In The Arms Of Danger

by Jaydyn Chelcee

  “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!”