I scoffed, the sound slipping out before I could stop it. “That’s really not necessary. I have a shotgun.”
Stryker’s gaze swung back to me, one dark brow lifting slightly. The look he gave me made me swallow the rest of my protest. “Already saw it.”
“And my grandpa taught me how to use it,” I added, lifting my chin.
“I’m sure he did.”
There was no missing the quiet certainty in his voice, but he still didn’t budge. And something told me that arguing any further would be pointless.
5
STRYKER
By the time the second patrol unit carried the three men toward county lockup, the last of the sunlight had stretched the barn’s shadow halfway across the yard. Trent Kessler sat hunched in the rear seat, staring at me through the glass with the hatred of a man who had learned too late that a warning from the Black Crowns wasn’t issued for dramatic effect.
I watched the cruiser disappear beyond the rise, then turned toward Jacqueline, who stood beside the barn rubbing one thumb over the crescent marks the shotgun had pressed into her palm. Otis’s flannel hung around her hips, drawing my eyes to a sliver of soft skin just above her jeans. My cock thickened behind my zipper with the same brutal insistence it had shown from the moment I first saw her.
I wanted to lift that shirt and kiss my way down until her legs opened around my shoulders and the only trembling left in her body came from my tongue. It was inconvenient as fuck that the first woman I’d ever looked at and instantly claimed had also decided to make concentration a full-time job.
“I want the barn, both access roads, and the surrounding acreage checked before we lose the light,” Sheriff Rainesordered, pulling nitrile gloves from his pocket. “Photograph anything that looks out of place before somebody puts a boot through it.”
“You planning to search several hundred acres with one deputy?” Hawkeye asked as he tugged on a pair of black riding gloves and glanced toward the ridge behind the barn.
“I was counting on heavily armed—all properly licensed, I’m sure—men in leather developing civic pride,” Raines returned.
“Cuts,” Hawkeye corrected. “Leather’s the material.”
Raines stared at him for a beat. “I’m aware of the distinction.”
The tension in the sheriff’s shoulders had eased when Ghost, Judge, four more brothers, and two prospects arrived, though he would’ve swallowed his badge before admitting it. He and I had worked the same territory long enough to understand the arrangement without discussing it. When evidence existed, we gave him what he could use. But when the system failed, he knew better than to become curious every time a predator abruptly left Southern California or lost the ability to hurt anyone else.
Raines’s gaze shifted toward Jacqueline before returning to me. “So? You helping me search, or are your men here to improve the scenery?”
“We’ll clear the property.” I placed my hand at the base of Jacqueline’s spine and turned her toward the farmhouse.
Her chin jutted out. “I know what belongs in the barns and which buildings my grandpa had used.”
“You can tell us from the porch.” I guided her across the yard with my palm steady against the curve above her ass. “We confirm nobody else is hiding on your land first.”
Jacqueline released a breath carrying more acceptance than annoyance before asking me to recover Otis’s missing post-hole digger if we found it. “He accused three people of stealing the thing before admitting he might’ve forgotten where he put it.”
“He hid it from himself twice,” I told her, and a small smile softened the fear lingering around her mouth.
“That sounds more accurate.” Then she looked at me curiously as she reached the bottom of the porch steps. “How did you?—”
Her words were cut off when I wrapped an arm around her waist, slid the other beneath her thighs, and picked her up before she could strain anything that would hurt worse by morning. Her breath caught and both arms circled my shoulders on instinct, color blooming across her cheeks as she informed me, “I have legs.”
“I noticed.” I climbed up the steps while her body settled against mine. “Believe me.”
“Then why are you carrying me?”
“Because I can.”
Her eyes widened at the blunt answer, but the sweet curve of her body softened against me instead of stiffening. My cock surged hard enough to make me lock my jaw as every filthy thought I’d been controlling roared back to life.
She weighed almost nothing in my arms, but there was strength beneath her softness. Several filthy possibilities were suddenly crowding my mind. When I lowered her onto the swing, my brain supplied several uses for it that had nothing to do with sitting.
Fucking hell.
