Secured by the Lawman (Mountain Force Book 2)

by Rhonda Lee Carver

  RHONDA LEE CARVER

  Secured by the Lawman

  (Book 2, Mountain Force)

  2019 Rhonda Lee Carver

  Copyright 2019 Rhonda Lee Carver

  All rights reserved

  Edited by:

  Todd Tinker

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. NO part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without permission from the author, Rhonda Lee Carver—except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages written in a review. For information, please contact Rhonda Lee Carver @ rhondaleecarver.author@gmail.com.

  This work is fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue in this work are from the author’s imagination and creation. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, dead or alive, is completely coincidental.

  This book is for your personal pleasure. Ebooks are not transferrable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work. If you have

  enjoyed this book and wish to share with another reader(s) please purchase another copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, purchase a copy. Thank you for appreciating the hard work the author invested into this book.

  This book contains material that isn’t suitable for anyone under the age of 17.

  To read more books by Rhonda Lee Carver check out the list of her books at the end of this book.

  Blurb:

  Second chances, dangerous liaisons, a hot alpha stud, and a strong female make for a red-hot, satisfying, romantic thriller with a touch of humor.

  A dangerous story fell into the lap of investigative journalist, Lauren Crane. Afraid to trust the wrong people, she turned to her ex, Daniel “Steam” Street, Navy SEAL turned Mountain Force Special Agent. However, before she could enlist his help, she was attacked. After, she protects herself behind locks and bolts, and a steel-walled heart, but her safety net is threatened when the past comes knocking...

  Steam realized a long time ago he wasn’t good for Lauren, but he still loved her. Always would. Yet, can he keep the promise to never see her again when he's the only one who can protect her? The only one who can save her?

  Lauren and Steam's relationship was as explosive and uncontrollable as a ballistic missile, but can they join forces to bring a drug cartel kingpin to justice? Can they ignore their wildly passionate history together? Or will the deepest, darkest craving take them down a road they’d traveled and failed? Only time, and hearts, will tell.

  Dear Readers,

  I hope you enjoy Lauren and Steam’s story.

  Each day I’m astonished at how wonderful readers, my share team, Rhonda’s Rowdy Readers, and those who have become my friends are. Without you my books wouldn’t be what they are. I can’t say thank you enough for all the positive feedback I get from you. Please feel free to connect with me.

  Here are some important links:

  www.rhondaleecarver.com

  Amazon https://tinyurl.com/rhondaleecarver

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  rhondaleecarver.author@gmail.com

  Table of Contents

  Front Matter

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Back Matter

  Bonus – The Cowboy’s Son (Book 2, Tarnation, Texas), Chapters 1-3

  Prologue

  Detective Daniel “Steam” Street stood at the bottom of the chapel’s colossal concrete steps and stared up at the aged wooden and stained-glass doors scowling. The half-full whiskey bottle felt heavy in his hand…or was it his head that felt heavy? Since hearing the news yesterday that Lauren was getting hitched he’d been chasing solace at the bottom of the bottle to no avail.

  “Thank you for the ride. Keep the tip.” He handed the driver a wad of cash.

  The young man’s eyes widened and his mouth curved into a pleased smile. “Thanks, man.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  “Want me to wait?”

  “No.”

  The car sped away.

  As Steam turned back to the church a warning festered in his mind like a pimple ready to pop. He was drunk and people didn’t make good choices when inebriated. No doubt being there was a bad decision—a very, very bad one.

  He’d pay for it later. As sure as his nose was centered on his face, he’d pay dearly.

  Just as he’d paid the ultimate price when he’d lost Lauren. He’d been dealt a winning hand and fucked up. Hell, he didn’t just fuck up, he bought the corner lot on idiot real estate.

  In his defense, a bullheaded man didn’t realize he was an ass until it was too late. Too. Fucking. Late.

  If he was too late, then why was he standing in front of the chapel with some half-baked scheme that he could win back his ex? This wasn’t a romance novel and men like Steam—men who dedicated their lives to catching criminals—didn’t walk away with the bride…or even a long-term lover. No, lawmen were the riffraff left burying their sorrows in cheap whiskey and a good hand-job when the need arose.

  He chuckled but it fizzled. Nothin’ about his existence was laughable as he looked into the eye of foolishness.

  One day he was living high on the hog, celebrating in a local bar with his buddies after catching a dangerous motherfucker who liked to play with bombs, and the next he was torn inside out when a friend asked if he’d heard the news that Lauren was getting hitched.

  Steam had held it together, munched on a dozen barbecue wings, stuffed his face with jalapeno poppers, but the second no one was watching, his seams unraveled. He looked around at his friends laughing and felt a stab straight to his gut. Up until that day he hadn’t even realized he’d owned a sentimental side. But when it reared its head, oh brother had it erupted.

  In his defense, he wasn’t the only guilty party.

  Country music had a hand in his erratic behavior. Yesiree…

  He blamed all those sad songs he’d listened to. Husky, crooning twangs belting out little ditties about lovers and lost dogs had opened his wounds. Every. Single. Wound.

  With a fishing pole in one hand, a whiskey bottle in the other, and the speaker on his Jeep turned up loud, he’d sat on the edge of the bank at the pond pining over what he’d once had. A beautiful wife. An amazing life. Then the song came on.. The song of all songs. The very one they’d danced to on their wedding night. Apparently, the liquid therapy hadn’t dulled every memory. He’d had a hair-brained idea to tell Lauren that he still loved her.

  Well, here he was, ready to carry the thought to fruition.

  Taking a swig from the bottle, he swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. Backing out tempted him, but the logical avenues of his brain weren’t connecting properly.

  In his fuzzy brain he did have one clear, sobering thought. He should leave the whiskey outside of the four stone walls. His momma, who was probably inside, would never forgive him if he desecrated her church. He’d pushed the lines of defilement enough times as a kid. Hell, he’d sat at the pew every Sunday listening to the pastor preach about
forgiveness, compassion, and holiness. And then Steam was schooled on the real ways of the world when he’d enlisted into the Navy SEALs. Deployed into some of the harshest areas of the world, faced with the death of women and children, evil and chaos, he believed anything was possible.

  Five years on the police force wasn’t any better.

  Stumbling slightly, he righted himself and looked around to see if anyone saw the blunder. He was clear.

  Damn…he was drunk.

  He should take his bottle and go back home—that was he should call Uber and have them come back to get him. However, he was out of cash. The ride into the city from the mountains wasn’t cheap.

  Dragging out his phone, he tapped the familiar number of his partner, Dean Coby, and just as he heard his buddy’s voice, music flowing from the church gained Steam’s undivided attention. He groaned and then the scrap of lucidity disappeared somewhere between drunken disorderly and heartbreak.

  Yeah, he’d been heartbroken when he’d come home late one evening three years ago and found Lauren gone. She’d threatened that action enough he guessed she’d wanted to prove her point. She’d proven it alright. How does a man explain that he’d innocently missed their anniversary dinner—for a second year in a row? Hell, it wasn’t just the dinners but a compilation of things. They’d lost respect for each other and make-up sex couldn’t even cover up the fact that they’d wanted different things. Or maybe they wanted the same things but they couldn’t seem to get on the same track.

  He’d knocked himself out by searching every hardcore criminal in Wyoming, not taking a breather until his body required a few zzzz’s to function. He even received an award for his bravery when he was stabbed in the chest while saving a victim from an attacker.

  Unfortunately, when he came up for air, and realized Lauren had moved on, the healing cracks in his heart had spread deep into his soul. Imagining her in another man’s arms drove through him like that stab wound he’d suffered at the hand of a maniac.

  Shit! He’d never been a softy. Never chased after any woman, not even the one he loved. He’d pretended he was better off—liked not having anyone to answer to or having arguments about his late nights. His king-sized bed felt pretty damn good when he had it to himself.

  He shook his head. What a dick he’d been. He hated sleeping alone and why he spent most of his nights on the couch

  Placing the bottle on the step, he stumbled up the stairs two at a time which was quite an achievement. Once he was to the intricate doors, he heaved in a shaky breath and pushed one open almost knocking over a large flower arrangement in his clumsy haste. He received narrowed gazes from several guests, and he grinned. A man and woman who were standing in the foyer handing out programs gave him the stink eye.

  Programs? Elegant church? Expensive flowers? This wasn’t the Lauren he remembered. They’d married in the backyard of their cabin with a few friends and family. He wore his best suit and she wore her mother’s simple gown. They had a keg. A roasted hog. And the best time of their lives.

  Truthfully, it had been the happiest day of his life.

  “Bride or groom, sir?”

  He realized the young woman was speaking to him.

  “I’m a friend of the bride,” he muttered hoping he did a good job of hiding his slurred speech. Maybe, but there was no hiding the alcohol smell that emanated from his body. A shower and shave would have done him some good. Possibly even a change of jeans because there was a good possibility he had fish guts on the ones he wore now.

  He swore he saw the woman’s nose wrinkle in disgust and felt an urgency to apologize, but before he could open his mouth, she said, “I’ll seat you, sir. Bride’s party to the left of the chapel.”

  “No. I don’t need a seat.”

  “Excuse me?” the man asked.

  “I need to speak to Lauren before she makes the biggest mistake of her life.” Steam looked around and spotted the stairs.

  “Sir, you really shouldn’t—” the woman stepped forward, her eyes wide.

  “Is this the right direction? Never mind. I’ll find her.” He managed to make his way down the sharp winding steps pretty well, but once he stepped foot on the ground floor, he stared down the long hallway of rooms and scratched his temple.

  He figured he didn’t have much time. The wedding entourage would be on him like white on rice within a few minutes, ready to throw him out on his ear.

  Knocking on the first closed door he came to, he didn’t get an answer. Then the next and next until he came to a closed door clearly marked “Bride”.

  He chuckled. That was pretty damn easy.

  Without wasting time knocking, he opened the door and was instantly met with her scent—the sweet intoxicating aroma had lingered like anthrax in his blood for the past year. He’d thrown away towels because he couldn’t get her scent out of them only to find out that no matter what he did, he couldn’t wipe her away.

  A mixture of loneliness and joy smacked him in the face like a two-by-four. Truthfully, he’d been the loneliest man alive since she’d called it quits.

  Her whimper brought his eyes on her. She was sitting in front of the mirror using a tissue to dab the tears from her eyes. Her shoulders were slumped, shaking with each sob.

  “Uhm…”

  “I told you I needed another minute—”

  “Sorry,” he mumbled.

  The second she saw him the air took on a new feel. All the oxygen was sucked away, leaving his lungs parched.

  She jumped up fast, knocking the stool onto its side. Her green eyes were pools of animosity and fury. They darkened and targeted him with confusion. The chances of him receiving a warm greeting were nil.

  His chest tightened and his knees weakened. The gown she wore was extravagant, layered with bling that blinded him, with a low-cut front that excited him. Her breasts were pumped up high in the satin and lace and he gulped down an image of him sucking those breasts until she came.

  “What the fuck, Lauren? Why the hell did you say yes to that dress?” He knew her, better than he knew anyone, and she wasn’t into frilly shit or bling or pretenses. At their wedding she’d worn something simple and had been angelic. When he’d watched her walk toward him, surrounded by people they loved, he’d known she’d always be his. A man just knew when his heart belonged to a woman and she owned his, lock, stock and barrel.

  Her brows snapped together, just the way they would when she was pissed at him and ready to unleash. He hated being the target of her anger, but not that long ago those silly arguments would end with an amazing tumble in bed. He wasn’t too inebriated because his body swelled and tightened. Hunger filled him. Death or high water couldn’t keep him from being turned on by the beauty standing before him, even if she loathed him, and there would be no makeup sex as a reward.

  Reality was about to punch him in the stomach.

  She drew her arm back and smacked him in the face. He blinked. “What the hell?”

  “I didn’t ask your opinion about my dress! What. Are. You. Doing. Here?” she pushed through clenched lips, her cheeks now flushed, and her bottom lip trembled. “You weren’t invited.”

  “That wasn’t very nice of you either,” he slurred.

  “You’re drunk. Get out of here and go home!” She pointed at the door.

  “I can’t. Not until we talk.”

  “You can’t be serious? I’m getting married in less than five minutes. The time for chit-chat is over.”

  Shouts and footsteps echoed from the hallway. He turned the lock on the doorknob.

  “Steam? What are you doing? Stop this at once.” She started past him but he reached for her hand, entwining their fingers. His finger was poked by something sharp. He looked down at the ice rink on her fourth finger and grimaced. The groom must be loaded.

  She jerked her hand away. “What has come over you?”

  “I can’t let you marry that guy.”

  “I didn’t ask for your permission.”

  “
He’s not the man for you.”

  “You don’t know him.”

  There was a pounding at the door followed by a man’s voice, “Lauren? Are you okay?”

  “That’s Harry. My fiancé. I’m opening the door and you’re leaving at once.”

  “I don’t need to know him.” Steam hooked his thumbs in his front pockets. “We made a promise to always love each other. I still love you.”

  Her chin came up, tears flooded her eyes. “Don’t do this. We’ve been through this and it didn’t work. That’s why we divorced.” Her bottom lip quivered and a single tear fell down her cheek.

  He didn’t want her to cry. He’d made her cry enough while they were married, not intentionally…never intentionally. She’d complained that he was gone all the time, engrossed in his career, caring more for catching the criminal than being with her. They’d been young and stupid and broke, wanting to get married before he left for boot camp. Neither of them discussed what the future would look like so when he came home, he’d been wired to stay focused on ridding the world of scum.

  Truthfully, he realized he’d spent most of his days trailing the next assailant and less and less making her feel like the most important thing in his world. He’d failed her, hadn’t tried his best at being a husband, and now he regretted being a letdown. Why hadn’t he come after her when she left? He’d been a stubborn ass. That’s why. Sometimes it took a wakeup call to show a man how stupid he was in the past. “It’s not too late, sweetheart. Can you tell me that you no longer love me? Tell me and I’ll walk away forever.”

  There was another pound outside the door, this time more persistent, followed by, “Lauren? I’m counting to three. If you don’t open the door, I’m going to break it in.”

  She stood there, staring at Steam. More tears spilling from her eyes. “Steam—”

  “He can’t knock the door down.”

  The door came crashing open, hitting the wall with a loud splintering of wood. She jumped in alarm.