by Rita Herron
“No, sweetie, no way was I going to give up and leave you girls.” She leaned over the bed then drew the girl into a hug. “You’ve been through a bad ordeal, but I promise that we’re all going to get past this, Mae Lynn. We can’t let those men destroy who we are.”
* * *
IT WAS NEARLY midnight by the time Lucas drove Charlotte back to his house.
He left a guard to watch the man he’d shot, and he’d asked Keenan to look for possible connections to Tumbleweed.
The fact that Herman Stanley had been in Austin on business the same week the auction was held might be coincidental. Lucas didn’t like coincidences.
Harrison was stopping by the banker’s house to see if he’d returned, and look for anything suspicious.
Stanley’s house was slightly remote. Would he bring Evie to his house, though? That seemed chancy. How the hell would he hide her?
Although there were cases where kidnappers had held women or girls hostage practically in plain sight.
Keenan was researching Stanley’s financials and assets, looking for property where he might take Evie.
A nasty taste settled in his mouth at the thought.
Charlotte remained quiet on the drive home. She looked exhausted and worried. He’d give anything to have been able to bring Evie back with the others.
He scanned the property as he drove onto the ranch, then veered down the drive to his cabin. His mother had mentioned that she’d made dinner, but he was too tired to stop by the house. Charlotte said she had no appetite anyway, and had wanted to go back to the cabin and rest.
The wind whistled through the window as he parked, and he climbed out then guided Charlotte to the cabin.
She stumbled on the top step, and mumbled an apology.
“You don’t have to apologize, Charlotte. You’re doing great.”
A long sigh escaped her as they entered. “I don’t know if I can be enough for the girls,” she said, the self-doubt in her tone eating at him. “Mae Lynn is having a difficult time.”
“You are strong and loving and patient. That’s what they need.” He brushed hair from her cheek as they entered.
“They need us to find Evie,” Charlotte said. “They feel guilty that she was separated. They said that she held them together.”
Lucas understood that kind of guilt. He and his brothers had lived with it when Chrissy disappeared. “We’ll find her. I promise.” But would it be soon enough?
What if the man who’d bought her already had her in his clutches?
Chapter Twenty-Two
Charlotte breathed in the masculine scent of Lucas’s cabin as she seated herself on his sofa. His woodsy aftershave permeated the space, reminding her that he was not only an FBI agent, but also a tough cowboy.
Emotions welled in her chest, and tears burned the backs of her eyelids. She blinked them back but failed and felt them trickling down her cheeks.
“Can I get you something to drink or do you just want to go to bed?” Lucas asked.
“Maybe a drink. I don’t know if I can sleep yet.”
“Wine? Beer? Whiskey? Tea?”
“Do you have red wine?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. We had some left from Harrison’s wedding, so I brought a couple of bottles to the house.”
She nodded, an image of sweet Evie taunting her. A minute later, Lucas tucked a wineglass into her hands. She wrapped her fingers around the glass then sniffed.
“It’s a cab,” she said. “My favorite.”
“Good.” The sound of ice clinking in a glass echoed from somewhere near the kitchen, then footsteps, and Lucas sank onto the sofa beside her.
“You’re having bourbon,” she said with a small smile as she recognized the strong scent.
“My drink of choice,” he murmured.
They sat in silence for a moment, the tension thickening. She had the sudden urge to lean into him, to ask him to hold her. The emotions of the night bombarded her, her fear for Evie blending with worry over Mae Lynn’s recovery.
“I’d better go lie down,” she said, afraid she was going to fall apart.
Lucas guided her to the guest bedroom, then once again described the layout. She sipped the wine and felt for the bed.
“Call me if you need anything,” he said softly.
She needed him. But she couldn’t ask...
His footsteps faded and the door squeaked as he closed it. She stared into her dark world, aching to see the colors in the room, to be independent again.
But that was selfish. Evie had bigger problems and so did Mae Lynn.
Still, the day’s events overwhelmed her and tears began to fall. She took another sip of wine, then felt for the end table and eased the glass onto it.
She raked her hand across the bed and found her overnight bag, then located her tank top and pajama pants. She quickly changed into them, her fingers gliding over the wound on her shoulder as she straightened her tank. She no longer needed the bandage, but she would probably have a scar.
That would be nothing compared to what the girls had to overcome.
She choked back a sob, but failed again, and the tears began to flow. The door squeaked.
“Charlotte?”
“I’m fine,” she said in a raw whisper.
Footsteps echoed on the floor then his hand brushed the hair from her cheek. She swiped at the tears to no avail. They ran down her face like a river.
The bed dipped as Lucas lowered himself beside her, then he pulled her into his arms.
Charlotte didn’t want to lean on him or need him. But she did need him, at least tonight.
* * *
LUCAS HELD CHARLOTTE, wanting to soothe her anxiety, but the moment she leaned into him and traced her finger over his cheek, it turned into more.
He cradled her face between his hands and closed his mouth over her lips. Her sweetness and strength triggered every protective instinct in him and aroused him at the same time.
She lifted her hand and he expected her to push him away. Instead, she raked her fingers along his jaw again, an intimate gesture that made his sex harden.
He deepened the kiss, then threaded one hand through her hair and slid the other down her back, drawing her closer.
He wanted more. Wanted all of her.
The thought sent a bolt of fear through him.
But she teased his lips apart with her tongue, and fear vanished, hunger stirring in its wake. He thrust his tongue in her mouth and stroked her back, lust driving his fingers lower, to her waist.
She felt delicate and feminine and so damn sexy that he lowered his head and trailed kisses along her neck. She lifted her head in surrender, offering him full rein. He took it, and nibbled and suckled at her throat, dipping lower and lower until he tasted the sweet saltiness of her skin above her breasts.
Her nipples stiffened to peaks beneath that thin tank top, driving him mad. His finger brushed her nipple, and she breathed in deeply.
“Charlotte, I don’t want to take advantage of you,” he murmured against her ear.
“You aren’t.” She kissed him again. “I don’t want you to do this because you feel sorry for me.”
That was the last thought on his mind. He moved her hand over his sex so she could feel the evidence of his desire. “That is not pity.”
Her soft laugh emboldened him, and he kissed her deeper, then trailed kisses down her throat to her cleavage. He massaged one breast with his hand while he teased the other with his teeth.
She moaned softly, and tugged at his shirt. He slipped her tank top over her head, careful not to hurt her wound. It was healing, but the sight of it intensified his rage at the man who’d shot her.
“Lucas?”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered as he gently kissed her shoulder.
Smiling at the catch in her breath, he helped her remove his shirt, then she tugged at his belt. He’d left his gun and holster in the living room, and made quick work of shedding the rest of his clothes.
Anxious to feel her skin against his, he eased her back onto the bed and kissed her again, then looked his fill at her plump breasts. She had perfect round globes, heavy and beautiful, with rosy nipples that stood erect as if begging for his mouth.
He complied and suckled the tip of one, then drew it into his mouth. She moaned and pulled at him, stroking his back, as he eased on top of her.
She parted her thighs, then pushed at his boxers until his sex was free, hard and throbbing in her hand.
* * *
CHARLOTTE’S BODY HUMMED with desire. She’d never felt anything like the magic Lucas stirred inside her.
His fingers stroked and loved her, his mouth and lips turned her to putty in his hands.
She felt wild with need and raw with hunger.
He teased her nipples until they throbbed and ached for more. Sensations shot through her core as his fingers dipped to her femininity and he rubbed her through the thin fabric of her pajama bottoms.
She stroked his thick length, urging him toward her, and he pushed her pajamas down her legs then slipped them off. His boxers hit the floor next, then their movements became frenzied and...desperate.
She’d never wanted a man like she wanted Lucas.
She wished she could see his face, see his eyes, know that he wanted her with the same intensity.
“Don’t think,” he said with a tender kiss to her lips. “You can feel how much I want you, Charlotte. But if you want me to stop, I will.”
“No, I want you, too.” She wrapped her fingers around his erection, parted her thighs and guided him to her.
He paused a second, and she heard his jeans rustling, then realized he’d grabbed a condom. She wanted to help him but she stroked his bare hips instead, feeling the muscles of his hips flex and harden as he climbed on top of her.
He nuzzled her neck, then her breasts again, then stroked her damp center with the tip of his sex. She groaned, wanting him deeper. All the way inside her, filling her.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmured.
She started to shake her head. She’d had a port-wine birthmark when she was younger, had an ugly wound now from being shot. She was...blind.
“Yes, you are,” he murmured again. Without giving her time to protest, he slid his thick length inside her. She moaned, parting her legs wider to cradle his body between her thighs, then lifted her hips, inviting him deeper.
He pulled out, teased her wet center, then plunged inside her again, this time driving himself to her core. She clawed at his back, urging him to move faster and faster. Passion built a frantic rhythm, and titillating sensations spiraled through her.
Stars swam behind her eyes, and she felt dizzy, exhilarated. Deeper, deeper, harder, faster, he made love to her. She wrapped her legs around him and clung to his back as he rode her. A million delicious sensations fluttered through her, and she groaned his name as her release splintered through her.
For a moment, a sea of colors burst into a fireworks show behind her eyes. She felt dizzy. Disoriented.
Wonderful.
Tears pricked her eyes as he kissed her again, then he plunged deeper again, growling her name as his release claimed him.
* * *
LUCAS CRADLED CHARLOTTE against him. His body tingled with erotic sensations. His heart fluttered with emotions.
Charlotte nestled closer into his arms, her breathing a soft whisper against his chest.
A smile curved his mouth. She trusted him enough that she’d fallen asleep.
He’d had sex with plenty of women, but he’d never actually spent all night in a woman’s bed. Never slept with one.
He started to climb from bed, but leaving her felt wrong. He wanted to hold Charlotte all night.
He wanted to listen to her breathe and feel her warm body against his. Wanted to make sure she rested and wasn’t plagued by nightmares.
He wanted to love her again.
His pulse jumped.
He understood how Harrison had felt with Honey.
Being in bed with Charlotte felt right, as if they belonged together.
Fear mingled with panic. But he looked down at her and brushed her hair from her cheek. Dim moonlight played off her features, accentuating her beautiful heart-shaped face. Long dark eyelashes fluttered over her cheeks, her hair a waterfall of black against the white pillowcase.
He couldn’t resist. He dropped another kiss into her hair, then another one on her cheek. She made a low murmur of contentment and snuggled deeper into his arms, and he held her tight.
He was in love with Charlotte.
But he didn’t know what the hell to do about it.
She’d worried he was making love to her out of pity. What would she think if he confessed that he was in love with her?
It was rotten timing. She had a boatload of problems. He had a job to finish.
She might misread his motives.
He kissed her forehead and closed his eyes, savoring the feel of her in his arms, and decided to wait.
He might feel differently tomorrow.
No, you won’t. You fell in love with her the moment you met her.
But what if she didn’t love him back?
* * *
CHARLOTTE STIRRED THE next morning, feeling sore but languid and safe in Lucas’s arms.
She hadn’t contemplated the consequences of making love to Lucas the night before. She hadn’t thought of anything but being close to him.
The morning after was always awkward. Or it should have been.
But Lucas surprised her by kissing her good-morning, then bringing her coffee in bed.
Self-conscious, she tugged the covers over her. She probably had bed head and needed a shower.
“You look beautiful,” he said.
She blushed and sipped her coffee. “We have to do something today to get Evie back.”
“Charlotte,” Lucas said softly. “We have feelers searching for connections to Stanley and any place he might have taken Evie.”
“That’s not enough,” Charlotte said. Stanley might not even be involved. “I want you to call that reporter and set up a live interview.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Lucas said.
“I understand you want to keep me safe,” she said. “And I appreciate it. But if I go on camera and make a plea for help, someone who knows about this trafficking ring might hear the message and call in.”
Lucas’s footsteps pounded across the floor. “No.”
Charlotte squared her shoulders. “It’s not up to you, Lucas. If you don’t set it up, I’ll get Harrison or someone else to help me.”
He stalked from the room, and Charlotte felt for the table, put her coffee cup on it, then found her overnight bag and fresh clothes. She felt her way to the bathroom and quickly showered.
By the time she came out of the bathroom, voices echoed in the living room. Lucas’s and Harrison’s.
“I am not going to stand by and watch her make a target of herself,” Lucas said.
“We’ll be there to protect her,” Harrison said.
“No, she might get hurt.”
“Listen, brother, we’re doing everything possible to find out who bought Evie, but time is of the essence. This creep may be taking her someplace where we’ll never find her.”
Charlotte’s insides chilled. Harrison spoke the truth. She knew it and so did Lucas.
She struggled to recall the layout of the bedroom, then felt along the wall until she reached the door. It was partially open, so she stepped i
nto the entryway, her chin lifted high.
“He’s right, Lucas. Either call the reporter and set it up, or Harrison and I will arrange it without you.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
An hour later, Lucas watched Charlotte speak into the camera, his stomach in knots. Even if he understood her need to go public, he didn’t like putting her in the spotlight.
The leader of this trafficking ring might send someone after her again—or come after her himself.
On the way to the station, she’d suggested that would be a good thing. He would be close by, catch this bastard and end this nightmare by bringing Evie home.
But it was damn dangerous. A million things could go wrong.
Gerald Ingram, the blasted reporter who’d leaked the story that Charlotte had survived had been reprimanded by his boss. Lucas intentionally asked for someone else to run this interview, hoping to make a point with the creep.
The SOB Lucas had shot and taken to the hospital was on the mend and now in custody. But he still hadn’t offered any more information.
“Thank God and thank the FBI and Sheriff Harrison Hawk for working diligently to stop this human-trafficking room. They have made one arrest and rescued three of the students who were taken from my studio.” Charlotte paused and cleared her throat, her emotions brimming on the surface. “But one girl, thirteen-year-old Evie Cranton, is still missing.” A photo of Evie appeared on the screen. “Evie is sweet and likes to paint sunsets and flowers. She’s just an innocent teenager caught in a horrible situation.” She paused again, this time for effect to give viewers time to make a personal connection to Evie. “Think about it, folks. This trafficking ring kidnaps young girls and sells them as sex slaves. It could be your daughter or granddaughter or your little sister or your friend who’s taken next.”
Lucas couldn’t help but think about Chrissy and all the parents with missing kids who still had no clue where their child was. The pain was unbearable; it ate at you every day.
“The police believe that someone in our very town of Tumbleweed may be involved in this trafficking ring,” Charlotte continued. “If you know anything about the men who abducted the students from Tumbleweed, please call the FBI or your local law enforcement. Let’s stop this inhumane practice of stealing children and women and turning them into sex slaves, and make our town safe again.”