Mr. Taken

by Danica Winters

  “You don’t have the power to fire me, Turner.”

  “If you are withholding information that will tell me who is behind this fire, then you can make damn sure that this will find its way to the powers that be, who will gladly throw you out on your ass.”

  Colter raised his hands in submission. This was going in a direction he couldn’t let it go. He couldn’t risk everything just because he was pissed and felt like he needed to protect her. “Look, Turner, you and I are friends,” he started. “Let’s not blow this all out of proportion.”

  “Then answer my question, Fitzgerald,” Turner said through gritted teeth.

  He sighed. “Whitney and her family were victims of an arson a while back. It’s why she’s here. She’s running from her past.”

  Turner nodded, listening.

  “You just have to believe me when I say that I don’t think she’s behind this,” Colter continued. “If she is, I’ll...”

  “You’ll what?” Turner asked, this time some of the anger seeming to seep from his tone.

  “I’ll throw in my hat. No investigation. No fight. I’ll just quit.”

  Turner nodded, apparently mollified. “Okay. I’ll have my guy look elsewhere, but you better hope to all that is holy that you aren’t wrong and love ain’t blind.”

  Colter turned around and made his way toward the ambulance in hopes Turner couldn’t see the look of complete shock over what he had just agreed to that he was sure was on his face. He had just gambled his entire future on a feeling.

  Colter was a lot of things, but he had never thought himself a fool. It wasn’t time to start changing his feelings toward himself now. He’d just have to ride it out and pray he had been right.

  But he’d been wrong before.

  He’d never thought his biological parents would have been the kind to leave him. Sure, he’d been a kid and naive, but he had trusted them—and they had done him wrong. And here he was, back in the same position of blindly trusting someone he loved.

  The back doors of the ambulance were closed and he knocked on them before opening. Whitney was sitting on the gurney, alone. An oxygen mask was over her soot-covered face, but even under the ash he could tell she was pale. The look in her eyes told him that she’d been to hell and back.

  He stepped up into the back of the ambulance and, careful not to touch her in case she was hurt, sat down next to her. “Are you okay?”

  She wrung her hands and looked down at her fingers. They were covered in black ash, and her nail beds were as pale as her face. If he wasn’t careful, she could easily slip into shock. He had to get her talking. Anything would be fine as long as it took her mind off what had just happened.

  “Lassie wants you to come home,” he said, trying his very best to make her laugh.

  She blinked a few times but remained silent and staring.

  “You should have seen the little rat dog. She’s been running in circles trying to tell me something. If I was smart, I would have known that she was trying to warn me. You’d think I’d speak dog by now.”

  She looked up, and her lips trembled as though she wanted to smile. She pulled the oxygen mask from her face, letting it drop to her neck. “You’re certainly fluent in smart-ass.”

  He laughed, but the boom made her twitch and he shut up.

  “We all have gifts. And really, I think my articulateness is really due to my brothers. They trained me so I could bring my very best to the dating table.” He leaned closer and brushed back her hair, thankful when she didn’t shudder from his fingers grazing against her skin. “I mean, it got you. Didn’t it?”

  “Colter...”

  The way she said his name told him that he wasn’t going to like whatever was going to come next.

  “Stop,” he said, cutting her off before she could go any further. “I’m a real catch. I mean, who wouldn’t want all this?” He raised his arms, flexing them like some kind of bodybuilder on display.

  “You really are ridiculous,” she said with a little giggle.

  “Oh, baby, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” he said, some of the trepidation he’d been feeling disappearing with the sound of her laugh. “If the goon squad says you can, how about we get out of here?”

  “They want my statement,” she said, and some of the color that had finally come back to her cheeks disappeared.

  “They can wait until tomorrow. I’ll just tell them that they can stop by the ranch. Sound good?”

  She nodded and her lips turned up into a slight, relieved smile.

  “I’ll be right back.” He slipped out and walked up to Turner.

  It didn’t take long for him to get the man to agree to let them head back to the ranch, but it had come with another stern reminder of what hung in the balance.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The ride back to the ranch seemed to take longer than usual, but it could have rested in the fact that he had made sure to drive extra slow in an effort to keep his truck on the road. They couldn’t go on a hike through the tundra as they had the night before. Not that he had minded spending more time with her. It was just that he hated the fact that he had put her in needless danger.

  Nothing seemed to go right when it came to their time together.

  He put his hand in the middle and she slipped her fingers into his, not saying a word. For a thousand reasons, most of which she had been careful to express to him, they couldn’t be together and he heard them all—but there was no stopping what the heart wanted.

  “Do you want to tell me what happened in there?” He ran his thumb over hers.

  She sighed and stared out into the night. “I don’t want to talk about it. I never want to talk about it...”

  He could understand her response, but part of him had to know what had gone down.

  “I covered for you back there,” he said. “They seemed to think that the fire was suspicious. They wanted to take you in, but I held them off.”

  She finally looked over at him and she gave his hand a squeeze. “You did that for me?”

  He nodded.

  “Why?”

  His gut ached as he thought of the risk he had taken. “I know you. I know what a good person you are. If I thought for a second that you actually had anything to do with it, we wouldn’t be here right now—we wouldn’t have ended up where we were last night, either. Kissing, I mean.”

  “Do you really think you know me?”

  The ache intensified. “I think I do. Do you think you know me?”

  She smiled. “Your favorite food is ham, potato casserole and green beans. And you love action movies.”

  He laughed. “How do you know that?”

  “Your mother was talking about it. She said you’re an avid Lethal Weapon fan.”

  “You were talking to my mother about me?” He was equally surprised and pleased. “So, how long have you been in love with me?”

  “Shut up.” She clenched his hand. “You know how I feel.”

  Right now he wasn’t entirely sure. He understood what she was implying and what she had told him she wanted and how she felt, but when they were together there was just something magical between them.

  He pulled the truck to a stop as they got to the ranch. It had been his plan to go home tonight and finally get into his own bed instead of staying at his parents’, but right now the last thing he wanted was his own pillow.

  She wouldn’t want to have anything to happen between them. Not after everything.

  He got out of the truck and walked over to her side. He was overthinking this. There was no point fretting about any of it. Regardless of how confused he was, she had made her wishes clear—they couldn’t be together.

  That didn’t mean that he couldn’t be a gentleman and see her to her door.

  Sh
e stepped out of the truck and took his hand. She gave it a squeeze but said nothing and led him to the house.

  The place was quiet, though it wasn’t particularly late—at least not in comparison to last night.

  She walked into her bedroom. It was small, maybe a bit cramped.

  When he’d been a kid her bedroom was kept as a place for guests to stay. Thinking about it, he wondered why his mother had put her there. Had she not assumed that Whitney would stay?

  He pushed the thoughts from his mind. His mother had a method to everything she did, and he wasn’t about to start questioning it now.

  Colter stopped at the door and let go of Whitney’s hand, letting it slip from his fingers like hopes. “Have a good night. If you need anything, I can stay or... I was going to head home.” He motioned toward the hall, fully aware of how awkward it was between them.

  He wanted to follow her into her room, push her down onto the bed, but he couldn’t. Not now and, for all he knew, not ever.

  “Do you really want to go home?” she asked, a hint of longing in her voice.

  Or maybe it wasn’t longing but his need to hear a longing that he heard.

  “I...I don’t have to. I can sleep out on the couch or something.” He looked down the long, empty hallway.

  “There was someone in Sarah’s café... Tonight,” she said, catching him off guard.

  “What? Who? You saw someone?”

  She took his hand and closed the door. She pulled out the chair at her tiny desk and motioned for him to sit down. “I don’t know if it was a man or a woman. I just saw someone running out after they threw the bottle.”

  “They threw a bottle? Why didn’t you tell anyone what you saw?”

  She shrugged. “I was shaken up. And I didn’t know what you had said and to whom. I wanted to make sure I didn’t get you into trouble.”

  He stepped closer to her, taking in the scent of smoke from her skin and the heat of her nearness. Ever so carefully, he reached up and cupped her face in his hands. “You don’t need to worry about me. You never have to worry about me. I will handle whatever needs to be handled, but you need to keep yourself safe and out of trouble. If they knew you were hiding something like that... I told you that they thought—”

  She touched her finger to his lips, stopping him from going into a full tirade. “I’ll talk to them in the morning. Everything will be okay.”

  She traced her finger around his lips, making his body come to life.

  “In the meantime,” she whispered as she leaned toward him and pulled away her finger before her lips met his. “I need to forget, and I want to explore.”

  * * *

  HIS LIPS WERE slightly chapped, the mark of cold winter weather and the dry air of Montana. She moved to her tiptoes, and his breath caressed her lips as she drew nearer to him. There were still millimeters between them, yet this was the closest emotionally she had been to anyone in a long time—ever since Frank. Not that she wanted to think about Frank. Not now. Not ever. But with the fire...it was no wonder she had gone back to that place and time. No matter how hard she fought against the memories of him, his actions would always leave a mark on the canvas of her life.

  She leaned back slightly as thoughts of him moved through her.

  Maybe it was a mistake, taking this step with Colter. Anytime she grew close to a man, it was only bound to end in agony. Colter was a good man, an everyday hero, but that didn’t guarantee that things between them would end in anything but heartbreak. If truth be told, she wasn’t sure her heart would stand being broken again—but she couldn’t keep on a path that meant she stopped living. She needed this. She needed him.

  She needed a future that brought happiness. And right now the happiness and escape she longed for could only be found in his kiss.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice airy and light as his thumbs moved over her cheeks.

  She reached up and took his hand in hers. “I’m going to be fine as long as you kiss me.”

  It was exactly the invitation he needed. He rushed to her lips, the coarse lines of his pressing against hers, a harsh comparison to her softness, but she liked the way they scratched against hers. It was almost as if his lips were pulling her closer, reaching for more.

  He ran his tongue over the places where his lips had rubbed, and the sensation made her think of all the places his tongue could travel on her body. She ached for more. So much more. She reached up and ran her fingers through his short hair. It was soft but sharp from a fresh cut—just like the rest of him, it was the perfect combination. Perhaps he was made to be the man she had always been longing for.

  His kiss moved from her lips and over her neck. She let her head fall back, reveling in the touch of him against the tender lines of her collarbone. As he kissed, he moved her toward the bed, and as her legs touched it, he picked her up and wrapped her legs around his waist. She could feel his responding body rubbing against her, telling her that he wanted this just as much as she did.

  He laid her down on the bed, their bodies flexing and pushing against each other. In one fluid motion, he reached down and opened the buttons of her shirt, revealing her lace bra. As he sat up and pulled the shirt from her, she caught the scent of smoke and lust. It was a heady mix, danger and want—the scent of love.

  “Dance for me,” she said, trying to get back control over the urgency that she had been feeling. She wanted to savor their time together—every second of it.

  “What?” he asked with a surprised laugh. “Really?”

  “Or I could dance for you,” she offered with a playful tip of her head.

  “You...always surprise me.” He stood up and gave her a sexy, almost shy grin.

  He started to hum as he pulled up the edge of his shirt. It wasn’t a song that she recognized, but it sounded a bit like an old country hit. He swiveled his hips as his fingers moved down the buttons of his shirt. Slipping the last button free, he turned around and gave her a playful wiggle of his behind.

  She laughed. “Oh, yeah, baby. Just like that.”

  He gave his butt a playful slap as he started to get into it, moving and dancing as he unbuckled his pants.

  He really did have a nice ass. Unable to control herself, she reached up and gave it a little squeeze. It was just as muscular as the rest of him.

  “Hey, now, no touching the merchandise,” he said, pulling out of her grasp.

  “But what if I want to touch you?” she asked with a little whine.

  He gave her a lift of his brow. “How bad do you want it?”

  She wiggled her finger, motioning for him. “Come here and I’ll show you.”

  He took a step.

  She reached up and took hold of the waist of his jeans and pulled him even closer. His body was pumping off heat. The palm of her hand moved against him as she lowered his zipper, exposing his red-and-black gingham boxers. She let his pants drop to the floor and he stepped out of them.

  “Very classy,” she said, tugging at the bottom of the leg of his boxers. It wasn’t that they were anything remarkable, but sitting there alone in her room with him, she suddenly felt the reality of the entire situation—and what it would mean.

  If she went there with him, everything would change. There would be no going back to being simple friends. Even if they did this only once, the air between them would always be flecked with the knowledge that they had spent this night together. He would know her as very few men did, and she would know him.

  The act of lovemaking was a gift, and once given, the memory of those moments spent together would last a lifetime. There was no forgetting the way a man felt in her arms, or the way his kiss moved over her lips. There was no ignoring the little jolt of excitement she would feel whenever he was near.

  She wanted it all.

  Reaching down,
she slipped off her jeans and her panties. He sucked in a breath as he watched her shimmy them off and drop them to the floor atop his pants.

  “You are so beautiful.”

  She moved to cover her nakedness, to make up for her mistake with the convenience store’s camera in some way, but she stopped herself. Men wanted a woman who was confident, who took control in the bedroom and wasn’t afraid to be who she was. She hadn’t been that woman in the past, but she had been through so much. The one thing she could give to herself was love and acceptance, the same things she wanted from him.

  Instead of covering her breasts, she ran her fingers over her curves and smiled up at him. She lay down on the edge of the bed, her hair splaying around her. With her feet, she reached up and pulled down his boxers.

  He was the perfect man, and as thick and proportionate as the rest of him.

  “Come here,” she whispered, running her fingers down her belly, teasing him as she brushed against the soft tuft of hair between her legs.

  He moaned as he stepped closer. He leaned in and kissed the inside of her knee. Each kiss moved incrementally higher until she met his mouth. It felt so good, his tongue against her, that she could barely breathe.

  “I...want...you...” she said, running her fingers through his hair.

  He looked up at her.

  “Please,” she begged.

  He smiled and moved until he was pressed against her. He kissed her lips and thrust into her, making her call out his name with ecstasy.

  Their bodies did all the talking that was required. It was more than she had expected, or ever could have imagined—feeling him inside her.

  There was no doubt—he had been meant for her.

  Chapter Eighteen

  If Colter could have asked for one thing for Christmas, it was that he would have a lifetime of what he’d had last night. Whitney Barstow was nothing short of amazing. It wasn’t just the sex that had him thinking of only her this morning as he puttered around the ranch, cleaning out the stalls and getting the barn ready for tonight’s Yule Night festivities.