Clay: Armed and Dangerous (13 page)

Clay stroked his fingers over his mustache as he brought up the next suspect... and
then his blood boiled.

When Levi Thorn was nineteen, he had beat the crap out of a kid who’d apparently tried
to force Rylie to have sex in the backseat of his car at the drive-in. According to
the police report, Levi had heard that Reggie Parker had been bragging he was going
to “do the bitch.”

Levi tracked them down and found Rylie trying to fight off the boy. Levi jerked the
boy off of his sister, then punched the living daylights out of Parker, who’d ended
up with stitches, a lost tooth, and a busted jaw. Because Levi had been nineteen,
and Parker seventeen, Levi had been charged as an adult for assaulting a minor. The
charges were cleared when the situation came to light.

Clay gritted his teeth. He hoped to hell that Levi had done some damage to that SOB
who’d tried to rape Rylie. As far as Clay was concerned, he owed Levi for that one.
Too damned bad it happened so long ago. This day and age, Reggie Parker would have
been charged with attempted rape instead of being let go with an admonition to keep
his urges under better control.

He read on, finding almost nothing of note that he didn’t already know. Levi Thorn
co-owned the Thorn Ranch with Rylie, and had been operating in the red for the past
few years. He’d spent some time in the hospital a few years back for a spinal cord
injury that took him out of the U.S. Marshals, but with therapy he was back on his
feet. Bank records showed normal fluctuations in the ranch and personal accounts until
a sudden influx of cash: ten grand deposited last week, then another ten grand a day
ago.

Clay gave a low whistle. That was two good chunks of change for a rancher whose only
known source of income was a spread running in the red.

Clay narrowed his eyes.

What had Levi gotten himself into? Even if Clay continued to let himself believe he
wasn’t involved in stealing trucks, he sure as hell was involved in something.

Clay looked up from his documents and glanced out his door at the deputies in the
main area. Blalock, Garrison, Quinn. He should have them all checked out after what
happened with his former employee, Gary Woods, a gambler who got behind a cattle-rustling
scheme. Lightning really could strike the same spot twice.

He swapped his screen view to a window and brought up some normal venues for checking
records. Half an hour later, he knew that Blalock and Garrison had nothing but a few
juvie beefs for intoxication and being out after curfew. Quinn—now that was interesting.
Hazard Quinn had a few reprimands for not being in his assigned location a couple
of times and, like Gary Woods, the former deputy now serving hard time, Quinn had
filed for Chapter 13 bankruptcy protection the previous fall. Bad investments and
an upside-down mortgage.

But hell, that was half the country.

And the poor man drove an ancient Gremlin for his personal car. Damned thing looked
like it was held together with spit and rubber bands. If he was stealing trucks, he’d
likely allow himself the luxury of a decent ride from the profits.

Clay’s eyes drifted back to Levi Thorn’s name, and he muttered, “Nothing for it, I
guess. You and I need to talk.”

***

“Oh, yes.” Rylie sighed with pleasure as she eased into the old- fashioned footed
tub and luxuriated in the warm bathwater. “That’s more like it.”

After a long, tiring Monday from hell, it was heaven to take a bubble bath. First
she’d gotten into an argument with Levi because the big jerk refused to tell her where
he’d gotten the money for the water heater; then one of the heifers had apparently
eaten some locoweed and had to be put down; she’d ripped another good pair of jeans
when she repaired the barbed-wire fence that had been cut again; and on top of that,
the Bar One about fifteen miles down the road had lost a truck. The man watching it
had been sent to the hospital for a concussion, and the hands had heard shots fired.

These assholes really weren’t messing around.

Insurance had already agreed to send replacement funds for Thorn Ranch trucks, but
she hated the idea of putting her ranch hands at risk guarding them. She needed a
security system. Cameras, maybe alarms—but that was all too expensive to even contemplate.
This crap needed to stop, and it needed to stop now.

“Not going to think about any of that right now.” Rylie grabbed a loofah sponge from
the soap tray and squirted her favorite vanilla musk gel on it. With energetic strokes,
she scrubbed her skin until her body tingled.

It had been so long since they’d had hot water that she’d forgotten how wonderful
it felt to relax in the tub after a hard day of ranch work. Even though Levi was keeping
his trap shut on where he’d gotten the funds, she could almost forgive him for springing
for the luxury of a new water heater. Almost.

Taking a deep breath of the vanilla-scented bubbles, she closed her eyes and leaned
against the back of the old-fashioned footed tub, enjoying the silky feel of warm
water against her skin. The sensual sensation made her think about Clay.

Everything made her think about Clay.

She wished she had his muscular body pressed into hers right this second, his breath
hot against her neck, his hands busy with pleasing.

But for once, her own touch and mental fantasies failed to satisfy her. It was Clay
that she wanted... She needed to have the man’s hands on her body. She’d had the real
thing, and now her imagination just wouldn’t do. At least till she got the man out
of her system.

“Enough.” With a frown she opened her eyes and scooted up in the tub. It really was
starting to tick her off that she couldn’t get him out of her mind. What the hell
was the matter with her? He was just a man, nothing special.

Yeah, right.

Instead of enjoying a nice, leisurely bath, Rylie ended up rushing through the rest
of it. She kept trying to shove Clay out of her thoughts, but the bastard kept returning,
not leaving her alone.

When she’d toweled off, she threw on her old cotton robe, yanked a comb through her
wet hair, and marched into her bedroom. She was pissed and obsessed, not a good combination.
She’d put Clay off until Friday night and it was only Monday. How the hell was she
going to make it until Friday without seeing him?

But at the same time, she wondered how he’d managed to convince her to attend a dinner
with the mayor. The mayor, for crying out loud.

The piercing ring of her cell phone was like a screech through Rylie’s mind. She checked
the caller ID, but didn’t recognize the number, and no name was shown. Rylie snatched
up the phone, ready to take out her pent-up sexual frustration on the telemarketer
who dared to interrupt her mental tirade. “Thorn.”

“Yes. You are,” Clay’s deep voice rumbled over the phone. “Right in my side.”

“Clay.” Warmth flushed over Rylie, heating every cell, every pore on her body. “I’m
what?” Why did her brain always take a hike around him?

“I can’t quit thinking about you. I can’t quit imagining you... in bed and out.” His
tone was throbbing with sensuality, stirring her in ways she hadn’t thought possible
over the phone. God, did he ever make her hot. “Sure you won’t change your mind about
dinner before Friday?”

It took all her resolve not to beg him to come over. Instead, she somehow managed
to keep her voice light and teasing. “It’s a busy week, cowboy.”

“What are you doing right now?”

A spark of mischief skittered through her belly. She grinned and perched on the edge
of her bed. “I’m lying in my bed... absolutely naked.”

Clay sucked in his breath, and it was a good heartbeat before he responded. “You’d
better be careful, little wildcat. I’ll be there faster than you can make yourself
happy.”

Rylie pulled at the tie of her robe, his words giving her an idea. “Have you ever
had phone sex?”

“Uh, no.”

“Ah.” She slid off the robe and settled against the pillows on her bed. “So you’re
a phone-sex virgin.”

Clay gave a soft chuckle. “Been a long time since I was called that.”

“Well, it’s time you lose that cherry.” Rylie cupped one of her breasts with her free
hand. “I’ll tell you what I’m doing. I’m playing with my nipples, imagining that you’re
sucking them.”

“Damn, woman.” Clay groaned, and she could visualize the raging desire in his expression.
“I can picture your body, sleek and ready, just for me.”

“Oh, yeah.” Moisture flooded her core and cool air brushed her as she spread her legs.
“Where are you right now?”

“In my study,” he said, like he was gritting his teeth. “With a hard-on the size of
Texas.”

Rylie laughed. “Well, then. We need to do something about that.”

“You coming over here, or am I going there?”

“Neither.” She rubbed her hand up and down her flat belly. “Take off your clothes,
cowboy.”

A pause, and then he said, “Honey, I don’t know what you do to me, but I can’t believe
I’m actually considering it.”

“Just take off your clothes, big guy.”

“Hold on.” Clay grunted and she heard the rustle of fabric, the faint thump of boots
on tile.

While she waited, Rylie closed her eyes and tweaked first one nipple, then the next
as she pictured his hard-muscled body, naked and waiting for her. A part of her wanted
to give in and meet with him before Friday. But she couldn’t take the chance of starting
to like the man too much, or give him the wrong idea—that they were anything more
than friends and occasional lovers.

“Ready.” Clay’s voice interrupted her train of thought. “I need you here.”

“Mmmmm.” She squirmed on the bed, dying for the feel of him inside her. “Grab yourself
and imagine that my tongue is licking over you, just like you’re a supersized ice
cream cone.”

“And woman, do you ever have a talented tongue,” he murmured. “My turn. I’m putting
my fingers where they’ll do the most good.” Clay paused; she dipped her fingers into
her slick folds. He lowered his voice and added, “Now taste yourself for me.”

A small gasp escaped Rylie’s throat at what he suggested and she hesitated. She’d
smelled her own musk on her hand, and tasted herself on Clay’s tongue, but lick her
own fingers?

“Come on, honey.” His groan was low and primal.

“All right, just for you.” She smiled and brought her forefinger to her mouth and
sucked on it with a smack loud enough for him to hear over the phone. “Mmmm. It’s
like tasting myself on you.”

“Damn, but you make me hot.” Clay’s breathing was growing harsh. “I want you. I want
you more than anything.”

A thrill coursed through her, a heady feeling of power. The knowledge that she could
turn this man on as much as he turned her on was addicting, like the most potent of
drugs.

“Are you touching yourself?” Her fingers found her hot center and resumed the familiar
motion that made her feel so good. “I’m touching myself, Clay.”

“Yeah. I’d rather be the one doing that.”

“That’s good. So good.” She clenched the phone tighter as her arousal grew. Her own
breathing became more labored as her fingers worked harder, faster. “I’m picturing
you. You’re sliding into me, hard and fast.”

“What if I took you from behind?” Clay murmured. “Would you like that?”

A wild moaned slipped through her lips at the thought of having him in total control,
deciding her pleasure, making her ache. Her fingers stroked and stroked, bringing
her closer to the peak.

“I can think of a lot of things you might like, Rylie.” His tone was gruff. “Can you?”

“Yes, dammit.” She had to force the words out as she began to climax. “With you, yes.”
The orgasm took hold of her body, her muscles clenching from head to toe. “Clay!”
she shouted as she came. Her fingers continued, drawing out her orgasm, while her
body shuddered and trembled.

Through the rush of blood in her ears she heard Clay’s groan of release, his heavy
breathing, and then his husky laugh.

“You’re amazing.” He sounded sated, but as if he could go another round or two. “No
other woman on the face of God’s green earth could make me do that on the telephone.”

Laughter and pleasure filled Rylie. “Thanks for the great phone sex, cowboy,” she
murmured. And then she hung up on him.

Rylie put on a pair of small gold hoop earrings, spritzed on her vanilla musk perfume,
and then checked her appearance in the mirror. She rarely wore makeup, but wondered
if today she should make an exception considering how she looked—like she was nervous
or something. Her cheeks were so pale it made her freckles stand out across her nose.

What the hell, she might as well go for it. She settled for dusting a bronze blush
on her cheekbones, a light coat of brown mascara, and lipstick in a burnt-cinnamon
shade. And, why not?—a little sable liner along her lashes, just like the Avon lady
had shown her.

Frowning at her reflection, Rylie smoothed the skirt of the strapless black dress
that came to mid-thigh. It wasn’t an expensive dress, but it had a classic look that
supposedly made it appropriate for any occasion. Truth be told, she didn’t give a
damn about that—she just hoped that it would make Clay so out of his mind with lust
that he’d want her as soon as he saw her.

It had been almost a week since she’d seen Clay, and she was regretting agreeing to
go with him to the mayor’s dinner. She wanted him so badly she didn’t think she could
wait until the dinner was over.

Her frown turned into a grin as she thought about how much fun it would be to find
a secluded corner in the mayor’s house, and tease Clay right there. With all their
dirty talk on the phone every night this week, she was so hot for him she’d probably
jump him the moment he arrived. She almost wished that tomorrow she didn’t have to
go to Skylar and Zack’s reception. Clay had agreed to go with her, but right now she
wanted him all to herself so that she could enjoy his body.