Breaking the Bad Boy (16 page)

“You know who they are.” It was not a question, and before he knew what he was doing he told her the truth.

“Yes,” he said quietly.

“Are you going to tell me who?”

“No,” he said and she nodded.

“But you seem to be willing to risk your life to keep me safe,” he shrugged.

“You are very pretty, Duchess,” he said grinning.

“Nobody’s that pretty,” she said and he laughed.

“Big plans and all,” he said and she huffed out a laugh.

She looked at his hands again. Why were a man’s hands so erotic? His long fingers were peeling the label off the beer he hadn’t even sipped yet, and probably wouldn’t. Those hands brushed her hair last night and braided it to keep it off her back and out of her face. She hadn’t seen him, obviously, but she knew it was Buck carefully untangling her messy tresses for her. It was a singularly exquisite sensation, and if her back hadn’t been opened by a grizzly that day she would have pulled back the covers and invited him in. It was hero worship, plain and simple, but she wanted him. It was so hard to resist a beautiful bad boy, especially after he saved her from being a grizzly bear’s lunch and then stood guard over her while she was drugged and unconscious.

Pulling her eyes away from his hands she met his gaze. He wanted her, too. She could always tell, but something was holding him back. In that moment there was something that passed between them, something visceral and raw.

“Thank you, Buck. I don’t know if I’ve thanked you enough,” she said. He shook his head at her almost sadly.

“Don’t, you don’t need to…”

“Yes, I do,” she whispered. “I was so frightened…” She looked away from him.

“You were incredibly brave,” he said.

“Goodnight, Buck,” she stood, dumping the cat, and he stood too, and put down his drink. She turned and made for her bed.
If he follows I’ll let him in
, she thought.

“Goodnight, Duchess,” he said quietly after her. It took everything he had not to follow her and love her well into tomorrow.
Don’t fall in love with the target’s daughter, Buck.
He resolved to keep his distance from her, like he had most of the day. She was like magnetic north, though, and her pull was irresistible.

Buck had had lovers. He had spent several years on the East coast where his uncommon looks were considered exotic and he took advantage of the interest shown him, but always in a detached kind of way. He had been called an asshole more than once, but he was pretty sure the women he entertained weren’t interested in bringing him home to meet the parents any more than he was.

The Duchess was different for some reason. He desired her, hell, who didn’t? But somewhere along the way he started to like her, even respect her. She wasn’t even his type. Her looks were, undeniably, but he never liked brave, smart, strong willed women, they were too much effort, too much trouble. Hell, Joss Erickson was trouble wrapped up in a sexy, long legged, luscious lipped, blue eyed package, she would suck out his soul and own it if he wasn’t careful.

He almost had his own heart attack when he saw the painting of
Guernica
on her bedroom wall. Maybe she was his type after all.

That’s it, the sooner he took her to bed the sooner he’d get over her, she thought he was some kind of hero now; he could walk back to her room and take her without any fuss. Just sink into her and let go. He took a sweet moment imagining himself slowly ripping that hideous t-shirt the rest of the way off of her, those dark nipples hardening under his gaze, her mouth opening for his. Her legs opening…

He’d wait until she wasn’t in quite so much pain. He laughed. He was making excuses why he wasn’t in her bed right this second, when the truth was that he was terrified of her. She was right on target when she said that the other day, and that terrified him, too. He didn’t just want her body, he wanted it all, and it freaked him out more than he cared to admit. He was not the kind of man who settled down, yet he had dreamed of his Duchess, her hair was cropped short, but it was her, and she held a black haired baby to her breast, her blue eyes shining up at him in wonder and adoration. He woke with a hard on that could cut steel and couldn’t sleep afterwards.

His Navajo grandmother believed in dreams, saying they could be prophetic if one knew how to interpret them. That particular dream was pretty unambiguous, and needed little interpretation. Buck thought his grandmother was part witch more often than not. She could always tell when he was up to no good, but as he got older he realized that might not have been so difficult a task. He was always up to no good. He wondered what his grandmother would have to say about his Duchess. She’d say “Don’t be an asshole, Yawning Lion.”

There was no sense in analyzing why he’d just spent the past day and a half in her hospital room watching over her like some kind of stalker. He was keeping her safe. There was no reason to wonder why he’d brushed her hair and braided it to keep it out of her way, he just wanted his hands on her, that was perfectly normal, he was, after all, red blooded. She’d never guess it was him, she’d probably think it was the nurse. Buck poured his beer out over the porch, stood up, and went to his cold bed.

Sometime in the night Joss woke abruptly to the sounds of shouting and the smell of smoke.

Chapter Six

She had her boots on before she knew what she was doing and ran out the front door. The barn was engulfed in flame. “Fuck.” Running to the crowd just in front of the barn she stared up at it with her mouth gaping wide. The heat was oppressive twenty feet away; there was no chance to save it. What happened?

“All the horses are out, Joss,” someone said to her right, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the barn to see who spoke.

“Fernando! Where’s Fernando?” She looked around and several people shrugged. “Fuck!” Dizzy from the painkillers she ran toward the barn. She felt someone grab for her arm, but she shrugged him off and kept running until she disappeared into it hearing several dismayed shouts behind her. This could be the stupidest thing she’d ever done, but she had to get to Fernando if she could.

The heat was unbearable, and she couldn’t even feel her sweat, her skin was too hot, but she went up the staircase and turned at the top. This was Fernando’s domain; this was where he lived in the summers, since he preferred horses to humans. The smoke was much thicker up here.

Joss looked wildly around through the choking smoke. She saw his feet sticking out awkwardly from the darkness, and she sobbed with relief, knelt next to him, and pulled him toward the steps. Her brain didn’t immediately register what her eyes saw, and she fell back as if pushed. Fernando’s throat was cut, and he was clearly dead. Her inhalation of surprise was all smoke and her throat closed.

Someone grabbed her from behind and she couldn’t even fight him effectively. Joss registered faintly that she must be in shock, otherwise she would have fought her attacker more aggressively, but she allowed him to drag and carry her down the stairs and toward the open door. The attacker was saving her, he could only be Buck. “Quit fighting me, you little idiot,” he growled in her ear. She quit struggling and sobbed again in relief.

The air seemed clear down the stairs and she tried to breathe again but it was impossible. They were nearly out of the crushingly hot barn when part of the roof caved in. The burning rafters that knocked them to the ground seared their backs. The pain was exquisite, but she had no strength left to move.

There was more shouting, it was coming closer, but still indistinct.

Buck’s long unmoving body was covering her and she smelled her hair burning and her lungs were on fire, and her back was burning from more than just the fire. She couldn’t move with Buck sprawled across her, she could barely breathe from the weight of him, but somehow it was comforting knowing he was there. Then she felt an overwhelming sadness that they hadn’t ever had a chance together, and now they were going to die together. “I’m so sorry,” she said to him, but she had choked out the words with her tears, and he was probably beyond hearing her anyway.

After what seemed like forever, he moved and shifted the beam across his back off of them and he manhandled her off the dirt floor and toward the door. Hands dragged them from the inferno as they gasped and coughed. Someone poured water over them and it felt like a balm, but she was too busy trying to breathe to thank, or even notice, whoever did it.

She was carried to a stretcher near the ambulance and she tried to stand but there were strong hands gently pushing her back down, and soothing voices calming her, and faces swimming before her. Someone put an oxygen mask on her face and wrapped her in a blanket, but she shrugged the blanket off, even wet she was far too hot and sore to tolerate anything else on her body, particularly on her intensely painful back. She was beginning to focus on things around her, and the first thing she realized was that she couldn’t stop trembling. The blanket went back over her shoulders and this time she left it there. Shock, she though distantly, she was probably in shock.

Looking around she saw familiar faces standing around the barn, just watching it collapse and burn, they leaned casually on shovels and rakes to keep it from spreading to the big house. Her brain knew there was nothing to be done, but her heart wanted everyone to pitch in and make it stop. Her heart wanted Fernando to walk out of the barn intact and smiling. Her heart wasn’t going to have its way. She tucked her head down and hugged her knees to her and wept. She wanted Buck.

She looked up, trying to find Buck. “Buck,” she said, looking around for him, but she didn’t see him right away. This time she did stand up, shedding the blanket and looking around. She took the oxygen mask off and wandered around a little wobbly, and was stopped by an EMT.

“Hey, let’s put your mask back on, and you need a blanket,” he said gently compelling.

“Where’s,” she started coughing uncontrollably, and the EMT ushered her back to her mask she shook her head and gasped. “Buck, where’s Buck?” She was going to lose it in a second if he didn’t help her find him. The EMT was shaking his head. Coughing and spluttering she sat down on the ground and let the tears come again. They poured out of her and she couldn’t do anything to make them stop.

“Shit,” her dad said as Brand’s horse came galloping home without him.

“He must be hurt,” Joss said running for the barn, for her own horse. He could only be one place, she thought, and she’d find him, she’d save him. She rarely used a saddle, and she slipped the bridle on and galloped to the pool, ignoring her father’s shouts. The men were behind her, but she had the faster horse and the lighter load and she could ride like the wind when she wanted to. She always wanted to.

She knew he’d be at the pool; it was their place, a private place that held secrets they swore a blood oath never to reveal to any living soul. It was their secret.

When she got to the meadow about a quarter mile away from the pool something made her slow down. There was something wrong with the meadow, there was no birdsong, that was it, she thought. What was frightening the birds? Who was here? She looked around, but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, so she cautiously walked her horse on.

There was a narrow path between a large rock and a Ponderosa pine, and there was Brand, sprawled on his chest, his head at a most unnatural angle. If she didn’t know Brand, she’d think he’d fallen off his horse, but he was a better rider than anybody, including Joss.

The men had caught up to her as she slid off her horse’s back and went to his body. Too shocked to say anything she touched his white blond hair, kneeling by his head. Little Brand, already cold. She heard her father let out a loud keening “No!”

That was the last thing she remembered of that day until her mother’s screech as they came back to the ranch, Brent holding Brand in his arms. Fernando was holding her tightly and both of them were weeping openly. Joss’s heart was forever shattered.

It took her a minute to realize she wasn’t alone under her blanket, someone lay behind her careful not to touch her back, but with his arms around her nevertheless. It could only be Buck, and she sobbed with relief. “Buck,” she whispered.

“You’re back, good,” he whispered into her ear. “I ought to put you over my knee and spank you ‘till you bleed. Or strip you naked and make you scream my name all fucking night.” He bit her earlobe and she shuddered in his arms. “I’ll let you know what I decide.” He pulled his face away from her and coughed, then put his face back to her. She moved back a fraction so that her back was against his chest. It felt better than she thought it would, and they slept.

Not much longer after that they were awakened and told to go to bed. “Just leave us, everything hurts,” Buck said. Joss sat up and looked around. He wasn’t kidding, everything did hurt, and sleeping on the ground wasn’t helping. “Don’t, don’t go.” He said to her and coughed, but she had made up her mind, and she plodded toward the house.

When she got to the door of her bedroom she stopped and her mouth fell open in surprise. Her room was a mess; someone emptied every drawer of their contents, knocked the mattress off the bed and tore pictures off the walls. It looked like a bomb went off. She stood with her mouth open in the doorway staring in shocked disbelief at the destruction.

“Shit.” Buck said. He was standing right behind her looking at the devastation over her shoulder. “Come on,” he gently took her hand and drew her away. He escorted her back down the hall, through the living room and then to the other side of the house to his room. It was neat and tidy, and he pulled back the covers and pointed. She climbed in, numb to everything, feeling like a sheep being led to slaughter. He climbed in right behind her and pulled her close, his hand cupping her breast gently. “I’ll have to spank you tomorrow, Duchess; I haven’t got the energy to do you justice tonight.”

“Thank you, Buck,” she said and wept silently until she was unconscious, his fingers running gently through her hair.

Joss slept well into the morning the next day. Buck was gone when she woke up, of course, and the only evidence of his having been there at all was the dirt and soot on his side of the bed. She was going to have to get her emotions straight with regards to Buck, but right now, smelling his scent underneath the smoke and burnt hair was not the time.

He was the kindest asshole she had ever known, and if that wasn’t only scratching the surface of his mysteriousness, she didn’t know what was. He had saved her life twice, both times risking his own.

She had to shower. She stood up, moving like an old woman and looked at her reflection in his mirror. “Fuck.” Her hair was completely gone on her left side, blackened tips framed her face. Her cami was filthy and torn, with several small burn holes here and there, and a big one across the back. There were large sooty fingerprints across her right breast. She huffed out a tired laugh. Her face was streaked from the tears she’d shed last night, for Fernando, and for Brand, and she had to admit for Buck when she thought he was gone, too.

Much of her left breast was exposed down the side, and she saw blood caked there from a scratch. Her butterflies fluttered drunkenly in her stomach when she thought of how Buck had held her right breast through the night last night and she’d let him, she must have been in shock, there was no other explanation. She was lying to herself, it felt good, right somehow, and she almost decided she was in love with him, but shrugged it off. She couldn’t make any decisions like that right now, everything was still too raw.

Coffee, she could smell coffee. She was secure about her relationship with coffee, and she plodded down the hall toward it. Buck was coming toward her.

“You’re up,” he smiled at her. How could he look so damn good after a night like last night?

“I’m up. Coffee,” she said walking past him.

“Your Dad’s coming up the drive, I thought you’d want to know,” he said from right behind her.

“Thank you, he wouldn’t like to know where I slept last night,” she said and turned to look at him hopefully.

“He doesn’t have to know, but I’m kinda hoping it has become a habit for you.” He put a gentle hand on her shoulder and she faced him. He said nothing, just looked in her eyes with that damned unreadable expression.

“You’re confusing me, Buck, and right now I can’t be logical,” she said.

“Go with your gut,” he whispered.

“My gut says to run like hell,” she whispered and he snorted.

“Then go with my gut, it says you should run like hell into my arms and never look back.”
Christ, what was he saying
?

“I’m a mess, Buck.”