Hunted Love Box Set: Big Game, Bounty, Captured

by Lowe, Aden

  Her reaction stirred predatory instincts he normally held in check. He moved closer, intentionally towering over her, forcing her to look up. The delicate angle of her jaw, created by having to raise her chin, tempted him. He leaned in to let his mouth trail along her jawline, teasing at soft skin. The sharp hiss of air between her teeth betrayed the depth of her reaction, but she remained still.

  Falon slid his lips to hers for a series of increasingly hungry kisses. "You're still sure about this?" The pause to wait for her to answer seemed endless.

  Finally she nodded. "I am."

  Falon groaned and kissed her again, trembling with the strain of holding back, and finally closed the distance between them by wrapping her in his arms to draw her against his chest. Tentative hands moved up his chest with a feather light touch to send massive sparks of heat through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. Finally she reached his shoulders and slid her fingertips along his collarbones and explored the sensitive hollow there.

  The curves of her body molded exactly to his as if they were made for each other, a sensation he'd never experienced before, not even with Chelsea. Adjustments had been required for any other woman he'd ever been with. A mental shove pushed the thought away. He couldn't afford to get attached. This was only for a few days, and it was likely a mistake at that. She could become a liability he couldn't have as he tracked Kellen.

  Rita gave a little moan and slid her fingers under his shirt, easily disrupting his thoughts. How could he not have her? Following her lead, he lifted the hem of her shirt and drew it upward and over her head. His own shirt went right after hers.

  Falon took advantage of the small gap between them to look. Silky pale skin covered her smooth musculature and feminine contours. Black lace accentuated the paleness of her breasts and acted as an artistic showcase for all that sheer perfection.

  The impulse to touch overcame him and he allowed his hands to rise and gently cup her flesh. She reacted with a sharp hiss and reached behind her back to unclasp her bra. The garment went slack in his hand, and he let it drop in favor of touching bare skin. Hardened nipples beckoned his mouth, and he obeyed instantly to flick his tongue across the tip of one and rolled the other between his finger and thumb.

  Rita's moan accompanied her fingers cupping the back of his head, nails raking his scalp in a way that inflamed him even more. He pulled her nipple between his lips and sucked hard, drawing a gasp from her.

  A muffled bang from below made them both stiffen just as a buzzer sounded in Rita's apartment.

  "Shit!" She pulled away and scrambled for her bra and shirt. "Trouble in the bar. That was the shotgun."

  ***

  Chapter Six

  The Rattlesnake's kitchen had come to a standstill, a stark contrast from the controlled chaos Falon had witnessed earlier. The grill and fryers still sizzled but the staff had gone quiet and taken cover behind a bank of equipment. A plume of smoke rose from the abandoned grill to be sucked into the fire suppression hood above it. Rita signaled two of the workers to shut down the grill and fryers.

  The uncertainty of whatever they were about to walk into made Falon glad the risk of a grease fire at his back had been eliminated. Instinct to take the lead in a potentially dangerous situation waged war against the logic of following someone far more familiar with the possibilities.

  A quelling glance from Rita settled the inner argument. He moved to back her up, but didn’t attempt to move ahead. A quick smile curved lips still swollen from his kisses and indicated her full awareness of his inner struggle, and her appreciation of the decision he'd made.

  The air around Rita crackled with tension as she passed from the kitchen to the bar area. Falon stayed far enough behind her to be able to react to whatever scenario she found herself in. Her body language clearly said she owned the place and troublemakers would have hell to pay.

  In the bar area, the bartender held the entire place at bay with his twelve gauge sawed-off. The crowd had gone perfectly silent, including the band, everyone frozen in place. Falon's gaze immediately found the source of the trouble. A gym rat with a fake tan hulked over a booth, scowling, while the female occupant sobbed quietly and her male companion glowered in incompetent fury. Blood trickled from the corner of the woman's mouth while the right side of her face practically glowed with a livid red handprint. The big bastard had slapped her, hard.

  Falon's hackles rose with his own anger. It took a special brand of low-life motherfucker to hit a woman in public. His instincts opposed common sense, demanding retribution for the woman, rather than the caution the situation warranted. Besides, it was Rita's hornet's nest to handle, not his. The most he could do was back whatever play she made. He didn't have to wait long to find out.

  Rita signaled the bartender to stand firm and stalked through the swinging gate that led out to the tables. Falon barely noticed the other signal she made, and when he spotted the apparent recipient, his brow rose a little in surprise. The petite female seemed inconsequential at first glance, making her a particularly effective weapon in some scenarios.

  Falon stayed behind the bar, unwilling to interfere with an obviously well-rehearsed operation. Rita's confidence and control under pressure demanded respect. Many people, both male and female, would have gone to pieces in a similar event.

  Rita wove her way between tables, working her way steadily to the trouble spot. "What's going on here?" She stopped not far from the gym rat, but well out of reach of those

  The bastard rolled his eyes and had the nerve to turn his back to say something quiet to the couple in the booth.

  "Mister, didn't yo' momma never teach you no manners? You don't turn your back on a lady speaking to you." The blatant challenge in Rita's voice rang clear through the whole tavern.

  Rita had placed herself in by voicing that insult. Only sheer willpower held him in place, rather than heading across the tavern to her defense.

  The gym rat's back stiffened and he turned slowly, fury creeping up his neck and face with rising blood. "What did you say to me, bitch?" Perfect teeth, so white they glowed nearly blue against his artificially dark tan, flashed in a vicious snarl.

  "What are you, as dumb as you are yellow? Big bad man hit a woman then won't stand when another woman calls him on it, that there is straight up coward." Rita's derisive tone could have cut flesh.

  The gym rat went even redder and puffed himself up to appear even larger, towering over her. "Bitch, you better check yourself. You don't even know who I am, do you?"

  "No, and I really don't give a damn. You're just some douchebag on my property, assaulting one of my guests. Walking out of here now is your only intelligent option." Rita's eyes flashed her anger and everyone in the place held their breath.

  "You're making a big mistake bitch. You better ask your old fuck-buddy about his baby brother." The big man's growled words held a very deliberate threat. He turned slightly to include the couple still huddled in the both in his next pronouncement. "You're all getting ready to see hell rain down. Every fucking one of you will regret this day." He glared all around the tavern. "Hell Raiders will be rolling up in here, and if you're still here when they do, there will be no mercy." Seeming satisfied with the eloquence of his threat, the gym rat spun on his heel and headed for the exit in an exaggerated swagger.

  Over by the little game-room area, Falon spotted the tiny blonde Rita had signaled earlier. She had positioned herself so the gym rat would have to pass within arm's reach, or closer, and made herself appear even smaller. Inconsequential. What was she up to?

  Nearing the exit, the gym rat puffed up even more, assured of a successful retreat. Several customers near the aisle suffered rough shoulder-brushes as he passed. The force of his movement could clearly knock the little blonde over, yet she stood deliberately where she would be an almost unavoidable target.

  Falon caught a glimpse of the gym rat's face as he zeroed in on the blonde. Brute cruelty turned what might have been considered a handsome face into a
mask of pure hatred and loathing. Like a bull charging, he visibly gathered himself, ready to hit her full on with all his force.

  The woman stood, small and seemingly unaware of the danger, until he came within scant inches. Then, without warning, she exploded into action, moving fast. With an upward leap right into the gym rat's face, she literally climbed to stand atop his kneecaps, while one open palm smashed into his lower nose and mouth with incredible-looking force. Continuing the upward momentum, she piled one foot against his testicles in a sickening impact.

  The gym rat doubled over, defenseless, cradling his crushed genitals with both hands while he retched and streamed blood from a broken nose and shredded lips. With her feet back on the floor, the blonde brought her doubled fists down between his shoulders. Paralyzed, for all intents and purposes, by her blitz attack, the gym rat collapsed to the floor.

  The tiny woman landed on the downed man's back with one knee squarely between his kidneys, and grabbed one elbow to wrench a heavily muscled arm behind his back. The excruciating maneuver dragged a scream from the gym rat.

  "Hey motherfucker, you make good and sure you tell your big bubby that a ninety pound bitch done cleaned your house and rearranged shit." Laughter rang out all around and she waited for it to die down. "Any Raider, or any other brand of fucker, comes in here to make trouble, he'll get the same service. Now you better go clean that new face of yours up a little." Standing, she paused enough to deliver a resounding slap to the man's ass, then walked away to disappear within the crowd.

  The gym rat managed to drag himself the remaining distance to the exit, and presumably on out to his vehicle. An aproned staff member with a mop and bucket cleaned blood from the floor. Rita slid into the booth beside the sobbing woman, then caught Falon's eye and lifted her chin to request his presence.

  No one paid attention to Falon as he casually wove between tables and animated conversations while the band resumed their set with a rendition of Molly Hatchet's Flirting With Disaster. At the booth, Rita rose when he approached, and continued speaking to the woman.

  Falon stopped at her side and worked to suppress his own pride in how she had handled the situation. She and the little blonde had executed epic humiliation on a deserving jerk.

  And he was a damned idiot. Rita was not his woman. He had absolutely no right to any sort of pride in her actions. Too bad the warning fell on the deaf ears of whatever part of him generated pride. He gave himself a stern mental shake to bring his attention to what the woman was saying.

  "…met him at a work function. I don't know why he targeted me. I'm nothing special, in any way. But he pursued me and the more I resisted, the harder he pushed. Before I knew it, he was following me everywhere I went, calling me dozens and dozens of times, day and night." She paused to wipe at the trickle of blood from her split lip. "I thought I could reason with him, just let him know clearly, once and for all, that I had no interest in a relationship with him. He would have raped me that time, if my boss hadn't come in and caught him. At least he was fired, so I no longer had to work with him. It should have gotten better, but the nightmare had only started."

  The woman continued to tell the story of her ordeal, how the gym rat had stalked her, terrorized her, until she finally gave up and ran. The first time he tracked her down within a month and resumed his pursuit. She took more care the next time, and it took him nearly six months. By the time he found her, she had a relationship with a good man who insisted they stand their ground. The gym rat, taking a different approach, had simply observed them closely for the past three weeks.

  The woman and her man went on with life, taking as many precautions as possible, and two days before, they'd been married. They were in Stags Leap for their honeymoon, visiting the husband's ancestral home. The nuptials seemed to be the straw that broke the camel's back and sent the gym rat back to physical aggression.

  Falon catalogued the information for future reference. The gym rat had mentioned Kellen's motorcycle club, and implied the outlaw was his sibling. He needed to check the file, because he hadn't noticed anything about siblings or other family members. The other implication about Kellen could not be considered at the moment. He would need to analyze that bit of intel privately.

  Finally the couple seemed finished talking, and Rita bade them farewell, and turned to Falon with a smile. "Ready to continue that walk?"

  The tip of her tongue swept her lower lip, instantly sending Falon back to her apartment to taste that tender mouth again. A growl threatened to erupt and containing it prevented speech, so he had to settle for a very deliberate nod.

  Rita took his arm, letting her fingers play delicately along the inside of his bicep and sending waves of desire straight to his cock. She led him back through the tavern, not bothering to hide her intent from anyone who cared to look.

  When she stopped to exchange greetings for the fourth time, impatience surged through him. "Say goodnight, Rita, let's go."

  She glanced up with a mischievous smile and nod, then took a more direct route toward the kitchen and the rear door.

  Chapter Seven

  Rita concentrated on navigating to the back of the kitchen, and not trembling in reaction. She hated any time trouble erupted in the Rattlesnake, but that incident hadn't been one of the normal things that happened when people were drinking and dancing and having a good time. Not a couple of drunks fighting over a woman, or a catfight, or some clumsy drunk spilling a drink on another.

  No, that bastard had been a whole other breed of trouble, and his reference to her past and the Hell Raiders could mean only one thing… He was Tom Kellen's brother. The very idea sent ice water trickling down her spine and she failed to hold in the resulting shiver.

  Falon noticed and slid his arm around her shoulders. "Cold?"

  She let herself lean into the shelter he offered, just for a moment. "Maybe a little." A twinge of guilt settled in her gut. She shouldn't be taking comfort, even just the physical kind, in him. Not when neither of them had intentions beyond a few shared nights.

  He drew her closer to his side, into the protective warmth of his body, freely giving that comfort. "I'm a pretty good listener, you know."

  "I have no doubt." She laughed a little, part of her extremely uncomfortable at his perceptiveness. "But what makes you think I need someone to listen? I don't even really know you."

  The chuckle he gave sounded good, a mixture of humor and understanding and totally absent of the derision most men would mix into the expression. "Rita, everyone can use a good listener, whether they realize it or not. Especially a woman who just gave the order to deliver a serious ass-kicking to a guy who could be really dangerous." He shrugged a little, pulling her even closer for a second. "I'm not prying, okay?"

  Something about the tone of his voice drew her gaze up, to search his face. Beard shadow darkened his jaw, giving him a slightly scruffy appearance, despite the almost military haircut and close-trimmed goatee. "Okay. Not like there's anything to pry about anyway."

  "Come on, let's finish that walk we sorta started earlier." The pressure of his arm about her shoulders guided her out into the parking lot. "No need to get in a rush about things."

  A little band of apprehension loosened, just slightly, from around her spine. He didn't seem in any kind of hurry to get back to where they left off, and she really needed to clear her head before she could do anything about the throbbing ache between her legs. "Good idea." She led him toward the outer edge of the lot, to the smoothed area where she and a couple of the girls sometimes walked for exercise. "Tell me what really brings you to Stags Leap?"

  Did his muscles stiffen, just a little? "I really am just passing through. I like the area, thought I might spend a few days before I move on again."

  "Why?"

  "Why?"

  "Why passing through? Surely you're headed somewhere, with some purpose?"

  Okay, the stiffening was unmistakable that time. So what was he hiding? "Not really. I… I used to be marr
ied, and in the Army, like I said earlier. I came off deployment to find my sweet wife had found comfort in the arms of another man. Got out at the end of my enlistment, and hit the road." He paused for a moment and she thought he wasn't going to say anything more, but then he took a deep breath. "Now, I guess you could say I'm running from some deep, bad shit, all left over from some rough deployments and a bitch of a wife. My headlight makes a pretty good compass. I go whichever way it points, stop when I'm tired, and occasionally hang around a little while if a place appeals to me."

  Rita winced in sympathy at the pain in his voice. The man had obviously gone through hell and back. "Some women are just bitches, I guess." There really wasn't anything else to say. His ex had to be an idiot of some kind, in addition to cold and heartless. "So, why Stags Leap? Nobody comes here if they can help it." Whatever his reason, she had to admit, she was glad he'd picked the Rattlesnake to stop and ask about motels in the area.

  Chapter Eight

  God, he hated answering questions about himself. Telling Rita about Chelsea had put a decided limpness in his mood. Thinking about her never failed to work far better than a cold shower. And now Rita wanted to know again why he'd come to Stags Leap, and she was too smart to settle for the bullshit answers he generally gave to that kind of question. So what the hell was he going to tell her?

  She still waited, looking up at him occasionally, a small frown in residence between her elegant brows. A mild breeze stirred the darkness, bringing slight relief to the midsummer humidity, and carrying her scent to him again, reminding him of what they'd been about to do.

  "Falon?" The impatience he'd expected still didn't taint her voice. Nothing there but concern. Hmm.

  The general habit of honesty he'd always had pressed him to be as truthful as he possibly could, without giving away the things he needed to keep secret. "Sometimes people ask me to find things for them."