Chapter Seven

C arson stepped onto the front porch and stopped. The urge to go back inside, grab Layne and beg her to understand that he was different now almost ripped away every shred of his control.

He lifted his head, glaring out at the property. Goddamn her father for keeping those letters from her. If she'd received even one of them…

Well, things would have been different.

They might have a couple kids running around the ranch by now.

His eyes stung, and he dug the pad of his thumb into each one before tugging down the brim of his Stetson and continuing down the stairs.

The midday sun cast a warm glow over the rolling fields, gilding the tips of the grasses that some ranch hand hired by the Londons would soon harvest into hay bales.

He took a deep breath. It smelled of hay, but the breeze carried the piney tang of the mountains on the air currents.

If he could, he'd hand the protection of Layne over to his brothers right this minute and take off into the mountains. Those times his old man kicked him out of the house had conditioned him to survive on very little. What he wouldn't give to head up there with nothing but a pack, a sleeping bag and his horse.

No amount of time away from Layne would make him quit thinking about her, though.

He was fucked.

Forcing his mind to the task of checking the perimeter, he started with his senses. Birds chirped and insects hummed, reminding him of lazy days spent by the pond. What he wouldn't give right now to lie back in the grass and sleep in the sun.

With Layne lying on top of him.

He groaned and walked to the corner of the big log house. The barn stood adjacent to the house, with the five-car garage on the other side. He wasn't surprised to discover that every bay was filled with a car, each more ostentatious than the last.

He huffed out a laugh. Not that Black Heart Ranch was any less flashy. Oaks had built an entire warehouse just for all their vehicles. Carson's personal ride—when he wasn't on his Harley—was a tricked-out Chevy truck with a lift.

Picking up Layne in that thing would present problems when she tried to get in. The step up was so high Oaks called it a pants splitter .

Carson took off in the direction of the barn, head swaying right and left as he walked. He automatically searched shadows and places where a person could hide. As he neared the barn, the breeze carried a new sound—horses moving around the paddock. One gave a soft nicker.

The first thing Carson did the morning after he arrived at the ranch was send all the ranch workers home. Each morning, he allowed one guy to care for the horses and he returned in the evening to tuck them away in the barn.

That guy, he vetted himself. After a deep dive into the worker's past, Carson found a squeaky-clean record.

Just how he liked it. There were times to blur the lines of the law, but Layne's safety wasn't one of them.

He approached the barn. Golden Horizon ranch didn't have a weathered barn that had been standing since the beginning of time like so many properties around here. The fresh white coat of paint was probably power-washed once a month to remove the mud thrown up by the horse's hooves.

The main difference between the Londons and Malones was the Black Heart was a working ranch. They raised cattle. They got dirty.

Inside the barn, his footsteps echoed on the polished floor. After a quick glance upward at the hayloft, he checked every single stall. Then he climbed the ladder to the loft.

He saw it immediately.

Using one hand to grip the rung and hoist himself up, he reached for his weapon with the other.

Hay bales were out of place since he checked the previous evening. One had been moved toward the small window.

When he turned his head, he saw why.

The window faced Layne's bedroom window.

Son of a fucking bitch.

He curled his fists. He swung his gaze to the window of the guest room.

The sun glinted on something metal on the sill.

In seconds, his boots hit the ladder. He hooked his soles on each side, sliding the entire way to the floor like a fireman slid down a pole to rush to the emergency.

Blood pumping with rage, he sprinted to the house. When he reached the window, cold fury washed through him.

A single empty rifle casing sat there, the bullet spent.

A warning. To him.

Somebody knew he was here.

He snapped a photo of the casing on the windowsill. Then he reached into his back pocket for a handkerchief he carried out of habit and used it to pick up the item.

Swiping a thumb over the phone screen, he turned right and left, hunting for the person who'd left a blatant threat for him to find. He dialed the Black Heart Security office and got Willow.

"Put Oaks on the phone. Now."

"Hello to you too, big brother. Having a nice day?"

"Willow." He bit back a warning growl. "Do it."

"Fine. Here he is."

As soon as Oaks came on the line, Carson got right to the point. "The motherfucker was here."

"Fuck! You're sure?"

"He sent this as a warning. To me." He shot off the photo of the casing.

Oaks let out a rumbling breath through his teeth—the closest his brother usually got to being angry. Or at least showed it.

"Get over here and pick up the casing. I want you to check it for fingerprints. I want to know everything about this casing. Where it was purchased. Who purchased it. Everything."

"On it. I'm leaving the office now." The hum of his brother's diesel truck engine filtered into Carson's ear.

He enfolded the casing in the handkerchief and pocketed it. Then he turned his attention to the grass outside the windows. The casing must have been there a while. The grass wasn't flattened, giving no evidence of recent foot traffic. Nothing else was planted or dropped.

The casing was planted between his earlier sweep of the grounds and now.

He continued his sweep of the grounds. By the time he heard the crunch of Oaks's tires, he made it back to where he started. Oaks jumped out and strode over to meet him.

"What the hell, brother?"

Carson pulled out the handkerchief. When he unfolded it, the brass casing gleamed.

Oaks met his stare. "Definitely a warning. How did the bastard get on the property without tripping any alarms?"

"That's what we have to find out. Have Colt pull the footage. I want every damn millisecond of that recording watched."

"I'll get him on it." His brother gave him a direct look. "You can always pack Layne up and bring her to the Black Heart."

"After what you said earlier? I'm not letting her anywhere near you."

Oaks's crooked a slanted smile. "Well, she is hot, but you know I'm just fucking with you, Carson."

As if they both had a hunch that she might be nearby, they both twisted to glance at the front of the house. The curtain twitched back into place.

"Dammit. She won't quit looking out the windows."

"Probably wants to see the danger coming. I know I would."

Carson leveled him in a glare.

Nonplussed, Oaks shrugged. "I would. Anyway, why don't you let her out of captivity for a minute? We're both standing right here to protect her."

He inflated his chest, rolling the idea around. Then he mounted the steps and punched in the new passcode he'd programmed into the system and opened the door.

"Layne?"

She was rushing across the living room, beating feet to make it look like she hadn't been lurking at the window or been caught doing it.

He sighed. "Come outside with me."

When she faced him, her expression made his stomach bottom out like a freight train gone off the rails.

She'd read some of his letters.

Heart pinching, he waved a hand for her to come with him.

Without a word, she followed him outside. As soon as she spotted Oaks, a huge smile spread over her face.

Damn. Carson hadn't seen her smile like that in forever. The last genuine smile she'd given him was dimmed by the tears streaking her face when they said goodbye—until next time.

Except there never was a next time.

In her bare feet, she hurried down the stairs to greet his brother.

"Oaks! Gosh, you grew up. A lot. " A blush leaped into her cheeks as she looked him up and down.

Carson couldn't stop the low rumble of a growl. In response, Oaks shot him a grin.

Layne walked up to him and thrust out her hand.

Oaks looked down at it. "Since when do we shake hands? Give me a hug."

She giggled and wrapped her arms around him instead. Over her shoulder, Oaks met Carson's gaze.

The asshole gave him a taunting grin. When he got Oaks alone, he would put his brother in his place.

When he got Layne alone, he would remind her whose arms she belonged in.

* * * * *

Layne padded across her bedroom floor. Reaching for the handle, she stopped herself before she opened it.

She was not going to Carson's bed.

No way. Once had been enough.

Okay, not enough . But it would have to suffice. If she touched him again, she didn't think she could control the emotions she'd stuffed deep inside all those years ago. One stroke of his hand over her skin and she'd be his.

Dropping her hand, she spun and hurried back to her bed. She climbed in between the sheets and drew the covers all the way up to her chin. Like the down duvet was any barrier against the lurid thoughts speeding through her mind.

Was he lying in his bed, awake, thinking about her too?

She threw back the covers and rushed to the door. This time she went so far as to twist the handle.

When her heart started pounding with anticipation of the bliss she could have with her lover— former lover —she came to her senses.

What was she doing?

She released the handle, and it made a quiet snapping noise.

In slow, determined steps, she returned to her bed.

This time, she was going to stay there.

But after tossing from side to side for ten more minutes, she knew she wasn't going to sleep.

Sometimes when she had insomnia, a good orgasm made her relax and get some rest.

Sliding her hand over her breast, down her belly, she slipped it inside her pajama shorts.

The instant she brushed a fingertip over her pussy, she groaned, but not in pleasure—in frustration.

This wasn't going to work. She wanted a man between her legs. No solo masturbation session would satisfy her.

As she tossed aside the covers—again—heat liquified her insides at what she was about to do. It was only sex. She didn't have to pour her whole heart into sleeping with him.

She rushed to the door and gripped the handle.

Before she could do anything, the metal twisted in her hand.

She dropped back, issuing a cry.

The door cracked open. A big, chiseled chest swallowed up her vision. She tipped her head back, a scream clinging to her vocal cords.

"Car-s-son!"

He stepped into her room, closing the door behind him. "Layne. You're driving me crazy with all this moving to the door and back to your bed."

She blinked. "You can hear that?"

"I was a SEAL. I hear everything."

He was a SEAL?

He took a step closer. Those huge biceps were calling to her to wrap her fingers around them and lean onto tiptoe, face tipped for his kiss.

Air trickled out of her lungs.

In the dim light she'd left on over the vanity in her adjoining bathroom, his dark gray eyes burned.

"You're so restless." He reached for her.

Her breathing hitched. Grew erratic.

One arm banded around her back, and he drew her up against his steely body. He lowered his head. "Let me ease you." His warm breath washed over her lips a split second before he kissed her.

Oh god , did he kiss her. Firm lips moved against hers until the pressure built inside her, and her lips popped open. Then he swept his tongue inside her mouth, flicking across hers.

She dug her fingers into his shoulders that masqueraded as twin mountains, hauling him closer. She wiggled against him, nipples begging for the tight, mind-blowing pinch of his fingers, the warm clamp of his lips…the slick swipe of his tongue.

Her pussy clenched with a need that could never be satisfied by anybody but this man. Her first lover. Her current one.

Once, she'd wished he would be her last.

But that was a silly, childish pipe dream. This was adult lust…and she could live with that.

She threw herself at him, sinking her fingers into his muscles and kissing him with all the fevered need inside her.

Cupping her ass, he lifted her against his stiff cock. She cooed in want.

He carried her a few steps to the bed and laid her down. Gently. So gently.

Treating her the way a man who loved her would.

Hooking her ankles around his back, she rocked into him even as she wiggled a hand between their fused bodies to cradle his erection.

He was so hot and pulsing. The groan he issued sent a dark need spinning through her system. Yanking him close, she met his hot stare. "I want you."