Can't Let Go. Gena Showalter
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When she turned the next corner, she caught sight of a petite blonde walking beside a hulking, tattooed giant Ryanne recognized. Cigarette! The blonde...could she be the prostitute from the van?
Ryanne pulled over a little too sharply and parked at the sidewalk. Both Cigarette and Blondie glanced in her direction. His eyes narrowed, while the woman’s widened. He grabbed her by the arm and picked up the pace, soon disappearing around a corner.
Trembling, Ryanne palmed her phone and fired off a text to Jude. Guess who I just found? Our friends from the parking lot. I’m going to follow them.
She added a thumbs-up emoji and pressed Send.
His reply came only a few seconds later. Do not pursue. I repeat, just in case I wasn’t clear. Do not. NOT. If you do, there will be consequences.
Well, well. Commando was back in action, and more delicious than a bag of Chips Ahoy! I could eat him up. Still, encouraging his power play would only end badly for her and their upcoming sexlationship—because yes, they would have one.
She jabbed her fingers into the keyboard, typing, Aren’t you precioso. Consequences, cowboy? Try. Please.
Then she added a gif of two people jumping up and down, laughing and clapping.
No way Ryanne would do what the big, strong man had told her. How many times had her mother obeyed every whim, command or request of a husband, boyfriend, lover or even potential lover, losing her own identity? Lyndie, too, had lost her identity in her father and husband. Though Dorothea loved Daniel, she had given up a promising career as a storm chaser in order to be with him.
I’ll give up nothing.
Would Ryanne be in danger? No!
Okay, maybe. But probably not. This was a public place. Even if Cigarette decided he didn’t care about their audience, he couldn’t come within ten feet of Ryanne without getting shot. Having gotten her conceal and carry license at Earl’s insistence, she never left home without protection. What truly motivated her to get out of her car, however, was the thought that Blondie might be a sex slave in need of rescue. The way Cigarette had grabbed her...
Determined to ferret out the truth, Ryanne marched down the sidewalk. Cool air stroked her bare arms, causing goose bumps to sprout. In September, or any month, really, Oklahoma weather could change from one hour to another, from sizzling hot to ice cold. Picking up the pace, she snaked around the corner, tense and ready...
Dang it! No sign of Cigarette or Blondie. She checked between the buildings and inside a few of the shops. Still nothing.
With a sigh of frustration, she pivoted—
And smacked into a brick wall. Or at least what felt like a brick wall.
Big hands settled on her hips, pinning her in place. Her mind reacted before her eyes had time to assess the situation. Cigarette? On instinct, she drew back her fist and punched. Pain exploded in her knuckles, but she swallowed a yelp, determined to maintain a strong persona.
Nope, not Cigarette. Jude Laurent rubbed his jaw. “You hit like a girl,” he grated.
Deep breath in, out. Meanwhile, her heart continued to race. “If you put a little more strength behind your blows, you could hit like a girl, too,” she retorted.
The corners of his lips twitched. Rays of sunlight spilled over him, framing him in gold, and oh, wow, he looked good. Like a fallen angel. His hair appeared lighter today, and his tan darker. A storm brewed in his navy blue eyes.
The urge to soften against him was insistent, but she somehow found the strength to step backward rather than forward. Now wasn’t the time for romance.
“How’d you get here so quickly?” Wait. “How’d you know my location?”
A muscle jumped beneath his eye. “I was following the pair before you spotted them.”
Of course he was. Sexy warrior. “Were you able to learn anything about the woman?”
“Nothing. A shameless flirt spy-blocked me.” He flicked a lock of hair from Ryanne’s shoulder, his knuckles brushing against her skin. Warm tingles erupted.
She gasped while he peered down at his hand, as if shocked by what it had just done. Was he experiencing tingles of his own?
Was she getting to him at last?
Little fires ignited in different parts of her body, until every inch of her burned. “Why would I ever entertain shame, cowboy?” A breathless note stole into her tone. “Flirting is fun for everyone involved.”
Before he could respond, Virgil Porter and Anthony Rodriguez rounded the corner.
Virgil—Daniel’s dad—tipped his baseball cap in greeting as he passed. Anthony, owner of Style Me Tender Salon, waved. The two were best friends and daily checkers partners, and while they didn’t stop to chat, they did slow down to eavesdrop.
“Very subtle, Mr. Porter.” Jude threw the universal sign for I’m watching you at Virgil. “But I’m on to your tricks.”
“I told you to call me Virgil, son. And FYI, I have no tricks. I just wish you’d use your outside voice so we could hear your conversation better.” He never even glanced over his shoulder, just kept moseying along. To Anthony he muttered, “Did I use that there acronym right or not?”
“Yep, sure did,” Anthony replied, “but really the only acronyms you need to know are WTF and GOML. Wait! Too Fast and Get Off My Lawn.”
The two disappeared around the next corner.
Adorable old bears.
“I need to speak with you. Privately,” Jude said to Ryanne.
Uh-oh. “Why?”
Determined, he clasped her hand and hauled her into the nearest alley. Then he backed her into the brick wall, looming over her, his narrowed eyes glaring daggers at her. “I told you there would be consequences if you followed a man in Dushku’s employ.”
She tried to focus on his anger, she did, but her brain short-circuited. This was the closest she’d ever been to Jude, and she was having trouble catching her breath. Her blood heated another thousand degrees, and her skin tingled worse than ever before, little quivers rocking her on her feet.
Just then, she didn’t want to make him laugh; she wanted to make him hot.
Led by desire, logic nowhere to be found, she wrapped her arms around his neck and combed her fingers through his hair.
He didn’t jump away. “What are you doing?” His ragged voice was as potent as a caress.
Why not tell him the truth? She licked her lips, reveling as his eyes followed the motion. “I think I’m...seducing you.”
“You think?” he croaked.
“I’ve never done this before.” Others had tried to seduce her, but this was her first attempt. “For a long time, I had serious trust issues and didn’t date. When I decided there were good guys in the world, I wasn’t attracted to anyone...until you.”
He gulped. “How long since your last date?”
“Two and a half years,” she said, toying with the ends of his hair.
He stiffened but still didn’t jump away. “Were you cheated on?”
Growing bolder, she plucked at his collar, her nails lightly scraping his heated skin. “Twice my mother slept with my boyfriends. And the things I’ve seen at the bar...” With a nibble on her bottom lip, she asked, “What about you? How long since you—”
“Two and a half years.” Another croak.
Ohhh. They had more in common than she’d realized. And the fact that they’d remained alone for the exact same amount of time, well, the odds had to be astronomical.
“Jude?”