by Jodi Linton
His eyes narrowed. “She was a dead end.”
“And how do you know that?”
“By the way her eyes grew big at the mention of Redbud,” he calmly admitted. “She doesn’t know Redbud any more than we do.” He snatched up my hand. “Come on.” That southern twang deepened. “I promised Gunner I’d keep you safe, and stashing you away in a room until he texts seems like the best bet.”
Five minutes later, we passed by a couple exiting the bedroom that Colt and I were supposed to play nice in. Someone must already be occupying it, and whoever our watcher was had a big healthy appetite tonight. As the couple strolled by us giggling and doused in sweat, I overheard the lady dripping in white lace and pearls whisper to her partner how much she enjoyed their dominant visitor. It got me a little more than excited. What? I had a thing for overbearing assholes…who occasionally shucked their cowboy hats.
“You ready to get wound more than a wristwatch?” he whispered, all hot and dirty in my ear.
I blinked up at him, smiling. “Give me your best shot.”
With that dare, Colt pulled me through the door, hand secured on my back, and his deep breathing causing my already overactive imagination to spiral out of control. We stepped inside the bedroom, tangled in each other arms, my ass grinding the wall…and waited.
Somewhere in the distance the sound of a deep male voice clearing his throat set the alarm bells ringing in my head. Shuddering in Colt’s arms, I leaned in closer and dropped my voice low. “Someone’s in the room already.”
“Play along.” He placed a soft kiss behind my ear and went completely stiff. This couldn’t be happening. Holy hell. “We go through the motions, then quietly sneak out of the room, okay?”
In an effort to catch my breath, I gripped his shoulders tighter. Motions. Yeah, right. The man holding me against all the hard planes of his manly form was far from just going through the motions. Wrong. So damn wrong. But if it got me closer to finding Luke and stopping him from making the biggest mistake of his life, I’d go through the motions, too. I tried to speak, yet it seemed the cat had my tongue.
He pressed his forehead to mine. “Breathe,” he whispered, tapping a finger under my chin and lifting my face to meet him head-on. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to,” he rasped against my cheek. “Trust me. I don’t want to be a hired kill for that temperamental ranger you share a bed with.”
There, standing inside the dimly lit room, I finally came unglued. The only inkling of familiarity I felt was the warm touch of Colt’s hand on the small of my back and the soothing touch of his lips against the sweat lining my neck. Everything else, as a testament to my uneasiness, was hidden beneath a black corset.
Then his mouth touched my cheek, and his hand climbed higher up my back, fingers intertwined with the laces of my corset, and yeah, I began seeing stars. Before I had a chance to get my grounding, the knotted ties of my black corset slipped open and my boobies were bobbing for apples with the neckline. No one ever claimed I was pure.
“Just a kiss,” he said, teeth nipping at my ear. “We need to make it believable. And I get to live out a fantasy of mine.”
My head fell back, butting the wall on a moan. “Just a simple kiss,” I countered, breathless, hands circling his trim, denim-covered waist.
This damn party had sent my libido into overdrive, and my newly appointed fiancé was nowhere in sight. I’d never lied about having a cowboy addiction, but tonight might’ve been a bad move.
“Damn, woman, you feel good pressed against me,” Colt exclaimed while rubbing that stiff hard-on against my thigh. “A little too good,” he added, going after another rubdown. “One kiss,” he gritted through clenched teeth.
Okay, I might be horny, but I wasn’t in the market to flush my upcoming nuptials down the toilet via another sexy cowboy. I pushed both my hands into his chest. “Whoa, there, Marshal.”
A deep, heady growl ripped from his wide, panting chest. Then he slammed my back against the wall, and Mr. Feel Good Hands went gunning for the zipper of my miniskirt. Maybe I’d overestimated his willpower, because the man pinning me against a wall had thrown all logic to the wind and allowed his cock to reign supreme.
When Colt began to kiss my throat, I’ll admit I had half the mind to ram his nut sack, but decided it was best not to blow our cover. God, this evening had turned totally awkward. I needed to get the ball rolling on the question-and-answer session with the other guy occupying the room, or before long I’d find myself bare-ass naked. Heck, that position might get more than a spanking from my Texas Ranger.
Clear head, steady pulse, eye on the prize. And where the hell is my newly acquired fiancé, anyways? Isn’t he supposed to text the marshal groping my ass at the moment?
Colt sucked my neck, his voice barely a whisper. “You doing okay?”
I pressed my mouth to his ear and snapped under my breath, “You’re making it very hard to concentrate here.”
He pulled back. We locked eyes for a heartbeat, and then he grinned. “I just decided it would be pathetic of me to waste this shamelessly precious moment between us.” The million-dollar playboy smile widened. “Besides, I’d be the biggest idiot in the world to pass up the chance to feel you up when Gunner gave me the thumbs-up to bring you to a swinger party.”
Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, I needed to think fast. With nowhere else to turn, I opened my big mouth and addressed the man lurking in the shadows. “So, you a newbie to these parties as well?” Complete silence. Damn it. Pick another question, Laney. Although it was freaking hard to put together a coherent thought with Colt’s tongue working down the side of my neck. “Not much of a talker?” Stupid question. I should’ve done better than that. I could do better.
As I started to press the lone man in our room, since I was a true believer in the third-time’s-a-charm theory, I heard the sound of boots shuffling across the floor. Then the noise stalled, and I cut my eyes over at Colt. Before I could say, “What the fuck,” a rough hand made contact with my ass. And hard.
Shit! I thought this was supposed to be a look-don’t-touch expedition.
I gaped at Colt right as the same hand came down again. It was as if time stood still, because my anxiety reached new heights at the first sounds of that oh-so-familiar demanding cop voice whispering angrily in my ear. Damn it all to hell, that temper was barreling full throttle tonight. There was a slight possibility I’d just given myself whiplash at how quickly I’d turned to check out our not-so-voyeuristic guest. Standing there inside a strange bedroom, which at the moment felt smaller than the entrance to my closet, I maneuvered out from Colt’s arms, scooting my stomach along the wall, and turned, aching to catch my breath so I could give the hotheaded horse’s ass a piece of my mind.
“You gotta be kidding me, cowboy!” I sputtered, locking in on that black rattlesnake tattoo bursting from the vein. “I thought you were supposed to text Colt.”
“Change of plans, sweetheart,” Gunner Wilson drawled, his eyes narrowed and his mouth thinned. “You goddamn shit bag. I told you not to touch her.”
And then he sent a fist barreling into Colt’s nose.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Laney
“Son of a bitch,” Colt hollered. “I can’t believe you just broke my nose.” He had a hand clutching his rearranged face, his boots were pacing all over the bedroom, and he’d cursed enough that if the Lord had struck him down no one would have blinked an eye.
“Watch it, Larsen,” Gunner threatened. “If you want, I can chop that spineless pecker off with my pocketknife.” Gunner moved in, circling closer to Colt’s personal space. He tipped his chin up and shot him a sinister I’m-willing-to-bury-you-six-feet-in-the-ground-and-spend-the-rest-of-my-days-behind-bars half smile. “If you even look at Laney the wrong way, you’ll be leaving with more than a broken nose.” He snorted. “Besides, pretty boy, you could use a little roughness around those shiny edges.”
“Fuck you, Wilson!” Colt thunder
ed and then snapped his nose back into place. The cracking of cartilage resounding in the room made my blood curl. “I guess the almighty Texas Ranger Gunner Wilson can do no wrong, huh?” He eyed us both. “Laney here might beg to differ, since I reckon she enjoyed herself from all that loud moaning and begging,” the cocky marshal stated, prouder than a damn peacock.
“I trusted you,” Gunner said, his voice rustier than a nail. “God damn it! That’s it, pretty boy. Why don’t we hash this out like real men?”
Colt crunched his knuckles, gearing up for the blood fest. “I’m always game to take a jab at a bastard.”
The air in my chest died.
We’d stirred up a hornet’s nest. I looked at both big boys acting like children, who at the moment were madder than a squished cat. Time’s a-ticking, I told myself. Definitely this wasn’t going to end well. I took a deep breath and laid it all on the line.
“Why the hell didn’t you put a stop to the shenanigans? All it would’ve taken was for you to say, ‘Hey, it’s Gunner,’ and then the two of y’all wouldn’t be in some fucking catfight.” In a last-ditch, piss-poor attempt at derailing the impending brawl, I cut a glance at Gunner, who still look like he was planning the perfect murder. “You made it pretty damn clear we were supposed to work our angle while you worked yours. And what did you expect we’d have to do, anyway, you ass? We’re at a sex party. You knew what you were getting into. What you were getting us into.”
His mouth hardened into a thin line. He shoved his hands down the front pockets of those troublesome Wranglers and rocked back on the heels of his black cowboy boots. “Well, Laney—” The cockiness glided off the tip of his tongue like second nature. “I was led to believe Luke might be in this room…not the two of y’all. And Colt and you were just supposed to mingle, not actually take each other for a test drive.”
I had the worst goddamn luck. Seriously, it might be time to search out a new zip code.
Looking from one pissed-off cowboy to the next, I concluded this night wasn’t gonna end on a happy note. Damn it, why me? I tucked my hair behind an ear, pinched the black lace garters thigh-high, trying to mask the discomforting way they were sawing into my hip bones, and crossed my arms. This was not going to be pretty.
“It was just some damn fake foreplay,” I told Gunner, taking a step forward and putting my ass within spanking distance of my hotheaded boyfriend. “Really, you need to check that big ego at the door.”
Gunner snorted. “Me?” He gave me a blank stare. “Shit!” He picked up his black cowboy hat off the end table and slapped it on his head. Then he shoved both hands down the front pockets of his jeans. “It wasn’t me riding a pair of jeans as if my crotch had an itch.” He jabbed a thumb at Colt. “Grab her ass again, and you’ll have to learn to piss out of a bag.” Gunner’s eyes focused on me with that annoying look he gave when I’d fucked up royally. The tension in the room quickly short-circuited when he pointed a finger in my face. Boy, this cowboy must’ve had a death wish. His finger jabbed my nose then whipped toward the door. “Damn it. This case is a fucking pain in my ass,” he said, veering that pesky finger back at my nose.
I slung my hand on my hip and tapped a heel impatiently. “God, I hope you didn’t get off watching me rub up and down a man’s crotch.”
One shoulder lifted and then dropped as Gunner answered, “Please tell me I didn’t hear you say Colt Larsen turned you on.”
I heard the bed creak and then grumbling as Colt flopped back on the mattress.
“Are y’all done with the catfight,” he mumbled through a washcloth. “Besides, the little guy isn’t up to playing much anymore with a brunette deputy.” He tossed me a wink from beneath the washcloth. “So if everyone is in agreement on moving forward with the plan to find that rancher before he makes the deal with Redbud and gets himself killed, I’m game.”
Gunner grabbed me by the elbow, his mouth pressed into the side of my neck as he growled in that sexually frustrated voice that had the tendency to make me drop to my knees and ask to be punished. “You lead the way, sweetheart.”
Hand secured on my back, Gunner motioned for Colt to follow our lead. Down the narrow hallway, the sex party was in full swing with drunks and naked, grinding bodies. Doors opened and closed. And folks giggled as they played musical beds. We went in search of Danny Redbud’s office, hoping to snag anything that would pin the man as a cold-blooded murderer. Easier said than done. There had to be at least thirty rooms in this place. At the moment I was barricaded between two rowdy dudes allowing their dicks to lead the way. A light tap on my ass by Gunner made me jump just as the sound of footsteps clomped down the hall.
“Someone’s coming.” Both guys veered a look my way. The footsteps grew louder, and I decided if they weren’t going to act then, by god, I’d take matters into my own hands. “Time to cozy up, boys,” I told them, then shoved Gunner and Colt into a warm embrace right before I dropped to my knees, sandwiched between the two cowboys, with my face planted into Wrangler-covered cock.
“Can’t believe this is happening.” Gunner muttered out a curse as I gripped both of his firm ass cheeks and pulled him toward my mouth. The feel of denim legs slid up and down my backside as Colt fell in behind.
“You’re a big boy, so suck this shit up.” I pinched my Texas Ranger’s ass and nuzzled a zipper fly that had started to expand. Maybe we’d need to have a little chat about this moment later.
Big strong hands glided up the back of my neck, gathering my hair into a set of needy fingers. Looking up, I saw the tension flare behind his golden irises. He shook his head in frustration, and then the comforting touch of his hands on me faded away as he hooked an arm around Colt’s neck. “Fuck, this is not what I signed up for.”
“Personal space, big guy.” Colt pushed an inch, slamming Gunner back into the wall, and dang it, I fell forward with him.
Gunner grabbed me by the shoulders before my chin nailed the floor. “You’re gonna break her neck,” he said in a low growl.
Sucking in a breath, I scooted across the shag carpet on my knees and tried as hard as I could to make the idiotic scene believable to a watchful eye. I really didn’t have any firsthand knowledge about threesomes, but I was pretty fucking sure the men don’t try to slap each other over a groping hand. Damn, my life was pathetic.
“Remember, y’all are supposed to enjoy a little dick rubbing.” I batted my eyelashes upward, catching two pissed-off cowboy faces glowering down at me. Deep male laughter closed in. Double shit. “Gunner, wrap both your arms around Colt,” I ordered, and slipped closer into his massive thighs as I moved him back up against wall.
My Texas Ranger cut a horror-worthy glance my way. “You’re fucking kidding, right?”
I spotted our approaching stranger’s shoes rounding the corner. This was so not my fantasy dream about how I’d spend the evening after receiving a proposal from the man of my dreams. But sometimes a gal just had to deal. And it seemed I would be nose-nuzzling a denim cock. “Ego, Gunner. Check that ego.” Then I smashed my nose into his expanding zipper fly and prayed the good Lord didn’t choose this moment to teach me a lesson in respect.
The unwelcome male visitors whispered and chuckled as I watched their feet scoot on by. As the noise of their chatter vanished, I felt the force of Gunner shoving Colt away and my mouth slid off a moist zipper fly.
“No wonder you haven’t ever been able to keep a girl,” Gunner spat at the floor. “You lack finesse.”
I shot to my heels, dusted my knees off, and smiled at both men. “Always knew y’all would kiss and make up.”
Colt pinched the Stetson down and winked. “Just admit it, you enjoyed that lip locking.”
“Prick.” Gunner snorted. Then he looked over his shoulder and added, “Seems the coast is clear.” My hunky fiancé—damn, that sounded odd—offered up a hand for the taking. “Time to move, sweetheart.”
After several dead ends and stumbling in on folks screwing like jackrabbits, we finally d
iscovered the room we’d been looking for. The party was in full swing, and my pulse thumped against my chest as Gunner reached around me to push open a big wooden door. I tugged at the low scoop neck of my black corset and followed behind Colt into the office of a man whom most folks in Pistol Rock considered a damn ghost.
“Check the file cabinet, Laney,” Gunner said, thumbs hooked at his belt loops as he scoped out the place. “Colt, you go check the closet, and I’m gonna search the sitting room over there.” He gave me an odd look, then exited through the double doors, leaving Colt and me to fend for ourselves.
I kicked off my high heels and made haste toward the file cabinet. There had to be something here that would make sense of this whole damn frustrating case. Not to mention the fact we still needed to locate Luke Wagner. If that eye-rolling rancher friend of mine signed a deal with Redbud, I’d cap his ass first, then hand him off to Gunner.
Colt was busy shuffling through hangers and shoe boxes, and I was up to my elbows in files when the office door creaked open and my hand stalled mid–drawer pull.
“Well, well…what do we have here?” a nasally voice called out. “I smell a rat.”
“We were looking for the bathroom and must have gotten lost,” Colt responded and waved a hand for me to join his side.
The stranger gave a nasty squashed-face smile. “You’re that cop that was sniffing around my stripper club.”
Colt’s arm latched around my waist and pulled me closer. “You must be Redbud.”
I glanced sideways, trying to get a line on Gunner. The sound of something crashing to the ground in the adjacent room caused my pulse to kick up a notch. “Come on.” I tugged at the hand squeezing mine. “Why don’t we give the man some space?” I nodded at the door, hoping Colt took the cue and moved in that direction.
Redbud eased toward us. An almost identical counterpart to Mitch Wagner’s scowl formed on his face. “Not sure if you heard me correctly, Laney Briggs.” His tongue darted out of his mouth. I gulped, sinking up against Colt. “Did you really think Luke Wagner wouldn’t mention his connection with the local sheriff’s department?”