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 foreh
ead? “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 to
re 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.
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