore. True, he’d needed the release of his body inside hers, but he also honestly liked her. He delighted in her raging temper, her challenges, her knowledge of the Native American people and their history.

He adored the lush brightness of gold that sparkled in her eyes when she was angry or hot with desire for him. Loved the little giggles she gave when she believed she shouldn’t be laughing. The tiny mole at the corner of her top lip drove him crazy. It was so minuscule he’d bet she wasn’t even aware it existed, but he wanted to nibble on it, lick it.

His cock twitched. Damn it, there wasn’t a thing about her that didn’t turn him on. He even admired her courage and the crazy things she did at the damnedest times, like throwing his gun at the rattler.

Danger sighed, tiredness suddenly swamped him. He’d never felt so many confusing emotions in his life. But it all came back to the fact that a woman had been murdered by a man wearing a badge.

A man with a badge.

She never skipped that part of her story or the fact the man had long, black hair.

“When he turned toward me in the dark, I caught a flash of his teeth. They were pointy.”

Danger stilled. “What did you say?”

“You know, sort of like fangs.”

“Lacey, I think your imagination must have run a little wild. Are you saying the man is a vampire?”

Pagan chose that moment to leap off the boulder at his back and give a low growl.

“We need to move on.”

“Why?”

“Pagan isn’t happy here.”

Lacey eyed him, then the wolf. “So?”

“Listen, sweetheart. If the wolf isn’t happy, neither am I.”

Danger freed the horses and swung into the saddle. He leaned down, stretching his hand out to Lacey to help her onto Diablo.

Crack.

The obscene sound of gunfire exploded around them, shattering the quiet.

Lacey saw Danger’s jerk of pain, heard the fierce hiss that whistled through his tightly clenched teeth as he held onto her wrist, and practically dragged her up in front of him. She twisted in the saddle. “Oh God, Danger, you’re hit!”

His arm encircled her waist, and he pushed her low over Diablo’s neck. “Stay down,” he gritted.

Suddenly everything went crazy. Shots echoed around them. The pings of ricocheting bullets bounced off the boulders. Slivers of sharp rock peppered them stinging like shavings of hot metal. Diablo danced wildly beneath them. Danger tightened his arm around Lacey’s waist.

“Hold on,” he instructed, “or we’ll both be on the ground.”

Muffled oaths escaped Danger. He dug the heels of his moccasins into the stallion’s soft flanks. Lacey squeaked and grabbed hold of the saddle horn as Diablo bolted, and they sped across the rocky ground as fast as it was possible.

Danger leaned over her in a protective gesture as bullets whipped past their bowed figures. Panic gripped her. She locked her fingers in Diablo’s tangled mane and held on tight. She could feel the warmth of Danger’s blood, warm and wet on her back and sliding down her bare arm.

She had no idea how badly he was injured.

Fear hammered away at her. Her heart thundered in her chest as the wetness on her back spread. He was losing a lot of blood. Fast.

“We have to stop, Danger. You’ll bleed to death if we don’t.”

“We’ll die if we do,” he said through clenched teeth.

Miles went by in a blur. No words passed between them. Danger’s breathing grew more ragged by the minute. She didn’t know how much blood he’d lost, but she knew he couldn’t remain in the saddle much longer. He leaned heavily against her back.

“You’re losing too much blood,” she shouted back over her shoulder. “We have to stop and let me look at the wound, see if I can get the bleeding stopped.”

He didn’t bother acknowledging her words but maintained their reckless pace.

“Danger, we have to stop. You’ll bleed to death!”

“I’m okay. It’s stopped bleeding.”

“That’s not true! I can fe —”

“Can it, Lacey,” he snapped. “We aren’t stopping. I don’t know where he is, but he could be right behind us. I’m not risking your life.”

“I’m not worried about me right now.”

“We aren’t stopping.”

She nodded. But sometime soon they had to stop and let her bandage his wound.

Danger guided Diablo across rocky ground with a recklessness that sent chills down Lacey’s spine, but it was worse when they hit the sheer cliffs on the side of a mountain. She didn’t know how they’d come to this place. Vertical cliffs and boulders the size of a football field hampered their progress. At last, Danger pulled back on the reins and slowed their reckless pace to a walk.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

He’d changed direction when they’d hit the higher elevation. They were headed north instead of east. Lacey wasn’t sure if Danger was still thinking straight or not.

“Do you know where we’re going?”

Leaning a little heavier against Lacey, Danger tried breathing shallow, but the effort hurt as much as inhaling deeply. His chest burned, as if red-hot needles poked his flesh. Swearing, he tried desperately to ignore the sharp, jagged pain that ripped through his right shoulder and chest. Nausea bubbled inside his stomach like oily slime. It combined with the sudden bout of dizziness and nearly sent him toppling from the saddle.

Christ, he couldn’t breathe. He felt so tired. He didn’t think he’d ever felt so exhausted.

Lacey twisted around. “Do you know where we’re going?” she repeated. “Oh, my God, we have to stop. You’re so pale,” she blurted.

“Don’t move around.” He clenched his teeth against the white-hot pain punching his chest.

She looked horror-struck at the notion she’d caused him pain.

“North,” he rasped. “We’re going north. Better shelter there.”

Perspiration slid down his face in rivulets. His shirt clung to his skin wet with blood and sweat.

A frown creased her forehead as she reached out to him. “You can’t keep moving and losing blood. I need to put a bandage on the wound. Please?”

Concern filled him. She was worried about him, yet he couldn’t let her fret. He had to reassure her. “It’s not so bad, Lacey. We need to find shelter before the storm hits. I can’t pitch the tent, honey, and I don’t want us caught in the cold rain. We’ll stop when we find cover and I’ll let you bandage it then.”

“Where are we going?” she asked huskily.

Danger frowned. Her voice sounded strained. Confusion knit a line of worry across his brow. He was tired, so tired. His arm seemed as heavy as a boulder and damn, it hurt.

Why was she so upset?

He couldn’t gather his thoughts and make any kind of sense of them.

“Danger?”

Her voice grabbed at him, dragging him back from the fog that clouded his brain.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Where are we going?” she repeated.

“Cave, maybe. Look for a cave. There has to be one.”

She looked back at him with troubled eyes. “A cave?”

Worry speared a dark path through her mind. He must be worse than he’d led her to believe because he wasn’t making sense. He leaned heavily against her back as if he didn’t have the strength to hold himself upright any longer. “I think we should stop and take our chances with the weather.”

“No.”

“Danger, please, if you bleed to death, you won’t do anyone any good. Please. Let’s stop for a few minutes.”

“No,” he replied weakly. “We have to find shelter and quickly. The weather’s changing for the worst. The temperature’s going to drop quickly. It might even start snowing this high up. If I get off this damn horse, I’ll never get back on it.”

“All right,” she said shakily terror striking her heart at the thought he believed he was too weak to get back on Diablo if he got off him. “Let’s find a cave.”

Another thirty minutes passed before she spotted what she thought might be the opening to a cave. A black hole gaped at them from a rise straight up some eighty yards, a mouth on the steep side of the mountain. An old trail scaled up to the cave, a surprisingly well-worn path, perhaps used by hunters when the weather changed unexpectedly. It was rocky, but doable.

Danger no longer tried to hold his head up or stay alert. She heard his labored breaths and terror whipped inside her as sharp and cold as the biting weather that approached.

As she nudged the stallion up the steep incline, she felt Danger start to slide. “No! Stay awake. Hold on to me. Hold on!”

“Try—ing.” His words sounded sluggish.

“You are not going to die on me, dammit. Your son needs a father.”

“Son?”

She felt his faint grin against her neck.

“Yes. Or daughter.”

“Son,” he whispered. “You’ll give me a son.”

And he slumped heavily against her, a sudden dead weight against her back.

A chill raced through her blood. Tears scalded her cheeks.

Don’t die. Don’t die. Please God, don’t let him die.

In The Arms Of Danger

Chapter Twenty-Three

Don’t go in if you don’t know the way out.

Cowboy Quotes

Montana Backcountry Mon. 3:00 p.m.

Lacey slid out of the saddle, touched ground with the toe of her boots and grunted. She didn’t think she’d ever felt so exhausted or her nerves so stretched to the breaking point, not even when she’d been running for her life.

She knew Danger was in a bad way. She had to get him inside the cave, build a fire and somehow convince him to let her take care of him. She led Diablo and the pack horses the last few feet to the entrance of the cave, then guided them inside.

The deeper into the cave they went, the darker it became, until there was barely even a hint of light reaching them from the mouth of the cave.

Lacey caught her breath at the rank smell of something rotting deeper in the bowels of the grotto and hoped whatever animal had stored food in there didn’t decide to return and claim it.

The cavern twisted off to the right and left in a ‘Y’ formation. She decided not to go any further but remain where they were. They were far enough back to stay warm and close enough to the entrance to hear anyone approaching. There were plenty of dried leaves and twigs on the ground to build a small fire. She could boil water and heat soup. It would have to do for now.

The ceiling was bumpy with jagged, uneven ridges, but high enough for them to stand upright without fear of injuring themselves. Lacey scrutinized Danger. He clung to the saddle horn like a man clinging to the edge of a cliff. His chest labored with shallow, ragged bursts as he fought to draw in air. She didn’t think he was going to remain on the back of Diablo much longer.

Hurry. Her mind silently screamed the warning. Quickly, she grabbed the rolled sleeping bag from one of the packhorses and spread it on the dirt floor. Lacey looked around the cave, swallowed hard and felt her insides quiver. Terror pinched every nerve in her body. She had to get him off the horse.

The man weighed a ton. Just struggling to get him off Diablo was a monumental task. She grunted under the impact of his weight as he slid free of the saddle and leaned heavily against her. She staggered beneath him as she guided him to the sleeping bag and got him settled on it. His teeth clicked together and she knew he was hanging on to consciousness by a thread.

“Fire—so cold.”

“All right. I’ll get a fire going.” She tugged the sleeping bag over his shoulders. “Don’t move.”

“Sweetheart, cou—couldn’t mo—move if I wan—wanted to.”

Clearly, he’d gone as far as he could. It was up to her to get him through what was ahead of them.

Lacey had a small fire blazing in seconds. She filled a pot with water and set it on to heat. Next, she fished out the First Aid kit she’d seen stuffed in one of the saddlebags and flipped open the lid. Not a lot in it, but there were some sterile packages of gauze dressings, tape, a new tube of antibiotic cream, scissors, a suture kit and a small bottle of peroxide. It would have to do.

Her finger’s shook as she pushed back the cover from Danger’s torso and helped him out of his shirt.

“Always stri—stripping me.” He gave her a faint grin.

“And I always will every chance I get. Don’t talk.”

“Bo—bossy.”

Lacey tore one his shirts in strips and used another to wash the blood off his chest. She quickly folded one of the strips into a pad and pressed it against the wound on his chest. A stricken look flashed across her face as blood immediately seeped through. Her eyes lifted to his, wide with distress.

“Bad?” he asked roughly.

Her eyes welled with tears. “Oh, Danger.”

His gaze locked with hers. “You have to remove the bullet.”

“No.” Digging out a bullet she knew was deep in the muscle, no way. What if she caused him further injury? If he passed out, she wouldn’t know if she was hurting him or not, causing him more injury or not.

What if she killed him digging around for a bullet?

“I can’t dig a bullet out of you.”

“Yes—you can. You said—you did it—before.”

“From a shoulder and the bullet wasn’t deep. A chest is a lot different. It has,” she shrugged, “maybe a network of arteries or something I could cut that would kill you. I can’t take a bullet out of your chest. No. Don’t ask me to do that. I can’t.”

“Listen to—me, Lacey, you—have to. If you don’t, I’ll keep—bleed—fever, we won’t be able to ‘scape. Slow—you down.”

She wanted to refuse, wanted to scream she couldn’t do it, but he was so pale. His speech was garbled and he was growing weaker by the minute. The makeshift bandage she’d pressed against his wound was already soaked with his blood. She saw him look around, a puzzled look on his face. He blinked. “Whe—where are— we?”

“A cave.”

“Cave? Why—cave?”

Lacey stared at him overwhelmed by the sudden feeling of total helplessness and terror. He’d been the one who insisted on locating a cave. Not only was he becoming weaker, but he was growing disoriented from blood loss. The only good thing about the situation was the fact the bullet hadn’t passed through him. There was only the entrance wound to deal with, and she thanked God for small favors, for the exit wound would have been larger, more traumatic to his body.

Motionless, Lacey chewed on her bottom lip.

“Lacey—”

“All right. I’m thinking.”

She rubbed her forehead. A knife. She’d need a knife to dig out the bullet. More hot water. More bandages, clean ones. Oh God, nothing was sterile except for a few gauze bandages. Infection might set up in the wound. He could die and she would be to blame. Nausea ripped through her belly. She clenched her teeth. She was going to hurl.

“Lacey?”

She looked up at the calmness in his voice.

“I trust you.”

He trusted her? Was he crazy?

She’d practically accused him of murder. She, who’d held him at gunpoint, stuffed his clothes in the toilet, let his Jeep float away, shot in the air when a cougar was about to attack him, thrown the gun at the rattler and then she’d destroyed Danger’s chances for a cup of coffee.

She fought against breaking down and bawling.

How could he trust her? She sniffed and dabbed her eyes with her shirttail. “I’m sorry I threw your coffee at you—”

“Lacey—”

“I’m so sorry.” Her voice broke and tears spilled down her face. “I know you love coffee. You’re a caffeine addict. I shouldn’t have thrown the baggie at you—”

“Lacey—”

“I—I forgot I’d unzipped the damned thing. It was mean of me to throw it at you. Honestly, I’m not a mean-hearted person. It all spilled out. You should hate me but I swear I’m sorry. I—”

“Lacey—”

“What?”

“I love you. I’ll live—without coffee, but I really—need you—to take the— bullet outta me.”

“You love me?” She sniffed pitifully. “How can you love me when I’m so mean?”

“Sweetheart, there isn’t—a mean bone—in your body. Re—member? You set mice free.”

Lacey swiped the tears from her face. “That’s beside the point.”

“You have to do it, little cat. Need—your help.”

She sniffed. “Don’t even think about dying. No matter how much I hurt you digging around for that damnable bullet, you don’t die.”

“Won’t die. Promise. Knife—in bag. Filet knife.”

Filet knife? Oh, hell, no.

She’d run the sharp tip through him like a sword point. She’d puncture a lung. If her hand slipped, she’d jab out his eye or slice off his ear. She imagined all sorts of horrible things happening. If it slipped, she might even stab his jugular.

“Do—it.”

Lacey’s heart hammered so hard she thought it would explode any minute. Her chest ached and her throat felt as dry as sand. Taking a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders and prepared everything she’d need. She fished out tape and what sterile gauze pads there were in the First Aid and folded strips of a second shirt into pads. She laid everything out on top of a blanket within easy reach, as meticulous as a surgeon.

“Lacey.”

“I know, I know, give me a minute.”

She inhaled deeply, removed the folded pad from his chest and swallowed hard. She didn’t know how she kept her hand steady as she brought the tip of the knife to the bullet hole. Probing for the bullet was more difficult than she expected. Blood flowed freely over her fingers making her grip on the knife handle slip.

Danger gave a low grunt of pain. Lacey bit her tongue to keep from crying aloud at the pain she knew she caused him.

Oh, God. Oh, God.

She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t.

The knife tip scraped across the bullet.

“Christ,” Danger groaned.

She probed, swiped at tears with the back of her hand, worked the tip of the blade beneath the bullet and pushed upward. The bullet refused to budge. The tip of the knife wobbled, too fragile to use for leverage. It wasn’t going to work. She removed the knife.

“Get it?” He sounded exhausted.

“No.”

“I have to use my fingers. The knife’s too weak at the tip. I’m afraid it will snap off.”

Danger nodded. “Do it.”

Lacey bit her lip and eased a fingertip inside the bullet hole. Ah God, she knew she was going to hurl sure as God created little harps for angels. She worked her finger beneath the bullet and felt it move. She pushed upward, knew it slid through torn muscle.

Danger moaned louder. “Jesus.”

His body trembled. Stricken, she knew the exact moment he passed out. Hot tears scalded her eyes. She ignored them. She saw the tip of the bullet, worked her finger harder under it and pushed it out the rest of the way.

Lacey wept silently as she cleansed the wound the best she could and taped a bandage over it.

Don’t die. Please, don’t die.

Minutes passed. Then hours.

She unsaddled Diablo, shared one of the canteens of water with the horses and opened a can of vegetable soup she found in the bottom of a cloth sack Danger had tied to one of the packhorses.

She waited for him to wake up, but he wasn’t showing any signs of coming to. She wondered if she’d done some kind of internal injury to him, something that could cost him his life.

Boom.

Lacey stifled a squeak, but couldn’t stop herself from jumping at the loud crash of thunder. She heard the hammering of rain hitting the ground. Cold air and a bone aching dampness bombarded the cave entrance. Goosebumps rose on her flesh. She added more leaves to the fire and thick twigs to keep it going. She made sure Danger was warm.

Time crawled by. She paced, added twigs. Checked on Danger. Paced some more.

“No. Don’t go!”

Lacey whipped around at Danger’s words. She rushed over to him. His face was dry and flushed. She touched his forehead. God, he was burning up. His sudden fever caught her by surprise.

He locked his fingers around her wrist, dragged her closer. She knew from the feverish glaze heating his eyes he didn’t recognize her.

“You can’t go away again.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” When she tried to get free, he tightened his grip. “There’s another man, isn’t there? You’re leaving us, leaving Dad for another man.” He shoved her away. “I never want to see you again. This time when you go, don’t come back. You’ve hurt us all enough.”

Lacey swallowed hard and rubbed her wrists where he’d held them so tight. His wild rambling scared her. He thrashed about on the sleeping bag, restless.

The hard chills that ravaged his body scared her worse. One minute he was burning up, the next his body shook so hard with cold, she was afraid he’d injure himself and all the while he pleaded for his mother not to go away.

She poked two aspirin down him with sips of water, but still his fever returned and climbed. Shadows crept inside the cave. Night closed in. She cradled the rifle in her hands and eased down beside Danger on the sleeping bag.

The tiny fire was the only light she had and she knew she dared not make it any bigger. They were warm. Safe.

But a killer waited to make his next move.

And she was all that stood between him and the man she loved.

In The Arms Of Danger

Chapter Twenty-Four

Fate is not quite as strange as it appears.

Sayings and Quotes

Montana Backcountry Mon. 11:00 p.m.

Lacey jerked awake. Her hearted pounded.

The fire had nearly gone out.

She hadn’t meant to fall asleep. She looked around, angry at herself for giving

into the heaviness of her eyes and pure exhaustion.

How could she be so careless?

What had awakened her?

A slight snuffling sound outside the cave sent chills down her spine. What if the murderer had found them?

What if this was the cougar’s den and the animal wanted to reclaim her

home?

The soft clamor grew louder. Lacey whipped around as the horses nickered and pawed the ground in agitation.

“It’s all right,” she called softly and hurried over to the horses. She patted Diablo, talked soothingly in the stallion’s ears. “Sssh. It’s okay. What is it boy? Whadda ya hear?”

Snuffling again.

Lacey grabbed the rifle from where she’d propped it against the stone wall. Her hands shook as she leveled the business end of the gun toward the front of the cave and waited for what seemed like eons.

Nothing. No sign of animal or man, just that strange, cough-like grunt.

She released a long, shaky breath and lowered the rifle. The sudden quiet was as unbearable and nerve racking as the unexplained racket had been. The muscles in the back of her neck eased. She cast a worried glance at Danger and felt her stomach clench. He hadn’t stirred in hours. That scared her more than his ragged breaths and feverish ramblings.

He was always so alert to his surroundings and he hadn’t responded at all to the disturbance of the horses or the noise outside the cave. To see him felled like this tore at her. She couldn’t bear to think of him dying but knew it was a real possibility with no antibiotics.

His complexion looked dull and dry as a withered husk. An unhealthy rosiness stained his cheeks. Lacey felt his forehead with the back of her hand, jerked back. Dear God, he was hotter than before.

Quickly, she removed the bandage and swallowed hard at the sight of the redness and swelling around the wound. Thick, yellow pus oozed from the site. She hadn’t expected infection to set in so fast, but under the conditions she’d had to remove the bullet and with the dirt and bits of material she’d dug out of the wound earlier, signs of infection was bound to appear.

He needed antibiotics. He needed a doctor. She was all he had.

Lacey cleansed the site, pressed on the wound and watched in dismay as bits of material she’d missed oozed from the site. She poured some of the peroxide directly onto the wound. Tiny pieces of material slid out again in the bubbling liquid. She cleansed the wound and applied a fresh dressing and prayed all the scraps had been removed.

Danger didn’t stir or flinch through the entire procedure but she thought his breathing sounded less ragged.

Frantic, Lacey soaked one of his shirts and sponged his face and body.

He stirred and opened his eyes. The gray orbs were unnaturally glassy. He sat straight up, stared at the cave walls. “We need to get outta here.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t know, Coe. Dad will skin us alive if he catches us drinking his home brew. We gotta go.”

Lacey blinked. “It’s okay,” she soothed suddenly realizing he was delirious.

“Why’d she leave us, Dad? What did I do to make her go away?” He moaned, his body shaking with the fever. “Doesn’t she love me? Why doesn’t she love me?”

Lacey swallowed hard, tried to press him back onto the sleeping bag. “Sssh, it’s all right, Danger. It’s all right. She’ll come back.”

“No, Anna. She’ll never come back. ” He tore free of Lacey’s grasp. “She left us alone. Alone. We have no one, just Grandma and Papa Joe and they’re old.”

Lacey listened to him ramble on and on and in his ramblings learned the sad uncertainty of his childhood. How his mother had constantly deserted her children, his father hiding his pain with alcohol.

His grandparents had been the only stability in his life. Lacey had a suspicion Danger had been the stability for his brother and sister.

Danger moved restlessly, kicking off the cover. “Water,” he croaked. “Please.”

Lacey grabbed the canteen and pressed it to his mouth, then watched in consternation as the water dribbled down his chin and throat. Stricken, she soaked another shirt and pressed it to his mouth, gently squeezing drops of water past his dry lips.

The small amount of liquid seemed to satisfy him and he fell back and closed his eyes. Lacey took the opportunity to stoke the fire and take care of her personal needs.

She sat down beside him and with rifle in hand, prepared to guard him through out the remainder of the long night ahead.

In The Arms Of Danger

Chapter Twenty-Five

The best way out of a difficulty is through it.

Will Rogers

Montana Backcountry Tues.6:00 a.m.

The first fingers of light crept across the floor of the cave to illuminate the stone walls. Lacey gave a long sigh of relief and rose to check on Danger. She placed her hand on his brow and found his temperature normal. His chest rose and fell in long swells, the raspy sound that had frightened her through the night replaced with gentle snores.

She’d spent most of the night sponge bathing him to keep him cool. She didn’t know which was worse; the raging fever that weakened him or the hard chills that tore at his body causing him to shake like a man with malaria.

The chills had struck intermittently while she’d bathed him. One minute he was burning up, the next his body covered with goose bumps. She’d ended up crawling inside the sleeping bag with him and pulling him close to her body. It had taken nearly an hour to get him warm, then the fever returned. Exhausted, she felt as if she’d been in a battle.

She wrinkled her nose at the stench emitting from one of the pathways that led deeper into the mountainside. The odor seemed stronger in the fresh morning air. God, whatever was stored back there had to be in poor shape.

The horses neighed, the high-pitched sound jarring. Rearing up, Diablo yanked at his tether. He pawed the ground, wild-eyed. Lacey leapt to her feet, her attention on the animals.

What disturbed them this morning?

Then she heard it, the same snuffling, rustling sound she’d heard the night before. Lacey whipped around and faced the entrance. An ominous shadow filled the opening of the cave, blocking out what little light there was. She stared at the dark form silhouetted against the dim lighting.

OhmiGod.

A bear!

She blinked. Holy, hell. It was a bear all right, a damned big one that weighed at least six hundred and fifty pounds. It wasn’t just any bear, but a mean-ass grizzly with rows of knife-like teeth and black, beady eyes. Deadly claws, long and razor sharp, jutted from the end of its furry paws.

Oh joy, the perfect killing machine and she stood between it and its food. The damnable stench from somewhere deeper in the cave had to be the bear’s cache of chow. Obviously, it was meal time.

Her mind whirled. Her heart pounded. She couldn’t move or breathe.

Definitely a grizzly and here to make her life miserable, probably not long out of hibernation, and like the rattler, hungry as hell. She bet she looked like a delicious, digestible snack.

Lacey snatched up the rifle. By God, the last thing she wanted to become was bear shit in the woods. Cautiously and slowly, she backed up a step. The bear reared up on its two hind legs. Oh boy. The thing towered over her, a gigantic monster with the power to rip her to shreds. She jumped as it let out a loud roar, dropped on all fours and charged toward her.

Oh, crap. Was that saliva dripping from its mouth, like—I’m hungry and you’re-a-juicy-looking-steak, mouth-watering saliva?

Behind her, the horses pawed the ground furiously and neighed wildly. She glanced at Danger.

Dear God, what was she going to do?

Smokey blocked any thought of escape. The animal halted its lethal charge and sniffed the air.

Lacey leveled the rifle, finger tight on the trigger.

“No, don’t shoot. Don’t shoot, Lacey!”

The shot echoed through the cave, the bullet pinging off the cave wall. She’d missed the mark by a good two feet. The bear roared and lurched forward.

Lacey looked toward Danger, startled he was awake and had yelled at her. He rose unsteadily to his feet and yanked the rifle from her hands.

“Free the horses. Now!” he shouted, supporting himself against the rough surface of the rock wall as she hurried to free the animals. The horses reared up, their hoofs pawing the air uselessly before they dropped back to their feet and raced toward the bear. Diablo and one of the packhorses made it past the bear, one didn’t. The one lagging behind stumbled and the bear attacked it in a furious blur. Claws slashed and ripped. Teeth snapped and bit. The packhorse went down beneath the bear’s weight kicking and squealing, eyes rolling with terror.

Danger grabbed Lacey’s arm. “Come on. We have to move.”

Lacey followed Danger down the narrow passage to their right. Pitch black closed around them, leaving them little choice but to feel their way along. The stench of the rotting animal grew stronger.

Lacey’s stomach roiled. “I think the bear hides his food back here. Can’t it follow us?”

“No, the path is too narrow. This end of the cave must belong to some other animal, a much smaller one. Why is it,” Danger asked, breathing hard. “The one time I tell you not to shoot, you shoot? How many times have I told you to shoot something and you didn’t do it? If you’d wounded the bear, he would have made mincemeat out of us.”

“I was already squeezing the trigger when you yelled not to shoot. I jumped when you shouted at me. I didn’t mean to shoot at it. I think the poor thing was just frightened.”

“Uh-huh. It was downright shaking it was so scared.”

“No need to be nasty.”

Lacey skidded to a stop behind Danger as he came to an abrupt standstill. They’d rounded a blind corner and were now in a huge, well lit chamber. Lacey looked around in disbelief. “Oh, shit!”

“Worse than shit,” Danger mumbled. “We gotta get outta here, Lace. Jesus, we’ve stumbled on to a serial killer’s lair.”

Lacey pressed her hand across her mouth to keep from retching. The macabre, grotesque scene was like something from a nightmare or a horror film and except by the Grace of God, she’d be one of those women in one of those chairs.

Danger stepped up beside her and put his arm around her. “Don’t look, baby.”

Lacey sank into the warmth, pressed her face into his broad chest and inhaled his scent, blocking out, however briefly the carnage around them. Danger grounded her, making the insane, impossible situation more bearable. She saw him wipe the sweat over his lip and knew he was just as moved and sickened by this awful sight as she.

“You okay?” he asked huskily.

She nodded and let go of him. “Yes, it’s just so—so—”

He squeezed her arm. “Yes, it is.”

Lacey turned her attention back to her surroundings. In the middle of the chamber, a big, round stone served as a dining table. There was a complete serving of dishes and cutlery set on the stone along with place mats and napkins. A fancy candelabra set in the center with black candles coated with strings of melted wax. A silver bucket with a bottle of wine set on one end. Wine glasses sparkled and waited to be filled. It was a scene right out of a horror movie.

Chairs of different sizes and styles ringed the stone table, six in all. Lacey swallowed hard, unable to take her gaze from the bodies that filled those six chairs. Four empty chairs waited to be filled.

The bodies were everyone female and in different stages of decomposition.

Lacey couldn’t pull her gaze away from the scene. “That’s her! On the end, the woman I saw murdered. I can’t believe it. It’s her!”

Danger braced himself against the wall. Perspiration dripped off his chin. His hair hung in damp strands and his lungs chugged. He swayed unsteadily. “I know. I realized it must be her. Her body is the most recent one.”

“You recognize her?”

“Yes. I’m pretty sure she’s the waitress whose been missing from Rimrock for a couple of weeks, but all of them will have to be identified and autopsied by the medical examiner to be certain who they are and cause of death.”

Danger let go of Lacey and moved carefully around the table. He held an arm across his nose and made a point of not touching anything. He eyed each item carefully.

Lacey flinched when he finally picked something up from a plate and eyed it. “What is it?” She couldn’t bring herself to move closer to the bodies. “What did you find?”

“Driver’s license. Every plate has a driver’s license on it. I’m assuming it belongs to the victim in front of the setting, but it’s impossible to be sure.”

“How did he get them to remain upright?”

“They’re tied to the chair.”

“You recognize any of the names?”

“Yep.” He grimaced. “I’ve been staring at their posters on my bulletin board for months.”

“You mean those five missing women I saw pictures of in your office?”

“That would be the ones. Oh, Jesus Christ.”

“What?” Lacey craned her neck, but had no idea what had upset him at this point.

“Aw, shit.”

“What?” Lacey saw the horror on Danger’s face, saw him hesitate about answering her. “Tell me,” she said.

“Some of these women are in obvious stages of pregnancy.” He inhaled deeply, slowly exhaled. “They’re naked from the waist up and have bite marks on their breasts. Uh, shit, their nipples have been severed or bitten off. I’m not sure which, but I’m betting it’s safe to assume they were bitten off.”

“Jesus, that is sick.”

“Yeah. This is way over my head. Hell, I’m just a small town sheriff. I need the FBI. I’m sure they’ll want a profile on the perp. No wonder he wanted to shut you up so badly. We have to get help, Lace before he comes after us again.”

“I think Smokey must have messed up his plans.”

“Smokey?”

“The bear?”

“Ah.”

Danger leaned closer to the table. “Uh, good God. I think I found your camera.”

He held up a brand new camera with a busted lens. “Is this familiar?”

Lacey nodded. “That’s mine. Check the film.”

“Uh-uh. It’s gone.” He set the camera back on the table where he’d gotten it. “It will have to stay here. I don’t want to take anything until a crime scene unit has been here.”

Lacey swore beneath her breath. “The bastard took my roll of film.”

“Yeah. Let’s see if we can find a back door outta here, sweetheart. There has to be one. Most animals have an escape route.”

Danger stumbled as he headed toward her. Lacey jumped and grabbed him by the arm. “As gruesome as this is in here, I don’t think you’re in any shape to walk. The horses are lost—”

“I’ll be fine, Lace.”

“You need to rest.” Lacey touched his arm. “You lost a lot of blood. You shouldn’t be moving around.”

“I have to get you to safety. It isn’t me he’s after, sweetheart, although he’ll have to go through me to get to you.” He squeezed her hand lightly. “Let’s go back this way. I think I saw a path that might wind up, hopefully outta here.”

Lacey sighed and gave in to his tugging on her arm. Unless something happened soon to change their luck, they were going to be setting ducks when they left the cave. With Danger barely able to stand and walk, she could only pray help arrived in some form or the other...soon.

In The Arms Of Danger

Chapter Twenty-Six

Timing has a lot to do with the outcome of a rain dance.

Cowboy Quotes

Montana Backcountry Tues. 8:00 a.m.

They were little more than an hour’s slog from the cave when Danger collapsed exhausted at her feet. Fresh blood oozed from the wound in his chest.

“Go on. You need to go on and get as far away from here as you can.” His eyes fluttered shut.

She shook her head at his whispered words as she knelt to staunch the bleeding. “I’m not leaving you, you hard-headed excuse for a man!” Tears blurred her eyesight. She blinked them away. “I told you, you’re in no shape to walk out. But you wouldn’t listen. Now look what you’ve done! God save me from macho males. If your stiff upper lip gets any stiffer you’d be dead.” His blood was warm and sticky on her fingers. “God, I could kill you myself.”

Above her head, someone racked a cartridge into the chamber of a rifle.

Lacey grabbed her rifle off the ground and swung it around, leveled on the intruder. She did a double take. Jesus. The man astride the horse stared back at her with Danger’s piercing gray eyes. His lips were tight, his finger on the trigger of the rifle he held.

Seeing Danger’s twin for the first time knocked the breath from her lungs. She glanced down at Danger, then back to his identical twin. It wasn’t fair. No woman should have to deal with double dangers.

“What have you done to my brother?”

“Nothing! He passed out. The least you can do is get off the damned horse and help me.”

“I swear if you’ve hurt him in anyway, you’ll regret the day you were born.” Danger’s brother slid off his horse and took a step closer. “Drop the rifle,” he ordered.

“Drop yours.”

Coe hesitated. Damn, his brother had found his tiger all right, and from the fierce glow in her eyes, and the way she held the rifle aimed on him, she’d shoot him to protect his twin.

“Okay, the name’s Coe. I’ll lower my gun, just don’t shoot me. I’m here to help.”

“You found Danger’s horse.”

“Actually, Diablo found me. He nearly ran right over me. What scared him so bad?” Coe let go of the reins of the four horses.

“Bear, seems it didn’t like sharing its home.”

“What happened to my brother?”

The woman hadn’t lowered her rifle. Instead, she stood up and backed away, giving him room to check Danger.

“He was shot yesterday.”

Coe cut his eyes at her.

“I didn’t shoot him, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I didn’t shoot him, either,” Coe replied, “so stop pointing the gun at me. I don’t like it.”

He drew his revolver from his holster, a weapon the woman had overlooked, and fired three times in the air.

“What are you doing?” Lacey yelped. “You’ll bring the murderer down on us.” As an after thought, “and drop the gun. Don’t even think about placing it back in the holster. Drop it on the ground.”

Coe grinned. By damn, Danger had him a feisty one here. No wonder he’d gone after her. She was perfect, for his brother. Danger needed someone. His brother had spent his life looking after him and Anna Leigh and their grandparents. In his opinion, it was way past time Danger found some happiness for himself.

“Jace Remington and his brother Duel are just over the next rise with a search party. They have a Jeep. We need to get Danger into town, to Doc Snelling.”

A million thoughts filtered through Lacey’s mind. Tears filled her eyes, blurring her vision. Danger’s harsh breathing rasped loudly. Would help be too late?

Then there was no more time for thoughts. A red Jeep lumbered over the rise and straight toward them.

“Thank you,” she said and lowered the rifle to her side.

Coe winked. “You bet. I love him, too. We all do. He’s—well, he’s always been there for us.”

“I know.”

Coe looked at her, surprise on his face. “Yes, I imagine you do.”

A man, his face tanned to the shade of leather, halted the Jeep a few feet away and strode toward her.

“Who are you, lady” he asked suspiciously. “What’s going on?”

He hadn’t seemed to notice Danger on the ground at her feet, but kept a wary eye on her and the rifle in her hands. Then his attention focused on the blood staining her shirt. “You hurt, lady? What have you done to Danger?”

“Jace, is something wrong?”

Lacey’s eyes widened. Ohmigod! She knew this man, the brother to the big rancher. He was the agent who’d saved her life in Africa. What was he doing on a ranch in Nowhere, Montana?

His steps faltered as he recognized her at the same instant. The surprise in his bottle-green gaze turned quickly to one of silent warning. He gave a slight negative shake of his head, telling her without words not to betray his secret. “I’m Duel Remington,” he said. “And this big brute is my older brother, Jace. Pay him no mind. He tends to stay in a mean mood most of the time.”

Diablo shied back, snorting and tossing his head in disapproval as Duel grabbed the reins. “I’ll ride Diablo back to the ranch,” he said. He eyed the wolf. “Pagan can make his own way back.”

Once Duel left with the horses, Coe turned to Jace. “Christ, Jace. We need to get Danger out of here.”

“Be careful with him,” Lacey instructed the men as they lifted Danger off the ground and headed toward the Jeep. “He’s lost a lot of blood.”

Lacey hopped in the Jeep, and gasped as Danger’s limp body started to slide to one side. She watched in horrified fascination, unable to stop his slow sideways descent.

“I’ve got him.” Coe gripped Danger with firm hands, then pressed him closer to Lacey.

“Jesus —” His silver gaze locked with Lacey’s. “What happened?”

“He’s been shot.”

“Christ, woman, I can see that.”

Lacey’s eyes widened. “You sound so much like Danger.”

Coe hopped in the Jeep beside Danger. “Take him to Papa Joe’s ranch.”

“No, he needs a doctor,” Lacey said.

Coe turned his steely gaze on her. “Danger would want Papa Joe to take care of him.”

“Then I’m going to the ranch, too.”

“I wouldn’t advise it. Papa Joe can be rude, especially to little Anglo gals with spit in their eyes. He won’t make you welcome or speak to you.”

“He’ll talk to me, all right.” She folded her arms across her breasts.

“How do you figure that?”

“I speak Pygmy.”

Coe’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “Do tell?”

He patted Lacey’s shoulder and grinned.

For the first time, Lacey relaxed. She hadn’t been sure if she trusted Coe or not, but he’d brought help and he seemed genuinely concerned about Danger. But maybe it was all an act. He could hardly kill her and Danger with the Remington brothers so near.

The trip seemed to take forever. Lacey swore Jace hit every chug hole and big rock along the way, but she knew he drove carefully. The terrain wasn’t the smoothest. When they finally screeched to a halt at the old ranch, Jace climbed out of the Jeep and reached for Danger. Coe stepped back out of the way as Jace lifted Danger in his arms and carried him toward the house.

“Don’t hurt him,” Lacey cried when she heard Danger’s soft groan.

Jace’s dark gaze locked with hers, and she saw a world of worry rode the shadowy depths. “I won’t,” he said in a guttural voice. “Danger’s been my best friend since we were boys. I’d like to kill the sonofabitch who did this to him.”

For some odd reason, Lacey found comfort in his words.

“Me too,” she replied and looked up in time to see Jace’s lips twitch.

“I wonder if Danger realizes what a blood thirsty little tiger he has?”

“I know,” Danger grunted.

Lacey gasped and saw that Danger’s eyes were opened. His face was lined with pain, but his eyes were clear. He reached for her hand. “I know,” he said again. “For Christ’s sake Jace, put me down. I can walk.”

“Really?” Jace lowered Danger to his feet and let go.

Danger hit the ground like a downed buffalo.

“You let him fall!” Lacey accused squatting beside Danger. “How could you do that to him?”

She heard Danger’s faint laugh.

“He’d have done the same to me just to prove his point,” Jace said.

“Sure would,” Danger grunted. “Your turn’s coming.”

“You’re both nuts.”

“Yes ma’am,” both men said together.

Jace helped Danger to his feet. “I know you want to prove you’re big and strong for your lady, but hell man, lean on me. You know you’re a candy ass when it comes to getting shot.”

Danger snickered. “Candy ass, my ass.” Then Danger frowned. “Get me inside to a phone. I have to contact the FBI. You have a major problem, Jace. There’s a serial killer camped on your land.”

In The Arms Of Danger

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“In an eagle there is all the wisdom of the world.”

Lame Deer, Minnicoujou

Blackstone Ranch Tues. 11:00 a.m.

Papa Joe stood at his back door and watched while his grandson was assisted up off the ground. The sound of laughter from the three in his back yard eased his mind somewhat. His grandson would live.

He slid his gaze to the Anglo woman and watched her place her pale, skinny arms around Danger’s waist so he could lean on her. She touched him with tenderness, wiped the sweat off his brow and upper lip and the look on her face said she’d kill anyone who meant him harm.

Ah, this was a good thing.

“So, the white tiger with the gold eyes has finally made her appearance,”

Shalene stated from his side.

“Indeed.”

“She doesn’t look so mean.”

The old man turned to her. “She is Anglo.”

“Ah, so we don’t speak to her.”

“She would die for him and him for her. This one, we will have to let dwell in

our hearts.”

“So, her claws are sharp?”

A roguish twinkle lit the old man’s eyes. “Sharp enough to keep our grandson

satisfied, just as you have always done for me.”

Shalene slapped him on the arm. “You feeling frisky, Papa?”

“Perhaps later.”

Shalene smiled. “Don’t wait too long, Papa. We grow older by the minute.”

She turned her gaze on her grandson. “He’s so pale.”

“He will be fine. He would not dare pass into the Spirit World while I care for

him.”

“She is too skinny, Papa.”

Again a roguish twinkle lit his eyes. “She is tougher than she looks, and she

won’t be skinny for long. Already our grandson has been busy. The Anglo

nurtures our great grandchild.”

“Boy or girl?”

He flashed Shalene a look filled with disbelief. “Boy, of course. Danger knows

his duty. He’s done a fine job with her.”

“He didn’t do it by himself, Papa.”

The old man’s lips twitched. “Of course not, the tigress contributed . . . a

little.”

Papa Joe sighed. He no longer feared the Anglo woman. She wasn’t the

enemy of his grandson. She wasn’t the one who’d shot him. He knew this now. A contented smile played at his lips. He knew the number of cubs the tigress

would give his grandson. Danger’s home would be filled with love and the sound

of laughter. He knew other things as well, but for now, he’d keep his old man

secrets and delight in the knowledge of things yet to come.

Lacey looked up at the old man standing in the doorway and felt her heart

drop to her feet. He watched her with piercing, unfriendly brown eyes. She wasn’t

welcome here. Tough. No way in hell was she leaving. The old man might as well

get ready to accept her. She was here to stay. She was family.

As if reading her thoughts, he stepped aside and spoke words only he

understood.

Lacey paused in front of him and spoke back, in a language she didn’t

understand.

Shalene whooped.

The old man snickered but his voice was cool as a frosty morning. “You speak

Pygmy, Anglo. No one in this house speaks the language. You will have to

converse in English so we can understand you.”

Lacey felt her heart settle. She smiled and quickly pressed a kiss against the

old man’s leathery cheek. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For keeping Danger safe all these years until I could get here to claim him.” He tipped his head graciously. “I’ve been waiting on you, Tiger with the gold

eyes. You are welcome, Anglo.” He looked past her head and toward the ridge of

mountains. “The evil one waits.”

“I know.”

“But he’s no longer a threat to either of you. He has moved on in search of a

friendlier hunting ground.”

“He’s gone? How do you know this?”

“Visions.”

Lacey searched the old man’s faded eyes, noted the mysterious twinkle and

didn’t know if she should believe him or not.

He dipped his head. “I would never risk my grandson’s life nor would I risk

yours, Anglo. You carry the next generation of Blackstone’s.”

Her jaw dropped. “How could you know such a thing?”

“Visions,” Shalene inserted. “He’s never wrong.”

Lacey flashed a quick look at Danger who merely grinned and tried to shrug.

Jace stood there beside him grinning from ear to ear. “Congratulations. You’re a

fast worker.”

“I am not pregnant.”

“No?” Danger grunted. “Give me time; I’ll correct that for you.” Lacey snorted and turned back to Papa Joe. “Are you going to call me Anglo

for the rest of my life?”

His lips twitched. “You plan on pulling a gun on me if I do? I think I’m the

only male in this family left you haven’t held a gun on yet.”

Lacey blinked. “I might. If you start speaking Pygmy to me, I just might.” “Never learned the language.”

Lacey smiled. “Me either.”

He touched her arm halting her as she made a move to follow Jace and Coe as

they helped Danger into a bedroom just off the kitchen.

“He’ll be back, White Eyes. One day, the killer will return.”

“But not today?” Lacey decided to ignore the ‘White Eyes’ comment and allow

him the small concession of name calling . . . for now.

“Not today. And do not fear trampling my feelings. I have a tough, old hide.

Now, stay with Shalene, you cannot watch the healing ceremony I’m going to

perform for my grandson.” His eyes twinkled. “It’s a secret ceremony.” Lacey stared after him, once again, her mouth agape.

Shalene tugged on her arm. “Come, we will make coffee. Danger will want

coffee.”

Lacey nodded and followed the older woman to the stove where she lifted a

battered, enamel pot off the back burner.

“Yes, he will,” she said taking the pot from the woman’s trembling hands and

filling it with water. “He certainly will.”

In The Arms Of Danger

Chapter Twenty-Eight

What you don’t know intrigues you more than what you do know.

Loretta Young

Rimrock Sheriff’s Dept. Fri. 2:00 p.m.

Leaning across the width of the cluttered desk, Special Agent, Rafe Sanchez, shook hands with Sheriff Danger Blackstone. “I wasn’t sure if you’d remember me or not, Sheriff. You were pretty much out of it when I arrived in Rimrock a couple of days ago.”

“Pull you up a chair,” Danger said and grimaced as his shoulder throbbed from the simple activity of shaking hands. The sling around his neck sorely aggravated him, but his arm and shoulder hurt like hell without the added support it gave. “It’s hazy, but I remember you.”

Rafe pulled up a ladder-back chair and straddled it. His gaze wondered to the posters of the missing women still tacked onto the bulletin board. “Guess part of the mystery of what happened to them has been solved all in one crime scene. Now we just need to solve who did it and why.”

Danger leaned back and sighed. He genuinely liked this steely-eyed man. The agent was a straight shooter. He’d kept him informed of the progress of the investigation. Rafe hadn’t tried to hog the gory news of the discovery, but stated to reporters that Sheriff Danger Blackstone was the one who’d made the gruesome discovery of the corpses, even hinted that Danger had suspected a serial killer was in the area and that was why he’d been in the mountains and shot in the line of duty.

The man sent him a message as each body was carefully bagged, tagged and removed and sent to the state ME’s office in Helena.

“They’ve all been positively identified?” Danger asked.

“No, that will take some time, but the names on the driver’s licenses all match the names on the posters. I think they will prove to be a match to each victim.” He rubbed a hand down his unshaven jaw and gave a weary sigh. “I think your rash of burglaries is resolved too. The perp is the one who did all the break-ins. The missing set of dishes, wine glasses, cutlery, chairs, lanterns, candles and clothes all match the list of stolen merchandise reported by the local businesses.”

Danger nodded. “I figured as much as soon as I saw all the stuff in the cave.”

He took a moment to study the agent who’d taken over the case. The man was tall and lean, a no-nonsense attitude, hair black as the inside of the cave and military short. His piercing blue gaze met a man’s on equal footing. Danger figured the agent had seen a few things in his life to put the ice in his eyes. “I hear this is your last case. You’re leaving the bureau.”

“Checked me out, did you?”

“No offense intended.”

“None taken, I’d have done the same. In fact, I did.” He grinned. “I’ve been offered the sheriff’s job in Triangle— a little town in central Texas.”

Danger snorted. “Bum fucked Egypt.”

“Just about, thought I might settle there.”

“Married?”

“Nope, but if that pistol-packing woman who’s been standing guard over you has a sister, I’d be interested.”

“She doesn’t, and Lacey’s taken.”

“Yeah, the good ones usually are.”

Danger relaxed and grinned. “She’s something. Isn’t she?”

“That’s putting it mildly. The day I arrived at your grandparent’s farm, she kept me out of your room for at least half an hour. She opened the door a crack and jammed a pistol between my eyes. She swore she’d blow off my dick if I so much as blinked the wrong way until I could prove who I was. Is that coffee I smell?”

“Yup.” Danger laughed. “Help yourself. And Lacey wouldn’t have shot you. She couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn, missed a bear by a good two feet and it right in front of her.”

“I’d like to take your word for it, but I’m not willing to risk my dick.”

Danger snickered. “Don’t blame you. Any clue as to who the perp is?”

Rafe poured them both a cup of coffee, set one down in front of Danger, and lowered his lanky frame back onto the chair. “No. He’s a careful bastard. Not a single hair, fiber or print, probably shaves his head, chest and pubic area. What will hang him is the DNA from the babies, if they’re his babies, that is.”

He paused, took a sip of coffee, then continued. “Every single one of the women was pregnant, including the missing woman from your town. She was two weeks.” He took another sip and lowered his cup. “It’s bizarre. Except for your missing girl, the women were in different stages of pregnancy in numerical sequence, four weeks, eight weeks and so on. Six women. I think he planned to kill nine. I believe his plan was to kidnap, impregnate the woman and keep her alive until she reached the stage of pregnancy he wanted, then she’d take her place of honor at the table.”

“Place of honor?”

“To him, he’s honoring them with his children. You’re missing girl was likely number six, but she must have somehow escaped before she was that far advanced in her pregnancy.”

“Sick fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“The DNA will only hang him if it’s already on file.”

“True. But a man like him, if it’s not on file, it soon will be. He’s been doing this a long, long time. He’s bound to be getting bored with how easy it’s become to snatch his victim. He’s angry now that his plans have been kyboshed, and he’ll escalate. He’ll grow bolder. Take more risks.” Rafe took a sip of coffee, then continued. “Choosing his victims will become a matter of pride. He’ll feel honor bound to make things more difficult for himself. He’ll choose females who would never let him touch them in a million years. That becomes a personal challenge. He’ll stop at nothing to get the woman he chooses.” Rafe frowned. “His DNA will pop up eventually.”

“Christ, I hope to hell he doesn’t come back here.”

“He will. This is where he failed. It will eat away at him. He’ll move on for now, but he will return. Miss Weston isn’t safe yet. He’ll be out for revenge, but I don’t think he’ll be back until he has succeeded in capturing more women and set his plans into action. At the least, you have a month, at most, nine, maybe longer if he decides to take his time.”

Rafe got up, walked over to the coffee pot and refilled his cup. “More?”

Danger held up his cup and Rafe topped it off.

“By the way,” Rafe said, replacing the pot on the burner. “The description Miss Weston gave you is wrong. He doesn’t look anything like you, so you can put the idea aside.”

“But she’s so sure.”

“And she’s right in what she saw, just not right in what she saw.”

Danger arched a brow. “That take’s some explaining.”

“The perp killed your deputy and scalped him. The long hair Miss Weston saw on the perp was the scalp hair. We found it in the cave, hidden in a niche and the deputy’s shirt and badge.”

“Jesus, no wonder Lacey kept saying there was something wrong about his hair.”

“In the dark, wearing the hair and a badge, it isn’t any wonder your lady thought it was you. We can at least be pretty sure he’s a man your size, build and coloring, but that’s about it.”

Rafe eyed Danger. The man still looked washed-out, his right arm in a sling, but from the steady look on his pale face, he intended to remain on the job. He couldn’t help but admire a man with that much grit.

“We removed the last body from the cave this morning. I have to hit the road. I want to be in Helena when they start the autopsies.” Rafe stood up and pulled a business card from his shirt pocket. He scribbled down a number and gave the card to Danger. “My cell phone number, in case you need me for any reason. I’ll see you get a copy of all the autopsy reports.”

Danger frowned. “I was a little out of it when Lacey and I discovered the bodies. I wasn’t sure what was real and what I imagined once I got to feeling better. Did he actually bite off their nipples?”

“Yeah. You didn’t imagine a damned thing. Everything’s as bad as you remember, probably worse. The good thing is, the past winter and frigid interior of the cave helped preserve the bodies, makes it a whole hell of a lot easier to identify.”

Rafe shook hands with Danger. “Thanks for the coffee. I’ll be in touch.”

In The Arms Of Danger

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Nothing great in the world has ever been accomplished without passion.

G. W. F. Hegel

Rimrock Sheriff’s Dept. One week later, 10:00 p.m.

Lacey stepped inside the sheriff’s office, closed the door behind her and leaned back against it. She trailed her gaze over Danger’s pale face. At least he was beginning to get his color back and he’d stopped wearing the sling this morning.

“You about ready to go home? Your grandmother has been cooking all morning.”

Danger glanced up from the report Rafe had sent him and frowned. His eyes widened at the white, low-cut blouse knotted beneath her breasts and the pale pink shorts that fit high up on her tanned legs. He swallowed hard. “You pregnant yet?”

“Uh, have you been working on getting that done?”

Danger grinned and stood up. “Not lately, but you keep dressing like that and anything’s possible.”

Lacey laughed. “According to your grandfather, you’ve already accomplished the deed, but I think practice makes perfect. Whadda you think?”

“Absolutely.”

Lacey drew in a deep breath and absorbed the manly smell of Danger as he drew near her. He reached behind her and she heard the bolt in the lock on the door snick in place. “I’ve had fantasies about you, me and that big desk ever since the first time I saw you.”

“Have you now?” Lacey toyed with a button on his shirt. “Do tell.”

“How about I show you instead?”

Lacey gave a startled squeak as he pulled her arms in front of her and snapped handcuffs around her wrists. “I’ve been dying to do that, too.”

His mouth hovered mere inches from hers. “Lady, I’ve waited too damned long to do this to you.”

“What?” she whispered and groaned as he trailed moist kisses down her throat.

His teeth closed around the single button on her blouse and he worked it open. “Fuck you while you’re wearing nothing but my cuffs.”

Slowly, he slid the blouse over her head and slid his arms around her bare waist. He stared hungrily at the flesh colored bra cupping her breasts. “Damn woman, you wear the sexiest underwear.”

“Wait til you get a load of my panties.”

He arched a brow.

“Crotch less, and the sides held in place with nothing but two tiny bows.”

He growled and had her stripped in nothing flat. Lacey gasped. “What if someone wants in?”

“I’ll shoot em.”

He backed her slowly toward the desk. His mouth swooped down, claiming hers, warm silk, passionate, and oh, so persuasive. Against her stomach, Lacey felt the hard ridge of his arousal. A current of exquisite sensation flowed through her, centering at the core of her womanhood. She gasped at the unexpected urge to crawl inside his skin and mingle her soul with his. Her body arched wantonly against his erection.

He leaned around and swept everything on the desk to one end, then he lifted her onto the edge and fumbled with the button on his jeans. His erection sprang free. She broke away from the kiss to look down in anticipation, saw the pearly drop of fluid. She wanted this man, as much as he wanted her, wanted every hot, scalding inch of him inside her. If she belonged to him, then he belonged to her, too. Her need matched his in every way.

The satin-like, yet grainy stroking of his tongue as he took her nipple in his mouth sent her senses into a whirl. Slowly, his hand slid down her belly and reached the place his fingers sought. He inserted first one finger, then two inside her and parted the dewy folds, preparing her for the hard length and broad head of his cock.

Danger shifted and slid a hand to cup her delicious derriere and lifted her against his rigid shaft. “I’ll go slowly,” he whispered and eased the head of his cock inside her. “God, you feel good. It’s been too damned long since I felt you around me.”

Lacey looped her arms over his neck and wiggled her hips in an attempt to take him deeper. “Easy, baby,” he whispered. “I plan on giving you all of it.”

Danger pushed a little deeper, gained scant entry, then he thrust deep and buried his cock to the hilt, at last seated inside her exactly where he wanted to be. He lifted his head to stare down at her. Promise and need were reflected back at her in the pewter sheen of his eyes. “I love you, Princess,” he whispered softly. “I loved you from the moment I saw you.”

A hint of tears sparkled in Lacey’s eyes.

“Will you marry me?” he whispered shakily.

Lacey had never felt so loved or needed. He was the only man who had ever created this fiery need, the only man who could burn her with his kiss, with his possession of her body.

Did she love him? Yes! There was no doubt in her mind or heart. And like him, she held onto what was hers. Lacey found herself looking into gray eyes, eyes that were soft, light, and filled with warmth and all things good.

Danger hesitated, searching her face. “Will you marry me?” he repeated. “Yes.”

He gave one slow nod, then set a steady rhythm that had Lacey gasping and begging for mercy. She clawed his back, leaving her mark as she reached instant climax. Danger gritted his teeth and flung back his head, his body trembling as he joined her with his own fierce release. Panting, he lifted his head and placed a hand to her cheek. “You all right?”

She nodded and wiggled her hips. “I’m very all right.”

For a moment his eyes were so solemn, so very serious, then he grinned, a slightly raffish smile that quickened her heart as she felt him begin to harden inside her.

“Again?” he whispered. “Can you take me again?”

“Again,” she agreed. “But this time, you get to wear the cuffs.”

He removed the cuffs from her and allowed her to snap them on his wrists. She licked her lips. “Before this night is done, I’ve had my own fantasy about the cell over there and you and me.”

He grinned and thrust his hips, moving slowly in and out of her. “Oh?” His voice sounded strained. “One fantasy at a time sweetheart, I’m a long way from finished with you and this desk. I’m in no hurry. I intend to make very good use of it.”

In The Arms Of Danger

Epilogue

Certain things catch your eye, but pursue only those that capture your heart.

Old Indian saying.

Rimrock Courthouse Fri. 10:00 a.m.

Four months later

“Kiss your lovely bride, Sheriff.”

To the sound of applause and wolf whistles from Jace, Duel and Coe,

Danger smiled at his bride and did exactly as Judge Robert Hastings ordered. “Say, old friend, as best man, do I get to kiss the bride?” Jace pulled Lacey

from Danger and made as if to kiss her.

Lacey giggled when Danger tugged her against his chest. “Not this bride, old

friend.” His hand rested possessively on the small mound of her stomach. “It’s

taken me four months to get her in front of a judge, go find your own woman.” Lacey looked around the judge’s chambers and felt nothing but happiness.

Danger’s grandparents were seated in chairs and both grinned and shook their

heads at the younger men’s foolish antics. Her heart felt full. She’d never had a

family. Now, she did.

She’d just returned to Rimrock the day before after being gone for the past

four months. It had taken two of those months to find a suitable manager for her

plantation, then she’d had to pack the things she wanted shipped here. After that,

she’d had to complete an assignment in India involving a man-eating tiger. An

assignment Danger had moaned over and pleaded with her to be the last

dangerous one she accepted. After all, she was pregnant. He wanted her with him

and not working again, at least, not until the baby was born. They had some

things to work out yet about her chosen career, but she knew they were both

willing to make sacrifices to make their life together work.

When Danger had been shot, she’d thought he would die. She would have lost

this chance at happiness with a man she adored, so she was willing to do

whatever was necessary to make him happy. If that meant giving up her career,

staying home and raising his babies, then so be it. She’d had enough excitement

in her life to last a lifetime, yeah, she’d definitely become the barefoot, pregnant,

stay in the kitchen, woman.

Danger took her hand and pressed his mouth close to her ear. “Any regrets?” “Not a one.”

“Good, because this time next year, I plan on you being pregnant with baby

two.”

He grinned. “At least, I plan on working very hard on making baby two.” She giggled. “I think maybe that might be up for negotiation and a bit of

working on it together.”

“Yeah. We can negotiate, little cat.”

They waved their farewells to family and friends and Danger grabbed Lacey’s

hand and pushed his way past the small gathering. The sound of laughter

followed them out into the corridors and down the outside steps. There, they

paused beside Danger’s shiny, new black Jeep, her wedding gift to him. She’d

presented the Jeep to him yesterday upon her return from Atlanta. He’d looked

like a man pole-axed when she’d driven it up in the yard of his grandparent’s

farm.

Lacey’s jaw gaped at the sight of several condoms blown up and attached to

the radio antenna. “I think Coe has been up to his old tricks. He has a fixation

with those things.”

“I thought they ought to be used for something,” Coe said from the top of the

courthouse steps and loud enough for everyone to hear and draw their attention

to the Jeep.

Danger winced at the snickers and flipped his brother the bird. “So where ya goin’ for your honeymoon?” Coe shouted.

Danger ignored the question and helped Lacey inside the Jeep. “We better

lose that bunch fast or we won’t have a moment of privacy until tomorrow.” He tugged her seat belt across her shoulder. Their eyes met and he leaned in

and kissed her. “Save my place right here,” he whispered against her mouth. She nodded and caught her breath in anticipation.

Danger got in beside her and started the Jeep.

“So, where are we going for our honeymoon?” Lacey asked.

Danger took her hand and kissed the gold band that marked her as his. “I

have something to show you.”

Lacey leaned back and enjoyed the scenery as Danger whipped the Jeep down

the highway. About five miles east of Rimrock, he turned down a gravel road and

drove another mile then stopped. Lacey gasped as she eyed the stunning archway

to a ranch. It was breathtaking with the design of a painted horse standing in the

middle, wagon wheels at both ends and a two dimensional, mountainous

backdrop behind it. Overhead, she read aloud, “Blackstone’s Painted Ponies

Ranch.”

Danger restarted the Jeep and drove on down the road until he stopped in

front of the prettiest ranch house made of logs Lacey had ever seen. “This is your ranch? But, I thought you lived with your grandparents?” “No, little cat. I haven’t lived with Papa Joe and Grandma Shalene since I was

eighteen. Here lately, they’ve needed a little extra looking after. Coe, Anna Leigh

and I take turns staying with them.” He helped her out of the Jeep and they

strolled hand in hand to the front of the house. “Do you like it? I bought this place

back when I was eighteen and gradually built it into what it is today. I designed

the archway and cut out the iron. I raise some of the best paints in the West.

Yesterday, I closed the deal on another fifty thousand acres to add to the hundred I already owned. I signed the deed to everything over to you this morning, my

wedding gift to you.”

Lacey burst into tears.

Danger stared at her, slack-jawed as tears streamed down her face. Gently, he

drew her in his arms. “I thought you’d be pleased. Don’t cry sweetheart. Jesus, it

rips out my heart when you cry.”

“Oh, God, Danger, you can’t give me your home. It’s all you have.” “You’re all I have,” he whispered huskily and threaded trembling fingers

through her hair. “The ranch, land and horses, they’re just possessions that don’t

love me back. You, the baby, and any babies we have in the future, that’s what

matters to me. You’re my life. I love you, Lacey.”

He opened the door, lifted her in his arms and started across the threshold. “I

always intended to give this ranch to my bride. I hope you’ll be happy, little cat.” Lacey smiled through her tears, because she knew being in the arms of

Danger was all the happiness she’d ever need or want.

In The Arms Of Danger

About the Author

Jaydyn Chelcee is a native of Oklahoma who gives credit for her love for the western states her desire to write contemporary western romances. She is also the author of the Winslow Witches of Salem paranormal romance series, Witch’s Brew and Witch’s Heart written under the pen name Tabitha Shay. Witch’s Brew was nominated for the 2007 P.E.A.R.L Award for best new paranormal romance by a debut author. Witch’s Heart won first place in the OWFI contest in 2007. Both books are available in e-format from Eternal Press at www.eternalpress.ca. In the Arms of Danger is Book One in the Montana Men series. Watch for No Holds Barred coming in Dec. of 2008, a Jaydyn Chelcee novel. Jaydyn loves traveling, writing, collecting coins, and hearing from her readers. Visit her website at www.tabithashay.com

Coming soon from Eternal Press

In The Arms Of Danger

by Jaydyn Chelcee

“Make love to me,” she whispered. “I need you. Tonight, I need to be held. I need you to hold me. Love me.”

Jace paused at the side of the bed and smothered a groan. He looked down at her knowing he’d have to refuse. Damn, he was going to have to do the right thing. His body rebelled at the thought of not making her his.

“I want to make love to you, lovely lady. I do. I want to be inside you,” he breathed hoarsely. “Sweet Christ, I want to be inside you. And if I believed for one moment you wanted that, too, I’d have you stripped and flat on your back in a second. In less time than that, I’d be buried so damn deep inside you, our souls would touch.”

Coming soon from Eternal Press

In The Arms Of Danger

by Jaydyn Chelcee writing as Tabitha Shay

Ru-Noc: A magical world teetering on the edge of destruction.

Excited about her first Beltane, the witch Kali makes plans to find her ideal mate. Instead, the feisty and strong-willed Princess of Ru-Noc finds herself whisked away and trapped in the mortal realm of vampires.

Captain Koran T knows he’s in serious trouble when the King of Ru-Noc orders him to kidnap Princess Kali. He’s no different than any other male of his species at mating time so the urge to breed Kali is strong. But Koran T has a dark secret of his own, one that could have him exiled from the coven.

Fall under the spell of a Witch’s Moon—when dark forces gather to threaten the very existence of Sanctuary—where Princess Kali and Captain Koran cross swords in a fierce battle only a witch can win!

Now Available from Eternal Press

In The Arms Of Danger

by Rita Karnopp

Someone wants Brett Turner’s land badly enough to sabotage him, and he knows just who the culprit is: his neighbor, Willow Howling Moon. They don’t see eyeto-eye on anything. When their sons run away into the mountains just before a blizzard, Willow and Brett have no choice but to go after them—together. In the course of the rescue, they discover an unexpected and unwelcome mutual love. But when someone becomes desperate enough to go beyond sabotage, the realization that both their lives are in danger finally convinces him she’s not his enemy.

Now Available from Eternal Press

In The Arms Of Danger

by Jaydyn Chelcee writing as Tabitha Shay

Her heart leapt into her throat and lodged there. “Are you going to eat me?”

He choked. “It’s a thought, mau-ley, but somehow, I don’t believe we’re thinking of the same meal. A dinner of sensuous pleasure might suit me better.”

Oh, joy. A perverted waken. From his reply, his mind had immediately leapt to—well; it definitely took a giant leap south of the border. As if hers hadn’t.

And wasn’t it just the pits that despite the fear chugging through her body, her fingers itched to touch the sleek, powerful muscles of his biceps. To stay in her safety zone, she took another step to the side.

No touching, she told herself, no matter how tempting he looked. He did so remind her of a dangerous cat, a sleek and well-honed panther ready to pounce on his unsuspecting prey.

Now Available from Eternal Press

In The Arms Of Danger

by Jaydyn Chelcee writing as Tabitha Shay

Her curiosity caught; she couldn’t help wondering why he watched her. Even from across the street, she felt his gaze caressing every inch of her body and his hunger. Her skin tingled. Heat crawled over her, spreading to her loins. Her stomach clenched and jittered with unexpected need.

Her need or his? She wasn’t certain.

Saylym only knew her body melted as images of the two of them, tangled together on black satin sheets, floated in her head. His naked body covered hers. She gasped, digging her nails in the flesh of his back as he nudged her thighs apart and teased her with the broad head of his phallus.

Table of Contents

In The Arms Of Danger

Printed in Canada and The United Stat...

Book One of the Series Montana Men

Jaydyn Chelcee

Dedication:

To: My husband, Earl, my very own ‘Da...

Acknowledgements:

Thank you, Jaydyn Chelcee

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

heart?

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Courage is being scared to death—and ...

Chapter Thirteen

But Danger didn’t hear her words. He’...

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Epilogue

About the Author

by Jaydyn Chelcee

by Jaydyn Chelcee writing as Tabitha ...

by Rita Karnopp

by Jaydyn Chelcee writing as Tabitha ...

by Jaydyn Chelcee writing as Tabitha ...