Taken

by Lora Leigh

  Oh, he was falling all right, and Cooper knew it. Falling, nothing—he had already fallen, hard and fast, for that cute little dimple, those pale blue eyes, and long loose curls. Her intriguing smile and her ability to keep him intrigued. Damned if any other woman had ever done that.

  “Bet me.” He grinned back at her. Because this was sex talk, not love talk. Love talk would come later. As soon as he figured out exactly what it was he was supposed to say in love talk. But he was damned good at improvising.

  She finally shook her head. “We need to talk before we do anything else.” She sighed. “You didn’t trust me, Ethan.”

  She stared up at him, that vulnerability, the hurt in her eyes tightening his chest.

  “It wasn’t a lack of trust, Sair,” he promised her, letting his fingers run through the soft silk of her curls. “It was the pain in your eyes when I saw those scars. It was the knowledge that someone had hurt you and I wanted to kill them for it. But I didn’t want you to see that reaction. I didn’t want you to see me if the sons of bitches who did that to you were still alive.”

  They weren’t. Even the young boy who had tricked Sair out of her father’s home had died a less than easy death only a few years later. Her father’s enemies had died in prison, along with her father. Anyone who would hurt Sarah was gone from this earth. And that left no one for Cooper to exact vengeance upon.

  She dipped her head, moving away from him as she fixed her dress.

  “It doesn’t change the fact that I may want more from you than you want to give,” she told him, turning back to him. “I deceived both of us, I think, to get into your bed.”

  “So deceive me again, Sair. Just get your ass in a pair of jeans and get back down here.” He had to clench his hands and his teeth to keep from grabbing her. “For God’s sake, baby, have pity on me here. I’m hard as a rock and starved for that pretty little body of yours. Let’s get out of here and do what we have to do.”

  “Why?” Her hands went on her hips and a frown brewed at her brow. “Why does it matter if we go to the store? Or to the bar? How does it change anything other than your stamp of ownership over my head?”

  He nodded decisively. “You’re getting the picture there, cupcake. My stamp of ownership. Branding you in a way.” He liked the sound of that enough to smile in anticipation. “And that’s doing it the easy way. We could do it the hard way. I could just follow you the next time you go to the store and start knocking damned heads together when I catch those bozos sniffing after you. I’d have fun with that, but I bet you wouldn’t.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You’re being very autocratic.”

  “It’s one of my more advanced degrees,” he snorted. “Now get dressed. You have five seconds to get your tail upstairs before I start undressing.” He lowered his lashes, flicking his gaze over her. “And tomorrow I start batting heads together.”

  He was serious.

  Sarah stared back at him, amazed, perhaps a little outraged, and a whole lot aroused.

  “We’re going to have to discuss your habit of ordering me around,” she told him, backing out of the kitchen.

  “Five. Four.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

  “You’re being hideously arrogant.”

  “Three.” He waited a heartbeat. “Two.” He lowered his arms, his hands about his belt, as sweet little Sarah turned tail and ran.

  And damn him if that wasn’t the prettiest little tail.

  He grinned at the sound of her running up the stairs. Grinned at the thought of the evening ahead. Then he whistled soundlessly at the thought of the night ahead.

  By morning, Sarah and everyone else in this damned town would know exactly whom she belonged to.

  * * *

  They were being followed.

  Cooper sat relaxed in his pickup, Sair pulled close to his side as he drove through town. And the little minx laughed at him because he made sure he drove through town, around the town circle, and then to the grocery store on the other side of the small town before he stopped.

  “Hey, everyone needs a clear view,” he told her with a laugh as he helped her out of the truck, keeping her carefully in front of him as the black sedan drove past, too damned slow.

  He hustled her into the store and gave her the list for the bar. It was a list he and Jake had pulled out of their asses to make up an excuse to take her shopping. Items like celery, pepper, salt—bullshit items they had plenty of.

  “Let me make sure Jake didn’t forget anything.” He pulled his cell phone out, hit Jake’s number. Counted rings. When Jake answered, he closed the phone in a signal to Jake that there was trouble and smiled to Sair. “He must be busy.”

  Jake would be getting real busy right about now. He’d be calling every damned bouncer the bar hired, twelve total, and tonight every damned one of them would be on shift. Three would be at that store before Cooper and Sair left.

  He was a damned paranoid man. The men who worked for him were just as paranoid. Loners. Soldiers without a war to fight because their bodies refused to do what they had to do now. They were his family. And now, they were Sarah’s family.

  He wandered through the store with her, his arm over her shoulders, or at her waist. He glared at the men who looked at her, and the few who stopped and talked were treated to a possessive Cooper. Something they had evidently never seen, because he caught the smirks.

  Assholes.

  He whispered dirty jokes in her ear to watch her blush, and stopped and talked to a few of the women that he knew would make good friends for his Sair. Women who were all safely married, happily married, and would of course tell her how great and wonderful monogamy could be.

  He had a plan. Cooper always had a plan. But first, he was going to take care of the damned yahoos out in that dark sedan.

  He was taking Sair through checkout when Casey, Iron, and Turk entered the store. Three ex-Rangers, soldiers who looked just as damned mean as they actually were.

  “Hey, boss, Jake said don’t forget to get change.” Turk’s voice was a deadly growl as he moved to the register. Dressed in black jeans and a black shirt, unruly black hair falling to his collar, Turk’s steely, cold blue eyes glanced at the store owner, Mark, before turning back to Cooper.

  “Jake didn’t call you,” Sarah murmured.

  “Jake has a weird sense of humor, sugar,” Cooper drawled as he pulled a hundred from his billfold. “Can you give me change, Mark?”

  “I can, Cooper.” Mark was no man’s fool. The few times these three men had run with Cooper, there had always been trouble.

  Like the time that damned motorcycle gang had tried to hold up his bar two years ago. Cooper, Turk, Iron, and Casey had walked in and cleared the place without a single broken window. There had been some broken bones and a few concussions, but these four men hadn’t been the ones suffering them.

  Mark packed the rolls of quarters in a plastic bag and handed them to Cooper. “You take care, Coop.” He nodded before smiling at Sarah. “And you too, Sarah. Keep this boy on the straight and narrow.”

  She wasn’t Miss Sarah anymore. She was Sarah, Cooper’s woman. Damn, Cooper could almost feel his chest swelling with pride.

  “Hey, boss, did you see that new Harley that drove through town earlier?” Casey eased in beside Sarah, Iron was in front of them, and Turk pulled up the rear. “She was a beauty with all that chrome.”

  Cooper kept up with the conversation, and the sedan. It eased out of the parking lot, windows tinted, but he could still glimpse three males inside. The two in the front seat wore dark glasses.

  As they reached the truck, Cooper shot Iron a hard look. The other man nodded his head. He’d checked the truck and it was clean.

  “Come on, darlin’.” He helped Sarah into the seat via the driver’s side before moving in beside her.

  “You headin’ to the bar?” Turk grumbled. His brown eyes were flat and hard, his scarred face resembling a junkyard dog that had won too many fights at too high a pri
ce.

  “Heading that way, Turk.”

  Turk nodded. “See you there.”

  The other three men lifted their hands before loping to their motorcycles. Harleys. Bad-boy motorcycles. Cooper liked his truck.

  He started the truck and eased out of the parking lot. Turk and Casey were at the lead, Iron riding behind.

  Sarah was too damned quiet. The ride from the store to the bar was hell. Because as he pulled into the parking lot, he knew what the hell had to be done.

  She wanted trust. Shit. He didn’t like this part.

  “Black sedan followed us to the store,” he finally said softly.

  “I know.” She threaded her fingers together and took a hard, deep breath. “I’ll have to leave tonight, Ethan.” There were tears in her voice. “When I’m gone, they’ll be gone as well.”

  “Like hell.” He gripped her neck, pulled her face around until he could stare into her startled eyes. “You’re not running, Sair. Not anymore. My town, my bar, my fucking woman. And by God, it stays that way.”

  Before she could protest, before the first tear could fall, his lips covered hers. The kiss shot fire through his veins, tightened every cell of his body, and left him burning for more.

  His woman. For the first time in his life, Cooper loved a woman. He’d be damned if anyone was going to take her from him.

  chapter 7

  she’d thought she would be safe. Uncle Martin had kept track of her father’s enemies. They had all died. The lieutenants who would have come after her had been arrested. Or they were gone, buried. Yet, someone had found her and was following her.

  And they knew about Ethan.

  Her hands were shaking as Ethan—everyone called him Cooper, but to her, he was Ethan—escorted her into the loud, crowded bar.

  The Broken Bar was the hangout for every type of carouser, partier, or just plain wannabe-badass. And there were a few real badasses mixed in there, she was certain. The bouncers definitely. There had to be a dozen on duty tonight.

  She picked them out instantly, most likely because there were no less than three around her and Ethan at any given time.

  She pushed her fingers through her hair as she sat at the bar, tapping her fingers against the slick surface as she watched the large, cavernous room that seemed packed with twisting, drinking, gyrating, half-drunk bodies. A night of fun had never seemed so sinister.

  Yes, it had. The last time she had let her fascination for a male draw her from hiding. And now, it was threatening the only man she had ever loved outside of her family.

  “One of our finest.” Jake pushed a glass of whisky in front of her. The little shot glass was a joke. She picked it up and tossed it back, grimacing at the pure pleasure of the burn that cascaded through her body.

  “Hit me again, Jake.” She set the little glass on the table as she gave the order absently, looking around, trying to make certain she couldn’t recognize any of the men she knew were her father’s enemies. Or could be.

  He set the shot glass in front of her. She frowned and looked up at him. “How ’bout a double?”

  Jake’s brows lifted but he poured the shot into a glass, added to it, and handed it to her. He was watching her as though he expected her to just dunk it like she had the one before.

  The first shot was for courage. This one she would sip. Drinking too fast only made her sick. She tolerated her liquor really well. What she didn’t tolerate well were nerves. And she had plenty of those going on tonight.

  She twisted around the bar stool and came face-to-face with Ethan’s chest. She looked up the wide expanse to meet his inquisitive look from the glass to her.

  “Not to worry,” she sighed. “I rarely ever get drunk.”

  “That wasn’t what I was worried about.” His hazel and amber eyes were lit with amusement. “I’ve noticed, though. The only time I’ve seen you drinking is here, in my bar.”

  “How would you know?” She looked up at him from the corners of her eyes. “You are very rarely in the house with me, Ethan.”

  “But I watch you by your pool. If you were going to drink, you’d be on the patio.”

  Her lips twitched, and she flushed. Because he had seen her masturbating by the pool. And because, damn him, he was right.

  She sipped the whisky, loving the little bit of a burn that hit the back of her throat and flowed to her stomach. It eased her nerves just enough for her to see the fun that could be had in a crowd. And at home, sometimes, a drink in the evening helped her relax for the night. Though that was rare. She didn’t like sleeping at night.

  “I’m not used to crowds, that’s why I rarely go out,” she told him.

  “I figured that out. Are you ready to dance with me now?”

  Sheer excitement filled her veins. “Seriously?” She looked out at the dance floor. “You’ll dance with me?” He’d said he wanted to, but she hadn’t been certain he meant it.

  “Sair, sweetheart, I’d probably dance for you.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Come on, you little heart stealer. Dance with me.”

  He pulled her out on the dance floor and he taught her the country steps, which weren’t hard to follow. She laughed as he twirled her around, pulled her against him, and ground his hips against hers with the rousing country beat. Then he let her go, let her wiggle and move, mimicking the other women on the floor before he would grip her, twirl her around, her hair fanning behind her before wrapping around his shoulder, some of the curls clinging to his T-shirt.

  He seemed to like that.

  Then the beat slowed, became dark and intimate, and he tucked her against his chest, his chin against the top of her head as she closed her eyes and felt him in every beat of her heart.

  His hands stroked up her back, over the silky blouse she wore. The one he had unbuttoned to the tops of her breasts and gazed at her. With one hand buried beneath her hair, his lips stroked over her brow, her cheek, her lips.

  She whispered a sigh, her lips parting for him, feeling his kiss as she would have felt a caress clear to the depths of her spirit. He touched her that way. Just the thought of him touched her that way.

  “You’re mine,” he whispered into the kiss as her lashes fluttered open. “Remember that, Sair. All mine.”

  “Always yours, Ethan.” She would always belong to him, even if she had to run to protect him. And she would have to run soon. After he fell asleep tonight, perhaps. Very soon. Because she couldn’t risk allowing him to be hurt.

  But for now, she could hold on to him, feel him holding her. Because this was her dream. And this man was her heart.

  Cooper pulled her against him, feeling her slight form moving with him as his eyes narrowed on the entrance of the bar. The guy that stepped in was no biker, drinker, or weekend partier.

  He wore black jeans, a jacket in the middle of summer, and he was packing heat. Cooper watched as three of his bouncers moved between them and the new visitor. Finally, with a grimace, the stranger left. But Cooper knew his face now. Hell, he had his face. He glanced to Jake, who caught his eye and nodded. They had him on the security camera; all they had to do was run it now. He watched as the assistant bartender took over and Jake headed to the office.

  “What are you doing, Ethan?” She lifted her head now, her gaze suddenly too somber, too filled with shadows.

  “Dancing with you.” He touched her cheek, cupped it. “Protecting you.”

  She shook her head before pressing her forehead into his chest and he knew she was fighting her tears. He’d seen them glittering in her eyes, felt the shudder that raced down her spine.

  “Come on.” He caught her hand as the song ended. “I want to show you something.”

  Sarah let Ethan pull her through the dance floor, back to the bar where they moved into the narrow space Jake called his domain, and to the door at the far wall. There was no way to get back there except through Jake, and the bouncers closest to the bar.

  The music became muted as he closed the door and led her through
a short hall to a flight of rough wooden stairs.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, loving the feel of her hand gripped in his, the warmth of it, the implied connection.

  She shouldn’t love him so, she thought. She should have held a part of herself back. A part of her heart.

  “This is my home away from home.” He unlocked the door at the top of the stairs and flipped on the switch. Soft, muted light filled the room.

  There was a bed at the far end of the room. A large bed, strewn with pillows.

  “And no, I’ve never had another woman up here.” He closed the door and locked it behind him as she moved to the bank of monitors that sat over his office desk.

  On one side of the room a tinted window looked out over the dance floor. She realized it was what she’d believed was a mirror on the wall above the dance floor.

  There was a single shaded window by the bed, thick rugs, a table with two chairs, and a lamp hanging over it. Simple. Basic. Yes, Ethan would have come here to work, for the quiet, to brood perhaps. She could easily see him brooding here.

  She turned back to him slowly.

  He had stripped off his T-shirt and dropped it to the couch that sat against the wall, beside the bed. He toed his boots off, the amber in his gaze deepening as she slid her sandals from her feet and her fingers began to unbutton her shirt. Removing it, she quickly unhooked her bra and dropped it from her shoulders.

  She needed him. Needed him until the ache was like talons of hunger tearing at her. She unbuttoned her jeans as he tore at the belt cinching his hips. They moved together, undressed together.

  She pushed her panties and jeans down her legs as he did, stepped out of them, and stepped toward him.

  “God, I missed you, Sair.”

  She was in his arms. He lifted her, holding her to him as he kissed her, devoured her lips, and carried her to the bed he had never shared with another woman. The bed that would only know the two of them.

  The firm mattress cushioned them as he laid her back. It had been three days. She wasn’t content to lie back and just be touched. She wanted to touch.