Warrior Spirit. Cassie Miles
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a minute.” She turned her head to look at him. “What’s your name?”
“Trevor.”
She gave a quick nod. “Okay, Trevor. Take me to my car. It’s a peacock-green Nissan at the edge of the parking area.”
There wasn’t time to argue with her. Danny was already on his feet.
“We’ll double back,” Trevor said.
With a flick of his reins and pressure from his heels in the stirrups, he directed his stallion toward the north end of the valley. The headquarters for Big Sky Bounty Hunters was about twelve miles from here, and that was their destination.
With the extra weight on board, he didn’t want his horse to be strained. But they needed to move fast. Trevor eased Smokey down the slight incline to the meadow. When he glanced over his shoulder, he saw seven or so mourners in pursuit. “Let’s go, Smokey.”
His horse broke into a steady gallop, easily out-pacing the men who followed on foot. The animal was covering ground, flying across the meadow. But it wasn’t a graceful ride.
And Sierra wasn’t making it easier. She was wiggling around in the saddle. “Let me down.”
“You’re coming with me,” Trevor said.
“The hell I am.”
The pathway up the pine-covered hillside was narrow, and he’d slowed his stallion’s pace. Before he could stop her, Sierra swung her leg over the pommel and slipped off the saddle. She fell to the ground with a loud shriek. So much for a subtle escape.
Trevor dismounted and stood over her. “I want you to answer some questions. That’s all. Tell me the truth, and I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”
“No deal.” Though she managed to stand up, her legs were shaky from the ride, and she braced herself against a tree trunk. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
When he reached for her arm, she hauled off and took a wild swing, which he easily deflected. Was she nuts? She’d just seen him take down three men. “It won’t do you any good to fight me.”
She swung again, and he caught hold of her wrist. They were face-to-face. She was breathing hard. Her lips parted and her face was flushed as she struggled to get free from his grasp.
Sensing that she was preparing to kick him, Trevor backed her up against the tree trunk and leaned against her so she wouldn’t have room to slam her knee into his groin. “You’ll answer my questions,” he said.
“No!” Her head whipped back and forth in fierce denial.
“That makes me think you’ve got something to hide.”
“I don’t care what you think.”
Trevor should have been annoyed. Sierra was making things more difficult than they needed to be. Instead, he found himself attracted to this hardcore, unrefined woman with the New York attitude. She was tough and strong and sexier than any woman had a right to be.
He peeled her away from the tree, spun her around, hoisted her off her feet and onto his shoulder. He strode toward his waiting mustang. The horse shook his head as if to warn Trevor that he was making a big mistake.
Sierra fought wildly, her arms and legs flailing. There was no way in hell that he’d get her back onto the saddle. Though he didn’t want to get rough, she wasn’t leaving him much choice.
“Last chance,” Trevor said. “Are you going to cooperate?”
“Go to hell!”
He slipped her down to the ground in front of him. While she continued to strike out, he applied a choke-hold, and in a matter of seconds she was unconscious.
He lifted her limp body into his arms and gazed into her face. When she wasn’t snarling insults, her features were amazingly feminine. Her mouth was delicate and pretty as a rosebud. Her thick dark lashes formed crescents above her high cheekbones.
She was a real beauty.
Trevor tore his gaze away. He needed to clear his mind, to focus on his mission. That meant he couldn’t allow himself to be attracted to her. It was best if he dehumanized her in his mind.
Sierra Collins was nothing to him. Only a source of information. She was the subject of his next interrogation.
Chapter Two
Sierra awoke with a jolt. Her eyelids snapped open, and she blinked rapidly to bring her vision into focus. Where was she? How did she get here?
She was seated in a recliner chair with her feet up and her head resting against a pillowed back. It wasn’t uncomfortable.
In front of her was a plain concrete wall. The paint was a drab color that matched the ceiling. On the wall to her left was a closed door. She craned her neck to see what was behind her. More concrete. This was a small windowless room—a prison cell without bars.
A shudder went through her as the walls seemed to tighten. She had to get out of here.
But when she tried to climb out of the recliner, she couldn’t move. Her wrists were fastened to the arms of the chair. Her ankles were also restrained. Around her waist was a wide band that held her in place. What was going on? Why had she been brought to this place?
Her heart beat faster as she struggled against her bonds. My God, what was going to happen to her? Nothing good. That was for damn sure!
She pinched her lips together to keep from sobbing out loud, but when she closed her eyes, tears streaked from the corners of her eyes. There was a dull throb at the back of her head. Though she wasn’t in terrible pain, she felt every single one of her recent bruises. And she remembered…
The funeral. Lyle’s coffin. The men who’d grabbed her. And the one who’d rescued her from them. Trevor, his name was Trevor. He must have brought her here. Why? What did he want from her?
She heard the door opening, and looked up. It was him.
“You’re awake,” he said with a smile. “Good.”
Sierra told herself to be strong. She couldn’t let him see her fear and helplessness. Keeping the tremble from her voice, she said, “If you don’t let me go right now, I’ll scream.”
“Go ahead.” He shrugged. “The room is soundproof.”
She opened her mouth to yell, then thought better of it. Her throat was too dry. By screaming, she’d only hurt herself, and she needed to marshal her strength. It was going to take every bit of her tough New York chutzpah to make it through this ordeal.
When she was growing up on the streets of Brooklyn, she’d done okay. Back then, she’d thought her life was rough. But the occasional mugging and street violence were nothing compared to what had happened after she moved to Montana. First Lyle. Now this.
She glared at Trevor. “Where am I?”
He stretched his arms wide to encompass the small space. “This is an interrogation room.”
“Why am I here?”
“To be interrogated.” He held a bottle of water in each hand. “You should have something to drink. You’re probably dehydrated.”
Though the water enticed her, she shook her head. “First, let me go.”
“Ah, Sierra. I didn’t go to all this trouble just to release you.” He waggled the water bottle before her eyes. “Tell me about Lyle Nelson.”
“There’s nothing to tell. He’s dead.”
“When you were dating, did you meet his friends?”
“Yes.” She eyed the water bottle. Her thirst was becoming unbearable.
“Give me some names,” Trevor said.
“I