by Billi Jean
“Easier to do what, Doc? To deal with? See the mess you’ve made of my face?”
At his words, the young guy shook his head frantically. He glanced at Mindy and quickly pinned his eyes back on Eric.
Mindy hadn’t taken the changes very well either. She’d tried to back out of the room with the doctor in tow. No doubt she would have screwed the guy’s brains out as soon as she’d left Eric, too.
One thing he’d learned about the big breasted nurse was she liked it, anywhere, anytime and anyway he’d give it to her. For a woman like that, any man would do, no doubt.
“I-I can come…come…back,” the doctor stuttered. “See…what…what…else I can do.”
“Not necessary, Doc.” Eric picked up the Sauer and turned fully, killing the man with a shot between the eyes. Unlike Robert McNeil, Eric never missed a kill shot. McNeil’s shot had hit to the left and completely ripped Eric’s face to shreds.
No reason to keep him alive and several grounds to bury his body in the desert for the vultures to eat.
Mindy screamed behind her gag, an odd sound that eased the tension in Eric’s chest.
The doctor did a backward drop to the other side of the bed with a surprisingly loud sound, hitting the makeshift doctor’s table as he fell. Bloody instruments went down on top of him, spilling the bowl of water, the gauze and the TV tray.
“Christ!” Now he’d have to make certain that none of his DNA remained in the room. He wasn’t going to give a single hint for the special ops to follow. Not a problem, though, he had help, after all.
He turned to Mindy. “Come here,” he called.
She jumped and her blue eyes widened above the gag. She’d been crying heavily. Her black mascara was smeared in lines down from her face and onto the white cloth he’d forced her to bite down on. When he’d escaped the hospital and called her at Duke’s compound, she’d refused to come to him, claiming that he’d been with another woman. Jealousy. Any other time he’d have laughed his ass off, but he’d needed her.
He’d had to use every ounce of control he had built with her to get her to take the drugs from the locked cabinet in Duke’s apartments and meet him here. Once he’d told her on the phone what he would do to her if she didn’t, and what he’d do to another woman if she wanted to leave him, she hadn’t argued. Mindy was proving to be possessive. For him, that worked—for now.
And she’d been in on helping him. That was until the handsome doctor had opened the door. She’d gotten one peek at Eric’s new face and tried to run. He’d barely caught her and hauled her back in the room.
He’d punish her soon, but for now, he needed her. He needed her to help him clean this mess up and get them to a new location.
Soon, he’d ease his rage by killing McNeil and his new little Latina hottie. Then he’d find Sonya Petrok and make her wish she’d never survived past Bosnia.
But for now, he needed this woman to get them the hell out of here.
“I said come here, Mindy.”
Chapter Two
Cody answered his phone with a half-hearted hello.
His buddy, Troy Richards, laughed then pissed him off more by sounding happy. “So, yeah, you sound like hell,” Troy said. “Long night? Or too much whiskey?”
“Both, what do you want?” Cody snapped.
“Hey, I need some help with this round-up. Three cows and their calves are missing. Dwayne lost them up near Square Top. You think you could help out?”
The idea of moving didn’t appeal, but neither did staying in bed. Cody assessed the light from the window and rubbed his face with a hand. Mid-morning at least, he thought, sitting up. At least he’d slept for two hours, maybe even three. “When did you need me?”
“Now would be good.” Troy laughed again and added, “Or whenever you can drag your sorry ass out of bed.”
“Fuck you, Troy.” The unenthusiastic comeback was lost on his friend, since he’d probably said it ten times a day to the man since high school.
“You know I’d love to, but I got all those ladies to consider and you really shouldn’t let your line of gals down.”
The typical response brought a smile, but a brief one. There were no ladies lining up for him right now—not that he cared.
“Yeah, right, I’ll see if I can’t go up and bail you out. I’ll be by in a few days if you’re lucky.”
“Man, you are—”
Cody hung up and rolled over. There was no line of gals. His damaged face just about ended any chance of them wanting more. Not that he wanted to give them more. Women were dangerous. Dangerous and worse, they ran at the first sign a man wasn’t perfect.
Cody could testify to that. His fiancée hadn’t let the door hit her ass when she’d seen his mug that first time. She’d said she was sorry he’d been injured, hoped he got better soon and left him in the hospital with her ring sitting on the bed next to him. She hadn’t even been able to force herself to meet his eyes before she’d tucked tail and ran.
He turned over and glanced at the bedside clock. Fuck. Ten in the morning? His boner said it was later than that, but he soothed the thing with a rough hand anyway. He always woke with one, but it never lasted long. It was good to know he was still alive, but sucked that no matter what image he held in his mind, his dick would grow soft. After two years, he’d have thought the damn thing would stop getting hard. Not a chance. It got hard then never did more than drive him fucking nuts with frustration.
“Got to think of something else.” That’s what the doctors all said. Not that he’d asked, but he’d searched the Internet. All he’d found pointed to him having too much on his mind and obviously not the right kind of shit. Ten minutes into his stroking and he gave up on getting hard. The desire was still there, though, so another cold shower and he’d be fine.
Jasper gave him the eye when he got up, but his dog rested back down like the intelligent guy he was. An hour later, Cody was ready to go, pissed off as usual but what else was new? His lack of release always made him feel like he was one step away from going insane.
He saddled up White, got his rifle, added some equipment in case it got cold or he took more than a few days up country and climbed on. Jasper paced at his side, more than ready to go. At the sight of his cattle dog’s eager rush, he finally let go of some of his sexual frustration.
“Well, boy, I guess it’s going to be a busy day. Maybe we can wear our asses out and finally beat this, huh?”
Jasper wiggled around, happy as can be to be out and about. Cody felt bad for the dog since this was the first time in three days—maybe four—that he’d saddled up. He’d been drinking again. Whiskey dick was a blessing only a man in his situation would understand and welcome.
“Come on then,” he called and steered White up the trail.
The sun was just hitting the craggy mountains toward sunset when he found the first sign of what might be the cows his buddy was missing. It might also be someone else’s cattle. Several ranchers had rights to use the land here, so it was hard to say.
It was a good place to stop. He dismounted and let White graze while he took a break, enjoying the view while he ate a bite, giving Jasper a bit of bacon when the dog didn’t beg.
This far up it was chilly, but not too bad. He even thought he smelled snow on the air and from across the peak he spied a bit of white on the top of the farthest mountain. It was probably two foot up there, he knew, but fooled people into thinking it was merely a light dusting. Summer in Wyoming could be unpredictable, but today was a glorious day to be alive.
Jasper raced after some chipmunks giving him attitude and the sun beat down nicely enough that Cody rested back and simply enjoyed the sunshine.
By the time his dog had worn himself out wrestling all the small furry animals, White was nosing him for more than grass.
“All right, I get it,” he grumbled, getting up and giving White a few pats on his neck. The horse was spoiled. Still, he was also thirsty. Cody watered him in the stream and tightened his saddle then g
ot back on.
Ten minutes later he spotted a vehicle through the low pines not ten feet from him. No one came up here—no one that is but him and, once in a while, a few buddies to fish.
Cody pushed a low pine branch out of his way and froze at the Sauer muzzle pointed at his head.
“Put your hands where I can see them, cowboy.”
Chapter Three
Cody knew if a wet dream had ever been created, the redhead pointing her gun at him was it. Small, but curvy with one hell of a rack, she didn’t even blink when he raised his hands slowly. He’d been a Ranger for too many years to not take a woman who knew what she was doing with a gun seriously. After having kids shoot at him and old women carry bombs, nothing would surprise him.
Bullshit. This woman just shocked you and not with the threat of her gun.
“Get off that horse and come over here where I can see you.”
“I just put my hands up—”
“Good. Now use one to get down and step away from the horse. Get your dog under control, too.”
She had a voice like whiskey, rough and sexy as hell. She was sexy. And for the first time in two years, a woman stared him straight in the eye without blinking. She didn’t flinch in horror or even seem as if she cared one bit about his scars. In fact, she was more than ready to shoot him.
He lowered a hand slowly, grabbed his saddle horn and eased down to his feet without losing sight of her pretty green eyes. “Jasper, sit.”
“Jasper?” she asked, then shook her head with a slight smile. “Why not? Okay, step toward me. Who are you?”
He took a step but stopped when she narrowed her green eyes. Hell, she looked like she could be a movie star, the one that played in the Iron Man movies he loved—or a twin sister or at least her prettier cousin, if there even was such a fucking thing. The actress when she wore those black leather pants in Iron Man 2 was one of his favorite fantasies, but this woman, right now, beat her hands down.
“I didn’t ask who I resemble, cowboy. I asked who you were,” she said. “Although, thank you. She’s pretty hot,” she added and gave him a head to toe assessment. “You’re not so bad yourself. I like the scars, too. Nice touch, although I’m sure they weren’t so fun to get. So, I asked you. Who are you?”
“Fuck me,” he muttered and ran a hand over the back of his neck where it had warmed.
“Isn’t that kinda fast?” she asked.
He blinked. He’d said that out loud. “Shit, no, sorry. I mean, I’m Cody.” The thing with all the psycho mumbo-jumbo he’d read was that all those articles had said when he broke out of his issue, it would happen quickly, like a snap of someone’s fingers.
This woman had just snapped her fingers. At least his body felt like she had. A drop of pre-cum trickled down the tight, hard length of his erect cock, making his body flush with fever, and he hadn’t done more than savor every inch of her he could see. Sweat broke out down his ribs and back at the thought of doing more than that.
“Cody. Last name?”
“Johnson. Cody Johnson.”
“And you’re what? Riding out here in the middle of nowhere Wyoming to do what?”
This he could talk about, but not with a gun aimed at his head. “I think you can lower the weapon now,” he said and took a step closer.
She snapped the safety off and her hand was so steady he swore his balls drew in after just reminding him they were back in working order.
“Or not,” he offered, hands back up.
“I’d rather not. What are you doing here?”
“I’m wrangling a lost cow or two.”
She lowered her gun a fraction. “You military?”
“Yeah, was.”
“What branch?” she asked and lowered her gun the rest of the way. She also took the bullet out of the chamber before she smoothly holstered it.
Sweat trickled down his sides. She’d not even blinked at him and had a bullet already aimed at his head. What kind of a woman is this? And, more importantly, could he keep her?
“Did you hurt your hearing?” she prompted.
He snapped his attention back on her pretty face. “Army.”
She narrowed her eyes, assessing him as if that made perfect sense. “That where you got the scar and lost part of your lower leg?”
He fisted his hands. Most people never knew he was wearing a prosthetic leg. But then most people he guessed weren’t given the training this woman had. Most women also didn’t appear impressed. He took a moment to examine her and, sure enough, she waited, watching him with an air of casualness he only got from other military trained elite.
“Yeah, Afghanistan,” he added because he knew she’d ask.
She raised her eyebrows with a hint of a sexy tease to her expression and sniffed. “Not a nice place. What did they give you?” she asked, walking closer to squat down at his leg.
He nearly backed up, but the shock of her knocking her knuckles to his leg stopped him dead in his tracks. She knew the prosthesis started somewhere below the knee because she’d chosen a spot where his lower calf would have been to test the material.
“Pretty good one, huh? You have good balance and agility.”
“Yeah, it’s a good one. I can do everything I did before.” Especially now, he wanted to add, but snapped his mug shut on that.
She stood and man they were way, way too close. “Oh, really?” she murmured.
The inflection she put on those two words made his erection pulse with a warning he’d not experienced in over two years. “Yeah,” he managed.
“I bet. So, do you know anything about getting a tire off if some stupid, lame, jackass, cross-threaded the bolts?”
It took him much longer than it should have to put those words to any kind of meaning. When he did, he swallowed and glanced away from her light green eyes for a second to the Land Rover. He spotted a flat tire and a tire iron near it. A dog, a pup really, barked at him through the back window and the woman next to him laughed softly.
He returned his attention back to her and was once again hit with how soft and pretty she was.
“She’s anxious to get out, but I’m afraid if I let her, she’ll run off,” she explained, watching the pup paw at the window.
“Yeah, women do that,” he said then bit his cheek. What the fuck was he saying?
“Oh? Is that so?” She gave him a long, slow inspection from the top of his Stetson down to his boots again, this time not missing for a moment that he was cocked and loaded, then met his eyes. “Some women are damn stupid. She’s not. She’s just young.”
He had nothing to say on that, so he broke eye contact and tried to get his brain on task. Help her change a tire, possibly make love to her for the rest of the day or at least here, now, on the mountain road, then go find a cold camp so he could hunt for the missing cattle tomorrow.
“I can change that for you,” he offered. “I have some grease for the cross-threaded bolts that will help ease them through.”
As soon as he said it, he felt the heat hit his face and winced.
“Oh, I bet you won’t need that,” she whispered and blew his mind again by reaching up and touching his scar with the back of her hand.
It had healed with only a slight pulling of his lip, but the jagged rip had left a pretty big mess of the left side of his face. No one touched him, especially not his face. He barely did when he shaved his mug.
“This had to hurt. Bullet or shrapnel?”
“Shrapnel, bomb.”
“At least it didn’t ruin your looks.”
“How’s that?” he asked and stepped away from her to give her the what the fuck frown that kind of talk deserved.
“Men are sexy with scars,” she said simply, as if he’d asked the stupidest thing ever. “So you think you can fix this? I’m about an hour from where I need to go and I am not camping out in my truck.”
Her truck was worth more money than he’d made in the past two years. She’d be fine, but dressed in her black leggi
ngs, cute little hiking boots and white blouse, she might be cold. He found himself nodding and saying, “Sure thing. No worries.”
“Great. Thank you, really. And sorry for pointing a gun at you.”
“Yeah, no problem. But, you know, you shouldn’t point a gun unless you’re going to use it.”
“I never do, Cody. I never do,” she said giving him a challenging stare.
He watched her walk over to the SUV, and realized two things.
One, she meant that.
And two, by the way she gave his groin a speculative glance, she might be thinking he shouldn’t aim things without intending to use them either.
Even thinking that, the last thing he expected to hear from her was, “Maybe you can come join me for dinner when we get this done.”
The way she said ‘come’ had him wincing from where he crouched down to test the bolts. “Sure thing, but if I’m coming, I should know your name.”
“Sonya,” she said after only a moment of making him wait.
Sonya. Of course. A sexy name for one hell of a woman, what more should he have expected?
He got the first bolt unstuck with sheer muscle, but by the time he had the wheel off and the new one on, his body felt like he’d been tortured, especially his dick. Had he ever been so hard? No, he didn’t think it possible. He cleaned his hands with a rag she’d handed to him when he started and tried to get his erection down. Useless really.
Since it hadn’t listened to me before it went on strike, why do I expect it to now it is back in working order?
“Well, that was amazing—and so fast,” she murmured.
He turned and ran right into her, saving her from damage by circling her waist with his arm and anchoring her to his body. Every important, incredibly soft inch of her pressed into him. The lush feel of her full breasts to his thin shirt really should’ve been illegal. He swore he could feel her nipples harden against his chest and didn’t dare check for fear of that being exactly the case. She smelled like heaven, too. Light, kinda flowery, but not too heavy with it, just a touch of something he knew he’d never get enough of.