Run Wild (6 page)

“Impressive, Miss King,” he rumbled, sounding like a dangerous cat who enjoyed playing with its prey before devouring it.

Natasha stared up at him wide-eyed. Not only could she not catch her breath, but she also was acutely aware of everywhere their bodies touched. Roped muscle bulged against his shirt and down his arms. His black hair fell around his face as he stared down at her, his expression gloating victoriously.

She didn’t move, didn’t dare suck in a breath and risk pressing their chests closer to each other. Her nipples were painfully hard and her breasts swollen with the weight of so much raw masculinity bearing down on top of her. Their legs were intertwined and his were longer than hers and hard and trapping her so she couldn’t move.

The ground underneath her was cold, hard, and uneven, with small gravel pinching through her sweater and threatening to scrape her skin if she tried moving. Natasha wasn’t sure she would feel the pain, though. Her nerve endings were suddenly hyper-sensitive, and when he exhaled, apparently near the end of his moment of savoring his victory, his breath tickled her flesh.

He remained on top of her, more than likely only a second or two, although it seemed as if time stopped. They lay there, pressed against each other and becoming incredibly familiar with each other’s bodies. She looked up as something else became apparent. Trent’s cock was incredibly hard, long, and thick.

Natasha shot him a warning look when it jerked between them.

“Know any other moves you’d like to share?” Trent whispered.

“Oh my goodness! Oh my!” Matilda ran toward them, which might have been a humorous sight if Natasha could see anything beyond Trent’s face and his thick black hair twisting in soft waves. “What happened? Is anyone hurt? What did she try to do? Trent, I told you—”

“Everyone is fine,” Trent announced, cutting off Matilda. He pushed himself off Natasha and reached for her hand, pulling her to her feet before giving her a chance to stand on her own. “Miss King is a black belt in karate and offered to show me one of her moves. I haven’t won awards, but I held my own, don’t you think, Miss King?”

“For crying out loud, Trent Oakley.” Matilda suddenly sounded as if she were a mother scolding her ornery son. “And I don’t suppose you let on that you were a black belt, too?”

Trent released Natasha’s hand and made a show of wiping gravel and dust off his clothes. “I don’t think I mentioned that.” He didn’t sound apologetic.

Natasha made quick inventory, determined nothing was hurt, or bruised, other than her ego. The score might be one to nothing in favor of Sheriff Oakley, but there would be another round. She walked around him and grabbed her things off the hood of the truck.

“Thanks for the lesson,” she muttered when she passed him. “I’ll be sure to remember that move next time.”

“And there will be a next time,” he said under his breath.

Natasha didn’t bother looking to see if Matilda heard Trent or if she would put in another comment. She hurried past the mailman, who’d remained back toward the house watching in dazed confusion, and headed inside to her overly frilly room. There she would lick her wounds. As she climbed the stairs she decided she was right in thanking the sheriff for the lesson. He’d just shown her how he didn’t play fair. It was a lesson she’d do well to remember.

“Tomorrow all of this will be over,” she muttered under her breath, and reached the third floor, her adrenaline spiked so high she could have easily climbed three more flights. Tomorrow couldn’t get here soon enough.

*   *   *

Trent usually headed home around five or so, depending on the day he was having. There were steaks individually wrapped in his icebox and a variety of vegetables packaged and frozen. It wouldn’t take thirty minutes before he could put a nice meal on the table. Tonight he decided to remain in town a bit longer, opting to eat at the Nugget Diner. It just happened to be across the street from Pearl’s where he could keep an eye and see if Natasha went anywhere.

Nodding at Helen, the only waitress on duty at the moment, he took a booth that allowed him a good view of the driveway in and out of Pearl’s. Even as the sun went down, he would notice the Avalanche’s headlights.

“Haven’t seen you around here lately,” Helen said, sauntering up to him with a gentle swish of her hips and steaming coffee in her hand. She bent over, her pink uniform dress unbuttoned just enough to show off some decent cleavage if she was so inclined. Apparently he rated receiving the full package deal. “We’ve got trout on special tonight. I know you like that,” she suggested, filling his cup and straightening, then winking as she smiled. “There’s also the meat loaf. What’s your poison, darling?”

Helen had gone to school with Trent and was a decent woman. She’d run with the wrong crowd right after high school and ended up with a son and no husband. Today she raised a sharp young boy and worked her ass off to make sure he was brought up right.

“Meat loaf sounds good.” Trent sipped coffee and leaned back in his booth, glancing around the diner and noting everyone in there. There wasn’t anyone eating he didn’t know.

Helen brought him his meal and hurried off as the diner started filling up. Trent took his time eating, enjoying the hot meal. He tried relaxing although he was barely able to take his attention from the drive across the street, even after it grew dark and became impossible to see through the large windows facing the road. He still knew where it was and willed headlights to appear and head to the road.

Trent couldn’t explain why he was so eager to see Natasha again. Very likely, she was a primary part of his murder investigation. So far, she’d given the impression she didn’t have a clue where her father was and that they weren’t close. She’d made a bit too much of a show trying to prove to Trent she didn’t know anything about what was going on in town. When she acted as if she hadn’t heard about a murder happening, his radar went up a notch. Natasha had access to all the best search engines and programs in her line of work, especially considering who she worked for. He’d done his homework and Natasha wasn’t a licensed PI, which was a requirement in the state of California for all bounty hunters. But she’d been with KFA for just over seven years and was the office manager. He’d found a few newspaper articles that put her on location when KFA captured the criminals they’d been hunting. Trent didn’t doubt she knew at least as much as he did about how to hunt and investigate. If she had something to hide, she quite possibly would be better at doing it than most.

Trent ate his supper, barely tasting it, as he remembered how she’d felt pinned underneath him. The look on her face when he’d grabbed her off guard had been priceless. He had to admit he’d been surprised and, after the immediate shock, more than a bit impressed that she’d taken on such a tough move and pulled it off perfectly. He hadn’t planned on taking her down or revealing pertinent information about himself, such as being a black belt. Natasha would notice his move was more that of mixed martial arts than karate, though.

Maybe he simply wasn’t able to let a woman take him down without proving he could be the man and put her where she belonged, or at least where he wanted her.

Damn. He’d enjoyed the hell out of having every inch of her sexy body pressed against him. It wasn’t often a woman got him that hard. Usually he had better control over his actions, and his dick.

There were blessings in disguise, though. For once, Matilda’s interruption was needed. He’d told Miss King even more about himself. She now knew how much she turned him on. Not that he wasn’t fully aware the feeling was mutual. Nonetheless, he would have to tread carefully if he was going to learn what she knew.

Trent glanced down at his plate, realized he’d scraped it clean, and pushed it toward the center of the table. Helen was immediately by his side, taking the plate and refilling his coffee. A retired ranch hand and his wife sat at a nearby table and grabbed Helen’s attention. She gave Trent a wink and hurried off to take care of the couple. The three of them started in on local gossip and catching one another up on everything going on in town.

It wouldn’t hurt to clear his head of Natasha, and the case, for at least the evening. Relaxing a bit, listening in as folks around him gossiped and caught up on one another’s lives, might help him keep a better perspective on everything. Getting worked up over a dark-haired seductress wasn’t a smart move.

He shifted his attention each time the door opened and someone entered the diner. Trent noted almost all tables were taken. When the door opened again, he watched Natasha enter and hesitate. Helen was across the room, greeting her with a menu and a smile, then escorting her to one of the round, small tables at the other side of the diner. It was a small miracle when Helen sat Natasha with her back to Trent.

“Pie for dessert?” Helen asked when she returned to his table.

“Coffee is fine.”

“Take your time then,” she said with a grin.

Trent stared at Natasha’s long black hair streaming down her slender back. He never cared for women who were overly muscular. Natasha was a hell of a lot stronger than she looked. There were few capable of lifting him off the ground, not to mention throwing him off balance and taking him down. She hadn’t suspected he was the type of man who actually did believe in treating both sexes fairly. What was good for him was good for her. If Natasha could throw him to the ground, he could do the same. Granted, he had held her arm after pulling her on top of him and made sure not all his weight pressed into her when he rolled her to her back.

Her stunned reaction had been worth giving her a taste of her own medicine. But Trent hadn’t been ready for how perfect she felt pressed underneath his body. They had molded together, every inch of her touching him; her soft curves, large breasts, and temptuous body caressed every inch of his until he’d turned harder than stone. It had taken more than just a bit of concentration to make himself presentable before standing and listening to Matilda rattle on. That had sobered him even more. Although it would take more than listening to idle gossip tonight to make him forget what Natasha’s alluring body was like pressed against his.

Helen waited on Natasha, bringing her an iced tea and a salad. If Natasha was one of those women who refused to eat meat, it wouldn’t surprise him a bit. She was thin, although not anorexic looking, as some women tried to be these days. Trent preferred a healthy woman, one with curves a man could hold on to, and not sickly from a diet of rabbit food. Natasha had sure as hell felt healthy.

He watched, patient, taking in her backside and every now and then glancing around the diner as he nursed his coffee and allowed his meal to settle. When Helen returned to Natasha, the two women engaged in a rather lengthy conversation. Most everyone in the diner was eating now, and Helen probably had a moment to catch her breath. Instead of sitting, waiting until she needed to dish out bills or bring dessert, Helen seemed content to chat away with the new lady in town.

Natasha didn’t appear concerned about keeping a low profile. Not that she could with a body like that. A sexy body wouldn’t taint Trent’s judgment. If she was hiding her father or knew information that would help solve this murder and was keeping it from Trent, he’d treat her the same as any other criminal.

Natasha finally pulled out a few bills, handed them to Helen, and waved off change. Then grabbing a coat that was much too light for this time of year, she headed out of the diner. Trent straightened, relieved when Natasha didn’t notice him as she left. He still planned on following her, allowing just enough time before he walked out so she wouldn’t notice him especially if she didn’t return to Pearl’s. When he stood, Helen hurried to his side.

“What were you talking to Miss King about?” he asked without formality.

“She’s quite the looker, isn’t she?” Helen wagged her eyebrows at him. When she got the hint he wanted an answer, she cleared her throat. “Nothing much. We talked about Weaverville. I told her some of our local history. When I started telling her about Trinity Ranch and the murder we had out there, she suddenly had to go. She did ask where it was located when she paid me.”

“She asked where Trinity Ranch was located?”

Helen nodded before turning when a couple ranch hands waved her over. He’d waited long enough. Heading outside, he spotted Natasha hurrying alongside the bed-and-breakfast. Her long hair swaying down her back and the cute way her ass swayed noticeably, even in the dark, distracted him only a moment. She hadn’t spotted him, or if she had, she was better at concealing her thoughts than he’d give her credit. Not once had she looked his way.

Trent slipped into his heavy coat he’d kept in his Suburban all day, knowing he’d need it now that it was dark. It appeared he wouldn’t be heading home as soon as he thought. He’d parked around the side of the restaurant where his vehicle wouldn’t have been obvious and given away that he was inside. It was an old trick he’d learned from his father. As a kid, Trent used to complain how far they had to walk to get inside a business when there were parking spaces close to the door. Now he understood his father’s intentions. People behaved differently when they didn’t know the law was within earshot. Trent watched the Avalanche pull out of Pearl’s and turn north, in the direction of Trinity Ranch.

He waited until she had gone through the intersection, then jumped into his Suburban and fired it up. When he hit the road, he still had a view of Natasha King’s taillights ahead of him.