Catching Cara: Dark Horse, Inc: Book 2

by Amy J. Hawthorn

  “Is there anything else I need to know?” His hand itched to remove the pistol he’d left behind.

  “Don’t go right up to her. Wait five minutes then go in, but sit at the bar and have a beer. Watch her like you’re attracted to her. Think about how the scene will look before you make your move. If you rush in and storm right up to her, it’ll look suspect. You don’t even have to make a move, just provide an extra set of eyes. Watch your back. Noah’s inside, and he’ll tell us if he smells trouble.” Rick sounded resigned, as if trouble were inevitable. Joe prayed that wasn’t the case.

  Storm right up to her? He wasn’t that big of an idiot.

  A little voice somewhere in the back of his head laughed hysterically.

  He sat back to watch the five minutes tick by. Hell, he could do this. He’d give her six.

  His fingers fisted on the steering wheel until they turned white.

  The heavy door closed behind her, and she casually scanned the room. On her first pass, she spotted Boyd sitting alone in a dim corner booth. She kept her face composed and walked to the bar. She stopped just shy of placing her hands on the grimy surface.

  The bartender, who looked like he’d had his regular Saturday bath about ten Saturdays ago, turned to her with a grunt. His eyes widened and focused on her breasts. “What can I do you for?” He smirked and placed extra emphasis on the words do you making her want to retch.

  Slimy bastard.

  She just stopped herself from rolling her eyes at his lame joke. “Light beer, bottle.”

  His ragged gray beard twitched, and she got the impression it hid a leer. “How about we try a Cowboy Cocksucker, on me?”

  Vomit!

  “No, thanks. Light beer, bottle, unopened. I’d rather take care of matters myself.” She smiled sweetly.

  He reached under the counter where she heard a cooler open and close. He smacked the bottle on the bar. “Four-fifty.”

  Smiling, she laid a five beside it. “Keep the change.” She twisted the top off her beer and slapped the cap on top of her payment. Turning her back on him, she made a seemingly casual perusal of the Thirsty Beaver’s crowd. She’d thought she’d felt someone’s gaze on her back and, when she turned and leaned against the bar, she saw why.

  At least three men openly stared at her in various states of appreciation. Maybe she had gone overboard with the boots, but she loved them and didn’t get to wear them often.

  She found both Noah and Campbell. Noah stood by a pool table, watching his opponent line up their shot. A crack sounded as the cue ball smacked the eight ball. The black ball spun into a corner pocket with a thud. Noah shook his head as if he didn’t believe his bad luck. He pulled a few crumpled bills out of his pocket and slapped them on the table.

  She hid a smile and pitied the man who thought he’d found a sucker. She’d give Noah two more games before he couldn’t control himself any longer. Then he’d clean house. Still deep in his role as a novice, he brushed his russet hair out of his eyes and glared at the white cue ball, as if casting all blame on it.

  Campbell remained seated in his booth on the far side of the room. When his sweeping gaze met hers, any hope of remaining anonymous went up in smoke. Though his harsh face stayed passive, his dark eyes glittered with a tempest of emotion. Cold hatred bored into her as he raked her from head to toe with his slow sneer. A sinister smirk crawled across his lips.

  She refused to show any of the fear or revulsion rioting in her belly, so she focused all of her energy on controlling her expression and body language.

  A tall, gangly, kid dressed in a button down shirt, tapped her on the shoulder. “Hey there, darlin’. How about a dance?” She’d be surprised if he was a day past twenty-one, but he drew her attention with his hopeful proposition.

  Turning, she smiled and shook her head. “Thanks, but—”

  “Oh, come on. Please? I’ll behave. My buddy over there bet me that I couldn’t get the prettiest girl in here to dance with me. That’s you. We’ll split the take, and he’ll never know.” He’d mixed his plea with a dash of honesty and ingenuity. “Just one dance, and I’ll leave you be. I’ll be a perfect gentleman.”

  She laughed. “Okay. One dance.” She placed her hand in his outstretched one and let him lead her to the dance floor. He rested his hands lightly on her hips and held her at an elbow’s distance.

  “So, what’s a nice boy—?”

  “So, what’s a nice lady like—?” They laughed when they spoke at the same time.

  “You first, ma’am.” He smiled and nodded his head to her as they swayed to a tune about pretty girls and rusty pickups.

  “Hey, now. I’m not that old. Don’t be calling me ma’am unless you want me to call you junior or sonny-boy.” She let herself relax and fall into her role. She couldn’t forget she had a job to do, but what better way to blend in than to dance to an old jukebox tune with the first guy who asked her? He was sweet, even if he made her feel older than dirt at thirty-two years old.

  “Yes, ma— uh. Okay.” He blushed from the collar of his shirt to the roots of his hair.

  “What are you boys doing in a place like the Thirsty Beaver? Are you even old enough to be in here?” It went without saying that it wasn’t the type of establishment to check IDs at the door. She’d be surprised if they even checked them before serving alcohol.

  “I’m twenty-two, promise. My friend, Jack, he turned twenty-one last month. We actually came here to look for his sister. She’s not here though. Thank God.” He took her hand in his, spun her around and drew her back to him. He nodded with a wink then returned his hands to her waist.

  “Well, I hope you boys find her, and I want you to be careful. Even if you’re legal, this bar is a rough place.” If she slipped into her slightly bossy, but caring nurse mode for a moment it couldn’t be helped.

  “Yes—” He snapped his mouth shut because she gave him the look.

  She laughed, and he spun her around one more time. As the room whirled, she saw that Boyd had left his seat. They slowed to a stop as the song ended. Her dance partner tipped his head. “Thank you.”

  She swore she saw him press his lips together to keep from calling her ma’am.

  “It was my pleasure.” She nodded her thanks.

  Then she inwardly cursed. She’d left her beer at the bar, right in the bartender’s reach, and would have to buy another. Surveying half the room, she turned. Boyd was no longer in his seat. Across the crowd, she met Noah’s gaze for what was supposed to be a brief moment, but something dark and furious overtook his features. In one split second, the lovable, ginger teddy-bear vanished, and a fighting mad beast took his place. He smacked his cue on the table and moved.

  Dread and fear coalesced, suffocating her.

  Suspicion told her what she’d find behind her, and she braced. Before she could turn, a hand gripped her wrist and spun her with a brutal jerk. Her eyes met the muddy brown gaze of Boyd’s. Her heart stopped.

  “Cara, fancy meeting you here. Some coincidence, huh? Fate’s funny that way.” He squeezed harder and pulled her close. She remembered the smell of his hot breath in her face and the crushing, suffocating pain she’d suffered.

  Not again. She would not be a victim.

  “Sorry, man. This dance is mine.” A familiar voice, one she heard in her dreams at night, sounded from her side. Without hesitation, Joe stepped in, chest to chest with Boyd. Hot, angry tension pulsed off him, beating at her.

  Boyd’s nostrils flared and his chest heaved. He dropped her wrist, only to fist his hands tight by his side. The people close to them noticed, grew silent and stepped back, riveted.

  This was the last thing they needed. Joe looked ready to wipe the floor with Boyd, and Noah would be right beside him. She figured either one of them could get the job done on their own, but if they both laid into him here and now, then they would all be in for one hell of a mess.

  They could all kiss this op goodbye. And wasn’t Joe a deputy? This had nightmare wri
tten all over it and not one of the men seemed to care as heated, heavy anger filled the air.

  Damn. It was up to her to get this under control. She wrapped her arms around Joe’s waist and pressed her chest to his back. Standing on tiptoe, even in her boots, it was a struggle to reach her chin to his shoulder. She spoke directly into his ear, but loud enough for everyone to hear. “Finally! Sweetheart, I thought you’d forgotten our date.”

  “Never. Not in a million years.” He refused to step back or even move his focus away from Boyd as he spoke. “I got held up on the farm, but I’d never let you down.” His easy words seemed to take on deeper meaning in the tense situation.

  “How about you buy me a beer, handsome? I lost my last one.” She drew on every bit of her mother’s “fifty ways to catch a man lessons” and pouted. Tangling her fingers in the ends of his hair, she tugged hard enough for it to bite, demanding he turn to her. His tense body wouldn’t budge, but when he turned his head, she relaxed a millimeter.

  “In a minute, baby.” Even knowing his words were for show, the low and maybe even a bit affectionate tone weakened her knees. She held tight, noting the rock hard stiffness of his posture remained. She didn’t think a lightning strike could make him move.

  She adjusted her hold in his hair and did the only thing she could think of when faced with the sexiest mouth she’d ever seen on a man. She strained through the awkward position of their bodies and took his mouth with hers.

  His breath left in a rush and, when his body softened, she grasped the opportunity and turned him to face her. His mouth parted, and she dove in as if she’d been starved for him.

  And her act? It wasn’t much of a show. This might not be the time or place, but her hunger was all too real. She would shamelessly use it to get them out of this mess.

  Joe’s arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her flat against his body.

  “Fucking cock tease.” Joe’s body turned to heated steel as Boyd spat his ugly words at her. “You’ll fucking get yours.” His last words trailed off as he walked away midsentence.

  She jumped, wrapped her legs around Joe’s waist, holding on like a monkey. She poured everything she had into another kiss, fighting against the violent rage blasting off him. His big hands cupped her ass and squeezed with enough force she wondered if she’d have bruises in the morning. A small part of her wished someone like Joe—or even Joe, if she were honest with herself—hungered for her that intensely. But, no, that near painful grip wasn’t hungry possessiveness, but blind anger.

  “Mother. Fucker.” She heard the tightly leashed fury in Noah’s voice when he arrived at their sides, but she couldn’t let anything distract her. Joe was ready to explode and, as much as she’d like to watch him wipe the floor with Boyd, she couldn’t allow it. Bigger things were at play, and he knew it. Or at least he would when the haze of anger cleared.

  She pulled her mouth from his and put it to his ear.

  “Joe. Not here, not now. Remember the job? I know you’d like to kill him for what he did to Kate, but you can’t. You have to remember the bigger picture.” Her husky voice and soft breath blew through him, a cool, cleansing balm. He tightened his grip then realized his hands were squeezing her ass, a full on, crushing, palm grab. He forced his hands to relax and slid them down to her outer thighs. God, he hoped he hadn’t hurt her in his fury.

  But, Kate? She thought his anger had been over what Boyd had done to Kate? When he walked in the door and saw Boyd with his hand on Cara’s wrist, some internal switch tripped and he’d become a berserker, ready to tear through walls to get to her, if need be. The only thing he’d known was that Boyd had hurt Cara and looked poised to do so again. Kate, the cousin who was more like a sister to him, never crossed his mind.

  “I think our plans for the night just went south. Boyd’s leaving.” Noah’s spoke at their sides and it took a moment before Joe realized that Noah was speaking to Rick, not them. The man did it so casually that anyone watching wouldn’t have a clue.

  In his earpiece, Joe heard Rick’s muttered curse. “Op’s dead. Everyone fallback.”

  Op’s dead.

  The words slapped him back to a very screwed up reality where the only good thing was the feel of Cara’s body plastered against his. Then again, the sweet heat wrapped around him was a lie. She’d been the only one to keep a clear head. Who knew what kind of mess she’d prevented?

  “I’m good, you can let me go.” He spoke quietly into her ear and barely resisted the urge to pat her ass.

  “Are you sure? I don’t want to unleash a madman on the Thirsty Beaver.” She relaxed her grip on his hair, her fingers trailing over his neck. Her honey gold gaze met his. He felt as though she looked deep inside, assessing far more than his anger.

  “I’m sure. I’m good.” In fact, too good. If she didn’t let go of him, he’d likely embarrass them both. “You can let go.”

  A bright, amused smile lit her face. “I did. You’re the one holding me. You’ll have to put me down.”

  Well, hell. “Just testing you.” He gave up the fight and patted her ass before setting her down and releasing her.

  She shook her head and laughed at him, not fooled in the slightest.

  “Rick’s ready to explode. We need to get back to base and chill.” Noah spoke low and serious, but he wore a friendly smile. He slapped Joe on the back as if they were old friends and not at all discussing what they would all consider a failure.

  They exited into the humid night. Even with moist air, so thick and heavy, it smothered, he breathed easier, freed from the bar’s crowded atmosphere. Noah waved and walked toward his vehicle. Joe returned the gesture with a single wave of farewell. He stopped where the cracked sidewalk ended and the gravel parking lot began. “Cara, since you dumped your first date, I guess you’re riding with me?”

  “Sure. Where’s your ride?”

  “I drove Trent’s.” He nodded in the direction he’d parked. We worried that mine would be too recognizable if anyone I know from Potter County showed up.” Gravel crunched under their feet as they walked through a row of old pickups.

  “Smart. But Rick always is.” She tucked her small hand in his so casually he almost believed their pretend hookup was real. They came to Trent’s truck and he stopped cold. He recognized the battered mustang pulling into a spot one row back and four spaces over.

  “Shit. We’re up again, babe. I suspect the guy you were looking for just rolled in.” The mustang’s crooked headlights turned off and the driver’s door opened. He had nowhere to go. He grabbed Cara by the waist, sat her on the hood of Trent’s truck. Not missing a beat, she wrapped a leg around his waist and pulled his hips into hers. He hid his face in her neck.

  She twirled her fingers lazily in the ends of his hair. “Who is it?” Her whisper, barely audible, brushed again his cheek. She smelled of peaches with the slightest hint of beer making him grow thirsty and so very hungry. He ached to explore her softness with his hands and mouth, taste her tempting body.

  Adrenaline—it had to be. Why else would he get a hardon when faced with a situation so fucked up, he didn’t know how to define it?

  Deep down, he’d known something wasn’t right in his department, but he never would have guessed this. What was he going to do? Could it be a coincidence?

  “Joe? What is it?” Sweet Cara—equal parts, sugar, brains and beauty. He knew women like her existed, since he was related to two of them. He’d never thought he’d meet another. “Do we need to call in backup?” Bless her for being so observant. Like she knew his world flipped upside down.

  Gathering a few of his wits, he murmured into her ear and shirt collar. “No. Someone keep eyes on the guy getting out of the black mustang, four cars down. I can’t let him see me.” The seductive scent of woman and sin teased him. He trusted his team, pushed his shock aside and focused on the haven Cara’s body offered. The silken skin beneath his cheek and the anchor of her leg around his waist spun a captivating web. For just a few mome
nts, he’d allow himself the escape.

  Her hands moved from his neck to his back, rubbing up and down in a gesture that was likely meant to comfort, not arouse. He willed his dick to obey. It bucked against his jeans to get at what it wanted.

  Cara.

  He didn’t blame his body for responding, but it wasn’t the time or place. His life was too busy and he couldn’t indulge himself, no matter how much he wished differently.

  She shifted a fraction, inadvertently increasing their physical contact, and whispered against the hollow of his throat. “The door is open, but no one’s gotten out yet.”

  Holloway’s voice spoke through his earpiece. “I can see the driver from my location. His face is in shadow, but I can see the dim light of something in his hand. My guess is he’s checking text messages. He’s putting his phone away.”

  “Mayhem, MacDonald, hold your position,” Rick ordered.

  “There’s movement. I think he’s getting out.” Holloway reported and time slowed to crawl.

  With a screeching creek, a car door shut nearby.

  Virtually blind with his head tucked into Cara, Joe listened intently to Rick’s updates. “He’s headed your way. Hunker down, MacDonald.”

  Heavy footsteps in gravel neared, growing louder with each slow step until they passed. A cellphone chimed with an incoming message, and the footsteps stopped.

  “He stopped about ten feet away and pulled his phone out. He’s facing your direction, but looking down,” Holloway said.

  “So, Jack. I think I’m taking you home with me tonight. I’ve been lonely, and my husband’s on the road for days at a time.” Cara spoke, low, but loud enough that anyone nearby would hear. “You wicked man, if you want to do that; you’ll have to buy me dinner first.” Her husky, sexy as sin, laugh gripped him by the balls.

  What was wrong with him?

  She wrapped both legs around him, squeezed his hips and arched her back, all but throwing herself against the truck’s hood and pulling him with her. His cock brushed against the junction of her thighs, and he saw stars.