Broken Fences (A TroubleMaker Novel, #1) (6 page)

He brushed his
mouth over hers. “Damn, how I’ve missed you, Dusty girl,” he said, capitulating
to the truth. “The way you move. The way you smell. And the way you drive me
absolutely crazy with my want for you.” He rested his forehead against hers, looked
up and found surrender in her eyes. He felt her deep inside of him, dwelling in
his heart. “Oh yeah. I’ve missed you real bad.” His hand reached for the hem of
her dress, and he clenched it. “Kiss me,” he moaned against her lips.

She sweetly
complied urgently sipping him with her soft red mouth.

“Touch me.” He
couldn’t wait any longer. He had to feel her skin against his. “Put your hands
in my shirt.”

Without breaking
from the kiss, she fumbled with his shirt until the warmth of her touch seeped
straight through to his bones. She caressed his chest, sides, and stomach.

“Now,” he heaved
his mouth from hers, “be my bad girl and tell me you want my hand up your
skirt.”

Not
disappointing him, she leaned forward, rubbed her small, hard breasts against
his chest, causing the rigid flesh in his jeans to pulsate, and she purred,
“Please put your hand up my skirt.”

His cocked
stiffened. His fingers released their grip on the dainty fabric of her dress
and slid between her thighs.

Her eyes dilated
with desire. “Higher,” she breathed. “Colden, go higher.”

That was all the
encouragement he needed. Slowly, he glided up the softness of her inner thigh
until he discovered the heat he’d abandoned minutes ago, when they were at the
balcony. He cupped it with his palm. “Pull your top down.”

Without a shred
of hesitation, she removed a hand from his shirt. Viewing him from under heavy
lids, she slowly dragged her top down until one pert nipple popped free of its
textile constraints.

His eyes shot
down to the irresistible little pink bud. The beating of his heart quickened,
and there was so much he wanted to do to her in that moment.

“Colden,” she
said in a throaty, unrecognizable voice. Surprising him again, she thrust her
chest out. “Kiss me.”

His eyes
followed hers. Holding his breath, he watched as her finger slipped down and
lightly ran over her pink, erect nipple.

Her eyes lifted.
“Right here,” she said in a ragged breath. “Kiss me right here, Colden.”

The erotic
action had made all of his man parts go hard. A resemblance of a growl rumbled
in his chest just before he latched his mouth around the tight pink tip she’d
begged him to pleasure. Punishing her for the tease, he thrust his middle
finger deep inside of her and bit the hard peak, scraping and taunting her with
his teeth.

She took the
punishment like a good girl. Her fingers tangled in his hair. With her back
arched, she pulled him closer.

Probing, he
searched until he found it, the hot button. So concentrated he’d been on
reaching that goal that he hadn’t noticed her hand moving down to the waist of
his jean—or if he had, he’d subconsciously dismissed it. He felt the release of
his button, then heard the
hiss
of his zipper. Her hand reached right
inside and wrapped around his cock.

“No, Dusty!”

“Yes, Colden.”

When her tight
grip glided down and then back up his rigid flesh, every goosebump in his body
shot to life. A few more of those, and he was sure he’d spill himself all over
her hand, like some love-struck teenager.

“No, not like
this!
”
He knew he’d never be truly satisfied with a hand-job. Sure, it
would get the job done, but their time was limited, and rushed sex against the
wall was out of the question. Rationalizing that he was a disciplined Federal
agent and could wait, Colden grabbed her defiant hand, pinned it to the wall
above her head, and went back to concentrating on the pressure point hidden
deep inside her. Her eyes rolled back, her body flinched, and she moaned, a
damn good indication that he’d found the buried treasure again. Dropping his
mouth back onto her nipple, curling his long finger inside of her, he hit the
spot again and again.

“Oh…wait…” She
pushed at him with her hand. “Oh no! Colden, it’s too much. I…Colden!” She
squirmed beneath him, trying to fight back her release.

“Put your hand
over your head,” he ordered as her hips grinded into him. “Do it, Dusty!”

She rocked
wildly against his hand but obeyed.

“Good.” He
pumped harder into her and bit her nipple. “That’s a good girl.” He nipped her
harder.

“But, Colden, I
need to…to…” Glossy black eyes blazed down at him.

“I know what you
need and I’m going to give it to you, sweetheart.”

“But,” she
fidgeted beneath his hold, thrusting her body against his.

“Don’t move,” he
instructed. “We don’t have much time here, but I want to take care of you. Just
hold still, or I’m gonna have to stop. You got me?”

She bit her
bottom lip and nodded. Her body surrendered beneath his command.

“That’s it,” he
coaxed, sucking her nipple and pumping his finger faster. “Relax and let it go.
Just let go, my pretty girl.”

“No! Oh no! Not
that. No…” she moaned, her head thrashing.

“What, pretty
girl?” He tested again, and she responded wildly. He smiled. “Dusty Owens,
you’re full of surprises. Perhaps you’re not such a bad girl after all.” He
reached up with his mouth and nibbled her bottom lip. “Maybe all you really
want is to be my pretty girl.”

“Col…” She tried
to cry out his name as her body convulsed against him. Distinguishing the look
on her beautiful face, he rolled his wet thumb over her clitoris, quickened the
thrust of his middle finger, and pulled her head down into his shoulder to
muffle the sound as she finally let go.

“That’s it. Cum
for me, my pretty girl.” He continued to rub, probe, and hold her close against
him until she wept her last cry, until the trembling subsided, until her
breathing finally evened out. She fell into his body, and he wrapped his arms
around her. He held her tightly, knowing in his heart that eventually, once
again, he’d have to let her go.

Chapter
Six

Dusty stood on
the porch holding her purse, caught in a daze. Sure, she was home, but part of
her was still trapped up on that balcony, enjoying a long-overdue orgasm, courtesy
of the Saint’s wickedly talented hand. The pleasure maker hadn’t gone away
either. He was close. She could feel the heat of his presence tracing her
backside.

Sissy waved at
her as Jimmy’s car backed out of the driveway.

Colden’s hand
gently swept across Dusty’s naked back as he pulled her hair aside. Every nerve
in her body danced from the touch. The cool night air caressed her skin just
before his voice rasped, hot and low and right into her ear, “Dusty girl, lift
your hand and wave goodbye to your cousin.”

Again she obeyed
Colden’s smooth command. Her hand rose to bid farewell to Sissy and Jimmy as
they pulled away from the house, leaving her alone with the manipulator of her
every movement. As the car disappeared from the road, she wanted to turn around
and face Colden, to confront him, to inform him that what happened back at the
opera house was a one-time thing. He’d broken her heart six years ago, and
Dusty would be damned if he’d get the chance to do it again—a tidbit, of
course, that she’d never tell him. She didn’t need him to know how bad he’d
hurt her or how much power he truly had over her.

But the chance
to clear the air escaped her when she felt the warmth of Colden’s lips touch
her bare shoulder. Hot shivers flowed through her body. The feel of his
feathery lips moved up her neck. Falling under his seductive spell, she arched
to give him better access. His hot breath passed over her ear, and his skilled
tongue followed close behind. Another eruption of heat rolled over her skin. It
rippled to her brain and ignited her badly behaving hormones, again producing a
wetness between her legs.

She’d thought
the orgasm in the opera house would’ve sedated her neglected hormones for a
while, fat chance. They were reproducing like crazy, begging for more. Her lack
of panties only intensified the awareness of what Colden James could do to her
with nothing more than a kiss. She had to get away from his hot breath, gifted
lips, and manipulative words.

Turning from
him, she searched for the keys in her purse and hurriedly began making her way
to the door. Colden had let her go. A small part of her wished he hadn’t. She
stopped to insert the key but the door creaked open.

Before Dusty
could figure out if she’d forgotten to lock it, Colden had pushed her away from
it. One strong hand pinned her to the house while the other reached down and
pulled a gun from his pant leg
.

Wait…Colden
has…a gun? Oh my God
!
He’s been armed all this time?

“What the—”

Before she could
finish the sentence, the hand that was holding her to the house shifted up and
covered her mouth.

He pressed
himself against her, and a finger fell over his lips. The firmness in his eyes
hushed her. He twisted around and did a quick inspection of their surroundings
before he glanced over his shoulder. “Take your shoes off,” he ordered in a low
whisper.

“What?”

“As sexy as they
are,” he said, with a slow grin spreading over his face, “they make too much
noise. Take ‘em off.”

Not about to
argue, she reached down and slipped off her sandals.

“Good girl.” He
winked, but then his tone turned grave and serious. “Now grab my shirt and hold
on. No matter what happens, don’t let go.”

He waited until
she gave him an affirmative nod. Something had changed in him. No longer was he
the playful cocky St. James. He reeked of competence and fearlessness, a tower
of indestructible strength. He turned from her and, using both hands, lifted
the gun. His biceps puffed out, and the ink stretched across his tan skin. The
way he held the gun hinted that Colden was no stranger to handling the weapon.

Do all
paper-pushers get a gun? Do the Feds train their desk agents too? Maybe they
do, just in case the agent is ever needed out in the field. That was the only
reason she could fathom why Colden looked so capable with the gun.

As he slowly
moved toward the door, she decided she was thankful for the government’s
investment in proper training. She was sure he was overreacting and that no
intruders were there, as Odessa was a quiet town and with a low, nearly
nonexistent crime rate, but there was something comforting about having him
there to protect her, just in case. She’d been so distracted by Colden’s
smoldering good looks that she was sure she’d forgotten to lock the door behind
her. Even if someone was inside, though, Dusty had to admit she felt damn safe
going in with Colden.

She grasped his
t-shirt and tried to stay in synch with Robocop as they entered her living
room. With each calculated step, in steady hands, the gun swept the place.

As they walked
farther, through the room and into the hallway, Colden stopped. Tension seemed
to be dripping from the air around them like a thick, humid fog. He circled the
area with astute eyes, then brought his gaze back to her. He nodded his head
toward the sofa and mouthed, “Over there.” He then turned from her and
concentrated on something in the hallway.

Dusty didn’t
linger. Apparently, whatever had caught Colden’s attention had inspired him to
send her away, and as he’d said, no matter what, she wasn’t supposed to let go
of his shirt. She stood by the sofa, the fabric held in a white-knuckled grasp.

Colden glanced
at her, and his brow furrowed. “Get behind it!” he mouthed.

As if she could
read his mind, she shot him a vicious look and shimmied between the wall and
the couch.

His eyes
darkened. “Down!” His upper lip curled with the voiceless word.

Dusty could have
sworn she’d heard a bark in that silent growl. She crouched, lowering to the
floor, until all she could see was the back of the sofa.

A few seconds
slowly ticked by, and then there was a
click
.

“Don’t make a
move, DeSanto,” Colden’s voice casually advised, calling the intruder by name.

“All right, all
right. You got me, Johnny,” the unfamiliar voice snidely responded.

Johnny? Who’s
Johnny? Is there somebody else in here?
Confused and frightened, Dusty
reached for the top of the sofa. She was tempted to sneak a peek over it, but
convinced herself to stay put, since Colden had seemed pretty adamant about her
staying down.

“Lower your gun
to the floor!”

There was a
pause.

“Good. Now push
it away from you.”

The
swoosh
of metal sliding across the tile floor hit Dusty’s ears.

“Now lift your
hands and stand up.”

There was
another pause and a bit of scuffling around.

“Move!” Colden
said in a commanding manner, a tone quite different than the one he used to
have Dusty at his beck and call.

While she wasn’t
able to see what was going on, Dusty sensed that something was terribly wrong.
In that moment, she had to question just who the hell Colden James really was.
He had a gun, for Christ’s sake! A freaking gun! And he had it strapped on the
entire time he was out to dinner! It dawned on her that even while his hand had
been nestled between her legs, the barrel of that weapon had only been inches
away. What reason could he possibly have had to carry that thing into the
restaurant?

She began to
ponder what she really knew about Colden. She’d been naïve enough to think she
could trust him, but he’d been gone for six whole years, and there was no doubt
that he’d changed. She didn’t know the man who was standing in her house
holding a gun, the man who had obviously brought trouble to her sanctuary. And
now there was not just one gun in her home but two, the one Colden was holding
and the one the intruder had brought with him.

But who was this
intruder anyway, and what did he want? Was Colden into something…illegal?
Regardless, she couldn’t stick around to find out. The first chance she got,
Dusty had to get out of there, to get as far away as she could from Colden.

“Stop! Yeah,
hold it right there.” The sound of Colden’s voice was close. “Don’t move. Don’t
even twitch. You got me, DeSanto?”

“Yeah, Johnny. I
got ya,” the stranger said, clearly unaware of Colden’s real name.

Again, Dusty was
confused by the alias. She bit her lower lip, almost to the point of drawing
blood, wondering what the answers were to all her sudden questions.

“Dusty, come on
out.”

She wanted to
jump up from behind the couch and run away. It took a great deal of mental
effort for her to get up slowly. Once she was on her feet, she took in the
scene. She’d never laid eyes on the man Colden was holding at gunpoint.

The scruffy man
with the greased-back hair smiled at her, a creepy grin if there ever was one.

Without taking
his eyes off the intruder, Colden said, “Go to my room, grab my duffle bag, and
then go pack yourself a bag, enough clothes for a few days.”

Baffled, she
just stared at him. She wondered if he planned to kidnap her. The fear of
creepy strange guy and the even stranger Colden, aka Johnny, was quickly
overturned by a raging anger that snapped her backbone straight. She was done
taking orders. She wanted answers, and there was no way she was going anywhere
with Colden, especially not anyplace far enough away to require that she pack a
bag. “I’ll do no such thing! In fact, I’m not doing anything until you tell me
who this man is, who Johnny is, and what the hell is going on here!”

“We don’t have
time for this.” Colden’s eyes shifted to her. “Just do what I say.”

She crossed her
arms over her chest. “No!”

“If you don’t,
I’ll be forced to do it myself. Then, to keep you safe, I’ll have to shoot
him.” Colden’s arms straightened as he aimed the gun.

“You wouldn’t!”
she shrieked, panicking at the idea of a man being shot in her home.

“Uh, yeah,
lady…this guy would,” the intruder stuttered. “Please just go get the bags.”

She ignored
creepy-guy and focused on Colden. “What’s wrong with you? You’d kill some guy
in my home just because I refuse to do what you ask?” She couldn’t believe it
or him. He was definitely not the do-gooder who had left Odessa six years
earlier.

“You’re right.”
Colden grimaced. “It’d make it hard for you to live here if I killed somebody
right in the middle of your living room, wouldn’t it?” He shrugged. “I’ll just
maim him then, maybe shoot ‘im in the leg.” He turned back to the man. “I’m
feeling generous, DeSanto. You choose. Left or right?”

“Aw, man! C’mon,
lady!” creepy-guy pleaded.

Dusty just stood
there with her mouth agape, not sure what to do or say.

“Please just do
what he says. Just go get the bags. I need both of my legs, lady!”

Colden glanced
at her. “He thinks he’ll need them to run when he tries to escape, but believe
me, sweetheart, he’s not going anywhere.” He arched an eyebrow. “So what’s it
gonna be, Dusty? You gonna be a good girl and let this guy keep both of his
legs, or are you still feeling a little naughty today? Either way, those bags
are going to be out here in about three minutes. It’s up to you who goes to get
them, me or you.”

The resolute
look in his eyes convinced Dusty that he wasn’t bluffing, that he had every
intention of following through with the threat. So to save the creepy-guy’s
limb, she clenched her hands and stomped off to get the bags. A few minutes
later, she huffed loudly and dropped the bags on the floor. “There. Satisfied?”
she snapped.

Colden’s cocky
smile infuriated her further. “Not quite yet, Dusty girl. I need some rope.”

She opened her
mouth to tell him exactly where he could go, but she couldn’t get a word out
before he cut her off.

“Uh-uh,” he
said, silencing her with cautionary eyes. “There’s no need to argue with me
about this. If you don’t do it, the end result will be the same. Just be a good
girl and get me the rope…and be quick about it.”

Dusty walked out
to the garage to look for the rope. She thought about running, but worried if
she tried, Colden would have no other choice but to shoot the man so he could
chase after her. She’d have to wait for another opportunity, after Colden tied
the man up, as she was assuming that was why he wanted with the rope. Still
angry, she entered the living room and tossed the rope at his feet.

“Thanks.” He
bent down, picked up the rope, and threw it at the intruder. “Tie up your
feet…and make it nice and tight now.”

Without any
protest, as if he knew that trying to fight Colden would be a losing battle, creepy-guy
did as he was told.

“Come over here,
Dusty,” Colden said, keeping his weapon leveled at DeSanto. “It’s okay.” He
looked at her from over his shoulder. “I’m not gonna hurt you. C’mere.”

She stared at
him, reluctant to believe another word he said.

Once the
intruder’s feet were secured by the rope, Colden turned to her again. “Okay,
here.” He stretched out his arm, offering her the gun. “Take it.”

The offer
coerced her feet to slowly walk toward him.

“Do you know how
to use a gun?”

She nodded.
Mechanical bull-riding wasn’t her only hobby. From time to time, she was known
to go shooting with Odessa’s six-pack of heartbreaking hellions. She reached
out and took the gun from Colden.

“I’m gonna tie
up his hands. If he makes a move, don’t think twice. Just shoot. Got it?”

Again, she
nodded. She tightly clenched the grip in her hand as Colden turned to tend to
the intruder. She glanced down to inspect the gun, gazing at what might be her
only opportunity for escape.

* * * * *

“He’s gonna find
you, Agent James,” DeSanto taunted as Colden wrapped the rope around his
wrists, leaving no doubt that his cover had been blown.