Chapter 10

Chapter

Ten

T he sun was beginning to set on the horizon when they pulled up to the small farm on the outskirts of Chandler. Willa could see hay into the loafing shed to the right of the house and several of what appeared to be well-bred quarter horses were meandering around the pasture that came close to the yard.

Mac parked, and when he came around to open her door, Willa was already standing outside the truck, surveying the barnyard.

“You keep horses at a safe house?”

“Chickens and goats as well. A farm without animals is going to attract the wrong kind of attention. One of our employees who doesn’t live far from here checks them daily and makes sure they’re well cared for, rearranges curtains, lights, etc. Anybody passing by, even on a regular basis, would assume it’s a small hobby farm.”

“Don’t you worry about predators?”

“Two-legged or four-legged?” Mac joked.

“I figure the two-legged inhabitants of this farm can take care of themselves, but there are big cats in this area. The coyotes would look at those chickens and goats and think it’s an all-you-can-eat buffet.”

“That’s where Goose comes in.”

“I know geese are good to use as an alarm system, but they aren’t going to win in a confrontation between a predator and its prey.”

“Not geese, Goose,” he corrected. “Big bull mastiff we leave with the stock. Great dog if he knows you, sweetest thing on the planet, but you don’t want to mess with his stock. He doesn’t differentiate between two-legged or four-legged varmints. We routinely have to remove coyote carcasses, and he’s taken down two big cats that we know of. Funny thing is, he brings the dead bodies up and puts them by the trash cans.”

“You really have it all thought out.”

“Why, yes, Willa, we do. We’re rather good at our job and figure a safe house that doesn’t keep people safe is of little value.”

“I still want to go home.”

“And I still don’t care.”

“I’m calling a lawyer in the morning, and you’re going to have to release me.”

“As I said, you’re welcome to call a lawyer over the secure line, but you’ll lose in court. You are, by every definition, a material witness and one who has already had a viable threat made to her safety. No judge will terminate the warrant, but you go right ahead and waste time and money if that’ll make you feel better.”

“I’d feel better in my own bed.”

“Give it a rest, Willa. You’re not going anywhere until we have Eastwick tried, convicted, and locked up for good.”

“Prick,” she jeered as she pushed past him, headed to the barn.

She hadn’t gone far when Mac seized her upper arm and turned her toward the house, giving her backside a hard swat to propel her in the direction.

“House, Willa.”

She whirled around. “You son of a bitch! You can’t hit me.”

“I didn’t hit you, I swatted your ass. You already owe me ten when this is done, and they’ll be delivered on the bare. I’ll do a whole lot more than swat you if you don’t knock it off. Get in the house.”

“No!”

“Now!”

She and Mac stared each other down. It was a question of who would blink first. She knew neither was willing to give an inch.

“Don’t try me, Willa. I want you in the house where it’s safe. Now, move it.”

“Fuck you,” she said, exasperated, not only with Mac but with herself for becoming more aroused by the minute.

The last thing she needed in her life was this combination cowboy-lawman who thought he could tell her what to do, but he still took her breath away. He was an attractive bastard, and his primal masculine dominance seemed to roll off of him in waves. There was something she found wildly attractive about Ethan McDaniel, not just physically.

“Are you going to walk, or am I going to have to sling you over my shoulder and carry you?”

“You’re not slinging anyone anywhere with that shoulder.”

She only had a fraction of a second before he proved her wrong.

“Wanna bet?”

Willa was shocked. She’d forgotten just how strong and determined he could be and how she responded to him. In the space of a minute, he had swatted her ass and was carrying her up to the house, desire and need spiking through her system. Before the outrageousness of his actions and her response registered, they were on the front porch, where he set her down, trapping her body with his against the door. Mac punched in a code and pressed his thumb against the sensor directly above the keypad.

“I’m thinking not a lot of ranchers have such a fancy, schmancy lock,” she remarked sarcastically.

“Probably not,” he said as he opened the door. “But we figure if you’re close enough to see the lock, you’re either one of us or one of those we’re trying to keep out.”

When she didn’t step inside, he turned her to face the interior, and again his hand made hard contact with her rear end, making her yelp as she stumbled forward. Mac followed her inside, closing the door behind them and locking it.

“You and I need to get a few things straight. When I tell you to do something or stay somewhere, you do it. You don’t argue with me, you don’t call me names, and you do what I tell you.”

Willa whirled around. “If you believe I’m going to do anything I’m not inclined to do or be anything other than a major pain in the ass, you are sadly mistaken.”

Mac took a deep breath.

“I’m warning you, Willa. I’m not sure what you think you’re doing or hope to achieve, but it isn’t going to work. Keep it up, and all that will happen is you ending up with a set of stripes. As I recall, Cowgirl, you weren’t overly fond of my belt—either when used to tie you up or to welt your backside. You are in federal custody, and more importantly, in my custody, so you’re going to behave. Like it or not, Willa, I’m in charge. I make the rules, and you obey them. If you don’t, you’ll find yourself facedown over my knee until I see a change in your attitude, and you apologize for whatever you did to earn yourself a spanking.”

“Do you even hear yourself?” she hissed. “I don’t give a rat’s ass if I’m in federal custody. I’m still a citizen, and my taxes pay your salary.”

He laughed and pulled her to him.

“You’re still the same wildcat you always were, aren’t you? That’s okay. It was always so much more satisfying when I made you purr.”

He leaned down and lightly kissed her. Willa was mortified when her lips parted, seemingly of their own accord. She felt him press his mouth more firmly to hers, and feeling her acquiescence, he initiated a far more commanding and passionate kiss. Worse, she was kissing him with the same intensity. She welcomed the feel of his tongue as it slipped past her teeth, coaxing and dancing with hers.

Groaning, he wrapped his arms around her, and one of his hands dropped to her derriere, pulling her into closer contact. She stood on tiptoe and wound her arms around his neck, rubbing her stiffened nipples against his chest. It had been a while since she’d been with anyone, and Ethan McDaniel wasn’t just anyone.

Reluctantly, she disengaged from the kiss, brought her hands down, and laid them on his chest but didn’t push him away.

“It’s all right, Willa,” he said softly.

“No, it’s not. I don’t throw myself at men, even ones from my past.”

“You didn’t throw yourself. I caught you, and you didn’t run away. That’s the first smart thing you’ve done since you ditched me at the hospital. And for the record, you pull a stunt like that again, and you’ll have trouble riding a horse for a few days.”

This time she did push away from him. “You’re such a jackass.”

He laughed. “Maybe, but I’m a jackass you find attractive.”

“I did once. I don’t now.”

He laughed harder.

“The hell you don’t. First, you return my kiss as if I was the first drink of water you’ve had in a long, long time, then rub against me like an alley cat in heat. But it’s fine. You were standing close enough to know I feel the same way about you.” He leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose. “Now, why don’t I rustle up some dinner?”

“Why don’t you go to hell? I’m not hungry.”

That would have been a more effective parting shot if her stomach hadn’t grumbled at that moment. She turned and took a good look at the open-concept living space.

“This is nice.”

“You sound surprised. What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know, something dilapidated, kind of seedy, but this actually looks comfortable and kind of chic.”

Mac smiled as he walked past her.

“Most of the time, protected witnesses are good people who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Their lives are interrupted and sometimes, completely torn apart because they were trying to do the right thing, or like you, some bad guy decided they needed to die, so he could go on being a bad guy.”

“Bad guy?” Willa arched her eyebrow. “Is that a US Marshals’ technical term?”

“Only in limited circles,” he said, grinning. “Let see what they stocked the kitchen with.”

“I could eat, but as I recall, cooking wasn’t your strong suit. You know I’m a terrible snob about food.”

His eyes smiled. “That’s not the only thing I remember.”

“Stop it, Mac. We’re not going there.”

“Sure, we are. I’ll give you some time to think it over, but we aren’t finished, Willa—not by a long shot.”

“What do you want?” she said, the confused feelings he was evoking clearly registering.

“You,” he said simply. Shaking his head as if to clear it, he continued, “John says your business has grown since we split up. In these economic times, that’s impressive. You must be able to give them a unique experience each time.”

“Funny, most people don’t want unique experiences,” she said, grateful for his shift to neutral ground. “They want a unique setting, so I take them through different parts of the canyons or mountains, but they also like the familiar. By offering them the same guide, the same kind of food, and mostly the same horses, they can relax and enjoy each area I show them. For me, it’s fun because I see couples before they’re married, as newlyweds, then as the kids come along.”

Mac nodded.

“Gus designed a kind of car seat or stroller thingy for our most reliable packhorse. We make sure the load is balanced, secure, and designed for the safety of the infant. I always take one of my people along just to lead that packhorse, but it’s fun.”

“You still love what you do.”

She cocked her head and looked at him.

“Don’t you?”

“Hmm, not sure love is the word I’d use. I’m good at it, and it’s a job that needs doing. It gives me a lot of satisfaction, but I don’t think I’ve ever waxed poetic about what I do. And I paid a high price to get where I am today.”

“I don’t think anyone has ever accused me of waxing poetic,” she said, disengaging from the conversation.

“Don’t take it the wrong way, I think it’s great. When you talk about your clients, your whole body relaxes, and it’s obviously something you enjoy. But don’t you worry about risking everything for the mustangs?”

“You never did understand about them. I love them because they’re wild and free, because they represent the very best of our country. They were all brought here by someone else. The horses we see today aren’t native to North America. There was a similar species, but it went extinct with the dinosaurs. And like every other immigrant group, the mustangs made this place their home and thrived until some asshat decided he could make a profit by exploiting them.”

“So, you steal them, then what?”

“I don’t steal anything, Mac. I liberate them and drive them to protected land, or if it’s a small herd, there are ranchers in the area who will care for them and let them graze their lands.”

“Steal versus liberate? I think that depends on which side of the horse you’re standing on.”

“Not really. Until they’re sold, the horses have no intrinsic value. Therefore, I can’t be prosecuted for stealing something that has no value. Why I’m debating semantics with a guy who left me five years ago and has now kidnapped me, I’ll never know.”

“That’s the second time you’ve thrown that bit of revisionist history at me. For the record, you’re the one who walked and told me not to be there when you returned. Do you have any idea what that did to me? Technically, I didn’t kidnap you. I took you into federal custody, so you would be protected.”

“I can protect myself.”

“Sure, you can. I saw that while you were bleeding all over the helicopter. Give it a break, Willa, and settle down. You’re not going anywhere until Eastwick has been apprehended. And, at some point, we’re going to have a long talk about you and your mustangs.”

We’ll see about that.

She had no intention of playing house with Mac again. She’d make sure he had a full belly, and once he was sound asleep, she’d take his keys, borrow his truck, and return to her life—a life that didn’t include Marshal Ethan McDaniel. If he hadn’t seen the canyon behind the waterfall, she could have gone there. It was one of her favorite places, but there were several hidden canyons up in the Superstitions almost as nice in the opposite direction from where Eastwick was headed. No sense in not taking certain precautions to stay safe. After all, the man had murdered his wife.

M ac watched as she pushed past him and made a thorough inventory of the kitchen. He really liked the way she moved—purposeful yet graceful. There was no wasted movement, yet it was decidedly feminine.

He hadn’t planned on kissing her, but given her response, he was glad he had. What had started as a light brushing of his lips against hers had quickly developed into a far deeper level of intensity and intimacy. Mac had especially liked the way she responded when he’d pulled her closer, and she’d rubbed against him. Wildcat was probably an accurate way to think of Willa Reynolds. She was strong, powerful, sensual, and had attitude to spare. He quickly was recognizing he had missed her even more than he thought.

He had to suppress a grin and his body’s physical response when he thought about how he intended to bring that attitude under control. He was playing with fire, but like a moth to a flame, he would be hard-pressed to resist her allure. There was a strict no-fraternization policy where witnesses were concerned and for good reason, but he figured they had been a committed couple before. Besides, Willa made him dismiss all of those reasons, as well as if anything were to go wrong and it was discovered they’d entered a relationship, he could lose his job. As Mac glanced at her bending over to get a frying pan from the drawer at the bottom of the stove, he decided she was worth it. He meant to bring Willa under his protection on a permanent basis, whether she liked it or not.

“Do you mind breakfast for dinner? There’s plenty of good stuff here for either, but breakfast is quicker.”

“You’re the chef. If you make it, I’ll eat it. I can’t recall you ever feeding me anything I didn’t like… especially your honey.”

Willa blushed. “Too bad. That’s not on the menu.”

Mac watched as she began to chop, slice, sauté, and even microwave. Before long, she was layering a heavy cast iron with vegetables, bacon, onions, and potatoes before pouring an egg mixture over the top and putting it in the oven. Next, she quickly set about making biscuits and placed them in the oven with the skillet.

Watching her hands knead the dough reminded him of the first time he’d fucked her. They’d had an argument about the state of their relationship… actually, that wasn’t true. They’d had an argument about whether or not they were going to discuss the state of their relationship before they had sex. Willa had gotten her way—they hadn’t talked first, but the first time he mounted her, it had been from behind after he’d inflicted a considerable amount of sting in her tail.

“Okay, we have about twenty minutes. Should I pick out one of the bedrooms upstairs?”

“No. There’s a master suite here on the ground floor that’s totally secure. The windows are bulletproof, and the doors are all armored and have deadbolts. You’ll sleep in there.”

“Don’t you think that’s a bit over-the-top for dealing with anything Eastwick might be planning?”

“Are you forgetting you were shot earlier today? And keep in mind we have yet to find the shooter, although we’re closing in on him.”

“I don’t want to be here.”

“So, you keep telling me, but I can keep you safer here than anywhere else, so we’re staying.” He watched her take a deep breath and instinctively knew what she was about to say.

“About what happened earlier.”

He crossed the distance between them, both physically and emotionally, and pulled her into his arms. She made a token attempt at resisting, then gave in to what she really wanted.

“You mean when we kissed, and you made it abundantly clear neither of us wants to be sleeping alone tonight?”

Before she could respond, he lowered his head and once more took possession of her mouth. God, she tasted sweet. Everything about Willa called to him—her fiery personality, her voluptuous body, and the way it responded to his with very little effort on his part. He’d never felt such a strong pull toward a woman. Mac was smart enough to know you never truly tamed a woman like Willa. He figured she’d always need a fair amount of consistent dominance to behave—a level of dominance he was more than able and happy to supply.

The timer went off on the stove.

“Mac, I need to take the frittata out of the oven. Overcooked eggs are terrible.”

He rubbed his nose against hers and leaned down to kiss her again before letting her pull away. She needed to accept that he meant to reclaim her, and she wasn’t going to be in charge. He let her go but liked that she seemed reluctant to let go of him completely as her hand trailed down his arm, and her fingers reached out to him, even when they were no longer touching.

He followed her into the kitchen and couldn’t help fondling her backside as she bent over to take the biscuits and frittata out of the oven. She stood and went very still.

“Stop that,” she whispered.

“No,” he said as he encircled her waist with one hand and drew her into his body, so she was facing away from him as he held her against his chest.

He held her easily since she seemed disinclined to actually avoid his touch. He stroked the column of her throat and tilted her head, so his lips could murmur sweet kisses all along her jawline and up to her ear. He ran his knuckles down the side of her body in a light caress, avoiding any direct contact with what he knew would be her pebbled nipples.

Mac let her draw away, then reached past her to get the plates out of the cupboard, setting them next to her on the counter.

“We usually have beer, wine, soda, water. What’s your pleasure?”

“Water is fine, but feel free to have a beer or some wine.”

“I’m technically on duty, so no alcohol for me.”

She faced him.

“Do you grope all of your female protectees?”

He shook his head and grinned.

“Don’t start, Willa. Let’s serve our plates, and we’ll go sit on the couch and have dinner.”

“I’m fine here in the kitchen.”

“No, you were shot earlier today. We’re going to go sit down and have dinner.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” she cried.

He took her face in his hands, kissing her deeply, and was rewarded by her body softening and molding to him.

“Yes,” he whispered, “I do. Not just until we catch Eastwick. You may as well accept that.”

“I’m bad at doing what I’m told.”

He chuckled. “I remember, but I’m pretty damn sure, I can bring you around to my way of thinking. Now, be a good girl, and let’s eat our supper before it gets cold.”

Mac handed her the two bottles of water as well as the flatware, napkins, and butter for their biscuits. He started her toward the living room, and when she didn’t move on her own, he gave her a light swat that didn’t seem to startle her but got her moving in the right direction.

Putting the rest of the biscuits in a basket, he covered them with a napkin, then took the basket and their dinner plates and followed her into the living room. She seemed uncertain how they were going to eat on the couch, waiting to follow Mac’s lead. He placed the things in his hands on the coffee table, then relieved her of those in hers. Sitting, he drew her close beside him. Before she could protest, he shook out one of the napkins and handed it to her, then unlatched the top of the coffee table and brought it up and toward them on its hinges, so it provided a dining surface.