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 any
thing. 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 t
eeth.
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—
In The Arms Of Danger Page 11