Runaway Cowboy (11 page)

She could almost read the thoughts going through his mind. He would let her go but wanted her hands pinned behind her in case she decided to lash out again. How could he not realize that she just wanted to run her hands through his hair and draw his mouth to hers? Couldn't he feel the change in her body, the way she felt it in his?

“I'm so sorry.” Clay's forehead fell forward, laying his head against her shoulder, his face turned toward her neck. His breath was hot on her skin, heating her already molten core, making her shiver. “I should have never left you.”

His lips brushed against her collarbone as he spoke, and she felt his tears burning against her skin. “It's not what you think. I swear. I'm sorry, Jen. It was never because I didn't love you.”

Why was she fighting the feelings she could never hold back? This was Clay. She'd loved him since the first moment she saw him across their corral. She slid her hands from his grasp and curled her fingers into his hair, needing to touch him, offering comfort and forgiveness in her touch. Her arms circled his massive shoulders, her hands playing over the muscles as she stroked him, trying to soothe the raw anguish she could hear in his words and could feel vibrating in his body.

She still didn't know who the woman in the house was, but she knew she couldn't be Clay's wife or girlfriend. He might be a lot of things, but a cheater wasn't one of them. While the cynic in her reminded her not to trust him, her heart beat out a different order: just love him.

He must have finally noticed the change in her because he fell to his knees, his face against her stomach with his arms wrapped around her waist. Jen couldn't still the yearning that pulsed through her veins. She longed for what they had, what she'd
thought
they had, so long ago. Five years was a long time to live with the sting of rejection and abandonment, to erect a wall around her heart to protect herself, and she was sure she'd made it strong enough to withstand anything. Clay's confession, the defeat in his body language, broke through it with the force of a jackhammer, leaving the entire thing in ruins. When he looked up, her hands cupped his face of their own accord, needing to touch him. “Clay,” she whispered.

She had no idea what she was about to say but didn't get the chance as he stood and covered her mouth with his own. His lips were gentle, tender, brushing hers as if he were afraid she would disappear. It was a first kiss all over again, filled with hope and longing. It made her heart ache, and her tears fell as it dredged up memories of regret and loss.

She curved her hands around his neck. Now wasn't the time for sweet memories. Later she would allow herself to feel the remorse, the sorrow for what they'd lost. Right now she wanted all of him. She swept her tongue into his mouth and he groaned, his chest rumbling against her. Clay's touch grew desperate as his hands ran up the sides of her ribcage, lifting her shirt from the waistband of her jeans. She clutched at him, knowing if she let him go now, this moment would never return.

Clay's hands—sweet heaven, those calloused hands that drove her mad—slid under her shirt and over her back. She arched against him, the need a physical pain with only one cure. She could feel his erection through his clothing as his arm circled her, holding her flush against him. Every inch of him embraced her, as if she were a missing part of him. His mouth found her throat, and she dropped her head back against the wall, allowing him to take whatever he wanted as long as he wouldn't stop.

“Please,” she whispered.

She wasn't even sure what she was begging for but prayed he would figure it out, and quickly. She felt him smile against the flesh of her neck as his hand moved from her back to cup her breast. Brushing aside the thin cotton of her bra, his thumb brushed over the hard peak and she melted, her knees giving way. She would have fallen had he not held her with his own body, pinning her against the wall.

Chapter Seven

C
LAY KNEW HE
had to stop this. Seeing the anguish in her eyes, the anger fueled by the pain of the past had brought him to his knees. He loved this woman, had always loved her, but leaving had hurt her. And he was about to do it again.

He couldn't stay; Candie's presence was proof of that. If she could track him down here, then her shady creditors could, too, and that was too dangerous. If he didn't stop this now, Jen would hate him even more when he left.

Would that be a bad thing?

Even he had to admit, despising him would make it easier on her when he left. She would be justified in her anger, and her brothers would probably kick his ass before he got down the driveway this time. But in the long run, it would be safer for them all if he took Candie and went as far away as they could.

Right now, his body was rebelling. Every part of him wanted to feel her against him, to have her wrapped around him, enveloping him, holding him. He wanted to bury himself into her, to hear her cry out his name with pleasure instead of spitting it out with hate. As much as he wanted her—and his body throbbed with need—Clay knew he couldn't make love to her and then walk away again, leaving her regretting what only he knew was real. Unfortunately, his body wasn't cooperating with his brain. Instead of taking a step away from her, his hand curved around her breast, his thumb teasing the peak, sending shock waves of electricity through him. His other hand slid down her back, caressing her flesh, the feel of her under his palms making him want more as he tasted her, his mouth finding her throat, her jaw, her lips. The more he touched her, the more lost he became and the less he wanted to listen to the common sense that would protect them both.

He heard the commotion outside before his brain registered the noise at the house. His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. The yelling in the front yard finally broke through the haze of his desire.

“What the hell?” He looked out the barn door over the horse's back to see his sister being dragged from the front porch by two men. “Stay here,” he warned, grasping Jen's arms until he saw she understood the seriousness of the situation.

“But, what's—”

“I mean it, Jen. Don't leave this barn for any reason. Get into one of the stalls or lock yourself in the office, and stay there until I come back.” He shoved his phone into her hand. “Call the police and tell them to get out here
now
.”

“But—”

“Just do it. I'll explain later.” He ran a hand over her cheek and wished he had time to tell her everything.
Please don't let anyone find her in here.

Clay ran out the back of the barn, wishing they were back in Texas where he had a concealed weapon permit. Here in California, he was just going to have to hope his brains and his fists would be enough of a defense to keep everyone safe.

He didn't recognize the two men dragging Candie by her arms to a large SUV. The smaller of the two was skinny but looked wiry. While he appeared to be calling the shots, Clay was more concerned with the other man, who was a match for him size-wise and looked like the muscle of the operation. This situation screamed danger, and he wasn't sure whether to make his presence known or to use the element of surprise.

His gaze snapped to the porch as Scott and Derek bolted from the front door. Scott was leveling a shotgun at the men. “Let her go!” he yelled.

Clay had never been more grateful for his friend. While Scott distracted the pair, Clay moved behind the corral, circling to the back of the black SUV he'd been too preoccupied to hear arriving. He ducked by its back tire.

“Put it down, cowboy, or we'll kill her.” The muscle wound an arm around Candie's neck, making her look like a gazelle in the jaws of a lion.

Scott lowered the gun to his side.

“Smart move. Get her in the car,” Skinny ordered his partner. “We'll send someone back to deal with them later.”

“Stop it, D. You know I don't like it rough.” His sister's smart mouth never ceased to amaze Clay. He watched as she tried to break Muscle's grasp on her, but he twisted her arm higher on her back, between her shoulder blades, until she yelped in pain as he pushed her toward the vehicle. Clay prayed Mike and Silvie wouldn't come back from town until after the police arrived.

Please let the police get here soon.

Muscle-man shoved Candie against the driver's side of the car, and Clay heard her grunt of pain. “I was just on my way to see you guys.”

“Get in. Unless you want to see your friends dead, quit jabbering and go where we want you to go.”

“I told you I was coming to get your money. You didn't even give me time to get it.”

Clay prayed his sister was playing a role for these thugs. He didn't want to believe she would have conned him for money, but it wouldn't be the first time if she had. He squatted at the back bumper of the SUV, still hidden from view, trying to figure out a way to stall the two thugs until the police arrived. The ranch was a ways out of town, and these two could be long gone before the cops even realized the severity of the situation. He felt the folding knife in his pocket jam against his hipbone. If he could cut the wall of the tire deep enough to flatten it without notice, they wouldn't get far. He pulled the knife out and opened it.

He saw Muscle-man grab his sister by the cheeks with one massive-sized hand. “You're not that good a con, sweets.” The man laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “Now you can dance at the club to pay your debt.”

“Just get her into the car!” Skinny gave the order and opened the back door of the SUV.

Clay knew he didn't have time to waste. He wiggled the pocket knife against the wall of the tire, easing it through the rubber before moving forward to the passenger door. He had to hurry up if he wanted to get away before they noticed him. The SUV shifted as Candie was forcefully shoved into the back and Muscle-man climbed in after her.

Skinny started the engine and Clay backpedaled away from the car, intent on getting behind the shrubs that lined the corral near the driveway. He dove behind the brush, knowing that Scott and Derek had to have seen him but praying the two men hadn't. Now, if he could just get Jen into the house safely.

“What the . . . ” The door of the SUV slammed, and Clay glanced over his shoulder in time to see Skinny come around the front of the vehicle to see the rapidly flattening tire. “Get her out!” He gave the order as he looked around the premises for the culprit.

He turned to Scott, pulling out his handgun. “Give me the keys to the truck.”

“No.” Scott lifted the shotgun to his shoulder.

“Look, we don't want any trouble from you. We have what we came for.”

Skinny gestured toward Candie with his gun as the other man dragged her out of the car.

“Let her go,” Scott repeated, his voice steady.

Clay couldn't leave Scott to handle these guys. He glanced back at the barn and saw Jen edging out of the office into the aisleway. If he could see her, so could the men. Damn if she didn't look ready to take them on, too. He had to do something before they spotted her. Without caring about the consequences, Clay moved out from his hiding place and stepped onto the driveway.

“Here. Take mine.” Both men spun, dragging Candie with them, as they turned toward Clay. Candie's eyes widened, and he saw something in his sister's eyes he'd never seen before: fear. “Take my truck; it's yours, but let her go.”

Clay saw the flash of greed in Skinny's eyes. “Which one?”

He had the man's attention now and wondered how much money his sister owed this guy. Not that it mattered. If it kept her safe, kept them from noticing Jen in the barn, and left Scott and Derek unharmed, they could have the truck. No amount of money was worth his family in jeopardy.

“Black dually.” He reached into his pocket, eyeing the pair suspiciously and jingled the keys. “We trade the truck for her.”

“Take the truck,” Muscle-man whispered loudly. “It's worth way more than she owes.”

“Shut up.” Skinny shoved him, never taking his eyes off Clay. “Toss me the keys.”

“Let her go first.”

“You get her, and we leave with no trouble?”

Clay held his hands into the air. “You're the one with the gun, man.”

Scott slid the gun to his side as Skinny uncocked the pistol, put it into his jacket, and shoved Candie toward Clay. “Keys.” It wasn't a request.

Clay tossed the keys Skinny's way before catching his sister as she stumbled against him and guiding her back to the house. The two men ran for the truck, jumping inside. Clay was grateful for the “honor among thieves” mentality of these criminals as he urged Scott to get everyone inside. He could just hear sirens in the distance and knew, if those guys heard them, too, they were dead. He wasn't taking any chances with Jen still in the barn.

J
EN WATCHED FROM
the window of the office in the barn as Clay stood off with the two men, unable to breathe until she saw the gun concealed again. When Clay tossed his keys and rushed Candie back to the house, she wondered if everyone was just going to leave her alone in the barn. She was certain she'd convinced the police dispatcher that this was an emergency, but she had no idea how long it was going to take. Each second seemed to take an eternity to tick by. Clay's truck had barely backed up and started down the driveway, spraying gravel, when she heard the first sirens in the distance. When either of those two realized someone had called the police, they'd be worse off than when this whole mess first started. She wasn't about to leave Clay out there alone to deal with those men when they came back.

She left the office, running into the aisle and heading for the front of the barn. She didn't care that the men might see her. She just knew she had to warn Clay, make sure he was safe in the house as well.

“Jennifer, get back inside.”