The Alpha's Touch Boxed Set (14 Book Bundle)

by Taylor, Tawny

  I suspected she was saying more, but I couldn't process anything more complicated than those two words. Her soft skin guided me, real as a hawk's feathers. I leaned into her small body and walked with her, wondering how I could stand without feeling my feet.

  One foot in front of the other. She says you're almost there.

  Is this heaven?

  I opened my eyes, wide as I could, but the hazy blur smearing my vision refused to clear. If I died, I wondered why I didn't see any tunnel of light.

  I woke up. Dreams and memories untangled in a single second, obliterated by the pale light seeping in through a nearby window.

  Waking up to your own groaning always sucks, but at least it gave me something to latch onto, something to let me know I was very much among the living.

  “Who? What?” I sat up and instantly regretted it.

  My sides felt like I'd been cut in half and stitched back together. I coughed, cursing, and then cursed myself all over again as my lungs tormented damaged ribs.

  “Take it easy! Here, take these, and some water.” I looked to my side and saw the source of the sweet voice I recognized sitting next to me.

  She smiled softly, trying to be as comforting as possible. But I could see the horror in her eyes.

  Christ. Just how bad off am I?

  Her fingers pushed through mine and left two little tablets in my palm. My vision went fuzzy, but steadied as I focused on the pills.

  “Huh? Lady, I think I'm gonna need a hell of a lot more than aspirin to get over this hangover.”

  Before I could protest again, she closed my fingers with hers, and pushed them toward my mouth. It hurt to swallow, especially with my whole tongue turned dry as the Badlands.

  She held up a glass, cold to the touch. I guzzled the water quickly, careful not to choke. I sure didn't want to feel that punishment when I coughed so soon.

  “I'm Misty. Misty Sheen. What's your name?” She asked, amazingly cheery. Her little hand slipped more pills into mine.

  “Declan.” I wanted to give her my last name, but before I could, my whole body faded out beneath me. Exhaustion devoured every inch of me, all the way up to my neck.

  I barely had time to pop the pills and chug more water before hitting the pillow.

  “Declan. Sir, wake up.”

  No matter how many times I saw her, Misty looked like an angel every time. Or maybe it was just because half the things I saw had a halo around them.

  “Well, there's only one broken,” a male voice said. “Heart seems fine. No sign of internal bleeding. I'd like to get a few x-rays, though, if you'll bring him by the clinic as soon as you can.”

  “Absolutely, Doctor McLaren.”

  My skin jumped. Cold steel pushed its way along my chest, a round disc surveying the damage Anderson's boys had wrecked on my body.

  “He needs more water. And a lot more rest,” McLaren said. “Be sure to feed him every few hours too, Misty. These kinds of wounds heal best when they've got the energy to undo the damage.”

  “Oh, I know,” the young woman said, rolling her pretty eyes. “I'm already on it.”

  I stared at her, entranced, not caring as the stethoscope plodded across my stomach.

  Her eyes were bright, colorful marbles. And damned beautiful too.

  She got up and walked away from the bed, leaving me alone with the doctor. I looked at him for the first time, a wiry man with gray hair and owl round spectacles.

  “Just how did you get these injuries, Mister...?”

  “Franks. Declan Franks,” I said. Didn't do me any harm to give him my first name, but that was all he needed to know.

  “Took a really bad spill on an ATV. Shit, did anyone say anything about my car?”

  I exaggerated my concern, but not by much. The ATV was a lie, the same as my last name. But for all I knew, Anderson and his men had made off with my old LTD after they put me down.

  “I'm sure it'll be fine, but that's hardly the issue here. I'm a doctor, Mr. Franks. Not a towing service.”

  The physician – McLaren? – finally drew away the stethoscope and opened his case. It looked a lot like those jet black bags doctors used to carry in old Westerns when they did house calls.

  “I shouldn't be handing you prescriptions on the spot, but I think we can make an exception this time. I'll leave the notes for refills with your caregiver.”

  He pushed two amber colored bottles of large pills into my hand. I shook it, staring at the labels. My temples wanted to revolt whenever I tried to read.

  “Caregiver?” I asked, looking up, but the doctor was already on his way out.

  Misty stood next to me, a big thermos in one hand and a neat looking sandwich on a small plate in the other. She sat in the old wooden chair, her eyes wandering across my chest.

  I looked down. Until now, I'd forgotten that Anderson's boys had shaken out my pockets and torn off my shirt searching for police wires, weapons, and God knows what else.

  “Sorry. I'll have to get you something to wear in town. You're a little too big and broad chested for my father's old clothes.”

  I stared at her and watched her blush. The flush almost made me laugh.

  How in the world was this more uncomfortable for her than it was for me?

  I took the metal thermos from her and felt the coldness right away. She kept the sandwich in her lap until I drank more water, draining half the tall canister before I finally started to feel human.

  “I really appreciate your hospitality, Miss,” I told her, in between bites of sandwich.

  “It's Miss-ty. This place is a little too casual for that.” She looked up, and her smile made me grin.

  “How long are you gonna let me stay here? Can't imagine I'm welcome indefinitely – especially right in your bed.” The last part sent a strange heat curling through my loins. I inwardly shook my head, musing on how long it had been since I'd tried to pick a woman up.

  “You're here 'til you're all better. We don't turn away the sick and wounded in these parts. Doc said it'll probably be a few more days before you're whole enough to get around.”

  I grimaced, even as the taste of salami and fresh cheese delighted my tongue. Damn.

  “No, no. Don't you worry about it,” she said, lifting forward on her heels just a little.

  For a second, it looked like she was about to reach out and touch me, maybe lay her soft hands on my big chest. But just before she reached it, she thought better of it and pulled back.

  “I'll call my bank in the morning. Least I can do is get some money together for you. I'd give you all cash, but I lost my wallet somewhere out there, beyond the fields...” I trailed off, my eyes focused toward the old fence I'd crawled to in what felt like a dream.

  “You don't have to do that. Please, Declan, getting you well is all I care about right now, and I don't need to be compensated for it. God, fate, or whatever put you on my doorstep for a reason.” I followed her gaze out the window, her eyes fixed near the same point I'd stared at with my own.

  “Okay,” I said reluctantly. “If it makes you feel better, then I can live with that.”

  “There's one thing you can do for me,” she said, pausing for my eyes to meet hers. “Tell me your real name.”

  “Huh?” Klaxons rang in my head. She hadn't heard the conversation I had with the doctor, had she? “What makes you think I haven't?”

  “Maybe you have. But I don't have any way of knowing that, do I? Your wallet's gone – and so are all your IDs. And Doc never asks for insurance information since half the people in our town don't have it.”

  Damn! Girl's smarter than I gave her credit for. But how's she going to react if she hears anything close to the truth?

  “I already told you. My name really is Declan. Declan Schuster. And you're right – I gave that doctor a phony last name because I had to.”

  “Yeah? And just what the hell was happening out there when you crawled up to my farm?” Her eyes narrowed.

  For a second, I
thought she hated me over the white lie. But the odd and beautiful concern remained, perhaps a little dimmer, shining in her pupils like winking stars.

  “I'm a bounty hunter, Misty.”

  There. Are you happy?

  Her face tensed up, and then relaxed. I wasn't sure what she expected me to say.

  Later, I realized she half-expected me to be dealing drugs or doing something insanely underhanded myself.

  Finding out I wasn't a terrorist or a rodeo clown with amnesia probably brought relief. Probably.

  “Seriously?” She said, lifting her slim eyebrows. “You seem a lot more composed than those guys I've seen on TV. Not as stupid either.”

  “Oh, those shows.” I shook my head. “Nothing like the real thing. They're always going after small fish to pay their monthly bills. Me, I'm going for the big enchilada.”

  “Okay, Mister Hunter. And just who were you after? Should I be worried about who's been prowling around in the badlands out there?”

  I stared at her and didn't say anything for several seconds. I didn't want to lie. But this girl, just past drinking age, would never understand the full cruelties of Anderson Dugan.

  “A man named Anderson,” I said quietly. “Wanted for some major, major tax evasion and a heap of petty crimes too.”

  Okay, it's not a lie. She doesn't need to know he's the biggest sex trafficker ten states over, and a suspect in half a dozen murders in several more.

  “Taxes?” Her face relaxed, and I saw her interest wane with it. “That doesn't sound too dangerous.”

  “Well, when all your income's coming from an illegal inventory, tax evasion is the best way to go after a crook to get to the real crimes. They even hooked Al Capone on it in the thirties.”

  “You're right,” she said, voice mellow and frazzled. “Sorry. Whatever this guy has done, he was obviously bothered enough to bust you up real bad.”

  I nodded. I didn't really need the reminder, but at least we had an understanding.

  If I'm going to take up her space, eat her food, occupy her farm, then the least I can do is tell her the truth. Piece by piece, a little at a time.

  And maybe, just maybe, there'll be another chance to bring that bastard to his knees if he shows up around here again.

  It took three whole days to feel a quarter normal, a little longer than the doctor said. But when I woke up that morning, I shifted out of bed, climbing the steep staircase to the bathroom without feeling like my bones had absorbed strong punches along the way.

  When I came down, Misty was waiting where the kitchen connected to the hall. She had a steaming plate of eggs and bacon in her hands.

  “Let me join you in the kitchen,” I said. “I think I'm finally up to it.”

  She smiled happily and I followed her. The new shirt she'd given me yesterday clung snug to my chest. It felt good to sit at the table and eat, dressed like a real man again.

  We made small talk over breakfast. I popped my pain pills and drank my coffee like a man dying of thirst.

  “Didn't Doc McLaren say you're not supposed to mix those?” She asked.

  I cut through the air with one hand, dismissing the idea. I'd suffered several days from caffeine withdrawal, and I wasn't going to make it through another.

  “Jeez, little lady. Just how many guys you got working for you?” I watched an old truck rumble down the dirt drive. Three men a little older than I were stuffed into the cabin.

  “Too many. This place barely turns a profit to pay the bills as it is.” Her tone dripped annoyance. “But I can't get rid of anybody unless we're totally bankrupt. Daddy would come out of his grave and haunt me forever if I did.”

  I looked up from my plate. So, that's why she was the only adult in charge of this place.

  “Didn't mean to touch on a sensitive subject. I know how tough running a ranch can be.”

  “Oh?” She cocked her head.

  Her unspoken questions reminded me why I felt so bare without a cowboy hat. Was it really five years since I'd spent any time in Montana during the summer?

  “Yep. Used to work hard on my parent's farm. They've got a nice little place over in Montana. Rustling horses and housing bulls isn't anything new to me.”

  “Funny. I didn't take you for much of a cowboy. You look...” Misty paused, lips curled, struggling to choose the right words. “Strong like a country boy, but a little more refined.”

  “A lot of time in the gym will do it. Had the best facilities around while I was at the academy.” I watched her face and smiled, seeing another silent question rising to the surface.

  “I went through all the right training to become a cop and joined the force. Only did it a year, though. Life in Billings didn't really appeal to me.”

  “Well, Mister. You're just full of surprises, aren't you?”

  At first, I thought she was just exaggerating. But her face really showed surprise, shock, and maybe something more than passing interest.

  “I think you'll know what I'm talking about when I say you can get away from the fresh air and freedom, but you can't ever really leave it.”

  She smiled and nodded slowly. When she rose to gather our used dishes and walk them over to the sink, I was sorry to see her go.

  There's always dinner time for more talk, at least.

  “You rest up today,” she said. “Time for me to get out there and deal with the latest mini-disasters.”

  Misty smirked, a little twist of sour truth on her lips. My gaze followed her shapely hips through her jeans as she turned, popped the screen door, and let it bang shut behind her.

  Alone at the table, I pulled up my shirt. The bruise where that bald creep had hit me the worst looked like hell.

  But it wouldn't be long before it started to fade. Then I'd be useful again.

  I couldn't wait to go after Anderson and repay this sweet young lady for her kindness.

  A little while later, I cleaned off the bed and fixed myself a place on the sofa in the living room. While I laid, I wondered why I felt so cold alone on the couch, and why I missed her bed so badly.

  No contest, Einstein. Admit it: you're interested in a little more here than repaying a nice young gal for taking care of your sorry broken ass.

  “Like hell,” I answered, brushing off the ego laughing in my head before I fell into a long nap.

  III: One Hard Ride (Misty)

  I should've followed Doc McLaren's orders perfectly. But we had a heck of a situation behind the stable and I needed every able bodied man.

  Besides, it had been almost ten days. More than a week with this handsome stranger in such close proximity, eating every meal with me and sleeping just one room over, always shirtless and gorgeous.

  When he came up behind me and clapped his big hand on my shoulders, how could I refuse?

  “Heard all the commotion going on out here. Do you need some help?”

  I met his eyes, blushing. Surprise was built into his makeup.

  I guessed it came with the territory as a hardened rancher-turned-cop-turned-bounty-hunter. At least this time the angry redness on my cheeks covered up my embarrassment.

  “Here? Declan, you know you're not supposed to do any work so soon. Your ribs aren't fully healed.”

  “Bullshit. My chest is healed up well enough. Have a look,” he said, rolling up his shirt.

  I watched, transfixed, staring at the deep lines where powerful muscles fused together. The nasty bruise looked a lot more yellowish The pain had obviously dimmed for him to even be out here showing me.

  He would be a big help. But it just doesn't seem right...

  “I don't know.” I clacked my stiff tongue against the roof of my mouth.

  Out in the distance, old Jimmy stumbled as he went over uneven ground, swearing at his newly twisted ankle.

  The sheep were moving as fast as their stubby little legs could carry them. They put all my men to shame. Said a lot about how much my guys had started slacking off since I took over.

  A sing
le rusty latch and a mischievous ewe was all it took to turn the flock loose. Now, they were halfway to the grayish border where the badlands started, moving like big cotton wisps on the horizon.

  I started to sweat. Nervous heat roiled my blood. I couldn't help but imagine the consequences.

  If Mister Vock got back anything less than the thirty sheep he'd put up for rent at my place, I'd lose yet another source of sorely needed income.

  And he wouldn't be out of order demanding damages.

  Damages! God! If that bank account takes one more unexpected blow...

  I pivoted on my heels, breathing heavily as I turned to face my cowboy guest. The full powerless stupidity of the situation made me feel light headed.

  “Okay. But only because you're younger than my guys, and in a lot better shape too. Just don't hurt yourself.”

  “Awesome,” he said with a grin. “You got a horse I can use?”

  Declan had everything except the trademark hat as he tore across the field. I loaned him Ace, my father's trusted black steed.

  My mouth dropped in amazement. I followed him as he became a small miniature on the horizon, working with the three other guys to box in the small flock of animals that hadn't wandered as far as the rest.

  That man can ride! Least he was telling the truth about coming from a ranch somewhere. No city boy rides like that.

  A couple minutes later, Jimmy and Tom carefully opened the pen's gate next to me, guiding a steady stream of woolly creatures inside.

  “Heck of a way to finish out the day, Misty,” Jimmy said. “Don't know how the hell we're gonna round up all the others before dark. All the rams are still missing.”

  He spat tobacco and stared, waiting for my feedback.

  “You're right. We won't do anything if we all stand around gawking. You get back out there and help my guest run 'em in here!” I slapped the side of the fence, channeling Daddy's old energy.

  Jimmy's eyes lit with surprise. He spun and began to walk at a quick clip. Several feet away, Tom just laughed, ready to open the gate for any stragglers.

  My father had a way with the men I didn't. But every day, I was getting there, carving out the respect I deserved.