Pretty Shameless, page 17
part #2 of Deputy Laney Briggs Series
He gave me a questioning look. “What?”
“I was just shooting the bull with my mom and your dad.”
That garnered me a gut-buster smile.
“Your mom and my old man?” he said. “And you’re bragging about it?”
“Shut up.” I laughed, nudging him in the arm.
“I’m sorry. Go on,” he said.
“You used to be slicker. I guess you’re losing your edge,” I told him.
Luke’s widemouthed grin broadened some more. It was impressive.
“Nope.” He rocked back in his boots. “You’ve just seen all my moves.” He gestured toward my truck. “How about I walk you to your truck?”
“You’re too kind, Luke.”
“Unlike some men we both know,” he said, looking hard at me.
“Stop it,” I said, knowing exactly who he was talking about.
“All right. All right. I’m sorry.” He was always willing to go head to head, the hard-ass. But he surprised me right after that by offering his arm to escort me to the truck. “Shall we?”
“Let’s do,” I answered, grabbing on and walking beside the man that I was certain would one day find a way of breaking my heart into pieces. And that look of pained pleasure on Luke Wagner’s face told me he also knew it all too well.
“Hey.” Luke threw a wrench in our quiet stroll. “Did you hear that Hannah Roberts was picked up by a state trooper outside Midland?”
Hannah Roberts taught kindergarten with me back in the day, and she’d always had a sex drive that hummed in one direction…toward Gunner Wilson. For practical matters we never saw eye to eye. Not to mention, she was the pastor’s godchild.
I stalled in my tracks and turned to face him. “What did Hannah get arrested for?” I smiled. “Carrying too many Bibles?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Nope.” That snake-charmer grin grew as big as the Grand Canyon. “Hannah was arrested at some big-city rich dude’s house during a swinger party raid.”
My throat turned to cotton. “Wait,” I strangled out a reply. “How did you hear about this, Luke? Don’t tell me you swing both ways?”
He snorted. “I only swing for one girl,” he said, the contours of his face hardening as he licked his lips, taking me in. “But if she’s into a certain kind of kink, who am I to deny her such pleasantries.”
I gulped. “Thanks for letting me know about Hannah.”
“No problem,” he said.
“Yep,” I nodded. “I need to keep a tally on the criminals running amuck in town.”
He laughed, picking up the pace. “Like me?” He tossed me an indecent wink.
I looked sideways at him. “That’s why I keep you on such a short leash.”
Mr. Bad-boy Rancher enjoyed that remark. He smiled, his hard, sun-blistered face softened just a tad. I loved that look. It felt like home.
“I knew you enjoyed my company.”
We were walking toward my truck, and I was about to tell him how much I appreciated having him around lately, when out of nowhere the calm winter sky lit up like the Fourth of July, and we were both thrown back on our asses by an explosion. My ears were ringing, a cold sweat lingered on my neck, I was disoriented, and my palms burned. Sprawled flat on my back beneath a solid wall of white T-shirt and with a pounding heart I tried to figure out what the hell just happened. I turned my head to the side, zeroing in on my groceries strewn about the parking lot. Before I had a chance to let everything sink in, Luke clutched me by the arm and pointed at my truck. In its place was a heaping fireball of smoking metal. Someone had blown my truck to smithereens.
Looking in complete astonishment and horror at my burning and smoldering truck, I finally collected my thoughts. Luke shifted his weight and leaped to his boots. Determined to not let this nasty event get the best of me I choose to mask my discomfort. Standing up on shaky legs and brushing off my pants and shirt, I glanced over at Luke.
“You all right?” he asked, the concern evident in his tone, his hand on my elbow.
It took me a second to answer him. At the moment, I was double-checking to make damn sure all my limbs were still intact. I swiped a piece of gravel off my check and finally answered, voice trembling a little more than I desired, “I’m fine. And you?”
“Yeah. I’m okay,” he told me, picking his hat up off the ground and putting it back on his head.
He looked me up and down. “What the fuck just happened?”
“Luke, I wanna thank you for the talk we just had.”
He raised an eyebrow while adjusting the brim of his cowboy hat. “Why do you wanna thank me for that right now?”
“Because that talk just saved my life.”
Chapter Fifteen
By the time the volunteer fire department graced us with their presence, the flames engulfing my truck were fizzling out into a hazy smoke screen. Unfortunately, not only had the explosion put my truck out of its misery, it took out the windows and windshields of the cars parked around it, including that rat bastard Mitch Wagner’s truck. Of course, the explosion had also caused all the nosy residents of Pistol Rock to crawl out from under their rocks, crowding the parking lot. Shortly after my little brush with death, Elroy had rolled on to the scene, trying to put on his best tough-guy face. He waddled over to Luke and me perched on the sidewalk and took a seat.
He gave us a disapproving look. “So which one of y’all’s idea was it to go piss off Willie King?”
Even Elroy was able to piece together what was going on. I pointed at Luke. “His,” I stated, gesturing toward Luke.
“No. It was my idea to go in there acting like we were buying a car,” he answered back.
“Yeah, but, Luke…” I cocked my head, gesturing at Elroy and praying like hell he thought Luke single-handedly pushed Willie’s buttons. “While we were in there you managed to piss him off.”
“No,” Luke said, flatly. “I’m pretty sure you are the one who told him the feds might find it necessary to investigate his funds.”
“Where’s one of your damn toothpicks when it’s needed?” I asked.
Thirty minutes later we were still hunkered down in the parking lot, discussing the messy situation at hand. And the conversation had come to a dead end.
“What we need to do is drag Wyatt in kicking and screaming,” Elroy said.
“Tell me, again,” Luke asked, “why the hell are you still here?”
“You need me,” Elroy answered.
Luke eyed him down. “Need you for what?”
“Well, I’m the sheriff. It’s my job.” Elroy kicked a pebble and started mumbling. He stared at the ground a moment longer before he continued talking. “We’ve got ourselves a big problem here. That ninny cousin of yours has brought some shit to our peaceful small town. And running around with our heads between our legs isn’t cutting it. We need to regroup with Gunner and find out exactly what he has on Willie King,” Elroy said, “because I’m plum tired and need a vacation from this shit.”
“Fine,” I told Elroy. “Gunner should be home tonight, and I’ll get an answer out of him one way or another.”
Luke nudged my elbow. “Do you want me to stick around your place until he gets back?”
“No.” I shrugged. “I already texted him, and he’s on his way.”
Elroy rustled to his feet and added, “Let’s get the parking lot cleared before somebody gets hurt.”
I watched him walk over to the crowd and start hee-hawing with some of his buddies that he went with to the Sonic in Odessa on weekends.
I turned to Luke and gave him a tired, defeated smile.
“There’s nothing I can do for you, then?” he asked, sincerely concerned for me.
“There is something you could do.”
“Sure. What is it?”
“You could give me a lift.”
“Can’t you take your own car?”
“That’s not even funny, Luke,” I said, jabbing him in the arm.
He grinned behind the blond hair hanging in his face and said, “Come on. I’ll take you home.”
As the night had started to wind down, all the stores were locked up tight and the main drag of town was about as lively as a Barry Manilow concert on PBS. I pressed a cheek to the hot window and watched the street lamps fly by as we coasted down Center Street, the fact that Willie King was trying to kill me, or at the very least intimidate the shit out of me, weighing heavily on my mind. Luke gunned the pickup down the narrow gravel path that led to my house. He parked on top of my patchy lawn and left the engine running. My butt lurched forward in my seat, and my eyes locked on Luke with his blue eyes staring straight back at me, betraying his fear and love behind them. Snap out of it, Briggs. In my vulnerable state I knew this was not the time to let my emotions get the best of me.
“Home sweet home,” he said.
I pushed open the truck door. “Thanks for the lift.”
The gut-puncher smile grew as he nodded his head to say “you’re welcome.” “You sure you’ll be all right?”
“Yeah. Like I said, Gunner is—”
“On his way,” he interrupted. “I know.”
“Besides, I’m just gonna go to bed, so…”
Luke was looking into the windshield, staring at nothing, and then he turned to me and smiled quickly. I jumped out of the cab with my grocery bag tucked under my arm.
“Try to stay out of trouble,” I told him.
“You, too.” He tipped his hat at me.
I slammed the door, took a step back, and watched the dust spread from underneath the tires as he barreled out the drive. After his truck disappeared down FM 167, I went inside and concluded tossing back a beer was at the top of my list before trying to get hold of Gunner again. The Shiners I had bought back when I still owned a truck were now hot, but I found a beer hanging out in the back of the fridge, palling around with the week-old milk and moldy tortillas. I jerkily twisted the Bud Light open and brought the bottle to my mouth. With clammy hands and a set of shaky legs, I chugged. Still, I was nowhere near relaxed. The problem was I’d caught a bug, and the only way to kill this bug was with the help of a dick. The sooner I nailed Gunner’s ass, the better off we’d all be. I was fixing to dial my deadbeat boyfriend again when the back door swung open, stalling my impending breakdown. The phone fell from my hand as I spun around and saw a pair of black cowboy boots making a home on my doormat. He locked those primal brown eyes with mine like a tiger getting ready to pounce on a zebra.
I took a step, but before I made any traction two muscular arms wrapped around my waist, and my mouth collided head on with a set of lips intent on soothing my jittery nerves. Raw, passionate heat poured between us. And he ravished me. The forceful kiss exploded into a slow, seductive dance. This moment was bigger than my near-death experience. He was proving to me how hard he loved me. And shit, did I need each and every single contact his mouth made with mine. Under the florescent lighting of the tiny kitchen, we stood in a tangled embrace as our teeth clashed, and our hands frantically grabbed at clothing. Slowly rolling his tongue along my bottom lip, Gunner worshiped my mouth with a light sensual touch. And there was no other place I’d rather be than lost in his arms. He cared. More than anything he worried about me, and most days I needed to know I meant more to him than a nice place to lay his head.
When he finally broke the kiss I stood there slack against the counter’s edge, drowning in the depths of his concerned eyes. As I was about to speak, Gunner put a halt to it by casually stroking his thumb down my cheek, and saying, “Sorry it took me so long. I was putting in a call to the Odessa police station to signal an APB on Willie King. That bastard put you in danger,” he said, tightening his hold around my waist. He looked me up and down, slowly but thoroughly. “Shit, I could have lost you.”
Tears welled in my eyes. “I know, but Luke was there, and then Elroy showed up.”
The sadness in his face turned grim. “Luke can’t be trusted.” He squeezed my arms. “Fuck.” He cursed under his breath. “If something had happened to you, I don’t know what the hell I’d do.”
For years a battle had been brewing between Luke Wagner and my overprotective boyfriend. Gunner could deny it all he wanted, but deep down I knew one of the many reasons he returned to Pistol Rock was to hammer the final nail in Luke Wagner’s coffin. But it didn’t matter how big of a grudge Gunner held against Luke, I respected the man. Luke could be a sorry asshole, but he was my sorry asshole. Not to mention a damn fine friend. He’d been there for me when Gunner felt the need to bail instead holding my hand. And most important—no matter the bad taste the Wagner name left behind—Luke cared.
“You can think what you want, but he saved my life today.”
“Fine,” he grunted. “But the man’s still a prick in my book.”
I leaned in closer and went for the kill, rubbing and squeezing his toned, tense arms. He let out an exasperated breath, his shoulders dipped, relaxing back against the chair, and his hat fell forward, keeping his deep, dark eyes hidden.
“Tonight you’ve got a lot of work ahead of you,” I murmured into his ear, allowing my hand to wander toward that faded zipper fly.
His moan told me all I needed to know. It was time. I snuggled against his wide, sturdy chest and rested my hand on his expanding cock. He murmured with pleasure and fell in line, placing a hand on my thigh.
Gunner shucked the hat and lazily ran a hand through his thick brown hair, saying between gasps that coincided with the down strokes I gave his cock, “I’ve never had a problem with putting in a little overtime.”
“A little overtime?” I teased, my voice shaking with every movement of my arm. “Oh no. I plan on working you all night.”
Truth be told, I’ve never been that great at sharing my feelings, and right now the idea of sex had a pleasant I-don’t-have-to-spill-my-fucking-guts ring to it.
He laid his chin on my shoulder and looked deeply into my eyes. “I’m very curious to know how this evening is supposed to play out, Laney.”
“You won’t be disappointed; I promise.” I fumbled with his huge belt buckle. Then something really peculiar happened to me. I started thinking about Wyatt and all the bullshit that had rained down, from the drug Molly to Willie King and the dropped murder charges. I’d been working really hard to find him an out. So hard, in fact, that I had kicked up enough stones to where I finally unearthed the wrong one and damn near gotten myself blown up. So there I was in the heat of some serious foreplay, and I couldn’t get this one single burning question out of my mind.
“Tell me, Gunner,” I said, hooking my fingers around the waist of those naughty Wranglers. “Did you know about Wyatt’s arrest in Lubbock before I mentioned it at Rusty’s the other night?”
His face suddenly looked long and heavy from the day’s work. “Can I be honest, sweetheart?” he said, trying to reel me in with his heart-crushing smile.
I faked a smile back at him. “You can try for a change, sure.”
“The Ranger’s office got a call today that Wyatt had been released from Lubbock county lockup.” He eyed me. “No. I knew nothing about your cousin’s arrest until…” He caught himself in midsentence and grabbed my hand, removing it at least a finger length away from his dick. “Just taking precautions, Laney,” he told me, smiling so blissfully unaware of the firestorm that was fixing to shower down on him. “The word on the street is that Wyatt intends on making amends with Willie. My boss is trying to get a line on Wyatt so we can let him lead us to Willie.”
“Was I going to be included in this takedown?” I asked. “Seeing how it’ll be my ass in the frying pan if my mother doesn’t get her money back.”
He just nodded. And as I should have known, words weren’t always that necessary for him to get his message across. Gunner snaked an arm around my waist and backed me up against the wall. His hot breath eased down my neck, and his leg found a home pressed into my stomach. I was a loose cannon—pissed, wired, and still frustratingly horny. But like always, Gunner understood the right buttons to push. And when his hand slipped under my shirt, I felt my stomach tremble. I pathetically tried to scoot those nosy fingers back to where they belonged. Nothing seemed to work because they just kept dancing toward my hard nipples, which always blew my cover.
He pressed his nose into the crook of my neck. “I know. But aren’t you at all curious as to where I was today?” he mumbled through a kiss.
I was definitely getting punished here. That burning itch between my thighs was criminal. God, the man was a sickness. I placed my hands on the black T-shirt stretched to the max across his broad chest and wet my lips.
“You’ve got one chance,” I told him, before I felt that massive erection stick me in the gut.
Gunner tossed me a deadly smile and unsnapped my jeans. “Well, sweetheart,” he said, taking his god-awful time unzipping me. He paused to soak in the heated look in my eyes. And then he finally added, “I’ve been cooking up a plan on how to get your cousin to come out of the woodwork. Not to mention, Willie King’s a dead man for messing with you.”
I shoved my knee at his zipper fly and ground my thigh against the thick bulge trying to hide behind those ass-hugging Wranglers. “It’s good you’re thinking ahead. I feel so much safer now,” I remarked.
A deep, throaty laugh boomed through the silent kitchen. Then he kissed the nape of my neck, tickling my sensitive skin with his five o’clock shadow.
“I’m gonna do what it takes to protect my girl.” He paused to take another nip at my neck.
“Oh, so I’m your girl now?”
“Damn straight.”
“Well, what your girl wants right now isn’t protecting.”
“Then tell me what my girl wants.”
I licked my lips. “Your ass against the wall,” I said, giving his jeans a greedy look. “And lose the Wranglers, cowboy.”
Hours later as we laid flat on our backs, leg-locked on the kitchen floor, and laughing so hard my ribs were tender to the touch, I finally saw all the reasons my Texas Ranger snagged my heart as a keeper so many years ago. God, those wicked brown eyes were a deadly fever. From the moment he’d asked if that seat in the lunchroom was empty he’d had me sipping on a Gunner Wilson cocktail: a sinful mixture of a bad-ass, hard-loving Southern gentleman.
