Loving Ranger

by J. C. Wilder

  Taking her wrists, he hauled them over her head. She moaned in frustration and began to thrash beneath him. He loved it when she went wild for him. Was there anything more exciting than a beautiful woman moaning and writhing in bed?

  “Ranger,” she moaned.

  “Mmm?” He nibbled on her earlobe, feeling the shivers that raced through her. “You need something?” A choked gasp brought his head up. “I’ll make it good for you, baby.”

  “I need…” A tear leaked from eyes.

  Jace kissed her temple, tasting the salt of her skin before releasing her hands. With his upper body braced on his elbows, she reached between their bodies to guide his cock home. Her sweet flesh parted to surround him in glorious heat and they groaned in unison. Shivers raced up and down his body, and he forced himself to hold back, giving her body time to adjust.

  When her hands landed on his ass, the bite of her grip told him she wasn’t looking for a slow, leisurely ride. He began to move. Each stroke wrung a sigh or moan from one of them. He often dreamed of making love to her, but his fantasies couldn’t do justice to this. The scent of her arousal, the slap of their flesh, the sting of her nails was raw, real. Burying his face in the crook of her neck, he felt her tighten around him.

  Her cry came seconds before the first ripple of her release struck, and he lost the battle. With a roar, he exploded in a rush of wet heat and earth-shaking spasms.

  Afterward, his brain felt thick and his body was spent. Even though he told himself to move, his muscles weren’t listening. It wasn’t until she shifted beneath him that he managed to roll onto his side. His eyes slid closed. Nothing existed outside of this room, and that was fine with him.

  An unfamiliar noise woke Sissy from a deep sleep. Lying in the darkness next to Jace, her body felt boneless. The floaty, best-sex-ever feeling swiftly evaporated when the sound of a cell phone broke the near-silence. She heard Jace curse, and in the fading moonlight, she saw him roll over and fumble for his phone. When he almost fell off the bed, she snickered.

  “Behave yourself, woman.” He shot her a mock-angry look, which made her laugh harder.

  As he held the phone, his fingers flew over the tiny keys and she felt the subtle tension returning to his body. Concerned, she covered herself with the sheet before scooting to the edge of the bed to sit beside him. Moments later he dropped the phone and reached for his clothes.

  “I have to run, baby.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “I’ve got a call-out. Barricade situation south of town.” His movements were swift as he dressed. “Guy lost his job last year, wife is divorcing him so he’s decided to take her hostage rather than let him.” He shook his head. “I’ll never understand how people’s minds get warped to the point that doing this feels rational to them.”

  “But aren’t ya supposed to be on leave?”

  He pulled on his T-shirt. “Yeah, but we have a lot of guys out right now, vacations, that kind of thing.”

  Tiling her head to the side, she simply watched him. Beneath the calm tone she heard the frustration in his voice. Jace hated to see any living creature, animal or human, hurting. It was one of the reasons he had become a cop, because he wanted to make a difference in the world.

  “Have I told ya how much I admire what ya do?” she asked.

  Jace looked startled then the smile she so adored spread across his handsome face. “I don’t think you tell me that nearly enough.”

  Laughing, she shook her head. “You’re a bad, bad man, Ranger.”

  “But I’m your man.” He pulled her into his arms. “So deal with it.”

  “Oh, I’m strugglin’ through it…” she teased.

  Jace caught her jaw and tilted her head up. His gaze searched her face, and she held her breath. Like a sunrise, a slow smile spread across his face. “You are an amazing woman, Sissy Kolchek,” he said.

  Pleasure spread through her body, and her face went hot.

  “’Bout time ya figured it out,” she drawled.

  “And you’re modest.” He kissed her cheek.

  “Of course.”

  “Sweet.” Another kiss on her forehead.

  “Like sugar.”

  “Passionate.” He nipped her earlobe.

  “Uh huh.”

  Laughter rumbled in his chest. “How is it that you always seem to know what to say?”

  “If I tell ya,” she began.

  “Then I’d have to kill ya,” they finished in unison.

  Smiling, they joined hands and walked out the sliding glass door. Outside, the night air was heavy and a slight breeze sent the wind chimes to dancing. Before she could anticipate his move, he pulled her into his arms.

  “Thank you.” His breath was hot against her cheek and she shivered.

  “For what?”

  “For being you.” His grip tightened. “Now go back to bed.”

  “Won’t be much fun alone,” she sighed.

  “I should hope not.” His grip tightened on her waist as he pulled her into his hard frame. “I’ll leave you something to remember me by.”

  When his mouth swooped down on hers she was engulfed in heat. Her heart pounded in her ears, and she swayed against him to wrap her arms around his broad shoulders. She felt the sheet slip, but she didn’t care. Her lips parted, and their tongues tangled. It was a rough kiss of need and when his hand covered her breast, she arched into him. Jace teased her nipple with a thumb, and she made a soft mewling sound in the back of her throat. He broke the kiss.

  “Mmm, think of me,” Jace murmured. “See you in the morning.”

  She blinked, still submerged in a maelstrom of lust. It wasn’t until he was getting into his truck that his smirk finally registered. Looking down, she realized the sheet had fallen to the ground. Deliberately, she presented him with her backside as she leaned down to retrieve her makeshift toga, and she heard his truck stall.

  With a saucy smile thrown over her shoulder, she sauntered into the house before she began laughing. Leaning against the dresser, she heard his truck start up then the crunch of gravel as he left.

  Grinning to herself, she dove into her rumpled bed. Think of him? As if she’d do anything else…

  The sound of chimes brought Kevin Nobs’s attention back to the trailer. Through the night vision goggles he saw Jace and Sissy come outside. It was about damned time that shady bastard made an appearance. He was in there getting his dick sucked while Kevin stood thigh deep in smelly river water.

  He slipped his thumb beneath his belt to hit the trigger for the camera then took a couple of shots. When his cousin Rick had come to him for this special assignment, Kevin saw it as a way to leapfrog into the F.B.I. He enjoyed being a cop, but his career goals were much bigger than traffic tickets and noise complaints.

  Besides, he’d do anything to get the hell out of Haven and if it meant turning on one of his own, he was okay with that. It wasn’t like he was a friend of any of the Diver brothers. When he first joined the Haven police department, Ryan had written him up for insubordination because he’d overheard Kevin make a sexist comment about Lieutenant Wilson’s tits.

  He snorted. Like it was his fault she had a big rack.

  Standing on the edge of the river that ran behind the Kolchek trailer, he was too far away to hear what they were saying, but he could certainly see what they were doing. Diver had her in a lip lock and his hand was playing with her tits. When the sheet fell to her ankles, Kevin’s groin tightened painfully.

  What he’d do to get his hands on that fine piece of ass. It wasn’t until Jace moved away that he got his first glimpse of her nude body. He groaned. That bitch had a slamming body, and he took a few more photos, for professional use only, of course.

  There were lots of rumors about Sissy, but Kevin didn’t have any first-hand knowledge if they were true. When he’d asked her out she’d turned him down flat. His gaze narrowed. For a girl who screwed damn near every guy in town she could be awful uppity at times.


  Across the river, Jace’s truck started up, and Sissy vanished into the trailer.

  Kevin was curious as to what the Feds had on the Indian. His cousin, Special Agent Rick Riker hadn’t been generous with the details but they should be happy with these pictures. Rick had hinted that if Kevin did a good job then he’d see what he could do to pave the way for him to get into the F.B.I.

  And if he got his hands on Sissy Kolchek, well, that would be icing on the cake.

  Chapter Eight

  Sissy had just settled into bed when her cell phone chirped. Barely conscious, she fumbled for the glowing pink gadget she affectionately called The Leash. The bright display made her eyes go crossed, and she was forced to squint in order to see it. Opening the message, her heart dropped as the past and present collided.

  Jorge—911.

  Her hands began to shake as she fought against the panic that was coming up. The last time she’d received a similar message was also in the middle of the night, but it was the dead of winter. Her thumb hovered over the Delete key.

  Closing her eyes, she concentrated on her breathing. As much as she wanted to ignore his plea, she wouldn’t. She owed him. Feeling marginally calmer, Sissy hit reply then started typing.

  Location?

  After she sent the message she grabbed Jace’s pillow and buried her face in it. For the millionth time, she cursed her mother for skipping town. If Paula had stuck around until graduation then maybe, just maybe, Sissy wouldn’t have made one of the worst decisions in her entire life.

  If Ranger were to find out—

  Her phone chirped.

  Ur place 5 min

  Sheer stubbornness made her get up and grab some clothes. She couldn’t go on like this, and it was time to end it.

  Here.

  Tonight.

  Her days of playing guardian angel were over. Besides, she was pregnant. She couldn’t have strange men running around her place in the dead of night. It was a little too much like her screwed up childhood.

  Dressed in an old pair of shorts and a tank top, she hurried to the kitchen to get something cold to drink. Standing in front of the wide windows over the table, the hairs on her arms stood up. She was being watched—

  Well, of course silly. How else would he have known you were alone?

  She was scooping ice into a glass when suddenly, she was no longer alone.

  “You’re getting soft, Sissy. If I wished you harm…” His voice was barely recognizable.

  “I was hopin’ for some clarification.” She shut the freezer door. “If I were vain I’da thought ya were sayin’ I had a fat ass.”

  His surprised bark of laughter startled her, but not as much as looking down at the business end of a handgun pointed at her chest. The man holding said weapon was clad in black from head to toe, his usual color, and his dark hair was shaggy. Dark eyes were hidden behind sunglasses, and he now sported a goatee. His skin glistened with sweat, and his coppery-brown complexion looked distinctly pale.

  “Put that thing away.” She rolled her eyes at him. “Doncha know ya can’t show up on a lady’s doorstep and point a gun at her? It’s rude.”

  When Jorge lowered the gun his hands were shaking. “Have I ever told you that I’ve never met anyone like you, Sissy Kolchek?” He shook his head. “Grown men fear me yet you chastise me with impunity. Why aren’t you afraid of me?”

  “Who says I’m not?”

  “If you are then you hide it well.”

  “Quit flirtin’ with me.” She frowned.

  He smiled. “Habit.”

  She ignored him. “So, now the small talk is over. What’s goin’ on, Jorge?”

  “An old friend can’t just stop by—”

  “Not you.”

  “That’s my girl.” He stepped toward her, and she saw something hit the floor.

  “You’re bleedin’,” she blurted.

  “Yeah, quite a bit actually.” He grimaced.

  “Can ya walk?” She hurried forward and took his arm.

  “Got myself here, didn’t I?” Sweat rolled down his face. For a man of Latino descent, he was looking a little green.

  “By the skin of your teeth.” Sliding her arm around his waist, Sissy stumbled when he leaned against her.

  “Pretty sure it’s just a flesh wound,” he hissed.

  “I’m so glad as I’m down to my last Scooby-Doo bandage.” She guided him to the bathroom.

  “Lucky me.”

  Once he was seated on the closed commode, she riffled through the medicine chest. “What happened?”

  “You’re better off not knowing.” His voice was raspier than before.

  “Typical,” she muttered.

  Armed with a pair of bandage scissors, she cut away his ruined shirt. At least it was cotton this time. The last time he’d shown up on her doorstep looking like road kill she’d had to slice a five-hundred dollar silk shirt off his body. She sucked in a noisy breath at the sight of the fresh bruises marring his ribs.

  “Jeez, what hit you? A semi?”

  “Feels like it.”

  Jorge was a very good-looking man with sculpted abs to die for. Now, he resembled a tie-dyed T-shirt. Blood coated his left side, and her stomach did a nosedive when she got her first glimpse of the injury. Following the bottom edge of his rib cage, the slit in his skin resembled a grotesque smile. Only a knife could make a wound such as this. Fresh blood oozed down his side, and she averted her gaze. Putting him back together was going to hurt.

  A lot.

  “Need a drink?” Without waiting for an answer, she hustled out into the living room to retrieve a nearly full bottle of Jack Daniels. Removing the cap, she handed it to him.

  “Sorry I had to bother you, Sis.” He helped himself to a long drink. “As you can see, I couldn’t reach it to take care of it myself.”

  “No kidding,” she muttered. He needed a surgeon, not a pregnant waitress with a weak stomach. “What are friends for if not to help hide the bodies?”

  “Is that what we are?” Jorge removed the sunglasses to expose his distinctive brown gold eyes. “Friends?”

  She ignored him, turning away to dampen a washcloth with cold water. The coppery scent of fresh blood was making her queasy and breathing through her mouth didn’t seem to help one bit. His breath left in a hiss when she gently dabbed the wound.

  “War buddies might be a more accurate term,” he whispered.

  What she would give to just fall to the floor and cry like a baby. She didn’t want to hurt him but she certainly didn’t want him to bleed to death either.

  “Damn it, Jorge, you’re bleedin’ like a stuck pig. You need stitches.”

  “How are your sewing skills?” He took another hefty drink of whiskey.

  She gave him a sour look. “I flunked out of home economics. Does that tell ya anythin’?”

  “Yeah, Martha Stewart’s job is safe.”

  “This isn’t funny,” she snapped. Turning away, she rinsed the cloth, trying hard to not puke.

  “They say chicks dig scars,” he gritted.

  “I don’t suppose you’ll let me take ya to the emergency room?”

  He threw her a dark glance.

  “Silly me. Who would wanna bother someone with eight years of medical trainin’ when ya have me on speed dial?” Sarcasm dripped from every word. “What’ll it be? Glue or duct tape?”

  His eyes narrowed.

  “Crazy glue it is.” She dropped the washcloth into the sink then riffled the medicine cabinet again.

  “This is not an attractive side of you.”

  If he weren’t in so much pain she would’ve sworn he was laughing at her. Holding a folded hand towel beneath the wound, she smiled sweetly before dousing the wound with rubbing alcohol. Jorge’s body jerked, and he bit back a curse.

  “You couldn’t give me a warning?” he growled.

  “A doctor might’ve but hey, it’s not anyone ever praised my bedside manner.”

  Her side ached in sympathy wh
en she rinsed the wound again. It had to be done. If the cut wasn’t properly irrigated the chances were high that it’d become infected. God only knew what bacteria the knife had on it. She shook her head. What was she thinking? She was about to close a knife wound with glue so if he lived to tell the story then her work was done.

  It wasn’t pretty, but the injury wasn’t quite as bad as she’d first thought. The first three inches were the worst and the cut grew shallower as it curved along his ribs. He probably felt the bite of the blade then turned to deflect the blow.

  Once she was sure it was as clean as she could make it, she covered the wound with a handful of gauze four by fours. Covering them with a towel, she pressed his arm against the wound to hold everything in place.

  “You realize doctors don’t recommend usin’ this kind of glue on injuries,” she said.

  “I’m sure they don’t recommend getting stabbed either but here we are.” His face was ghostly pale and his skin felt clammy. Chances were good that he’d pass out before she was done closing the wound.

  “Come on, ya can take my bed for the night.”

  To her surprise he didn’t argue with her. She helped him into the bedroom then removed his bloody pants before settling him on the bed. His whispered thanks was thin, and she hurried into the bathroom for a couple of fresh towels. After digging out a bottle of crazy glue from the kitchen, she set to work repairing the wound.

  It seemed to take hours to secure the worst of the damage though in reality it was only to ten to fifteen minutes. On the shallow end she used a mismatched string of Band-Aids. As the glue dried, she cut up an old bed sheet to bind his ribs. By the time she was done he was out cold.

  Before leaving him she checked his pulse then covered him with the sheet before turning out the light. She made it to the couch before her legs gave out on her. Now that the emergency had passed, she felt as weak as a newborn kitten. In the stuffy darkness, she stretched out and let her mind go back in time. It was rare that she allowed herself to recall those first nightmarish years alone. The fear that paralyzed her as darkness fell, the constant struggle to keep a roof over her head and food on the table. For eighteen months she’d dodged Children’s Services attempts to place her into foster care and the moment she turned eighteen it felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders.