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Authors: Cindy Stark

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BOOK: Lawless
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He was an idiot.  He should have been able to
figure this out for himself.  He'd allowed her to get under his skin, and he'd
reacted instead of anticipating and planning ahead.  That wasn't like him at
all.  "You're right.  Sorry for the call.  I'll take good care of her,
Quinn."

He shut off his phone, disappointed in
himself.  When had he ever had a job he couldn't complete?  Never.  That's all
protecting Ariana was.  A job.

Keeping that reminder at the forefront of his
thoughts was all the armor he'd need.

She was a job.

*        *        *

Ariana could barely breathe as the male voices
drew near.  She'd run, but she couldn't be certain where the men were, and she'd
likely end up running right into them.  The other side of the river was banked
by a fairly steep bluff, and she couldn't see anyone up there.  She glanced
across the grassy fields behind her and couldn't see anyone there either.  But
the voices were coming closer.

She snatched her shoes, but before she could get
them on, two fishermen appeared at the bend in the river.  They walked along
the edge of the riverbank, poles resting on their shoulders.  She stuffed her
feet in, prepared to run if necessary.

Both were tall with dark hair peeking from beneath
baseball hats, one sporting a goatee.  They continued to chat, still unaware of
her presence.  She wished desperately she could sink into the river and go
unnoticed, but they were too close.

"We should have driven here, Luke," the
goateed one said.  "I'm sure Milo's still in Las Vegas.  He'd never know
we were checking out his honey hole."

"Yeah, I don't know.  Lily swore she saw his truck
pass through town a couple days ago."

"Must have been someone else with a similar
vehicle.  Milo would have called—"

The man with the goatee stopped mid-sentence when
he caught sight of her.  His brows shot upward.  "Good morning."

His friend who had been studying the river as they
walked swiveled his gaze toward her, a similar expression on his face.

"Morning," she replied, wondering if she
should pull out the gun or wait.

The two men exchanged glances and then searched
the surrounding area.

"Are you out here alone?" the one named
Luke asked.

Wariness crept through her veins.  "Is there
a problem if I am?"

"Well, no."

"You're scaring her, Scott," Luke
replied.  "Sorry, miss.  We're not used to running into people we don't
know in this area.  It's kind of hard to get to without crossing private
property."

Trespassing like they were, she wanted to remind
them.  "I have permission to be here."  Sort of.

"You know Milo?"  Scott narrowed his eyes
as though if he looked hard enough, he might recognize her.

She stood, brushing the dirt from her backside,
praying the gun didn't show through her shirt.  "I do.  Do you?"

Luke laughed.  "Apparently not as well as we
thought."  He extended a hand.  "Luke Winchester.  This fool is Scott
Beckstead."

Scott shook her hand as well, the friendliness in
both men's expressions putting her a little more at ease.  "We've known
Milo since we were kids."

"I'm Anna."  Ariana smiled.  "Must
be nice growing up in a small town."

"Can be," Luke answered.  "I can't
quite place your accent."

She swallowed, not sure how to answer.  "Midwest." 
A vague reply was good.  "But I've moved around a bit, so there's some
intermingling going on."  This was bad.  Milo was going to kill her.

Both men nodded.

Scott glanced around again.  "So, Milo left
you all alone out here?  I can't quite picture him doing that."

"He went into town for groceries and then to
stop and see his mother."

Luke cocked his head.  "I guess I was
thinking you might have been on a date with him, and he went back to his house
for something.  But he's at his mother's?  Interesting."

Good Lord, she was digging a deeper hole by the
second.  Perhaps the truth would set her free.  "We're actually living
together."  Or incarcerate her, if she could judge by the expressions on
the guys' faces.  "And I put in a load of laundry that's probably ready
for me.  It was very nice meeting you, Scott and Luke, but I should go." 
She snatched the holster from the ground without explanation and kept walking.

She rolled her eyes in disgust at herself as she
turned and headed back toward Milo's house.  It took a tremendous amount of
willpower to keep her gait at an even pace instead of sprinting, although
running would not save her now.  She'd given the men a questionable story, told
them both where she was staying, and now Milo would hear about it for certain. 
She never should have ventured from the house.

As soon as they were out of sight, she strapped on
the pistol and started running.  From what or to what, she didn't exactly know,
but suddenly, she wanted to be back inside, out of the glaring sunshine that
rained down on her like a spotlight, exposing her to the world.  She wished she'd
never backed Milo into a corner the previous night, and she was starting to
wish she'd never turned in her father to the police.  Her life had been a
series of nightmares ever since.

CHAPTER
EIGHT

 

Milo pulled into his drive feeling like a new man.  His
little talk with Quinn had straightened out his head, gotten him back on
track.  He wasn't sure why he'd allowed Ariana to have such an effect on him in
the first place.

He retrieved the groceries and glanced about his
yard as he walked to the house.  It was a gorgeous day after the rainstorm. 
The air carried a fresh smell, and the warm sun coaxed an earthy scent from the
ground.  He'd have to get out later and clean up the branches the storm had
knocked down, but it was a good day to do it.  If the grass dried out, he'd mow
the lawn, too.

He unlocked and opened the front door, ready to
greet Ariana with his new arsenal.  "I'm back," he called into the
quiet.

Barbed tendrils of tension snaked through him
when he didn't get a reply.  "Ariana?"

He dropped the groceries on the kitchen table
and hurried down the hall toward her bedroom.  He doubted she'd still be asleep
this late in the morning, but he didn't really know her that well.

He knocked and then opened the door, finding
her bed made and her gone.  It took him less than a minute to rush through the
rest of the house.  She was not there.

Back in her bedroom, he threw open her closet.  Her
clothes were still there, so she hadn't left like she'd threatened the previous
night.  But where the hell was she?  Had someone gotten to her?  Could her
father's men have found her, and she was dead already?

A cold sweat enveloped him.  Flashbacks from
his previous failure to protect threatened his composure.

He checked the front and back doors, but no
signs of forced entry.  The front entrance had been locked, but the door to the
kitchen hadn't.  He glanced at the porch swing and the rest of the backyard. 
No sign of her.

"Shit," he hollered into the empty
house as he hurried to retrieve his weapon from the hook in the pantry.

When he found the gun missing from the hook on
the pantry door, certain fear gripped his insides with icy fingers.  Beyond target
practice, there was no other reason for her to take the gun.

"Damn it!"  He slammed the pantry
door shut.  Where the hell was she?

He had to force himself to take a calming
breath so he could think rationally.

He needed a weapon.  He hurried to his bedroom
and dug his father's service handgun out of the closet and checked it for
rounds.

"Don't panic," he reminded himself. 
Ariana was a decent enough shot she might be able to protect herself.  Fuck, he
was an idiot.  He'd done nothing but screw up since he'd taken on her case. 

If the mob had found her, there would be some
sign of a struggle.  Maybe they'd come upon her outside.  He hurried to the
back door, wishing he could find a clue, but praying he wouldn't find anything
bad.

*        *        *

Ariana topped the last little bluff, grateful to
see Milo's quaint house not too far in the distance.  She increased her speed,
wanting to be inside and lock the doors.  Her pulse kicked up another notch
when Milo emerged out the back door.

"No," she whispered under her breath. 
Now that she'd met Luke and Scott, it was unlikely Milo wouldn't learn about
her excursion, but she'd hoped to put off the lecture until later.  Still, Milo
couldn't get too mad at her for going to a place he'd considered safe the day before,
even if he had taken his gun.  Her throat tightened, though, when he started
running toward her.  There was something about his posture, his gait, something
that radiated tension and set her on edge.

As she neared, she realized he had a gun in his hand,
scanning the horizon with his weapon pointed to the side.  Terrified, she
glanced behind her, sure someone chased her.  She couldn't see anyone and
wouldn't know where to point her gun if she removed it from the holster.  Had
Luke and Scott been more dangerous than she'd thought?  She faced Milo, his
features etched with concern, sending her internal alarm through the roof.

"Get down," Milo yelled.

She dropped to the ground, dust sailing up around
her.

It took him only seconds to reach her.  He crushed
her in his big, strong arms, as he rolled on top of her.  His body covered hers
stomach-to-stomach, both of their chests expanding in rapid succession as they
lay on the dirt path between the tall grasses.

"Where are they?  I couldn't see them."

His question confused her.  "Wait?  Who? 
You
were searching for someone.  I saw you scan the horizon."

He pulled back a little, scrutinizing her.  "Whoever
you were running from."

"I wasn't running from anyone.  I was running
home."

"No."  Irritation sparked in his eyes.  "I
came home and couldn't find you.  When I walked out the back door, you were
running, looking behind you, like the devil himself chased you."

She pushed him off her, both of them moving to a
sitting position.  "No.  I was running home, as in exercising.  You came
out waving a gun and scared
me
to death."

"There's no one chasing you?"  He said
it with such disgust that she flinched.

"I never said there was," she volleyed
back at him.

"Shit."  He stood, dusting off his jeans
before tugging her to her feet.  "You can't keep playing these games, Ariana. 
I know you're bored, but we're dealing with some serious circumstances here."

She jerked her hand from his.  "I don't know
what the hell you're talking about, Milo.  I'm not playing games beyond the
poker
you
walked away from last night."

He opened his mouth to say something and then
stopped.  She was sure he was thinking about their heated kiss.  The muscles in
his jaw flexed as sparks snapped from his icy eyes.

Her gut told her it wouldn't be wise to push
things, but she was just angry enough to not care.  "Say it.  I can see
you're holding back.  Don't let me stop you."

His nostrils flared as his chest expanded.  "Let's
go back to the house."  He took her by the elbow and started walking.

She pulled away, her emotions still raw.  "I'm
quite capable of walking by myself."  How dare he insinuate she played
games when she'd only been trying to survive each day?  Yes, she'd teased with
him the previous night, but they'd both participated in that play.  Now, he
made it sound as though she'd done something backhanded or dirty.  That was how
her father operated, not her.

She increased her pace, trying to lengthen the
distance between them.  His legs were longer than hers making her task
difficult.  By the time they reached his back fence, she only had a little lead
time, but it was enough to enter through the screen door and allow it to slam
in his face.

*        *        *

God almighty, Ariana would be the death of him. 
Every morning for the past ten days since they'd had their misunderstanding in
the field, Milo had found her in the kitchen, standing in her skimpy tank top
pajamas cooking breakfast, clearly wearing no bra.  He'd done his best to ply
her with books and movies, even allowing her to shoot every night.  They'd
cooked and worked in his garden.  Anything to keep her safely entertained.

He couldn't be sure, but he suspected she was
still trying to get even with him for accusing her of playing games.  So much
for having his head on straight.  One look at her, and he was right back in the
confusing mire of lust.  Trying to remain civil yet pleasant to the woman who
made his blood boil had been a constant battle and had worn his self-control
down to the nub.  Reminding himself that she was just a job worked great until they
were in the same room.  Then all he could think about was the moment he'd
pressed her up against the door and let his basal instincts take over.  She'd
tasted so damn good.  When this was over, how would he ever forget her?

For unknown reasons, the fates had thrown his
Achilles heel right in his face.  Maybe it was a test from the heavens.  Maybe
it was God's way of laughing at him and his attempt to be half the man his
father was.

Whatever it was, trying to keep a professional
distance from the woman who tempted him at every turn was his version of a
living hell.

This morning, she stood near the counter
watching television, bright sun coming through the window.  The warm light
added hints of honey to her already sun-kissed brown hair and silhouetted her
figure from the side.  Her full breasts beckoned him like lush fruit, and he
ached to walk up behind her, kiss the curve of her neck while he slipped his
hands beneath her top and indulged in her bare flesh.

He imagined her turning to him with a smile on
her face and a kiss on her lips that would send them barreling head first into
a fiery haze of passion.

BOOK: Lawless
8.31Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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