Roping Savannah

by Jory Strong

  Savannah grinned, thinking the puzzle pieces were starting to look like they could all be found in one box. A box named Ricky The Ferret Nowak. “Sure, three of them. Diet Coke for me, hold up on the other two for a second.” She went to the door and stepped outside, spotted Kye leaning against the corner in the alley next to Bert’s. “Might as well eat in here,” she told him, thinking it was possible Ricky might show up, and besides being really hungry, if they sat toward the back, no one could see them from the street, which made it safe enough and a hell of a lot less cramped than waiting and eating in the cab of her truck on the way back to the cabin.

  Kye joined her before she paid for the food and insisted on doing it. Draigon came in a moment later and they claimed a table. Savannah had to hand it to them, they’d stayed close, guarding her as they’d promised, but they’d given her enough room so none of the people she’d questioned seemed aware Draigon and Kye were with her.

  “I did not like seeing that man in the bar touching you,” Draigon said. “He desires you.”

  Savannah looked up though she continued to remove the food containers from the bag and place them on the table. “I’m not sure about the desire part, but Fowler is my one friend in Vice.” She laughed, unable to stop herself. “And I’m surprised you could see anything with the blonde plastered on you. I thought she was going to have a screaming orgasm just rubbing against you.”

  Draigon stiffened and she felt guilty for teasing him. Poor guy. He really needed to lighten up. She reached into the carton containing the chicken, her gaze shifting to meet Kye’s. “Breast or drumstick?”

  Kye didn’t disappoint her. He smiled, a lecherous parody of masculine appreciation as his attention went to the front of her shirt and the outline of her nipples, hardened now that her mind was veering away from the case and moving toward all the things that might happen when she got back to the cabin with her self-appointed bodyguards. “Breast,” he said, putting so much emphasis on the word Savannah’s cunt clenched.

  She handed him a piece of chicken, then asked Draigon, “What about you?”

  His eyes were on the front of her shirt, too, his face tense, his focus so extreme her nipples tightened further into hard, painful knots. “I will take a breast as well.” His gaze lifted. “The woman who accosted me was a nuisance I tried to handle without drawing attention to myself. Had you been in danger, she would not have deterred me from protecting you.”

  Savannah reached over and touched his hand, brushed her fingertips across the wristband with its oddly swirling gold-flecked red stones and intricate etchings of something that looked like—she squinted—a phoenix? It made her smile. He was such a contradiction. She met his eyes. “I was just teasing you. I know you would have been right there if I needed help.”

  She pulled her hand back and placed the chicken on his plate, then selected a drumstick for herself, filling them in on what little she’d learned asking about The Ferret and showing the pictures of the girls. Ending by saying, “I’m game to call it a day now since I made a point of saying I’d be back around tomorrow. Who knows where The Ferret is holed up and how long it’ll take for him to surface. He will. That’s what my gut tells me and it makes sense considering he’s the one who sent me the chips—” She shrugged. “I’ve done what I can do for today.”

  Savannah polished off a second drumstick and took a wing as Kye and Draigon were reaching for another breast, but where Kye dug into his food immediately, Draigon seemed unable to look away from the piece she was working on. “What?” she finally said, wondering at the expression on his face, a mix of curiosity and horror as she licked her fingers clean. “Haven’t you ever seen anyone eat the wing before?”

  Draigon shuddered slightly despite the delicious taste of the food. Like most on Belizair, he ate little meat when he was home. But when he was on other worlds, his diet more often included it—and yet he rarely chose to eat creatures with wings. Until she pulled the wing out of the bucket, he had not known what manner of beast they were eating.

  “What is this food called?” he asked, realizing by Savannah’s startled expression that he should have put his pride aside and asked Kye directly.

  “Chicken,” Kye said, straight-faced, though his voice carried a hint of amusement at Draigon’s expense.

  With the word came an image. Not from Kye, but from Draigon’s memory, from the material he had studied before leaving Belizair. A study he was coming to think had been far too brief, one limited by time and covering only the most rudimentary information.

  Draigon shifted uneasily in the chair. Torn between the desire to take another bite of the chicken breast still in his hand or to set it aside. Aware that Kye and Savannah were both studying him intently.

  “Haven’t you ever eaten chicken before?” Savannah asked.

  “No.”

  Her eyebrows lifted. Her expression showed her curiosity. But before she could question him further, Kye redirected her thoughts, saying, “Where we are from, some have an…allergy…to eating anything winged and feathered.”

  Immediately Savannah’s face flooded with worry, filling Draigon’s chest with incredible warmth. “Are you feeling okay?” she asked.

  “I am fine. The food is fine.” He took another bite of chicken to prove the truth of his words.

  Savannah’s attention remained on him for long moments and her concern burned a path straight to his heart. When she finally reached for another piece, a leg this time, Draigon relaxed, glad his moments of ignorance could be set aside and forgotten.

  “Bert makes the best chicken in Reno. Except for my grandmother’s of course. Nobody does fried better than Grams.” A smile played over Savannah’s lips and Draigon found he could now read her intent to tease. “When this investigation is done, I’ll swing by the ranch and have Grams cook up some Prairie Oysters for you guys. They’re a real treat and Grams has a recipe that’s been passed down for generations.” Savannah paused a heartbeat, long enough for Kye and Draigon’s thoughts to merge as they tried to interpret how oysters could be found on the prairie. Then apparently satisfied by whatever she read in their expressions, Savannah said, “Of course, it might mean you guys will need to stick around for awhile. Until it’s time to castrate the bulls. Though I guess if Grams is only cooking for a few people I could probably get permission to go ahead and round up some of the stock and cut them ahead of time. If you’re interested in playing cowboy, you could even help.”

  It wasn’t necessary for Draigon to touch his thoughts to Kye’s in order to feel the other man’s horror. Both of them stiffened in their seats, their legs closing automatically, as though protecting their own testicles.

  Primitive, Draigon said. Like the Ewellians who eat the hearts from certain water beasts in order to gain courage. To Savannah he said, “I have no need to eat the testicles of bulls in order to become aroused or gain stamina. You will not find me lacking when I claim you for a bond-mate.”

  Savannah blinked, surprise bursting through her followed by laughter so hard she had to wipe tears from her eyes. God, if she didn’t know better she’d think Draigon was from another planet. He must not get around very much. Even his speech was so…Old World. Formal.

  “Eating bull testicles probably did start out as a superstition,” she conceded when she could stop laughing. “But that was a long time ago. Now they’re considered a delicacy by some and a tradition by others. And really, they’re good. Especially the way Grams cooks them. Sliced nice and thin, coated in wine and hot sauce and rolled up in cornmeal and flour, then…”

  She grinned, deciding from Kye and Draigon’s alarmed, slightly queasy expressions that she’d had enough fun—for now. Also deciding to leave Draigon’s comment about claiming her alone, even though her body was humming with interest.

  Savannah surveyed the empty food containers on the table. “Guess we might as well head back to the cabin. Our work here appears to be done.”

  The men stood and helped her dispose of the tras
h. Then after a brief consultation, they decided to continue as they had been doing since leaving the truck in a secure parking garage. They separated so Savannah would appear to be alone.

  Draigon and Kye left together. Savannah hovered near the front door, waiting for them to get far enough away to split up.

  “You got a number Ricky can reach you at?” Bert asked, looking up from a magazine he was reading behind the cash register.

  Savannah hesitated. Considered her options. She didn’t want to believe there were bad Reno cops involved, but finding out The Ferret was linked to both the money laundering and the blackmail scheme was making her a little paranoid.

  She had to wonder about the hang-ups on her voice mail at the station. Had to think some of those calls were from Ricky, maybe too afraid to leave a message because he wasn’t sure who was checking them—which would explain why he’d sent the casino chips but no note. Hell, for all she knew, he hadn’t counted on his prints being lifted and run. She frowned, feeling the paranoia form a tight ball in her stomach as she remembered the captain’s comment the day she’d been in his office. Just to be on the safe side, use a pay phone. And don’t use the same one twice. She’d taken his order at face value, considered it a reasonable precaution. But now she wondered if he’d already gotten wind of something. And maybe knew more than he was letting on. Maybe it was more than a gut feel that had caused him to say, Something’s going on over in Vice, besides you stepping on toes and pissing people off. So watch your back there too.

  Cell phones were traceable but tracing them left a trail. If Mastrin and Creech— She stopped herself. They were innocent until proven guilty. Yeah. She didn’t like them. Bad chemistry. A bad start. Whatever. They’d just rubbed each other the wrong way from the very start.

  Creech because she’d pulled him over and ticketed him for speeding before she found out he was Vice. Not that she would have let him go. He was doing forty in a twenty-five-mile-per-hour zone.

  Mastrin because she’d broken up a bar fight he was in and hauled him to the station in the backseat of her patrol car along with the guy he’d been fighting, only to find out Mastrin was undercover. But hell, that actually worked to his benefit, made him look legit. And she should have gotten a pat on the back—or an apology—for the trash talk she’d had to put up with from him.

  “Well?” Bert prompted.

  Shit. It was a risk. But she could spend days trolling dives and casinos and wandering the street waiting for The Ferret to feel brave enough to approach her. She gave Bert a phone number. “That’s my cell. If Ricky contacts you, pass it on. Otherwise forget you have it. Okay?”

  “It’s already starting to slip my mind.”

  Savannah nodded and left the building. She didn’t expect trouble but she still checked out the street, noted the people on it then walked with purpose and awareness toward the part of town where they’d stashed the truck.

  Four blocks later and she was in an area with seedy bars boasting lap dances, cheap drinks and a blind eye toward whatever was happening at the tables. Savannah slowed, tempted to linger, to stop and flash the pictures of Holland and Camryn for a second time in one day, to ask around again about The Ferret, but before the idea took hold, a car with dealer plates jerked to a stop next to her. Two men spilling out even as she was already going for her gun. Recognition instant though their Wanted pictures had been grainy.

  They were on Savannah before she could bring the gun up.

  The first one slapping her across the face with enough force to tumble her backward to the concrete.

  The second Guzman brother kicking her forearm so the gun skittered away.

  “Yo bitch, you’ve got your nose in business where it doesn’t belong,” a third, the driver, said, leg going back, ready to deliver a kick to her head.

  But before he could say more, before any of them could do more, Kye and Draigon were there, coming out of nowhere, their fury scorching and vibrating the air. The sound of violence filling it as Savannah rolled over and scrambled for her gun.

  Do not kill him! You will be detained, Kye shouted in Draigon’s mind, stilling him as he very nearly used his superior strength to break the neck of the man who’d dared to strike Savannah.

  With a growl, Draigon wrenched the attacker’s arms behind his back, using the bouren tie from his hair for the purpose it had been created—to restrain law-breakers. Took a gun and a knife from his sullen prisoner, then moved to the driver, still unconscious from the blows both he and Kye had delivered.

  Draigon removed the unconscious man’s weapons then shifted his attention to Savannah, fury roaring though him at the reddened mark on her face, relief mixing with pride as he took in her steady, confident stance, her gun trained on the man Kye had subdued.

  “Thanks for the save,” she said, retrieving a plastic flexi cuff from her pocket and tossing it to Kye.

  “Do you have another restraint?” he asked, glancing to where Draigon hovered over the downed driver.

  Savannah shook her head then spoke into her cell phone.

  The man Draigon stood over stirred, moaned, and Draigon found himself wishing the assailant would regain consciousness and take up the fight again. Even with the danger past, Draigon still wanted to kill these men. And the savagery of his emotions made him uneasy. The quickness in which he had broken Council law, used the Ylan stones to close the distance between himself and Savannah, unsettled him.

  Draigon took a deep breath. It was done. And should word get back to the Council, he would stand before them in their judgment chamber and defend his actions.

  Just as Lyan d’Vesti has done numerous times.

  The thought was unwelcome, disquieting, and Draigon pushed it aside in favor of focusing his attention on their prisoners.

  Savannah retrieved Vaccaro’s business card. The local cops would probably wonder how the FBI had gotten on the scene so quickly—then again, he might just wait for the Guzman brothers to get to the station. Their wanted status gave him jurisdiction and a way to question them.

  “You give your report yet?” Vaccaro asked when she finished updating him.

  “No.” She heard sirens. “I’ve got about thirty seconds before I have to say anything.”

  “Okay. Keep your explanations short and simple. You don’t know who they are. You don’t know why they attacked you. And don’t mention either my name or Kelleher‘s.”

  Savannah rolled her eyes at the unnecessary warning. “And in exchange for my silence you’ll share whatever you learn from The Cousins, right?”

  Vaccaro made a sound. Choked laugh or strangled groan. Without seeing his face, Savannah couldn’t be sure which. “I’ll be in touch,” he said and hung up.

  Savannah put the phone away, grinning at Kye and Draigon. Still amazed and awed at how quickly they had gotten to her and subdued all three men.

  “You guys can guard my body any time, anywhere,” she said, her nipples and cunt tightening when their eyes flared, conveying just how intimately and thoroughly they intended to possess and guard her body.

  Patrol cars began arriving on the scene and she braced herself for the endless questions and answers. “Let the fun begin.”

  Time slowed to an almost unbearable crawl for Draigon and he quickly came to appreciate Kye’s intervention. Had he killed the human… He breathed a sigh of relief when Savannah finally said, “Let’s hit it.” The saying making sense to Draigon for the first time. Between the assault on his bond-mate, the repetition of going over the events and the tight Earth clothing, he did indeed feel like hitting something!

  Kye pulled Savannah into his arms and covered her mouth with his as soon as they returned to the truck. The fierceness of his grip and the savageness of his kiss communicated his feelings about the attack. He could not lose her!

  He shuddered, reluctant to pull away. And yet he knew that he must.

  I will take the DNA samples to the scientists in San Francisco, he said to Draigon.

  To Savanna
h he said, “Draigon will remain with you. I have errands to run, including getting us a new vehicle for these trips to town.”

  Their eyes met. Heat moving between them.

  “You’ll be back tonight?” Savannah asked, her cunt lips swelling, moistening at the thought of being alone with Draigon. Her clit stiffening at the thought of Kye joining them later.

  “Yes,” Kye said, his voice a husky promise.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Determination filled Draigon. Bolstered by the attack, by his own conviction Earth was a primitive, dangerous planet. Reinforced by the unrelenting stiffness of his cock and the terror of losing Savannah.

  When they arrived at the cabin, he would use his body to prove she both belonged to him and needed him, to convince her to return home with him. He would pound into her until she agreed to a binding ceremony, until she accepted the wristband he had crafted for her.

  Draigon tightened his grip on her hand until she sounded a protest, his heart raging when she said, “You’re too wound up, Wingman. You need to relax, blow off some steam, let it go. I’m not sure you’re cut out for bodyguarding duty.”

  His foot shifted to the brake, bringing them to an abrupt halt on the dirt road leading to the cabin. “I cannot tolerate your being in danger,” he said, and immediately knew it was the wrong thing to say at this point in their courtship.

  Savannah’s eyes flashed then narrowed with temper, her body stiffened as she tried to pull her hand from his. “I’m a cop, Draigon. Danger comes with the territory. Same as it comes with being a bounty hunter. I hope you’re not going to tell me what’s okay for a man isn’t okay for a woman.”

  A muscle spasmed in his cheek. By all that was holy to the Amato, he wanted to lay down the law, to tell her she was too important to risk, that on Belizair she would be safe, free to explore and make friends among the other human women while they awaited the birth of children, to…