Broken Fences (A TroubleMaker Novel, #1) (10 page)

Regardless, the
man didn’t trust her. He was still handcuffing her to the damn bed whenever she
was going to be out of his sight. If something didn’t give soon, Dusty realized
she might actually be his forever— his forever prisoner.

As they walked
down the suburbia street with Colden lightly swinging her hand, Dusty realized
that for the past couple days, she’d been the only one doing the talking.
Colden had asked her about anything and everything, from her favorite color to
the bestselling brand of beer at the bar. She gazed at her first
love-turned-stranger. She wasn’t sure if she’d actually been in love with him
or if it had only been some young-love, hardcore kind of crush. Whatever he
meant to her, with the sun glowing in the horizon behind him, Dusty had to
accept that she was falling for the Saint all over again.

She stopped, and
he looked down at her, his eyes dark and shaded by the low lid of his baseball
cap. Slightly longer hair winged out from his hat, making him appear younger.
His t-shirt was snug, and his jeans fit him in a way that made her jealous of
the denim. Without a doubt, Colden James was a heart-stopper.

“I want to know
the truth,” she said, placing a hand on her hip, “tell me why you left?”

His hand slipped
from her fingers and ran up her arm. A few seconds ticked by as he gazed at her
considerately, as if debating his answer. Finally, his lips tipped up. “Hey…”
His head nudged to the left with a flick of the brow. “You wanna stop in that
bar over there and grab a beer?”

Again, he’d
decided to evade the question altogether, just as he’d been doing for the past
two days, a one-two sucker punch right to Dusty’s heart. All of his attention
and the inquest were meant to deter her from pressing him for any answers.
Wondering who Colden really was had been replaced by long nights of wanting,
long days of his sweet smiles, fawning regard, and holding hands. And all
along, he’d been seducing her into a lull of acceptance without answers. Now,
with his dubious attention finally exposed, her curiosity had awakened and she
was going to stop at nothing to get the answers she deserved.

She smiled back
at him. “Sure.”

They entered the
small tavern and found it pretty empty. It was still early, about half past
six. An elderly man with white whiskers and weathered skin was sitting at the
bar. Dusty figured he was a regular who sat at the same stool every day at the
same time, like many of those who frequented The Bucking Barrel, including Mr. McAllister.
He always ordered two shots and a beer, sat at the end of the bar, and never
said a word to anyone. He just drank his liquor and left. Unfortunately, his
daily visits were a constant reminder of what she and Colden had done to the old
man’s fence.

Dusty glanced
around the bar and saw a couple snuggled together in a booth in the far left
corner. They hadn’t bothered to tear their eyes from one another to check to
see who had come in. Standing around the dartboard in the back of the bar were
three cowboys. They reminded her of Odessa’s six-pack of heartthrobs. The
ruffians stopped talking and watched them walk into the place.

Colden examined
each and every one of the onlookers with deliberate eyes as they made their way
to the bar. He ordered two beers. Then Dusty followed him to a high-top table away
from the bar, the ruffians, and the lovers. Colden sat back onto the edge of a
stool and took a swig of his beer, giving the cowboys another long,
intimidating glower.

Dusty couldn’t
help but stare at them too, especially when one tilted his hat and gave her a
little sly smile. She smiled back but not in a flirty way. For a split second,
not even a half of one, she thought those hunky heartthrobs might actually be a
way out, a way for her to escape her crush-turned-captor.

“Hey.” Colden
grunted.

She looked at
him and noticed that his eyes were dark and cautionary.

“Don’t even
think about it, sweetheart.”

 “Worried?” she
asked, arching an eyebrow. “There are three of them.”

“
Only
three.” He reached over, pulled the sunglasses off her face, and placed them on
the table. “I’m always up for a good challenge, but they won’t be one.” He
shook his head. “Smiley, he’d be the first to hit the floor, just because I
don’t like the way he’s looking at you. As for Mr. Big, he’d be next, even
though he oughtta be first. That quiet one lurking in the background is
probably the only one worth getting off this stool for. He looks to have a bit
of fight in him.” He grinned. “But you can rest assured that in the end, he’d
just end up joining his buddies on the floor.” He lifted the beer almost to his
mouth. “So you might wanna think real hard before you give Smiley another one
of those pretty smiles of yours.” He winked, put the bottle to his lips, and
tossed it back.

If she hadn’t
seen him take Travis down so easily at her bar, she might have tried to call
Colden’s bluff, but she was pretty sure he could hold his own and then some.
Once more, it had her questioning why the government had trained their desk
jockeys so well. Heeding his advice to spare Smiley a beating, she kept her
eyes away from him and took a few quick sips of her beer. She could only frown
at Colden’s smug expression when she looked back up at him again.

After a long
stare-down, his face softened. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but the safest
place for you is right here with me.” His voice was calm and sincere. “No one,
including those three kids over there, the police, or anyone else, will protect
you like I will.” He searched her face, and his eyes narrowed. “You’re not
afraid of me, are you?”

“No,” she said,
an answer coaxed out by the truth and the seriousness in his voice. “I’m not
afraid of you, and I believe you will keep me safe, but it’s only because of
you that I need protection.”

“Yes, and I
apologize for that.” He shrugged, a bit too indifferent for her taste. “But
this is where we are, and it is what it is.”

“Yeah?” she
murmured. “And where were you for the past six years?”

His expression
fell flat, and his hand moved on the table. He opened it. “Gimme your hand.”

Unable to
decrypt where he was going with the strange request, she did as instructed and
put her hand in his. He curled his fingers around it, but she couldn’t take the
silence. “Were you even in Atlanta?”

“Nope.” His
thumb gently stroked hers, and he concentrated on their joined hands. “I
haven’t been to Georgia in nine years.”

“You haven’t?”
she squeaked, her heart racing from the tender touch.

Shaking his
head, he looked back up at her. Guiding her by the hand, he pulled her around
the table, grabbed her by the waist of her pants, and hauled her closer to him.
She landed in front of his partly spread legs as he sat on the stool.

God, he was hot.
For the past two days, he’d held back and kept his distance from her, but now,
something had changed. Somehow, he was different. His guard had dropped, and
now she could see the heat in his eyes. “If you weren’t in Georgia,” she said,
swallowing hard, “then where have you been?”

His arm moved
around her waist, and his legs drifted farther apart. He smoothly yanked her
between his thighs. “If I tell you, I’ll have to…kiss you.”

“Kiss me?”

“Yes.” His hand
slid to the small of her back, and his strong fingers feathered open and
pressed her closer.

When a strong
whiff of him reached her nose, the erotic scent drove her insane.

“It’ll be a
little give and take. I give you something you want, and in return, I take what
I want.”

“And a kiss is
what you want?”

“It’s a start.”

“Meaning?”

He smiled. “Can
I kiss you or not?”

“Fine!” She
huffed, bent forward, closed her eyes, and puckered up to wait for the kiss.

“I was in
Detroit,” he said, followed by a chuckle.

Her eyes flew
open. “Detroit?” She wondered what the hell he was doing in Detroit. Then she
quickly realized something. “Hey, you didn’t kiss me.”

His hand slipped
upward, and he gloved the back of her head. Lowering his head, she watched his
mouth close in on hers. Her belly tightened with anticipation.

“That’s because
you weren’t properly ready for me.” His lips covered her partly opened mouth. As
his tongue slipped inside, Detroit slipped from her mind. The kiss had her
leaning into his body, melting into his touch, forgetting about everything
around them.

He pulled away,
and as quickly as it all had disappeared, it all came back, how she’d been
taken by Colden’s mouth in the first place. He was trying to silence her as
he’d been doing for the past couple days.

“Why were you in
Detroit?” she breathlessly asked.

His eyes
lingered on her mouth. “Dusty girl, if you want to continue with this little
interrogation, I suggest you finish that beer and we head back to the motel
room.” He scraped his mouth over hers. “‘Cause if I’m gonna give you anything
else, I plan on takin’ a lot more in exchange.”

Chapter
Ten

The walk back to
the motel started out quietly, Colden welcomed the time to think. Jack Norton
had called earlier to give him an update. DeSanto was just starting to sing—not
quite like the canary they’d hoped for, but he was managing a tune with a few
helpful lyrics, and Jack was confident they’d have a confession soon. They were
closing in on Riggs’s whereabouts, and Jack hoped to have him in custody by
morning.

Colden knew time
was running out for him and Dusty. He couldn’t keep her locked up in the motel
room forever, and he couldn’t keep her in the dark for much longer either.
Eventually, he’d have to tell her the truth, but he feared his truth might have
her setting him free.

In a little
under a mile, he would be alone with her again in a room that essentially
consisted of four walls and a bed. He couldn’t trust what was going to happen
behind those walls when he closed the door. He wanted to think he’d be decent
enough to come clean about everything or to let Dusty have some control over
the outcome, but the truth was, if he went through with what he’d wanted to do
for the past two days, she would have no say in the matter. He’d leave no
opportunity for her to consider anything other than wanting him deep inside of
her, and he had enough confidence in himself to get the job done. That, coupled
with his feelings for her, would be an unstoppable thing indeed.

He was sure she
had to feel it too. He couldn’t possibly feel that way about someone without them
partaking or at least being aware of it. Colden also had to believe there was
more to it than just chemistry and sex and a little history. As far as he was
concerned, there was no question about that. Sure, he wanted to fuck her real
hard, but he didn’t want to leave when it was all said and done. He wanted to stay,
to hold her naked body against his, to fall asleep with her in his arms.

He shuddered at
the thought of leaving her. He couldn’t possibly let her be another notch on
his bedpost, couldn’t think of Dusty Owens as simply one of his sexploits. His
chest tightened, quite possibly it was his heart clenching. He realized there
was no way he could have sex with Dusty. He’d have to do something else, like
worship her body, embrace her beauty, and inspire her to make sweet little
noises. He’d have to call it something different, perhaps a “shared experience”
that would leave them both breathless and yearning for more. He would have to
actually make love to her, but damn, he wanted to fuck her too. He already knew
that fucking Dusty Owens wasn’t like fucking just anyone. He had to figure
something out so he could have her any way he wanted.

With their hands
clasped together, they continued down the deserted street. She flashed those
dark, sultry eyes his way and when she did, he smiled. She scowled and turned
away. Very shortly, they’d be at the motel. He needed to take a few preemptive
strikes at her harsh attitude, or she’d only close her heart and her legs as
soon as he closed the door. To get her attention, he squeezed her hand a bit.
Much to his surprise, the simple gesture worked

“You know…”
Annoyed eyes shot up at him as she tried to pull loose. “You don’t have to hold
my hand.” She huffed when she couldn’t break free. “I’m sure you’ll catch me if
I try to run, Robocop.”

He laughed
quietly, not taking the sassy-but-cute bait. “I like holding your hand.”

“But
I
don’t like it.”

“I know,” he
said, keeping his eyes straight ahead, fully aware that she was giving him the
evil eye. “Ya know. When I see a couple holding hands, I always think now
there’s a love that must be pretty damn special. There’s just something about
seeing two people willing to show such public displays of affection. It’s
…intimate.”

“Holding hands
in public isn’t that intimate,” she said, mockery dripping from her voice.

“How many hands
do you hold on any given day?” He glanced at her, as if expecting an answer.
“Week? Month?”

She glared up at
him, remaining silent.

He grinned.
“Yeah? Me neither,” he said and went back to looking straight ahead. “Intimacy
all starts with the hands.”

She exhaled
loudly in obvious disagreement. “I always thought it started with a kiss.”

“Yeah, the mouth
can be very intimate too. Not only can it touch the lips, but it can also touch
almost everywhere the hands are able to.” He scanned her body, imaging the places
where he wanted to put his mouth. Her cheeks flared red, and he liked knowing
that she had easily read his mind. “But out here, on our little walk, I can’t
put my mouth anywhere I want, can I? Out here, if I want to share any intimacy
with you, I’m reduced to showing it all to you by holding your hand.”

She glared up at
him from the corner of an unconvinced eye. “The same hand you’ve restrained for
the past two days?”

His smile grew.
“Yes, but restraints can be very intimate too, right?”

“Colden James,
you are unbelievable,” she hissed, her steps quickening in the direction of the
motel.

“I won’t argue
with ya there, sweetheart.” He laughed, keeping up with her quick steps “It
happens rarely, but maybe I’m wrong. Now that I really think about, intimacy
might originate from somewhere else entirely.”

“I hate to even
ask.”

“Get your mind
outta the gutter, girl. I’m talking about…the heart.”

She halted at
the door, looked at him, and smirked. “Aw. How sweet,” she mocked. “And to
think, I’ve never taken you for the sentimental type, St. James.”

Colden opened
the motel door and waved her in. “That’s because you, my pretty girl, have only
taken me once…and that was six years ago.”

“Yeah,” she
huffed and stomped into the room, “and I learned my lesson then. I’ll never
make that mistake again.”

He kicked the
door closed, caught her by the wrist, spun her around, and backed her against
the wall. “Like I told you before,” he said, resting one forearm and then the
other on the wall, trapping her, “never say never, Dusty girl.”

Pinned between
two immovable objects, Dusty tipped her head back. Heated desire patiently
waited beneath Colden’s heavy lids. Her breasts swelled, and her mouth watered.
Her palms moist with sweat. She wanted him, needed him.

In an attempt to
stop from reaching out to take him, she spoke. “So what happens now?”

He moved his
nose lightly across hers, and the heat of his breath sashayed over her mouth.
“What do you want to happen?”

“Once and for
all, I want you to tell me the truth,” she said, inhaling his steaminess.

“Well, that’s
easy enough.” He swayed closer. “I want to kiss you again,”

“No!” It came
out a bit rushed and nervous, but Dusty knew if she didn’t change the subject,
take a purposeful detour from the strong sexual tension growing like wildfire
between them, she was going to lean forward and press her hot, heavy chest
against his. “I want you to tell me the truth about you, where you’ve been, and
why men are trying to kill you.”

Those heavy lids
lowered to her breasts, as if he knew they were suffering, yearning for his
touch. He lifted, and the green in his eyes darkened. “I’ll tell you
everything,” he said. A small, wicked smile tugged at the corners of his mouth,
and his arms fell easily to his sides. One of his hands took hers, and he
guided her over to the bed. “Sit down.”

Before she could
argue, her knees bent and her ass hit the soft mattress.

Colden knelt in
front of her, his warm hand resting on her naked thigh. “What do you want to
know first? You can ask me anything.”

It was difficult
for her to concentrate with the large, hot palm on her leg, the strong digits
indenting her sensitive flesh. “You weren’t in Georgia but in Detroit, right?”
His hand slightly shifted to her inner thigh, and her heart skipped a beat.

The warmth of
his touch slid down her legs, and he gently pulled off one of her sneakers.
“Yes, that’s right,” he confirmed, then pulled off her other shoe.

Her brows
tightened. “And you were there because…?”

Looping a finger
into the top of her sock, Colden dragged it from her foot. “I was on
assignment.”

After he removed
her second sock, she wiggled her toes, trying to acknowledge the action. “What
kind of assignment?” She rubbed her bare feet into the shaggy carpet.

He stood up and
offered his hand to her. Like at the door, she took it, no questions asked, and
he helped her to her feet. She gazed up at him, feeling his fingers scrape her
belly. “It was…undercover work.”

The answer
shocked her so much that she didn’t even realize he was starting to lift her shirt.
“Like an undercover agent or something?” The shirt passed her eyes just before
it was pulled over her head and tossed to the floor.

“Yes.” He leaned
forward, reached behind her back, and unclasped her bra. Veering away, he took
the garment with him; that, too, was dropped to the floor.

“So…” She
watched with suspicious eyes, too hot to notice her starkness. “You were
working undercover for the government in Detroit? For the ATF?”

The button on
her jeans popped open, and the zipper easily separated with a tug from his deft
fingers.

“Well…” Slowly,
he started to pull her pants and panties down over her hips. “For that
assignment, I was sort of on loan to the FBI.”

“The FBI?” she
uttered, absentmindedly setting a hand on his broad shoulder while she stepped
out of her bottoms as he tapped each foot.

 “Yeah. I helped
them get the goods on one of the biggest gun-smugglers in the Midwest. It took
me a few years to gain his trust and a few more to gather all the evidence. For
the past year or so, we’ve been making arrests while still trying to keep my
cover intact.”

He pushed her
back until she was again sitting on the edge of the bed, only now she was
completely naked. Enthralled by Colden’s confession and distracted by all the
confusion, it seemed she hadn’t noticed that he had, once more, skillfully
seduced her. At any rate, if she had noticed, no part of her wanted him to
stop.

“A couple weeks
ago, we got some intel that let us know my cover might have been compromised,
and they instantly pulled me out.”

Trying to catch
the pieces as they fell into place, she nibbled her bottom lip. Colden hadn’t
been sitting behind a desk for the past six years after all. Instead, he was a
covert agent working for the FBI. That explained why he was so competent with a
gun, capable with manhandling bad guys—and good ones like Travis— and why he
could clear a bar top in one mighty leap and bound.

“So you, uh…you
came back because your cover was blown?”

“No,” he said,
watching her bite her bottom lip again. “I came back because of you.”

When he gestured
for her to lie down on the bed, she obeyed.

“For me?”

“Shh.” Strong
hands settled on her thighs. Gripping them, he spread her legs open, and then
he knelt down between her thighs.

It made no sense
to Dusty that he’d come back because of her. Yet, she hadn’t pondered on the
thought for too long for he’d distracted her again with confessions and hot
touches. She’d waited so long for this moment. She’d waited what felt like a
lifetime for the Saint to return to her. Regardless, as much as she needed him,
her common sense had tried to come back to life. “What… what are you doing?”

“I’m through
giving, pretty girl. Now it’s takin’ time. But don’t worry. You’re gonna like
what I plan to take from you. I promise.”

“But…” She tried
to sit up, to put up some kind of fight, but he’d had her at “pretty girl.”

“What,” a dark
eyebrow lifted. “You want me to answer more questions, or would you prefer that
my mouth do some more, uh…intimate things?”

“Like what?” she
asked, almost fearing the answer but desperate to hear it.

“Like kissing
you right here.” Slow and deliberate, his finger slid down the wetness burrowed
between her hot thighs.

Fuck that
feels good!
She arched her back with a loud, tell-all moan.

“Ah. That’s what
I thought.” His finger drew back up with a little more pressure, scraping over
her tender clitoris, sending a tendril of heat through her body. When Dusty
cried out, he took it as an open invitation. His finger slipped into her and
like a hot spear, lighting up her insides, it caused her to cry louder. “Damn,
girl, you’re so wet. You just couldn’t wait for me to touch you, huh?”

With his eyes
secured to hers, Colden lowered. His head nestled between her legs until his
mouth disappeared from view and latched onto that pulsating nub in the center
of all her wetness. Her entire body enflamed with desire. His finger withdrew,
then punctured back inside. Her hips writhed, demanding more, and his mouth
suckled harder. All the while, his eyes gazed up at her, fucking her even
harder.

She reached out,
sank her fingers into his hair, and pulled him closer. The frolic of his tongue
turned savage. With his free hand, he reached around and grabbed her ass. Using
the grip he had on her cheek, he heightened the devouring of her pussy. That
action and the roughness of his tongue and strong lips, along with the
relentless, thick finger entering her, did her in. Her thighs stiffened, and
her hips thrust upward. Dusty screamed.

“Oh yeah,” he
growled, the response quickening the thrust of his finger. “That’s my pretty
girl.” His thumb circled her sensitive, fleshy nub. “I wanna hear nothing more
in this world than you cumming from the touch of my hand…” He brushed his lips
over her sensitive clit. “Or my mouth.” His eyes smiled up at her. “Well,
there’s one other way I’d like to make you cum, Dusty girl.” He slipped two
fingers inside, stretching her. “Can you guess what that is?”