Rescued

RESCUED

LARYNN FORD

SOUL MATE PUBLISHING

New York

RESCUED

Copyright©2014

LARYNN FORD

Cover Design by Rae Monet, Inc.

This book is a work of fiction.  The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved.  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher.  The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

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Published in the United States of America by

Soul Mate Publishing

P.O. Box 24

Macedon, New York, 14502

ISBN: 978-1-61935-
515-6

www.SoulMatePublishing.com

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

To my family.

Thank you for your love, support,

and understanding while I muddle

my way through the process of learning

the ins and outs of the writing business.

Thanks especially to my mama

for helping me sort out character names.

I love you all.

Acknowledgements

I can never thank Debby Gilbert and Soul Mate Publishing enough for giving me the chance to make my dream come true. The support and encouragement I have received continues to amaze me.

Thanks to the artist who created the cover for Rescued. Collin Gilbert did a fantastic job and worked with me to make the cover everything I envisioned.

Special thanks to my editor, Sharon Pickrel, for her patience and understanding. Her guidance has made the process involved in getting Rescued ready to publish a pleasant experience.

Chapter 1

The mattress moaned slightly in response to an unseen and unexpected movement. Her eyes snapped open and focused on the room, moving up, down, side-to-side. She didn’t recognize a single thing in her line of view. A rush of air flooded her lungs in a panicked gasp. She
wasn’t
where she should be.

In her own bed.

Alone.

Damn. Where am I and how did I end up here? Double damn.

Her last memory? The bar. Jed’s Place. She’d received a tip from her source that her suspect had slithered inside. Arriving a few minutes later, she kept an eye on him and his cohorts for a couple of hours. Posing as a customer, she shot a couple of games of eight ball with some of the regulars.

Her eyes narrowed. Her head pounded as she recalled the next events.

Nothing stood out until . . . the asshole from the pool table sidled up way too close behind her and tried to score points by offering shooting tips. She stretched up on her tiptoes to line up the winning shot. His groin pressed tight against her bottom. His hands slid down her arms to her wrists as he whispered, “Let me give you a hand there, little lady.”

Without flinching, she purred, “I’m
not
little, I’m
nobody’s
lady, and I
don’t
need your help.” She slammed the butt end of the cue stick into his ribs, and with the same smooth motion came back to make a perfect shot and win her third game of the night. She straightened from the table with a satisfied grin.

“I declare Rosie girl, you learned every trick your daddy ever taught you, and learned ‘em well.” Jed Wheeler had been her daddy’s partner for years until business related injuries made it impossible for him to chase the bad guys. Now, he owned a bar near Oxford and kept an eye out for suspicious behavior from his customers. He pulled a twenty-dollar bill out of his shirt pocket and tossed it onto the table.

She picked up the twenty and handed it back to him. “Buy your sweetie pie granddaughter a new book. When I saw her last week, she was almost half way through the second book in that new teen detective series. I figure she’s about due for the next one. I like to see kids read.”

A loving expression covered his weathered face at the mention of his granddaughter, Molly, his pride and joy. A twinkle sparked in his tired eyes. He tucked the twenty back into his pocket and said, “All right then, I’ll tell her it’s from her Aunt Rosie.”

“You do that, Jed. And tell her I’ll come by one afternoon real soon and we can have our own book club discussion. I’ll bring our favorite, doughnut holes and chocolate milk.”

She smiled as she watched Jed slip around behind the bar to tend to some customers. A groan from behind her drew her attention to the wannabe pool instructor.

She turned to find the asshole with the bruised ribs, and ego to match, nursing his wounds in a chair in the corner.
Damn
. If she’d looked at him before she took action, she might have reconsidered. Even with an injured expression, he was easy on the eyes. His battered, rolled-up, old cowboy hat looked sexy as hell settled low on his forehead. He trimmed his hair neat and close with just the right touch of facial scruff to frame a sharp-angled face. His lips ranked high on the kissable scale.

She scolded herself for even having such thoughts. She had no time for men, no time for fun. Her case took priority and had to be solved before any more kids disappeared.

He glanced up with a frown and met her eyes.
Damn.
Blue eyes. Crystal-blue eyes
. The hard to resist kind of blue. But she couldn’t spare the time to get to know him . . . if he’d even speak to her after the bodily injury thing and all.

She dragged herself back from thoughts of hot, sweaty sex to the matter at hand. She couldn’t afford to let a man cloud her judgment. There was work to be done.

The threesome in the corner booth still carried on a conversation and threw back beers like nobody’s business. Good. Maybe they’d drink enough to get sloppy and she could wrap this case up tonight. One good lead would reveal where the street kids had disappeared to and why.

An idea bounced around in her head but she hoped like hell that she was wrong. All it took to lure them away was a friendly face and the promise of a better life or a job. But money changing hands between these thugs and their employer smelled like the slave trade to her. It had to stop.

She moved to the bar and eased up onto a stool where Jed was storing his apron under the counter. Tonight was his early night, so he was on his way home.

“You gonna be okay, Rosie girl?” He nodded toward the cowboy hat in the corner.

She smiled at his caring tone and winked. He had been like an uncle to her for forever. He and her daddy were private investigators since before she was born. A blended team of Were and human, their success rate was high. Following her daddy’s death, Jed looked out for her even though he knew she was more than capable of taking care of herself. “You know it, Jed. Have a good night.”

He slid one of his special margaritas toward her, patted her on the arm, and disappeared out the backdoor. He was aware of every aspect of her case. He wasn’t physically able to participate but she discussed strategy with him. He helped her keep her cover by mixing light drinks. This line of work required a sharp mind to keep her on top of her game.

Another deep breath to process the scents in the bar provided no clear line on Vinny. There were too many scents, Were and human, mingling together to link a scent with a face.

She brought the glass to her lips and touched the rim with her tongue to lap at the salt before taking a long sip. As she eased the glass back to the bar, someone bumped her left arm, splashing a major portion of her drink over the rim and onto the counter.

“Oh, sooo s-soorry ma’am. Can I b-buy you another . . . dr-drink?” The slurred words came from a drunk who smelled as if he had been on a binge for several days.

“No. No, thank you,” she answered and didn’t bother to mask the disgust in her voice or on her face. She turned back to what remained of her drink and finished it off in one quick swallow.

Another scan of the corner booth revealed her suspect was on the move. She waited a couple of seconds before she stepped out of the bar into the cool night air and . . . that was it. That was all she remembered.

Her drinks were mixed light. Not much alcohol. So what caused this vacant space in her memory? Why couldn’t she remember where she was or how she got here? Her senses were groggy. Panic threatened to overcome her. What kind of trouble had she gotten herself into now?
Pull yourself together, Rose. You need a plan.

She sensed eyes roaming over her back. Breathing, slow and even from the person watching her hummed in her ears. She searched the area again. Where were her handgun and smaller piece she kept in her ankle holster? Nowhere within reach. She’d have to rely on her own strength to fight her way out of this one. No problem, she had strength to spare. Once again, she didn’t sense any strong, dangerous emotion from the person who watched her so intently.
Okay, time to find out what I’m up against.

She slowly rolled over to face her companion. What the hell? She now found herself face to face with the asshole from last night. Propped on one elbow, he sported a sly smile. “Mornin’, little lady.”

“You?” Her voice squeaked. “Again with the
little lady
? I thought I made myself perfectly clear last night. I am
not
little and I can kick your ass with one hand. Now, how about you tell me how I got here and . . .” She lifted the covers and stared down at breasts that matched every other body part she possessed—bare. She clutched the sheet under her chin and squeezed her eyes shut as she moaned. “Oh no . . . did we . . .?”

How the hell did I end up in his bed?
She didn’t even remember speaking to him again before she left the bar.

“Don’t beat yourself up. Would it be so bad if we did?” He raised a brow in question.

She couldn’t admit her answer was no. Okay, not just
no
,
hell no
, but it would be nice to remember what it was like. She already decided kissing those lips would be electrifying. Her eyes strayed over the smooth bare chest and biceps bunched on his upper arm along with the width of his shoulders.
Yep, he could hold his own . . . in bed or wherever.

“Okay, take a look and you tell me.” His words rumbled low and sexy as he whipped the covers off himself.

“No!” She yanked the sheet over her face. Not that she was opposed to getting a look at the package attached to the attractive man she’d somehow landed in bed with, but she had to keep her professional edge and find out what happened to her last night.

“Trust me. It’s okay. You’re safe,” he said with a half laugh.

She eased the sheet from her face and opened one eye a tiny bit and then both fully. Okay, he had on pajama pants. With horses on them. “Really? You have horsey pajamas?”

“Hey, horses are good. What do you have against horses?”

“Oh, nothing. Not a thing.” She waved a dismissive hand. “But tell me. Why do you have on pajamas and I’m
naked
? What
the hell
happened last night
?
And where’s
my stuff?”
Her volume as well as her frustration level increased as her questions continued.

“Your stuff is safe over on that chair. You tossed your cookies all over yourself, so I had to take your clothes off to clean you up. Made a big mess on my porch. Had to clean that up, too.” He made a yuck-face. “Maybe you should lay off the sauce a little. Until you learn to handle it better.” He chuckled. She didn’t find his little joke a bit funny.

She paused and ran her tongue over her teeth. “Excessive alcohol consumption would explain why it feels like I need to shave my tongue but I didn’t drink that much. There was only a smidgen of tequila in my drinks.”

She squinted, forcing her mind to recall the details. “I only had two all night, and half of the last one got spilled all over the bar when that drunk bumped . . . into . . . me.” Her eyes closed tight again and she moaned in disbelief. “Oh nooo.” How could she let herself fall for that one? “Somebody slipped something into my drink while I was distracted.” She opened her eyes to a
sorry about that
expression.

“Yeah, I figured out you were friends with the bartender when I watched him mix your last drink. I moved to another chair and looked up just in time to see Vinny sneak up on your right side and pour something into your glass while you dealt with the drunk on your left. I figure he paid the guy to distract you. You picked up your glass, finished it off, and headed out the door before I could get to you.” He was apologetic.

“Vinny? Wait. You know Vinny? How? Do you work for him?” She sat up, gathered the sheet around her, and moved over to put some distance between them now that it was possible she’d been sleeping with the enemy.

He caught her arm, preventing her from leaving. “Uh, no. No way. I’m trying to catch the slimy bastard who lures kids off the streets and transports them across state lines.”

“How do you know about that?” Had she talked in her sleep?

“I’m a private investigator. My client’s son moved to Atlanta to go to college. There’s been no contact with his family in several weeks. The police hit a dead end with the boy’s friends. No one seemed to have any useful information.” He blew out a long breath and shook his head. “I interviewed his friends. They dropped him at the store to get beer and snacks. He told them he would walk the three blocks to their place so they left. I sniffed around the store parking lot and identified his scent. He came out and walked half a block before he stopped. I picked up two additional scents. The three of them stood there for a few minutes before he continued on his way. Alone. The other two caught up with him and something happened. His scent changed. Terror grabbed him. I could smell his fear. Something scared the daylights out of him.” Marty adjusted his position and paused, staring up at the ceiling.

“Then what did you do?” Rose urged him to go on, her mind kicking back into investigator gear.

Marty huffed out a breath. “It took some smooth talkin’ and a couple of twenties to convince the store clerk to give me access to the security video. The kid came out with his bags and walked down the street. A car eased its way along behind him. I figured they were the ones I smelled with the boy up the block so I got the tag number and located the owner. Vinny and another ol’ boy matched the scents I picked up with my guy on the sidewalk. I followed Vinny around Atlanta, then back to Oxford, and finally tracked him to the bar last night.”

He paused again and rolled his eyes. “I thought if I created a disturbance, he would be afraid of an appearance from the local police and leave with his crew. Then, I could follow them and see where they’d set up shop. That’s why I hassled you at the pool table. Sorry about that.” He cocked his head to the side with a half shrug.

Confusion bubbled in her mind as she tried to sort through this. “But why drug
me
?” She attempted to piece together a possible connection.

“Not sure. He’s either identified you and suspects you’re on to him or . . .” He paused and redirected his eyes.

“Or?” She was interested in hearing why he thought Vinny would risk drugging her in public.

“Or, he wanted to pick you up off the street, maybe sell you, too.”

She closed her eyes again. How careless could she be?

“You had taken about six steps outside the door when you went down. I picked you up and brought you here so I could be sure you were safe until you came out of it. I figured you slammed back the whole dose he put in your drink so fast, it hit you harder and quicker than he expected.”

She blew out an exasperated breath. “I gotta go. Where are my clothes?”

“Dang. I save your life, I hold your hair while you ralph all over my porch, clean you up, wash your clothes, and cook for you. I
didn’t
take advantage of your condition, and you’re just gonna leave me at the drop of a hat. I think my feelings are hurt.” A pouty pucker formed on his lips. “Not to mention, you broke
three
of my ribs!” His expression reflected the pain he suffered after the pool cue rammed into his side. He ran his hand along the site of last night’s injury.