Hung (Mister Hotshot Book 1)

by Anne Marsh

  We’ve got five feet between us, and Thad has the gun’s business end pointing straight at my stomach. He’s too close to miss, and I like my insides exactly as God made them. I don’t need Thad redecorating or rearranging. He might not pull the trigger, but I can’t take the chance. If I go down, Thad will just go after Sarah Jo again. When she inches away from us, Thad pans the gun between us, so encouraging her to run away isn’t going to work, either.

  “Let’s talk,” I suggest. Not that I think using my words is going to resolve this particular situation, but it will buy me some time to come up with a better plan.

  “I’m voting I get in the car and take Sarah Jo with me.”

  See? I don’t like that plan.

  “I can’t let you do that.” I decide it’s probably best if I keep up my side of the conversation. Hopefully, Thad isn’t the kind of guy who can shoot, talk, and cover my girl at the same time. Keeping my hands relaxed on my thighs, I assess the situation. Sarah Jo is still too close to Thad. The best option is for me to go in hard and fast. I’m pretty sure I can kill him before his bullets do for me, but I’d rather keep this as my backup plan because it definitely means I don’t get a happily-ever-after with Sarah Jo.

  “I don’t see how you’re stopping me.” A mean smile cracks Hill’s face. “Seeing as how I have the gun and you don’t.”

  He doesn’t get that if only one person walks away from this shit, it’s Sarah Jo. Sure, I’d rather be walking with her, but that’s not the only option I’m okay with. If I have to let her go and send her on ahead of me, she walks free. It’s that simple.

  I’ve never learned how to give up. It’s been pointed out to me that a great many people would consider this to be a major character flaw. Fuck them. I’ve spent years fighting fires that are bigger, stronger, and more stubborn than me. And I’ve won. Even when I’ve had to temporarily step back and let the fire burn for a bit, the fire always, always goes out. Hill is simply a different kind of fire, and I’m going to shut him down, too.

  I test the waters, easing my foot forward an inch. Hill shakes his head. “Uh-uh. Stay right where you are.”

  Gotcha. If I roll, it has to be a fast rush. On the other hand, that’s definitely a Glock in Hill’s hand. That means there’s no safety standing between me and the first shot. If Hill has a full chamber, he’ll have multiple opportunities to hurt someone.

  “No worries,” I say easily. Like we’re having a fucking picnic or we just ran out of cold beer.

  “Sarah Jo—” Thad doesn’t take his eyes off me, which is too bad. “You get your ass in that car now. We’re out of here. You move again, hotshot, and I’ll drop you.”

  The nickname is endearing, but I need to wrap this up and get my girl out of here. I need her safe.

  “Nope,” she blurts out.

  Seriously? I add paddling her cute ass to my to do list. When a deranged maniac is holding you at gunpoint, you give him the words he wants. And then you go with your boyfriend’s secret escape plan. She and I need to get on the same page ASAP. Plus, I want her inside the car. Those patrol cars have bulletproof glass, and, even if the door stays open, she’ll have more cover there.

  Thad can’t cover both of us if she moves as he’s ordered. I think Sarah Jo must have figured that out for herself, because she springs into action. Jesus. Fucking. Christ. I’m supposed to be the one rescuing her, but she sweeps her leg out in a solid roundhouse and nails Thad in the back of his knees. Thad staggers, gun waving wildly, but he doesn’t go down. Good. She’s left something for me to do here. I move, going in fast and hard.

  “Bitch.” Thad screams the word like it’s a bad thing, and points the gun in Sarah Jo’s direction. Or tries to. I bitchslap that sucker, slamming my palm into the barrel and pushing up. That puts Thad’s first shot up into the trees.

  I hug Thad’s arm tight, throwing all my weight into it as I bring my knee up and my head forward like I’m speeding down the fucking highway in all kinds of rush. My head smashes into Hill’s forehead at the same moment I drive my knee into his groin. What happens next is a whole lot of screaming as I put the other man on the ground, twisting his wrist and taking possession of the gun.

  “Told you, you wanted to be talking.” I remove the chamber and pocket it, tossing the gun behind me.

  Emptying the gun is as much for Thad’s protection as it is Sarah Jo’s. I want to kill this fucker so badly. He hurt my girl. He terrorized her. I don’t think he deserves do-overs, second chances, or even a nice, comfy jail cell and decades of alone time, do you? I might also be headed straight for caveman territory because I also want to pick Sarah Jo up, toss her over my shoulder, and hole up somewhere with her. She could have been hurt. Hurt more than she already has been. Tearing Thad apart with my utility knife or just stomping the ever living fuck out of him with my steel-toes both seem like fair options. Sarah Jo will probably want to weigh in on Thad’s future, however, so I need to dial my caveman back.

  When I look away from Thad, I find her fast enough. Of course she hasn’t taken advantage of the opportunity to run, fall back, or make a strategic retreat. She looks pissed, so maybe she’s over being scared. That’s good. I do a quick visual inventory since my hands are busy mauling Thad, but she looks okay. No blood or visible puncture wounds, although she’s definitely mussed up, and Thad has zip-tied her hands behind her back. Once I’ve handed Thad off, I’ll strip her down and check every inch. Kiss her better too, if she’ll let me.

  “You okay?”

  While she thinks over her answer, I flip Hill over and plant my knee in his back harder than is strictly necessary. And wouldn’t you know it? A quick rummage through the man’s utility belt reveals a lifetime supply of zip-ties. I suspect he likes tying people up more than he should. I’m all for kink, but I’m also a fan of consenting, adult partners. I secure his wrists with a pair, and then add a second for good measure.

  “Sarah Jo?” I prompt. I still need a verbal on that question of mine.

  “I’m fine,” she says, twisting to look at her wrists.

  “I’m holding you to that.”

  That’s all I have time to say because the noise approaching us says that our backup has arrived. Four hotshots have peeled off from the group effort to extinguish our supply shed. They’re big-ass, mean sons-of-bitches, which fits the bill nicely. Deputy Douche won’t pass Go and won’t collect two hundred dollars or my girl—he’s headed straight for jail unless my boys kill him first.

  “You need a hand? Or just help burying the body?” Colt’s gaze flicks between Hill and Sarah Jo. As a former race car driver, he’s used to making split-second decisions and I’m pretty sure he’s figured out the situation here. He certainly doesn’t question why I have an officer of the law pinned and cuffed.

  I fucking love my team.

  That’s when I realize that I’m including Sarah Jo in that number. She and I, we make a good team. We have each other’s backs, and I respect the fuck out of her. And yeah, I love her, too. It’s not something I’ve tried before, loving my woman, but I’m eager to get started.

  “I’m betting Hill here is responsible for our latest fire.”

  “You think?” Hunter moves in casually. The hard look in his eyes bodes badly for Hill. Hunter gets cranky as shit when you blow up his fire camp. “Let’s play Twenty Questions.”

  A subtle flick of Hunter’s wrist, and the rest of our team surrounds Hill.

  Thad pants, clearly realizing that he’s outnumbered. Still, he manages to sneer, and my knuckles itch to be re-introduced to his face.

  “You can’t do this,” Thad whines.

  “Looks like I can.” Hunter steps in closer, conveniently blocking Sarah Jo’s view. Did I mention that I love this guy?

  “You stole from an old lady,” I drawl. I’d make an awesome detective.

  “Prove it.” Thad stares up at me defiantly. He’s gonna make this hard.

  “Not sure I have to. When we all go back to Auburn and turn your sorry
ass in for stalking and kidnapping, you don’t think the good folks there are going to ask why you went after Sarah Jo? They’re going to turn you inside out, Hill. Wherever you hid the shit you stole, they’ll find it.”

  “Will not.” Hill’s eyes flicker. Gotcha.

  “Let me give you a couple of tips about confessing,” Hunter offers, leaning down. He gets his mouth real near Hill’s ear and whispers something that makes the other man turn pale.

  “You can’t do that.”

  “Try me.” Hunter shrugs and then he smiles. A slow, cold smile that’s one hundred percent mean. I’m glad I’m not the one on my knees.

  “That old lady didn’t need that stuff,” Hill protests like the dumbass he is. He tries to struggle up, but surrounded as he is by hotshots, he goes straight back down again.

  “You did this just for the money?” Sarah Jo’s voice shakes, and then she gets it under control. That’s my girl. “That was her home, and you torched it.”

  “That true, Hill?” I move in. “You add arson to your résumé?”

  “It was just a house. And it wasn’t like she needed that stuff. I did.”

  Deputy Douche sounds like he actually believes the crap he’s spouting off. I can only imagine how Sarah Jo feels hearing this. That’s her vindication, right here, but she cares for her client. You can’t miss the concern and affection in her voice, and I know how my own elderly aunties and mother would feel about having a houseful of memories burned down around their ears. Violated, pissed off, and ready to rip the offender a new one before starting over, making new memories in a new place.

  “You hear that?” Hunter makes a point of looking around. I spot a couple of phones up, out, and recording as Deputy Douche spills his secrets.

  “Uh-huh. That’s ten to twenty right there, for attempted kidnapping. And we’ve got ourselves an arson.”

  That’s one problem sorted.

  I turn to look for Sarah Jo. She’s making a break for it.

  Again.

  16

  PICK

  I’m not the kind of person who sits around and waits. I don’t need closure. I don’t need to rehash what’s happened or how I feel about it. Apparently, that’s something Sarah Jo and I have in common because she starts moving away from our showdown with the good deputy. She’s an amazing woman, and she’s got grit. Brains. Beauty. The whole package, if I’m being honest. But I really don’t want her to walk out on me now. I want her to talk to with me. To walk into my arms and let me wrap her up and love her. I hook a thumb in her zip-ties and gently swing her to a halt.

  She stops since she has no choice and my heart falls. I’ve always thought that was some kind of expression, but I swear I feel the stupid, hopeful thing plummet from my ribs to my steel-toes. I have a moment of sheer panic as I consider the odds of her sticking out the summer.

  She shifts her gaze from my face to the point where we’re connected, the tied up, plastic, not-so-kinky point. The moment is far less romantic than I’d been hoping for. “What?”

  “You don’t think we should talk now? Or maybe you should offer up a thank-you?”

  I have other suggestions, but I don’t think she’s in the mood to jump my bones right now.

  “Okay.” She looks cautious about the two of us having a conversation. I’ll cut her some slack, seeing as how she’s just had a really bad day. I’m no psychologist, but getting assaulted at work and then forcibly dragged away has to leave a mark. She seems okay, but Sarah Jo generally acts like showing any kind of vulnerability is a crime.

  “Thank you,” she continues in a prissy voice that makes me want to kiss her. Or paddle her butt. Choosing between the two right now is difficult. “Cut me loose.”

  She shoves her wrists at me, and I discover I have a mean side. I’m not in the mood for her orders. In fact, I think it’s my turn to do some order-giving.

  “Mmmm,” I say. “I don’t think so. Not yet.”

  “Pick—”

  It’s so cute the way she thinks she’s in a position to demand things. The way I see it, her wrists may be tied up, but so is my heart. My head. Pick an organ and it’s one hundred percent team Make This Woman Love Me.

  “No.” I repeat my refusal just so we’re clear and run my hand down her arm. I might need to touch her for another century or six, just to make sure she’s in one piece. She’s not the only one who’s had a bad day.

  She frowns. “Is that the only word you know tonight?”

  “Probably not.” I can’t hold back the smile tugging at my mouth. Her answering glare informs me in no uncertain terms that grinning is just fuel for the fire as far as she’s concerned. “I’d like to hear that you’re okay. Maybe you could tell me that.”

  She starts walking, and I fall into step beside her. The boys don’t need my help babysitting Hill while they wait for a bona fide law enforcement official to show up.

  She shakes her wrists at me. “I’d be better if you untied me.”

  She really doesn’t like those ties. I’ll bet she’s running options in her head. In another two minutes, she’ll have a Plan A, a Plan B, and possibly a Plan C for getting shed of them. I have to act fast.

  “Maybe.” I throw an arm around her, pulling her into my side. I think she fits perfectly.

  She gives, just a little. “I’m okay.”

  “I’d like to see that for myself, honey.”

  When her feet slow down, because her stubborn side is clearly kicking in again, I swing her up into my arms. This feels right, having her cozied up against my chest. The way she wriggles, though, she doesn’t share my opinion. I tighten my hold because I’ll never drop her.

  “Put me down,” she snaps.

  See? We’re back to orders yet again. Sarah Jo loves orders—as long as she’s the one giving them.

  “You know how many years you took off my life tonight, Sarah Jo? When I heard you hollering, all I could think was that maybe I’d be too late. That maybe I wouldn’t get there in time.”

  She shoots me a dirty look. “Believe me, I had the same concern.”

  “And that’s another problem,” I continue, my arms tightening briefly. “I’ll always come when you need me, but you don’t believe that. You want to handle everything on your own. What’s wrong with letting someone else have your back?”

  “I like standing on my own two feet,” she shoots right back.

  “You don’t trust me,” I counter.

  She shakes her head. “That’s not it.”

  “Really?” I look down at her and her pretty, stubborn face. “Because I practically had to pull the details about Hill from you.”

  She sucks in a breath. Exhales noisily. “I don’t like not being in control.”

  “We could practice,” I suggest. “Or take turns. Every other day could be Sarah Jo Day. You could think about staying.”

  Here. With me.

  Does that sound stupid? God, she’s everything I never knew I needed, and the way she stares up at me makes me want to beat my chest and swear I can be whoever and whatever she needs. As long as she takes a chance. On me.

  On us.

  She bites her lip, but she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t deny that she’s got every intention of leaving. Now that she’s not starring front and center on Thad’s most wanted list, she’ll pack up and go.

  And take my heart with her.

  I do some fast thinking while I carry her to my RV. When we reach the trailer, I shift her in my arms and reach for the door. Hesitate.

  “I need to tell you something.” She rolls her eyes, but I keep talking. Sometimes, all you can do is dig a line in the ground and hope like hell the fire doesn’t jump it. Sometimes, all you have is hope. “I love you, and I’d like to take you inside and show you. Or talk about it. Or just make plans for what we’re going to do together for the next sixty years or so.”

  I’m holding my breath, waiting for her response. Just standing here on the steps to my RV, holding her tight in my arms, is abou
t as close to heaven as I’m ever getting.

  She chews on her lower lip. “You want to talk?”

  “Sure.” I drop a kiss on her forehead. Now I’m hoping that’s a down payment on about a million more kisses. “If you’re ready to listen to me. But I’d also like to show you that loaning someone else some of your self-control doesn’t have to suck.”

  She looks at the closed door. “Take me inside,” she says. That’s not a yes—but it’s not a no, either. I’ll take what I can get.

  I carry her inside the RV and kick the door shut behind us. It’ll take a moment for my eyes to adjust, but I can find the bed with my eyes closed, even carrying precious cargo. I’ve walked this path hundreds of times, half-dead on my feet after days in the field. I set her down in the center of the mattress and flip on a light.

  She promptly rolls over, shoving her wrists up at me. “Now untie me.”

  She’s sprawled on my bed, on her knees, hands bound behind her. My head can’t decide if I should try for a romantic heart-to-heart or just skip ahead to a very filthy happily-ever-after. I have such a dirty mind. Her mussed-up, trussed-up look is the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen. She’s all long legs, her shorts riding up her ass and her hair tumbled around her face. She looks like she’s just got out of bed, and it’s a good look for her.

  “Give me a minute.” I sound hoarse. “You don’t think you could enjoy this some? Because it’s really, really working for me.”

  She wiggles her wrists at me. “You like having me tied up?”

  “I like having you trust me,” I say. “The tied-up thing is just an added bonus.”

  “Does this mean I get to tie you up tomorrow?”

  I should have raided Deputy Douche’s supply of zip-ties. How come I’ve never bought a silk necktie?

  “If you promise to be very, very nice to me.”

  She giggles. She actually fucking giggles.

  I think… she might like me. This. Us.