Broken Fences (A TroubleMaker Novel, #1) (4 page)

Chapter
Four

Crouched down in
front of the cooler, counting the beer bottles, Dusty couldn’t stop thinking
about Colden and the way he’d handled her on her counter and kitchen table. Her
insides flushed with heat just thinking about it. The power and authority in
his touch was just as she’d so vividly remembered it.

But if he wasn’t
married and off playing Daddy as some do-gooder Robocop in Georgia, what in the
hell had he been doing, and where had he been doing it for the past six years?
Whatever had happened to him from the night he’d taken her virginity to his
recent return to town, something had changed him. It could have been the entire
journey or a single instance, but Colden James was a different man.

The Saint wasn’t
the only one who had changed, for Dusty had grown up too. No longer was she
that unmanageable teenager whose parents made a habit of ditching her every
chance they got. The last time she’d seen them was when they’d dropped her off
at her brother’s in her junior year, before they’d jetted off to Paris. In her
senior year, Dusty had moved out of her brother’s and stayed with her favorite
aunt in New York City, cursing poor Aunt Lulu with her relentlessness.

Dusty eventually
learned to control her temper and now strived to find reason before shooting
off her mouth. Being in the bar business didn’t allow her the opportunity to be
a hothead anymore. She had no time to put out her own fires, as she was too
busy tending to others, like Sissy’s constant infernos ignited by the younger
James brother.

The wild chick
Colden had left behind was gone, as was the scared girl who would never get too
close, fearful that, like her parents and Sissy’s mom and even her beloved Aunt
Lulu had done, he’d leave her high and dry too. Even Matt, her brother, had
abandoned her in some way, but she refused to think about Matt.

Instead of
thinking she’d done something wrong to make her parents and Colden leave,
instead of being angry with Sissy’s mom and Aunt Lulu’s death or hating Matt
for not keeping in touch, Dusty had decided to try and accept things for what
they were and move one, no matter how good or bad they turned out.

The problem with
letting bygones be bygones was that Colden was back. Now, Dusty wanted to be
that stubborn, closed-off, lonely girl again, if only to protect herself and
spare herself the heartbreak of his little disappearing acts. He’d hurt her so
bad the first time, and it had taken a long time to get over him

The first few
years after he left, she’d tried to date, tried to convince herself that
Colden, a boring do-gooder, didn’t matter. They had nothing in common, but
somehow, that look in his eyes when he pinned her against McAllister’s fence.
She couldn’t get it out of her head. No one had ever made her feel so needed or
wanted before, especially just by looking at her. In that epic moment, St.
James had not only taken her virginity, but he’d also given something to Dusty.
For the first time in her life, she’d felt wanted. Unfortunately, that
wonderful feeling of belonging hadn’t lasted long, as quickly as Colden had
given it to her; he had taken it away by running off.

She’d thought
she’d moved on, until Jimmy had told her that Colden was married. Once more,
because of Colden, her heart had shattered. Unlike old man McAllister’s fence,
Colden wasn’t around to fix it, and considering that he was married, she knew
he never would be.

Now, all because
she’d claimed to be unbeatable on that damn electric beast, for the next two
weeks, she’d have the unmarried and very available Colden James staying with
her—the only man who had the tools to fix her broken heart.

Wait…is that
it? Did the Saint come back to mend my heart?
She shook her head at the
ridiculous, unsafe thought. That naïve little girl inside her was best left in
the past, just like her feelings for Colden. She couldn’t allow herself to
care, and she refused to be tempted to offer her heart to him again.

She placed her
hand on top of the cooler to pull herself up. As she did, strong hands grabbed
her by the waist and lifted her into the air. She screamed, glimpsed over her
shoulder, and relaxed when she saw Travis, the beer truck delivery guy.

“Hey, Princess,”
he said in that low, deep Southern drawl.

Travis was a tad
on the flirtatious side, but she knew the big ox was harmless. She’d always
wished she could think of him differently, that he’d do something for her, but
she just wasn’t attracted to the man. He was built and good-looking, but still
she felt nothing.

“Hi, Travis!
Where have you been? You’re a few days late,” she said with a smile.

“Had some
problems with the truck,” he said, twirling her around for the usual bear hug.

From the corner
of her eye, Dusty caught a flash of something large moving quickly toward them.
Out of nowhere, Colden appeared. He’d scaled the bar, just placed his hands on
the top of it and jumped. His legs lifted, and he cleared the counter with
ease. A move she’d only seen in the movies. Instantly, he had Travis in a one-arm
hold, with his body bent forward on the bar and his face pinned to the counter.
As unbelievable as it was, Travis, the big, burly ox remained immobilized over
the bar by Colden’s strong grip.

“Colden!” She
grabbed his arm, but the muscles beneath her fingers weren’t about to
disengage. She yanked on them anyway. “What the hell?”

From over his
broad shoulder, Colden looked back at Dusty in disbelief. “What?” he said from
a gnarled lip.

“Let go of him!”
Dusty demanded.

One eyebrow rose
higher than the other, and Colden appeared unbalanced and dangerously unhinged.
“You know this guy?”

“Yes! He’s one
of our truck drivers. He delivers my beer!”

“But you
screamed,” Colden attested with another snarl.

“What? Let him
go!” She hit his resilient arm, in spite of how intimidating he looked. She
could be intimidating too. He was acting like a crazy, jealous boyfriend, and
she wasn’t going to let him get away with it.

“You screamed,”
he repeated, then slowly released the delivery man.

Travis stood up
to his full height, looking at Colden like he was insane.

Colden’s hand
shot out and landed soundly on his chest, but he kept his eyes fixed on Dusty.
“You did! I heard you,” he said between clenched teeth.

Travis moved
forward, and Colden’s calculating eyes slid over to him. As tall as he was,
Colden still had to tilt his head to look Travis in the eyes.

“Hey, I get it.”
Colden calmly lifted his hand from the man’s chest but held it there in the
air. He spoke softly so that no one else in the bar besides her and Travis
could hear him. “Really, I do.” He glared with certainty at Travis, who looked
ready to trounce on Colden. “But believe me when I tell you that if you try it,
I’ll drop your ass on this floor just like I did on that bar, and you won’t
know what hit you first—my fist, my head, or my foot.”

After a long
stare-down, to Dusty’s astonishment, Colden won.

Travis glanced
over at her. “You all right, honey?”

“I’m okay.” She
touched his arm reassuringly, and Colden growled a little. She shot him her
nastiest look. “It was just a misunderstanding, that’s all,” she said, more to
Colden then to Travis. Colden looked madder than hell, but she didn’t care. She
turned back to Travis with a small smile.

He nodded, cast
Colden one more hard look, then went back to the dolly to unload the cases of
beer as though nothing had happened.

* * * * *

Yes, it had been
a moronic maneuver, but Colden didn’t give a shit. When he heard Dusty scream,
adrenaline took over. It dictated his every move until he had her attacker
pinned to the bar.
How was I to know it was the damn beer delivery guy?
When he realized what was going on, that there was no imminent danger to her
life, he’d tried to calm down, but two questions came to mind:
Who the fuck
is this Travis guy…and why the hell does he think he can touch what’s mine?

“Shit, Colden!
What’s gotten into you? What did you think you were doing?”

He was
protecting what was his, but he couldn’t exactly tell Dusty that. She would
kick his ass to the curb. He knew he was acting like a psycho. Showing up in
the middle of the night, demanding to stay at her home, threatening to eat her,
and trying to break up her relationship—or whatever it was—that she had going
on with the beer man. “Who the hell is that guy?” he grumbled as Travis left
the bar.

“Like I said,
he’s my beer delivery–”

“Wait just a
damn minute.” He lifted a hand. “Are you telling me you let all the delivery
guys pick you up and manhandle you like—”

“Manhandle me?
God, Colden, it was just a hug!” She whacked his hand away and fearlessly
leaned in toward him. “A harmless one!”

Bending his
head, he met her feisty glare. “Is he your boyfriend?”

Her head knocked
back. “Who, Travis? No!”

Following her
withdrawal, he arched over her. “Do you have one?”

She shot him a
staggered look. “What do you care?”

She tried to
push by him, but he wasn’t about to let her run away. He stepped forward, and
his long leg blocked her.

He gazed down
into her furious eyes. “Oh, I care all right, Dusty.”

She huffed,
leaned back against the bar, crossed her arms, and turned away from him.

“See…” He
touched her check and drew her face back to look at him, but the stubborn
woman’s eyes remained fixed on the ceiling. “The things I thought about doing
to you last night, this morning, and right now…” Nervous eyes flashed back to
him. Finally, he’d grabbed her attention. “I wouldn’t want any other guy
thinking about my girl that way. So answer me. Do you have a boyfriend or not?”

“What?” She gave
him a hard poke in the chest. “Now, all the sudden, you have a conscience and
are worried about some other guy’s feelings? Screw you, St. James.”

He moved
forward, nudging a knee between her legs. His thighs straddled her leg. “No.
I’m only concerned about you.”

She sneered up
at him.

He smiled back
at her sassiness. “You can fight me all you want, girl, but neither me nor
this…” He pressed closer, his hard cock making contact with her soft, pliable
body. “We’re not going anywhere anytime soon.”

“But you and
this…” She tilted her hips, and he almost groaned out loud when his throbbing erection
slid against her. “…
will
be going, won’t it, St. James?” She gave him
one last push, and he let her go.

The cut was
intended to hurt, and it had. He got her point, loud and clear. Honestly, he
couldn’t guarantee her that he wouldn’t be whisked off on another assignment
anytime soon, but that was all part of being an undercover agent. It was, in
fact, what had originally taken him away from her six years earlier.

At twenty-one,
after he’d completed his training at the academy, Colden had gone to the
Department of Homeland Security in Atlanta, Georgia for some training. From
there, he was transferred to Detroit for an undercover assignment with Agent
Kip Johnson. When his cover wasn’t needed any longer, because they felt Kip,
the more seasoned agent, was a better fit, they let Colden go. He returned
home, never told anyone about his brush with the undercover work in Detroit,
and decided to settle with a job as an officer in the local police department.

That’s when he
met Dusty. She’d just moved in with Sissy Milton and her recently widowed
father. At eighteen, Dusty had been too young for Colden. She worked on him,
though, for two years. The day after he’d finally broken and given into her,
the FBI called to explain that Agent Johnson had been found in an alley,
murdered, and they needed Colden in Detroit to try to slip back into his cover
to work his way up to Kip’s position as Riggs’s right-hand man.

One day Colden
was a local cop on his way to falling in love with a sexy, sassy, smart-ass
twenty-year-old who still had a lot of growing up to do. The next, he was some
guy named Johnny Wright, working his way up to being the right hand-man to an
infamous gun smuggler, a man who bought weapons from crooked licensed dealers
in Detroit and then sold them on the streets to drug-dealers, thugs, and
psychopaths with vengeance on their minds. It took Colden a couple years to
build up Johnny’s reputation in the gun-smuggling community, but after he’d
garnered Riggs’s trust, he provided inside info and tips that the FBI could use
to take down quite a few illegal operations.

Colden still
worked for the Bureau, and his fate was not always his own. The truth was, he
wasn’t sure how long he was going to be in Odessa, and he knew he had no right
to break back into Dusty’s life and start claiming her as his, even if he did
want to believe it was true.

* * * * *

“You ready?”
Sissy impatiently asked on the other end of the cell phone.

“Yeah.” Dusty
shoved her bare foot into a sandal, excited for a night away from the confusion
of Colden. She didn’t want to think about the scene he’d made at the bar with
Travis or try to read anything into it. Instead, she convinced herself that she
didn’t care.

“You’re wearing
a dress, right? Like I told you, it’s not some greasy spoon. We’re going to
kind of a fancy place, and—”

“Yes, Sissy, a
dress—that black one with the one-shoulder strappy thingy.” Dusty glanced in
the mirror and noticed the star tattoo under her left eye, a souvenir from one
of her impulsive, crazy moments during her senior year in New York. From a
distance, it sort of resembled a mole. Unfortunately, it wasn’t exactly in a
Marilyn Monroe, sexy way, but it certainly added character to her pale face.