Tangled: Steele Ranch - Book 3 Page 2

  “Be right back,” I told her, taking her info with me.

  I returned to my state-issued SUV, swiped her license in the computer to get her information. I got on the horn and updated the dispatcher, said the traffic stop was complete. Technically, it wasn’t, but I was going into a gray area here, especially since I was off-duty. I pulled out my cell.

  “You’re not going to believe this,” I said, when Sutton answered.

  “What? Mrs. Bickers pinch your ass again?” my friend asked.

  “I just pulled over a woman who goes by Cricket.”

  The line was quiet. “Fuck, seriously?”

  I glanced at her ID. “Twenty-five, black hair, dark eyes. A chicken pox scar on the side of her left cheek. Really fucking pretty.”

  “That’s her. She also has a scar on the inside of her right knee,” he added.

  “The lights were out. I didn’t see shit,” I grumbled.

  “You felt a whole hell of a lot.”

  I had. That night was seared in my memory. Sutton meeting the woman of his dreams at the Poulson rodeo of all places, getting her in his hotel room for a wild romp. One night turned into two and he discovered she was into sharing. Wanting to fulfill one of her fantasies, he called me and Lee, had us join them. God, I remembered every bit of that long night; the plump weight of her breasts, the taste of her pussy as I ate her out, the feel of her walls constricting my cock as she came when I’d fucked her ass—she’d even wanted that, the way she’d taken me deep down her throat. The way she’d been pleasured by three men who’d made her the center of their world. It had been…intense, incredible and I’d been lost, almost as much as Sutton, since she’d snuck off. Lee, too.

  “I’ve told you for the past year she wanted it, but was nervous. Making the room pitch black gave her the three-guy experience without seeing faces. She’d loved it.”

  “Jesus, I know. She got three mouths, three dicks and six hands on her.” All night long.

  “And about a dozen orgasms.” I heard him groan just from talking about it. She was the one who got away, sneaking out before dawn, never to be heard from again. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t tried a police search for the name Cricket. Nothing. She’d been a fucking unicorn. Until now.

  “That night is the top of my spank-bank list,” I said, my cock getting hard now, even on a stop. Her record pulled up on the screen. “You said she was hot as fuck. You’re right.” I’d remembered the sweet suction of her mouth, the rippling of her pussy, the breathy moans of her pleasure, but I’d never seen her face. For one wild night I’d been blind, and now I could see.

  “Shit,” he groaned, most likely wishing he was in the patrol SUV with me.

  “She’s from Missoula,” I told him, reading what was on the small computer screen. “Not even a parking ticket. But something’s not right with her. She nervous. Panicked even.”

  “Why did you pull her over?”

  “Speeding.”

  “Where?”

  “County road thirty-four.”

  “I’ll be there in twenty. I’m not letting her get away again.”

  I rubbed my brow. “Man, I can’t hold her for twenty minutes for a speeding ticket.”

  Right then, she climbed from her car, hurried over to mine. Even in her slim jeans, her legs were a mile long. I remembered how they felt about my waist. I wanted that again.

  “Hang on,” I said, pulling the phone away from my ear.

  “Look, I did it,” she said when she came up to stand within the space of the open driver’s door, glancing at me, then over her shoulder, as if someone was after her. The two-lane road was all but deserted, only one car having passed since I’d stopped her. “I was speeding, breaking the law. I’ve been bad.” She held her arms out, wrists together. “Slap the handcuffs on me.”

  I went from having a semi to fully erect in the span of time it took her to say Slap the handcuffs on me. The Cricket from last year would have loved some kinky restraints.

  “Arrest me,” she added with breathy desperation.

  But while my dick thought otherwise, she wasn’t talking like a woman propositioning a man. Especially not one she’d had sex with before, not that she knew it. She had no idea who I was. She never saw my face that night. Heard my voice, yes, but it had been twelve long months. Not something to remember. I didn’t remember hers. Maybe if she called out my name in a breathy gasp of pleasure I might, but she wasn’t the least bit aroused. She was afraid. Very afraid. Something had her scared as shit.

  I stepped out of the car, forcing her to retreat, and closed the door behind me.

  “You want to go to jail?” I asked, assessing her.

  No, she wasn’t on drugs. She’d been speeding because she’d been running from something. Someone. The way she glanced down the road in the direction she’d come from, she was worried this person was following. If she was scared enough to ask to be arrested, then I wasn’t going to let her off with a warning and send her on her way to protect herself. No fucking way. If she was scared, I’d take care of her.

  Keeping my eyes on her, I lifted my cell to my ear, and lowered my voice. “I’m coming to you. Thirty minutes, and call Lee,” I told Sutton before disconnecting and tossing the cell through the open window and onto the center console.

  “I’ll need to frisk you.”

  Her eyes widened and her cheeks went pink.

  “Turn around and put your hands on the hood.”

  She complied, then glanced over her shoulder at me.

  Fuck, this was hot. She was all slim curves. I remembered the heavy weight of her tits in my hands, the roundness of her hips, her gorgeous heart-shaped ass. But that had been all by touch. Now I could see all of her. The idea of putting a hand between her shoulder blades to make her ass stick out was all too tempting. She needed a spanking for her reckless driving. I could give her one—would love to get my palm on that pert flesh—but Sutton was the one who dominated best.

  Now wasn’t the time to do that, to even dwell on those thoughts because she thought I was on the clock. I had been until she’d told me her name. Still, I wasn’t stupid. Last summer, she’d fled in the early morning hours, never to be seen or heard from again…until now. Traffic stops were dangerous, and I wasn’t going to let my dick get me killed. I didn’t think she was a threat, but I wasn’t going to risk it. If she had a weapon on her, I wanted to know.

  “Do you have any drugs on your person?” I asked, my gaze raking over her worn jeans, the simple t-shirt. She wore no jewelry.

  “No.”

  “Any drug paraphernalia? Needles?”

  “No.” She shook her head, the tips of her long hair swiping over the SUV’s white hood.

  “Knives?”

  “No.”

  I stepped up behind her, performed the standard, perfunctory frisk, keeping it as professional as fucking possible the way my dick got hard at the feel of her. Yeah, it remembered her.

  “All done,” I said, my voice gruff.

  She turned around, watched me carefully, although her gaze darted down the road once or twice.

  Pulling the cuffs from my belt, I slipped them over her slim wrists, clicked them into place. It wasn’t protocol, not by a long shot, to not only handcuff someone who wasn’t actually being arrested, but also to keep her hands in front. I, technically, wasn’t on duty and I had no intention of calling in that I had someone in custody, because she wasn’t. She was with me, Archer the man, not the sheriff. I wasn’t taking her to the station, I was taking her to Steele Ranch. To Sutton and Lee. To get her between all three of us again. To talk, to find out what the hell was going on with her and then find out why the hell she’d disappeared. And if that led to her getting naked and me getting inside her, then that was fine with me.

  In the meantime, if being restrained eased her mind, then fine. I didn’t want to spook her any more than she already was. I’d play along for now to make sure she wasn’t in any danger. And if she needed help, she’d get it from her three men.

  I took her by the arm, her bare skin silky soft and warm, and walked her around the front of the car to the passenger seat. I remembered running my hands over her curves, each and every one of them.

  “Aren’t you putting me in the back?” she asked, as I reached across her to click her safety belt into place.

  Leaning in as I was, I met her gaze. Fuck, was she pretty. She did have the little chicken pox scar on her cheek. A tiny circle over by her ear and I had to wonder what the one on the inside of her knee looked like—up close and personal. And her eyes, so dark as to be almost black, stared at me with a mixture of continued panic and curiosity. I took a breath, let it out. Took in her scent. Coconut? Something tropical was coming from her long hair.

  I felt it. That jolt. The need to claim her just as I’d felt it that one night last summer. And I hadn’t even known what she looked like. The connection had transcended the superficial. Sutton, the fucker, had met her at the damned rodeo as Lee competed. Saw her, knew she would be his and claimed her. Then there was the one night with the four of us together. Sutton, Lee and I had wanted to keep her. For more than sex. For fucking everything, which was insane.

  But now? Now I knew my gut feeling I’d had back then had been right. Sutton had been right to be pretty much a monk since that wild time because she was the one. And now I had her. Caught.

  Handcuffed. She was mine. Ours. She’d find that out soon enough.

  She’d gotten away once. We weren’t going to let that happen again.

  3

  CRICKET

  * * *

  “Who are you afraid of that had you driving so fast?” he asked, ten minutes down the road.

  I startled. My brain had been replaying my harrowing escape from the strip club. No doubt by now Rocky was on the hunt for me. Not for the two thousand dollars supposedly owed Schmidt, but no way would they let it go that I’d gotten away from them. Rocky was too much of an asshole, way too cocky to let a woman get the better of him. It was clear he and Schmidt thought a woman’s place was half naked on a stage or on her knees. He’d want retribution for besting him and having me strip definitely wouldn’t be what he had in mind once he got his hands on me.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied, then bit my lip. Not a good idea to lie to the law, but I had no interest getting into the details of what I’d done. I’d gotten myself into this mess, I’d get myself out. Just like I always had.

  I glanced at the name on the strip of metal pinned to his shirt. Wade. The sheriff—Wade—had one hand on the wheel, the other rested casually on his thigh. He didn’t seem upset that I was lying through my teeth. He didn’t do anything except drive, which had me slowly exhaling a pent-up breath.

  The SUV was big and filled with all kinds of radios and computers, safety gadgets and buttons. But when he’d slipped behind the wheel, the interior got small real fast. He was big, broad and hot as hell. Around mid-thirties, he hit every single one of my hot buttons. Dark hair, dark eyes. Strong brow. Yesterday’s five o’clock shadow darkened his square jaw. It was hard to tell how broad he was because it was obvious he had a bulky bullet-proof vest on beneath his uniform. He exuded authority and command which strangely soothed me, especially after being with the very bossy and dangerous Schmidt. He made me feel…safe.

  “Where were you headed in Barlow?” he asked conversationally as I could see the town in the distance.

  The place was small and there was nothing around it. Open prairie, rugged rock formations, buttes, a mountain range in the distance. Long strips of cottonwood trees dotted the green prairie as they lined a creek or stream. It was a pretty setting, but all I cared about was that it was far from Schmidt and Rocky.

  A voice came over the radio, but he reached to the console, pressed a button and it went quiet.

  I was glad for the easier question, so I replied, “Steele Ranch.”

  I couldn’t think of a reason to keep that from him. He was driving. The car slowed as if he’d lifted his foot from the pedal, but only for a second as his eyes met mine.

  I felt the heat of his gaze and tried not to squirm until he looked back to the road. Wow, that had been intense and it felt as if electricity crackled in the air.

  “One of the ranch hands a boyfriend?”

  I looked down at my lap, blushed, remembering the last time I’d been with a guy. I’d thought he was special, that the connection had been really intense. The weekend we’d shared had been amazing, even though it had been a rodeo hookup which weren’t known for longevity.

  Last summer, I’d gone with a girlfriend to the two-day rodeo in Poulson and I’d been more interested in the guy in the stands who hadn’t taken his eyes off me the entire night than the men risking their lives on the bulls.

  I’d raked in the look of his closely shorn hair, dark eyes and intense stare. Definitely older, he’d had the air about him of a life hard lived, not the happy-go-lucky, casual feel of the rodeo riders, who usually had cockier attitudes. They always wanted to prove they could last more than eight seconds. I’d wanted a guy who knew he’d be able to stay on.

  This guy, he’d looked…dangerous, at least to the survival of my panties, in the well-worn jeans and snap shirt. And when he’d approached, I hadn’t been fearful. It had been…magic. Intense. Not love at first sight, but definitely lust at first sight, which was crazy. It had been powerful and wild, falling immediately into bed with him. We hadn’t left his hotel room for two days because we’d just clicked.

  I’d felt a deeper attraction for him than I had any man before…or after. It had taken a day together to share our darkest secrets, our wildest kinks. I’d been worried, even embarrassed to share mine, but he hadn’t laughed, hadn’t shamed me. Instead, he’d set about to fulfill every one of them, perhaps because his were compatible to mine.

  A yin to his yang. More like a submissive to his dominant nature.

  He’d even made one of my more insane fantasies a reality by bringing his two best friends into bed with us. Anonymous to me, which was what I’d wanted. He’d turned out the lights, made it dark enough where I hadn’t been able to see them. They hadn’t been able to see me, unless they were weird-ass werewolves or something.

  I hadn’t seen their faces, only heard their voices, the dark promises, the dirty talk, felt their hands, their lips, their impressive cocks. The darkness had set my mind at ease, had made me forget I was with three men, with strangers. Crazy? Absolutely. Incredible? Definitely.

  They’d been good guys who had made the one night spectacular, who’d given me more orgasms than I’d thought possible. A fantasy to remember. While it wasn’t something I intended to tell my grandchildren about, I could certainly look back in my old age and know I’d been bold enough to take what I’d wanted and found three guys gentle, sweet, dominant and skilled enough to give it to me.

  But it had just been a weekend, a fling, and I’d had my nursing internship to get back to. Attendance had been mandatory for passing the class and while the orgasms—and the men—had been spectacular, I couldn’t blow my chances at a career over them. We hadn’t talked about anything beyond the weekend, and I’d known there were no strings. With the long drive from Poulson to where the hospital was in Missoula, I’d had to slip out before dawn to make my shift on time.

  We hadn’t exchanged numbers, we’d been too busy doing other things. And when I’d left, I’d assumed it was over. A rodeo fling wasn’t long-term. Who wanted a relationship with a woman who wanted three men? It had been a wild time, but the reality of nursing school and working full-time had returned with a vengeance. Making enough money to pay the bills—rent, insurance, groceries and the tuition—had had me working every minute I wasn’t at school or asleep.

  While I knew what he looked like naked and all the wicked things the rodeo hottie could do to me, I only knew his first name. Sutton. And as for his friends who’d gotten in on the fun, I didn’t even know that. It was completely ridiculous to have bared my body and my soul like that without even getting everyone’s dang name. I’d been hating myself for it every day since. I’d played the ‘what if’ game for the past year. What if Sutton had been able to call me? What if all three of them wanted me for more than a wild romp? What if…what if.

  So all I had was that wild weekend with Sutton, the one night with three amazing men to keep me warm at night, to think of as I used my vibrator and fingers to make myself come—and then nothing like it had felt with those three. Any guy since who’d asked me out I’d turned down. None were Sutton and it seemed he was the only one I craved. Well, his friends, too, but that hadn’t been real, just two big, muscled figments of the darkness.

  “I don’t have a boyfriend.” I lifted my cuffed wrists making the metal clink. “I’m not really under arrest, am I?”

  He put his blinker on, slowed and waited for a car to pass from the other way before he turned onto a side road. “No.” He tipped his chin toward the clear plastic divider behind us that separated the front from those he’d arrested. “You wouldn’t be sitting up here if you were.”

  “Then why am I in cuffs?”

  “Because you wanted me to put them on you.”

  The deep rumble of his voice had me thinking dark and dirty things about those words. He was in a position of power—I’d voluntarily given up my control to him, proof of it with the benign, yet very appealing frisk, then the cuffs—and it was reassuring to me. I felt as if my burden to run, to get away from Schmidt and Rocky, was now in his hands. I liked that. I needed it. I was in control of every facet of my life. Every moment was planned, every penny accounted for. I craved a man who could dominate me, allow me to give all the decision making to him. To let me clear my mind and just…be.

  The cuffs were the physical proof of this dominance and he was right, I did want them on. I wanted him to be in control. The fact that he recognized that was heady. Surprising. Appealing.

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