Mountain Danger (Wild Mountain Men Book 4)

by Vanessa Vale

  Finch stood and I had to tilt my head back to look at both of them. Now that they weren’t sociopaths intent on doing Poppy bodily harm, I could appreciate how hot they were. How their clothes clung to their strong physiques. Their square jaws. Intense gazes. Big hands.

  And I was still in my underwear. I started walking backward toward the stairs, my gun in one hand—lowered now—and handcuffs in the other. Now that they weren’t being held at gunpoint, their bodies were relaxed and their gazes wandered. I couldn’t miss the heat in their eyes. I also couldn’t miss one very obvious thing. No, two. They were both hard.

  And big.

  Big and hard.

  My mouth was dry. “Okay, so… this has been interesting. Sorry to have, um, messed up your prank. I guess you’ll have to come up with a different one.” I stumbled around an end table. “I’ll… um… see you later.”

  The watched me go, and I felt their gazes on every inch of my skin.

  “Definitely,” Shane said.

  “At the party.” Finch tipped his chin up. “You can ditch the gun but bring the handcuffs.”

  2

  SHANE

  “I hope you have on that red lingerie beneath all those layers.”

  It had been three hours since the takedown in Poppy’s great room, and we’d finally cornered Eve at the party, since she was doing her blatant best to avoid us.

  We hadn’t pulled off the birthday prank, but that wasn’t new. Sometimes it took a few attempts to accomplish. Every year it was hilarious to see her reaction. Poppy and I had been at it, messing with each other, for years. It was one of the ways we’d found humor in growing up in the Nickel household. It hadn’t been the posh lifestyle the gossip magazines painted it to be. Eddie Nickel wasn’t the loving father. He didn’t know what love was, only humiliation, shame and beatings.

  After I started hanging out with Finch in high school, he’d joined in the fun on occasion, especially when I needed an extra set of hands or to work quickly, like tonight and the plan to inflate two hundred balloons before Poppy returned home.

  Poppy and I were adults, but we wouldn’t stop pranking each other. It was too much fun. Eddie Nickel might pop into Cutthroat from time to time, telling the media he wanted some family time, like now, over the holidays. That was a complete joke. Poppy and I were all each other had.

  But today? This specific prank? I didn’t care that we’d failed. Hell, no. What guy would want to miss being stopped by a gorgeous, gun-toting female in her underwear? Not any who had a pulse.

  I’d been hard since the first moment I laid eyes on her, and I hadn’t been the one to be straddled. Fuck, her legs had been spread wide around Finch’s broad back, her hot pussy pressing against him. It had been ball aching just to witness, and I was jealous of him—even if he’d been handcuffed.

  “I hope you like getting your throat punched if you keep talking like that,” Eve countered before taking a sip of the hot rum punch. She wore jeans and heavy winter boots and a thick down jacket. A yellow hat covered her head. She looked… soft, but her words were all sharp wit.

  “Ouch,” Finch commented, running a hand over his beard and grinning.

  Eve had made herself scarce after the… incident. Until now. She shouldn’t feel embarrassed about what had happened. I’d been impressed by her skill. Her levelheadedness. We wanted to put her at ease, but it seemed she used sarcasm as a defense mechanism, and that made her… prickly.

  I understood that well enough, employing any means of self-preservation growing up. Poppy and I hated our dad the same amount, although I held an extra bit of rage and hatred for him for how he’d hurt her. I’d tried to protect her as much as I could, but we’d been kids and Eddie Nickel… well, he’d been an asshole cloaked beneath America’s hottest Hollywood star. I’d even stayed in town instead of going away to college, letting Poppy live with me while she finished high school. No fucking way could I have left her alone in that house.

  I refused to use a dime of his wealth. To spite him, I avoided the limelight, going so far as to work for the forest service where I spent most of my time alone in the woods. I owned a house in town—a small one completely unlike the Nickel ranch—but I lived most of the year in a small cabin on national forest land. I liked the quiet. The solitude. The lack of hype, paparazzi.

  Poppy did the opposite. She spited our old man by using his cash he’d put in trust funds for us when we were born. She’d earned it, she said. Since he’d beaten and verbally abused us until I was big enough to defend us both, I couldn’t agree more. She wasn’t shallow, though, wasting her life on frivolous shit. She’d gone to college and was a social worker at the local middle school, helping to ensure kids had access to help we’d never had.

  Poppy’d bought a big spread with the money and used it to throw big parties like this one. The barn doors were open wide, the tables of food just inside. A raised dance floor had been placed beneath rows of strung lights. A band was off to the side. The pond was frozen solid, cleared of snow, and people were skating. Benches had been placed along the edge for people to sit and switch out of their shoes.

  I guessed at least seventy-five people were here, and I knew almost all of them. But there was only one I was interested in. The very sexy Eve Miranski. And we finally had her in front of us.

  “I’ve made it years without meeting either of you,” she snapped. “Now I can’t make it two hours.”

  I grinned, lifted a hand to brush her long hair off her shoulder. The tresses were silky and soft to the touch, and I wondered if the rest of her felt the same way. We’d seen practically every inch of her, knew she was tall and lean, muscular and fit. She didn’t have tons of curves, but what she did have was taut, toned and perfect. Sadly all of that was covered against the cold with a heavy coat and hat. If I could have superpowers, it would be X-ray vision.

  Her eyes were dark and fringed with the longest lashes. She wore only a hint of makeup, and her lips were shiny and glossy. Her mouth was fucking kissable, although I had to wonder if I’d have my knee kicked out and shoved face-first into the snow if I tried.

  It would be well worth it.

  “We’re that likable,” I told her.

  She rolled her eyes.

  “Are you two always together? Like Laurel and Hardy?” she wondered.

  “More like Fred Flintstone and Barney Rubble,” Finch countered. I would have thought Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, but I didn’t mind being Fred Flintstone. We had looked like bumbling fools earlier. If the Stone Age shoes fit…

  “As for always together?” I asked. “With you we are.”

  She glanced between us as if she were watching a tennis match. “Together? Are… um… you serious?”

  I glanced at Finch, then nodded. “Fuck yeah, we’re serious.”

  We wanted Eve, not only because she looked pretty damned incredible in her underwear, but she was feisty, didn’t hold back on anything and was prepared to throat punch both of us. She was intriguing. Sexy. Smart. A little wild. Definitely dangerous. Prickly as fuck.

  I wanted to get her between us, loosen her up with a few orgasms. Make her forget everything but our names. Like her fellow detective, Nix, we wanted to share a woman, and we were making that very clear.

  “You don’t even know me.”

  “That’s different than us wanting you,” I said. “What we’re saying is we both want to get to know you.”

  Finch set his hand on her shoulder, very slowly, very gently. We didn’t hurt women. Ever. That was why we hadn’t resisted at all earlier. Besides her pointing a gun at us. With his size, Finch could have easily overpowered her, gun or not.

  She wasn’t like any other woman we’d ever met. It didn’t matter that she knew how to incapacitate a guy or get him in handcuffs. We treated women with care. And this one? Eve Miranski? We would handle her gently, not like a delicate flower but like we would a bomb.

  “It would be easier to get to know you if you didn’t try to hide from us,
sugar,” Finch said, his hand still on her shoulder.

  Her eyes flared with anger. I wasn’t sure if it was from the endearment or the statement. “I haven’t been hiding from you.”

  We pinned her with hard stares. She squirmed.

  She looked down at her feet, then back at us. “Fine, I’ve been hiding from you.”

  “Is it because we saw you in pretty red panties and bra? Trust us, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

  Even under the fairy lights, I could see her blush.

  “I avoid situations like this,” she says, circling her finger in the air between us.

  Finch frowned, leaned down so they were eye level. “What do you mean?”

  Her gaze flicked between us again.

  “We didn’t hurt you, did we?” I asked, and Finch tensed beside me.

  She frowned. “What? No.”

  “Then what—”

  “Men. I hide from men.”

  “You sure as hell didn’t hide from us, sugar,” Finch said with a smile.

  She pursed her lips. “That’s exactly it. I didn’t do… earlier intentionally. You guys broke into Poppy’s house, and I’m a law enforcement officer. I don’t flaunt my body to men. Look at me.” Her head dropped. “I’m not giving off signals. I’m not flirting. I look like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man in this coat. I’m not interested, whatever you’re offering.”

  “You’re not gay,” I stated.

  She closed her eyes. Huffed. “Jesus, if a woman isn’t interested, it doesn’t mean she’s a lesbian.”

  True enough. There were lots of women that didn’t do it for me. It didn’t make me into guys. It made me selective. “You just don’t like us.”

  She tucked her chin into the high collar of her coat. It was fucking freezing out here and I knew just the way to warm her up—and it wasn’t more hot rum punch.

  “Actually I don’t really like any guys right about now. I’m not interested in starting anything.”

  “You’re not interested in sex?” Finch asked, his gaze raking her over. He let his hand fall away from her shoulder.

  A waiter came by with a trayful of finger foods. He’d heard Finch’s question and glanced at Eve. Even though she blushed, she gave the guy a death glare and he fled.

  “I like sex just fine,” she replied. “Especially when it’s me and my battery-operated boyfriend,” she added.

  I put my hand on my chest. “Oh, that’s harsh. Now I’m picturing you in bed, in only your red lingerie, legs parted.”

  Her mouth fell open at my bold words. I leaned in, breathed in the scent of rum and fruity shampoo.

  “Your fingers are tugging that scrap of red silk to the side so you can run a big dildo up and down to get nice and wet. Then you fuck yourself with it.”

  Finch made a rumbling sound. Yeah, he could envision that, too.

  “When you say you’re not interested in guys right about now, how long has it been?” Finch asked.

  She took a big swig of her hot drink. I knew a stall tactic when I saw one. “A while,” she replied neutrally.

  I liked the idea of no guy getting his hands—or dick—on her, seeing what we’d seen of her earlier, but she was a passionate woman and deserved sexual pleasure. It was a shame she denied herself.

  “You’re an up-front woman,” I continued. “You don’t like games, I can tell. I’ll state it plainly then. We want you, Eve.”

  “That’s right,” Finch said. “We want to get to know you. Some guy obviously hurt you. We won’t.”

  Her back went as stiff as board. Yeah, someone had messed with her. “You won’t hurt me? Really.” She sounded more sarcastic than reassured.

  “We didn’t earlier,” Finch reminded her.

  “I was holding a gun.”

  “Think that would have stopped us if we really wanted to do you harm?” I asked.

  She studied us. “I can take care of myself.”

  “You sure as fuck can,” Finch said without blinking. And she hadn’t even been dressed. “I remember how hot your pussy was against my back. You can tackle me anytime you want.”

  “We won’t hurt you,” I repeated, patting my chest. “Here.” I was getting an idea of why she was so jaded. Some guy had fucked with her. Hurt her enough to put her off men entirely.

  “You can’t say that,” she countered, shaking her head. “A relationship only leads to heartache and worse.”

  Yeah, I’d been dead-on. I didn’t know who it was that had done a number on her, but if I ever found out, the asshole was going six feet under.

  “Fine. No relationship. Use us for our bodies,” Finch offered.

  What the fuck was he saying? We wanted it all with Eve—or at least to see where this could go. Not a one-night stand. No fucking way. That wouldn’t be enough.

  What was he playing at?

  She laughed, then quickly stopped. “You’re serious.”

  Finch shrugged. “Guys use women all the time. Use us. Ditch the vibrator and go for the real thing. Times two. Trust me, we’ll make you come. Hard.”

  I was slow. Thank fuck Finch wasn’t. We wanted more out of Eve. Sure, we’d had flings. Solo and together. If I had to come up with one of those women’s names, I couldn’t. Nor picture their faces in my mind. That was pretty shitty, but I’d never led one of them wrong and they probably didn’t remember much about me either. As for those who’d just wanted to fuck Eddie Nickel’s son… I’d caught on to that back in college.

  I wanted Eve. For more than her body, but we could start with no-strings sex. If that was how she wanted to play it, to keep her heart out of it for now, that worked. Once we were in her bed, we could take our time, show her how real men treated a lady. To prove that we wouldn’t hurt her. That we were playing for keeps.

  “We’ll be here, sugar,” Finch said. “Just say the word and we’ll take care of you.”

  3

  EVE

  What the hell had that been about? Finch and Shane had offered me—point-blank—a no-strings fling… with both of them. Sex. As much as I wanted. Orgasms, as much as I wanted as well. The question was, why?

  I’d practically ripped Finch’s arm out of his socket, forced him to the floor and handcuffed him. I’d pointed a gun at Shane. It wasn’t the best first impression, that was for sure. They weren’t mad. They were… amused. I somehow intrigued them, which was completely ridiculous.

  They intrigued me, that was for damned sure. I couldn’t believe I never knew Poppy’s brother was such a hottie. And Finch, well, when God handed out the good genes, he’d certainly shown up.

  They weren’t hard on the eyes. Far from it. It had been an hour since they’d left me standing by the barn, speechless and confused. And horny. Since then I’d counted five women who’d come up to Shane by the bar, and two had given their phone number to Finch. I hadn’t even known in the day of cell phones that the concept of writing it on a little slip of paper was still a thing.

  They weren’t hard up. They’d said they were hard, for me. Again, why? Why me?

  I hadn’t been playing hard to get. I hadn’t been playing at all. Why not go for the blonde in the pink puffy coat or the brunette in the very snug black ski pants? They’d seen me in my underwear, knew that I had as many curves as a straight line.

  They’d not only offered themselves up for sexual services, but had walked away. They were letting me decide the if or when.

  “Earth to Eve.”

  I blinked, realizing I’d zoned out on Nix. He and his girlfriend, Kit, had caught up to me by the bar. I couldn’t blame my behavior on the rum drinks even though I’d had three. I blamed it on two hot cowboys.

  “Sorry.” I offered him a small smile. “What were you saying?”

  “The mayor called after you left the station.”

  I groaned, rolled my eyes. We’d been feeling the pressure from his office ever since Erin Mills had been murdered in the fall. Who had we interviewed? What new evidence was there? What had we discover
ed?

  “He wants resolution we can’t give him. Not without a break in the case,” I reminded him.

  Nix knew the score. He was my partner, the only other detective on the Cutthroat Police Department. We were handling the Mills case plus our regular workload.

  Kit took Nix’s hand, looked up at him. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about work tonight.” She’d been Erin Mills’s roommate and had found the body. She wanted to see the killer caught as well, but she was right, it was a party, not work hours.

  Donovan Nash, who formerly worked in the DA’s office, joined us, handing Kit a mug that had steam rising from the top.

  “Hey, Eve.”

  “We were just talking about your dad,” I said.

  I knew Nix really well since we worked together forty-plus hours a week. Because of that, I was friendly with Kit, although they’d only started dating right after Erin Mills was murdered. I’d also worked with Donovan, but only in the courtroom when I had to give testimony on a case he tried.

  He’d quit the DA’s office and was going solo now. I envied him the freedom from office politics, although he didn’t get too much escape since his father was the mayor.

  Donovan held up his hands. “I’m sure his constituents want a murderer behind bars. Not that we don’t,” he added when he knew Nix and I would bite his head off.

  “Since you left the station before I did, you missed the memo. Meeting tomorrow, eleven o’clock.”

  “On a Saturday?” Kit asked. “Never mind, I know. There’s a killer out there.”

  Just talking about it made me tense. The stress was starting to give me heartburn, and I slept like crap. We had no new leads, no compelling evidence that pointed us in any specific direction. The killer was someone who’d known Erin. There hadn’t been a break-in at her house. A fight had gone bad. But who?

  We’d learned that Erin had been an active dater. I wasn’t going to judge any woman for sleeping with a number of men. She’d been an adult, single, and it was her own prerogative. Because of that, it was almost impossible to narrow the suspect list. Was it a jealous ex-lover? A random guy she met at a bar and took home? Had she been stalked? Did she cut someone off while driving and they followed her?