by Taylor Lee
“Answer me.” Twisting her chin, ignoring her pained whimper, he repeated, “Last time, Tanya. Why did you go to the ranch tonight by yourself?”
Realizing that he wasn’t going to let her go, that he was going to force her to answer, Tanya swallowed past the golf ball–sized lump in her throat and tried to explain. “I . . . I talked to Dante. He . . . he said all the guys were at the tavern. I . . . I thought I was safe.”
Ryker persisted. “Why didn’t you bring Gunnar or, better yet, your father?”
Tanya shrugged and pulled away from his strong grip and rubbed at her chin. Knowing there was nothing she could say that would satisfy him, she decided to go for the truth. “Because Gunnar is a pussy and the sheriff would have insisted that we have a warrant.”
Ryker sat quietly for a moment, staring at her through half-closed eyes, then nodded as if confirming a central truth. His words confirmed his conclusion.
“Ah yes. So there we have it. You went alone to the home of a demented man that you suspected of murdering a young woman because you knew that neither your partner nor your sheriff would condone such a dangerous mission, let alone an illegal one.”
He glared at her and his lips curled up in a grin, one that unfortunately was devoid of humor. “But don’t stop now, Deputy. What was so goddamned fucking important that you were willing to risk your life?” When she just shook her head, he said, “Dammit, Tanya. Answer me.”
Forcing her voice to steady, Tanya swallowed hard and tried to explain. “I knew he—Manny—was a slob. I thought I could find some clothes, or maybe sheets, or something that had blood on them. Violeta’s blood.”
Ryker pressed his lips together in a hard, straight line. He studied her through his narrowed eyes for a long moment and then shook his head. “And to think all you had to do was ask me to help you. You see, Tanya, if you’d told me what you were doing, I could have told you that Manny was one step ahead of you—of us both. The night Violeta was killed, I heard Manny in the shower, then saw him go to the laundry room. At the time, I thought it was strange—given the slob that he is—that he was doing laundry at one o’clock in the morning.”
Tanya couldn’t hide her shock. It took her a full moment to respond to his startling disclosure but not before righteous anger flooded her.
“You knew that Manny was guilty? But you didn’t bother to tell me or my father? You kept that information to yourself, deciding that the big, ever-so-smart FBI agent could solve the crime better that the pitiful locals could? What were you angling for, Agent Thompson, another medal, maybe a bigger raise? Another great story to tell your elite buddies how you singlehandedly solved a crime while the pathetic locals sat around with their thumbs up their butts?!”
If she’d taken a moment to look at him, truly see him and not rely on the self-righteous anger that was blinding her to his expression, Tanya would have known that she was going down a rabbit hole—headfirst. Even Ryker’s clipped tones and heavily lidded gaze didn’t stop her. His words should have.
“Ah, but your father did know. As you would have if you’d done as I requested and attended the meeting at Barrett Meier’s. You remember last night, Tanya, when you got to your father’s office an hour after you were supposed to? Even then, you weren’t willing to listen to me, much less discuss how we could work together to solve Violeta’s hideous murder.”
His expression hardened as he studied her. She knew he’d been angry before, but this was something different, more ominous. She wished he would yell at her, but he didn’t.
Instead, he said in a silky voice that might even have been pleasant if it weren’t for the gleam in his dark azure eyes, “And so, Tanya, because you refused my help and refused to bring your partner or your sheriff into your plans, you came very close to being killed tonight.” At her gasp, he said blandly, “Oh, forgive me. I forgot to whom I’m speaking. I’m talking to Deputy Tanya the Terrible Trouble. Like Superman, she is faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound. And can apparently hold off four heavily inebriated lowlifes in the process of cluster fucking her.”
Ryker held her gaze, then said carefully, “In addition to the other outrageous things you’ve said to me tonight was your assertion that I blamed you for what happened, which is true. I do blame you, for all the reasons I’ve articulated. But please, don’t think for a minute that I don’t blame those goddamned fucking assholes who were about to attack you. Do you understand, Tanya? When I got there, four men were surrounding you, waiting their turn to fuck you. They’d already stripped off your shirt, and it would have been seconds at the most before your pants followed suit. And then, Tanya, you would have been standing naked before four drunken bastards, one of whom raped and murdered a fifteen-year-old girl. The same man that you intended to take down in the middle of the night all by your fucking self.”
His raspy voice was close to a growl when he said, “Tell me, Tanya. Were you trying to get gang-raped? Are those bastards right? You need real men to teach you a lesson? If that was your goal, you miscalculated! As I made clear tonight, the last thing those pigs are is real men.” His expression darkened further as he settled back into the chair. Holding her gaze, he pressed his lips together in a hard line and then said softly, “But, honey, I am a real man. And while it may not be a good idea to teach you a lesson when I’m as angry as I am, I think it’s time that you and I consummate our relationship.” At her gasp, his lips curled in what looked like it could have been a genuine smile if it weren’t for the fury in his flashing eyes. To her shock, he pointed to a place in front of him and nodded. “Up there, baby. Stand right up there where I can see every bit of you.” When she just stared at him in horror, he added softly, “And then, sweetheart, I want you to take off your clothes. All of them. Slowly. One piece at a time . . . ”
Chapter 27
Ryker wasn’t surprised that Tanya was shocked by his arrogant command. Of course she would be. Ever since he’d met the confrontational young woman, he’d been confounded by her brazen assumptions that no matter how dangerous or demanding the situation she found herself in, she could handle it. She made it clear in no uncertain terms that she didn’t need anyone’s help, particularly a man presumptive enough to challenge her. It didn’t matter if the man was her impressive father, her somewhat clueless partner, her ridiculous fiancé, or the dangerously demented Manny Davis. Or, Ryker conceded, him. Even when he’d run her off the road and then come on to her, she’d flaunted him. Refused to give Courtland back his ring, refused to bring him into her investigation, and finally tonight, rather than asking for help, she’d come close to being gang-raped.
As he considered the pale young woman staring at him, Ryker knew that on another level, the purely physical level, he’d gotten through to her and, not incidentally, that she’d returned the favor, captured him at a base level. The fact that his prick was a fierce drumstick beating against his reserves and the chances of him containing it were miniscule confirmed that the sexual attraction between them was powerful and unlikely to be constrained by either one of them. He couldn’t explain the attraction to himself or to the sheriff, who’d pointedly asked him to make his intentions clear—for his daughter’s sake as well as Ryker’s own. Until tonight, Ryker had convinced himself that his obsession with her was primarily a physical desire, although he admitted that she tested him at a soul level. Her orneriness, brazen attitude, and outrageous flaunting of her impressive wares piqued his interest and, frankly, his lust. In a way that no other woman had.
All of the rational introspection he’d been consumed with since he met her went up in a noxious cloud of smoke when he confronted the gruesome scene at the bunkhouse tonight. The sight of the proud woman surrounded by a cadre of baying hyenas intent on raping her filled him with a fury so intense it was a miracle that he’d contained it. Even now, he was amazed that he hadn’t attacked Manny Davis, the clear ringleader, and pummeled him, if not to death, damned clo
se to it. But as angry as he was with the men attacking her, his stronger emotion was pain. Seeing her tortured expression when she met his gaze, he knew that these repulsive men had done more than attack her physically, they’d attacked her indomitable spirit. What he saw in her eyes was shame.
At a deep intuitive level, Ryker knew that he was the only person who could convince her that she had nothing to be ashamed of. The problem then as now was that he was so angry with her for her dangerously brazen actions that comforting her would have to wait. Convincing her that it was the repugnant men, not her who should be ashamed, would happen later, not now. First, he needed to deal with his fury in the only way that he’d have a miniscule chance of containing it. He needed to take her. Physically, emotionally, passionately. He had to break through her stubborn, protective, get-lost shell that she had constructed to keep men at bay. Specifically, he needed to conquer her haughty assumption that she could even keep him at bay. He needed to show her that she wanted him as passionately as he was determined to have her. The first step was making her do what she’d spent her life not doing. He was going to make her obey.
Pointing with his glass at the place in front of him, he repeated, “You heard me, Tanya. Please stand up. I want you right there. Now.”
When she just pressed her lips together in a firm line and shook her head, he put his glass down on the side table and leaned forward in his chair, capturing her gaze. He kept his voice low and almost casual, but only a deaf person wouldn’t hear the intent in his command.
“You have a choice, Tanya. You can do as I said: stand in front of me while you take off your clothes . . . or I will take them off for you—as I prepare to beat your ass.” Ignoring her horrified gasp, he continued. “Frankly, my dear, either option works for me. Watching you strip, baring your naked body to me or me taking you over my knee and spanking your bare ass.” He added with a tight smile, “As I said, the choice is yours. Either works for me . . . ” He paused for a moment as if considering, then nodded. “Although I have to admit that turning you over my knee and spanking the hell out of you has advantages in addition to turning your ass bright red.” He snorted. “It might reduce the fury that I’m feeling toward you. It’s only fair that I warn you, my feisty little girl, I didn’t know it was possible for me to be as angry with anyone as I am with you at this moment.”
Tanya was stunned. Shocked that instead of screaming at him and then kicking him out of her house and her life, she was just sitting here staring at him as if she were a deaf mute incapable of responding to his outrageous threats. But the angry stream of invective-laden insults hovering in her mind was stuck. Stuck behind the huge lump in her throat. Aided and abetted by the high voltage sensations tearing at her groin, sending shockwaves from her aching breasts to her dampening crotch. Jesus God, she admonished herself. What was wrong with her? How could she let him do this to her? Turn her into a seething mass of hormonal urges that were determined to make her unruly body betray her. Glancing up at him, then quickly turning away, she gave herself credit. Good God, how could any woman with a smidgen of hormones resist him? As obnoxious as his commands were, his rigid jaw and flashing storm-filled azure eyes were compelling. As was his rock-hard body leaning ominously closer to her, ensuring that she get a whiff of his tantalizing cologne, the equivalent of pouring napalm on her battered psyche.
That he thought he could spank her inflamed her. Reminding herself that she was the deputy sheriff of Cochise County and the daughter of its renowned sheriff, she made a decision. No, dammit, she wouldn’t allow him to turn her over his knee like a naughty child. Ignoring the illicit sensations that threatened to turn her decision to mush at the thought of his hands on her bare bottom, she decided if it was a striptease he wanted, fine, she’d give him one. He thought that he could embarrass her, control her, command her to do something that would humiliate her? She’d show him. Two could play this power game. She acknowledged that while he was by far the more skilled provocateur, she wasn’t exactly a slouch at making men’s tongues hang out as she dismissively kicked them to the curb. Her choice was clear. A striptease it would be.
Seeing the indecision racked with fury storming her expressive face, Ryker managed to squelch a grin. After all, what could be more entertaining than inciting the feisty woman to strike out at him, ensuring a bare-assed spanking would be forthcoming.
At that moment a stealthy smile stole across her face. That her emerald eyes were jewel hard confirmed the fleeting smile that disappeared as quickly as it came was mirthless at best. Rather, he could see her mind working, determining how she would make her escape. Something that both of them knew wasn’t an option. Which made her next move all the more surprising.
Moving away from him, she slowly rose to her feet. Glancing at the floor, she pretended to consider where she should go. As if searching for the place that he’d indicated, she said dismissively, “Is this where I’m supposed to stand?” Gratified at the surprise that momentarily flickered across his face, she saw him quickly recover.
Raising a nonchalant brow, he leaned back in his chair. “It’ll do.”
Tanya forced herself to swallow, praying for a modicum of spit to moisten her mouth. When that didn’t happen, she acknowledged that a smart remark wasn’t in the offing. Her bigger challenge was to keep her ferociously pounding heart from breaking through her chest. Considering her options, she was glad that at least when she got home, she’d stripped off the clothes she had been wearing at the bunkhouse. She’d tossed her torn shirt, jeans, and underwear in the trash, determined to get rid of the sickening reminders of her assault. While her sweats and tank top were hardly scintillating “stripper wear,” at least her underwear could earn that appellation. She and her sisters were lingerie aficionados, constantly trying to outdo one another with their frivolously provocative scraps of satin and lace. Tara and Tatiana teased that at least she had a man to wear the frothy garments for, while they were essentially celibate. Tanya didn’t bother to tell them that Bram had been as put off by her sexy underwear as he was by her bare pussy. He’d intimated with words and actions that he thought both were unnecessarily provocative. He made it clear that in his view, women who dressed “appropriately” and didn’t flaunt themselves were more interesting to sophisticated men.
She wished that she had music or something to take her mind off the ridiculous thing she was about to do. At least that would give her courage to do the impossible, which was to entice this powerful man who’d ordered her to stand in front of him and take off her clothes. All of them. Questioning why she’d let his outrageous command convince her that she could do something as ludicrous as a striptease, she made the mistake of looking at him. As she’d expected, a sexy grin curved his lips, confirming that he was amused at her attempt to confront him. At least, that was her thought until she saw the passion flaming in his eyes and the deep crease carving his cheek. If anything, he looked intrigued, more than a little anticipatory. And that was before she saw the obvious bulge in his pants.
She quickly glanced away, not able to meet his gaze. Knowing that she was risking the embarrassment of a lifetime if he laughed at her clumsy attempts to be sexy, she swallowed hard and then reached for the hem of her tank top. She comforted herself that at least she was wearing her most daring bra and practically non-existent thong. Closing her eyes to keep from looking for his reaction, she slowly dragged her tank top over her ample breasts and held it high over her head, then let it float to the floor. His audible intake of air gave her courage to glance his way. She wasn’t sure how to take his narrow-eyed glance and what looked like a frown. Sick that he must think she was as fat as Bram thought she was, she held her hands over her straining breasts. She stepped back in shock when he said, “Don’t!”
When she looked up in surprise, he leaned forward in his chair and shook his head. His voice was soft. “Put your hands down, Tanya.” When she hesitantly complied, he motioned to her bra. “It’s almost too beautiful to remove, sweetheart, b
ut I need to see your breasts.” Nodding at the lacy concoction that revealed more that it hid, he murmured softly, “Take it off, baby.” At her blushing hesitation, he said, “Now, Tanya.”
The endearments gave her courage, and she reached behind herself and did her best to unhook the lacy contraption. But for some reason, her fingers seemed to have become sausage-thick. Embarrassed at her futile attempts, on the third try, she managed to release the closure. Afraid to bare her breasts, she held her bra against her body, shielding herself as best she could. Glancing up, she met his gaze, horrified when he flicked his fingers impatiently, indicating that she should let it go. Sucking in a deep breath, she let the flimsy concoction drop to the floor, leaving her naked from the waist up.
Tanya refused to look at him, knowing that he had to be surprised at how bodacious she was. How could he not be? She’d been chastising her breasts since she was fifteen years old, willing them to stop swelling. By now, she was used to them. Hell, in the privacy of her bedroom she even liked them. But remembering Bram’s suggestion that she might be more comfortable if she “tamed” them, she shuddered. What if Ryker felt the same way? Starting, she realized that Ryker was talking to her, interrupting her toxic thoughts. At his soft command, “Look at me, Tanya,” she forced herself to meet his eyes. She was glad when she did.
He said quietly, “You are beautiful, Tanya. So lovely that you steal my breath.” Moving forward in his chair, he motioned to her sweats. “I’m not sure I can handle it, but you need to take off your sweatpants, sweetheart. I’ll do my best to keep breathing while you do.”
At his surprising praise, she did her best to quiet her pounding heart, then slid her sweats over her hips to the floor. Stepping out of them, she forced herself to meet his gaze. At the wide-eyed expression on his face, she blessed Tara for convincing her that a thong was the sexiest way to reveal one’s ass, even one as curvy as hers. And the thong she’d chosen happened to be her sexiest. It was a mere scrap of lace covering her mons with a narrow string of silk riding up her butt crack.