Clay: Armed and Dangerous (10 page)

He looked so damn sexy in only his jeans, his chest bare and hair mussed. Her palms
itched to touch him again, and she couldn’t wait to breathe deep of his masculine
scent.

For a while she was silent as she studied him, his muscles rippling in the soft lighting.
With efficient movements he cut up potatoes and placed them in a pot with water to
boil, then started putting together a salad with fixings he grabbed from the fridge.

Cocking her head to the side, she asked, “I’ve been wondering what you were doing
on my ranch that night we, ah, met.”

The corner of his mouth quirked into a smile as he chopped a tomato on a cutting board.
“When you were being a Peeping Tomasina?”

“Peeping Tomasina, huh?” A giggle escaped her before she could stop it. “Don’t tell
me you were being Tom.”

“Not intentionally.” He tossed the tomatoes into a bowl with lettuce greens. “I was
coming out to take your theft report myself, and to warn you off pulling any more
stunts with Guerrero. I wanted to see you again, so I told the deputies I’d do it,
then I got hung up with some emergencies and it got late.”

“Ah.” Rylie propped her elbow on the breakfast bar as she watched him, her chin resting
in her hand. “You wanted to see me again. I think I like that.” She gazed at him,
wanting more than that, more of him. “So, tell me about your family. Like how many
sisters you have.”

“Three.” Clay gave her a quick grin as he tossed the steaks onto the grill. “I’m the
oldest. I think that’s what got me interested in law enforcement—I was always on the
lookout for those girls. They were bound and determined to get into as much trouble
as possible, and I was determined to keep them out of it.”

“Uh-huh. An overprotective older brother.” Rylie smiled at the thought of Clay chasing
off his sisters’ boyfriends. “I have one of those. Levi made it known that if any
guys messed with me, he’d kick their asses.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes.
“Needless to say, it was not real good for my social life, considering Levi was one
of the buffest jocks in school.” Of course he’d saved her ass once, too, and they
had survived the collective hell that had been their warring parents together.

Was it her imagination, or did Clay’s eyes narrow at the mention of her brother’s
name?

But Clay just nodded and gave her a quick grin. “I bet he had to kick a lot of ass
to keep the guys away from you.”

“Yeah, right.” Rylie snorted. “I didn’t develop as fast as most girls, so I was more
like one of the guys. At least until I was a junior and my boobs actually decided
to grow, even if it was just a little bit.”

Clay’s eyes shot from the steaks to Rylie. “You’re perfect.” He set down the fork
he’d been holding, and in just a couple of steps, he was at her side. She caught her
breath as he lifted the shirt she was wearing and captured her breasts in his hands.
“Pert, beautiful nipples. And more than a mouthful.”

He ducked his head and suckled one of her hard nubs. Rylie gasped as he flicked his
tongue over her nipple, then gently pulled at it with his teeth, before moving to
the other breast. In the background, she could hear the sizzle of the steaks on the
grill and the hiss of water on the stovetop as the potatoes boiled over. But Clay
didn’t seem to care. His thumb found her sweet spot and he thrust his fingers into
her core.

Rylie slid her hands into his hair and held on, lost in the feelings he stirred within
her. A moan escaped her lips as he sucked and gently bit at each nipple while his
thumb teased her, his fingers still deep in her depths.

The orgasm flamed through her body, and she cried out from the searing pleasure of
her release. Her hips jerked against Clay’s hand as he continued to move his fingers
in and out.

“Stop.” She put her hands on his shoulders, her body throbbing. “No more.”

Clay eased his fingers from her core and raised his head. His eyes fixed on her and
he licked his fingers. Every slow stroke of his tongue was like he was touching her,
tasting her. She couldn’t stop trembling from her climax.

“Damn, you taste good.” He brushed his mouth over hers, his mustache tickling her
lips, the warmth of his breath adding heat to her blood. “I’d better see to dinner
before something burns,” he murmured, then turned back to the stove.

Too late,
the thought went through Rylie’s fuzzy mind. She was burning all over.

After they’d eaten a bowl of chocolate fudge ice cream for dessert, Clay took Rylie
on a tour of his ranch-style home. He enjoyed showing it to her, and how she seemed
to appreciate the custom- built house. He’d had it built only a year prior, and it
was his sanctuary away from the demands of his job and the political aspects of being
the county sheriff.

They ended up in his den, where he worked at home from time to time. He flicked on
the track lighting, which illuminated glossy oak furnishings and floor-to-ceiling
shelves lining two walls. Books on Arizona, Native American, U.S., and world history
lined the shelves, along with professional journals and handbooks, biographies, and
anything else that had caught his interest.

Navajo artwork that he’d collected over the years covered the walls as well as dotting
the shelves, along with pictures of his family. The room smelled of books, lemon oil
polish, and of the case of cherry pipe tobacco that he kept to remind him of his dad.

From off the oak credenza, Rylie picked up a carved wooden caricature of an old cowboy
with a drooping mustache and a ten-gallon hat that looked like it had a hole shot
through the top of the crown. “This is great. Who’s the artist?”

“I am.” Clay smiled when her gaze cut to his, her eyes wide. “Wood carving is a hobby
of mine. I have a little workshop in the back of the house.”

Wrinkling her nose, she placed the cowboy back on the shelf. “That’s disgusting.”

He raised a brow. “You don’t like it?”

“Love it.” Rylie poked his chest with one finger. “What’s disgusting is that you’re
not only fantastic in bed, know how to cook, have great taste in decorating, and are
well read, but you’re artistic, too.”

His mouth curved into a grin. “Don’t forget kind to animals and small children.”

“So I see.” She walked away from him to the shelves and ran her fingers along one
of the framed photographs. “Whose kids?”

“Between two of my three sisters, I have six nieces and nephews. That’s Brian, the
youngest of the bunch. They’re good kids.”

Clay eased behind Rylie, gripped her shoulders and nuzzled her neck. “Do you want
to have rug rats of your own one day?”

A tingling sensation sparked in her belly, but she refused to dwell on it. Instead
she shrugged and moved her hand away from the picture. “I don’t plan on ever getting
married, so likely not.”

Clay turned her around and moved her so that her butt was backed up to the massive
oak desk. “What’s spooked you?” He hooked his forefinger under her chin and raised
it so that her eyes met his. “Why are you afraid of getting serious about anyone?”

“Because relationships never last.” Rylie’s gaze was defiant, but her hand went to
her earlobe and she tugged on the gold earring. “And the ones that do, most of those
go to shit. I wouldn’t put any kid through what I grew up with.”

With a gentle hand, he swept a strand of blond hair from her face. “And what’s that?”

“Being torn between parents who hate each other while they play tug-of-war with you.”
Her jaw hardened and she pulled harder at her ear. “Having your mom play doormat for
years, then take off with some man, and never seeing her again because she’d rather
run away and play than be around her own kids. Watching your dad marry and divorce
so many times you can’t remember the names of all your stepparents or stepbrothers
and sisters. All I ever heard was yelling and fighting, Clay. That’s what I know about
real relationships.”

He brushed his knuckles along her cheek to her ear and captured her hand in his, pulling
it away from her lobe. “Honey, just because your parents didn’t know how to make a
relationship work doesn’t mean you’ll follow in their footsteps.” Clay released her
to let his hands slide down to her waist, then drew her closer. “You’re not them.”

Rylie could hardly think with him pressed against her belly. Now was not the time
to think about her history, or her future. She wanted him again, and she wanted him
now. Bracing her hands on the desk behind her, she widened her stance. “Shut up and
get inside me.”

Clay’s green eyes flared. In a quick movement that left her breathless, he raised
her up and placed her on the desk, its polished surface cool beneath her bare ass.
He yanked the shirt over her head and tossed it on the floor, then unfastened his
jeans and shoved them with his briefs down his hips.

She spread her thighs and he guided himself into her depths in one quick thrust. Pure
pleasure rippled through Rylie at the feel of him inside her, and she wrapped her
legs around his waist. She flattened her hands on the desktop and tilted her head
back, lost in the sensations.

“Watch.” Clay’s voice was gruff as he grasped her thighs with his hands. “Watch me
take you.”

Rylie looked down at where they were joined. The mere sight of him thrusting in and
out was enough to drive her closer and closer to peak.

Lowering his head, he pressed his mouth against hers, urging her up to meet him. His
tongue slid between her lips, matching the motion and rhythm of his movements.

She moaned into his mouth, dizzy, wild with lust. The smell of their sex was an aphrodisiac,
heightening her arousal, sending her senses spiraling. Her body was hot, her nipples
tingling with every brush of his solid chest.

He raised his head and glanced to where they were joined, then back to her eyes. “You
fit me perfectly, Rylie Thorn.” He drove into her, harder and harder yet.

She gasped and her eyes widened as her body trembled with the oncoming climax

“That’s it.” Clay gripped her legs tighter, never slowing in his motion. “Come on,
honey.”

Rylie cried out as the muscles in her belly contracted with each wave of her orgasm.
Every thrust sent another swell of pleasure throughout her body. It seemed like her
climax would never end. Like she’d be locked with him forever, her body shuddering
with every crest and ebb.

Even as he shouted her name, even as he jerked and throbbed within her core, Rylie
was swept away in a tidal wave of sensation that threatened to drown her.

Threatened to steal her heart and never let go.

The telephone’s incessant ring broke into Clay’s climax-fogged mind. If it didn’t
mean pulling out from Rylie’s warm depths, he would have reached over and thrown that
damn telephone out the window.

“You’re in hot demand, Sheriff.” Rylie’s teasing voice murmured in his ear as the
answering machine clicked on and she heard a standard message being played. “You gonna
get that?”

“No.” The word was a rumble in Clay’s chest as he kissed the soft skin of her neck.
“Whoever it is can go to hell for all I care.”

The outgoing message stopped, and then Deputy Quinn came on the line. “Sheriff, I
need a word with you. It’s about—” The moment he heard Quinn’s voice, Clay moved so
fast that he was able to pick up the phone just as the man said, “Levi Thorn.”

“I’m right here,” Clay growled, yanking up his jeans and looking away from Rylie’s
frown. “What’s so damn important that you had to call me at home on my night off?”

“Uh, well...” The deputy sounded like he was uncomfortable with the news he was relaying.
“Wade Larson said he was out checking his fence line the other night. The same night
someone tried to steal trucks from the MacKenna’s. Claims he saw a horse and rider
leaving the Flying M Ranch—and he recognized the horse.”

Clay’s gaze flicked to Rylie. She was still naked, but now looking at the carvings
of old cowpokes that he’d done. “And?” he prompted Quinn.

“Larson says it was Rylie Thorn’s Appaloosa and the rider was the same size as Levi.
Larson wasn’t sure, but he thought Levi was following a group of men who were running
from the scene. Could have been chasing them instead of getting out of Dodge—but then,
why wouldn’t he have told us that?”

“Shit.” Clay drew in a harsh breath and Rylie’s gaze shot to him. She bit her lower
lip and scooped the T-shirt off the floor and left his den, probably to give him some
privacy.

“What do you want me to do, Sheriff?” Quinn asked in an even tone.

“Nothing yet. Let me check a few things out.” Clay stared at the door Rylie had disappeared
through. “You just see what else you can dig up. And I still don’t want you to narrow
the focus. Got me?”

After he hung up with Quinn, Clay stroked his hand over his mustache, trying to puzzle
through what was going on. Levi Thorn had motive and opportunity, but did he have
the connections to swipe trucks, make it seem like one of Guerrero’s gang rackets,
then liquidate the trucks for cash?

Could Levi be desperate enough to be working with Guerrero?

A big brother trying to save the ranch and look after his little sister...

Although the evidence was starting to point to Thorn, something in Clay’s gut told
him it was all too neat. There was a hell of a lot going on around here. More than
what met the eye.

He picked up the receiver and dialed up Rocky Brogan, a buddy of his that could do
some quick, efficient research—beyond anything he could manage to scrape together
through the sheriff’s department.

“Brogan here.” The man’s baritone came on the line.

“Clay Wayland.” His eyes remained on the doorway, making sure Rylie didn’t come marching
through, and he kept his voice low. “I need you to get some down and dirty on a few
of characters, and I need it completely off the radar.”

“Shoot, pardner.”

“All currently reside in or around Douglas, Arizona.” Clearing his throat, Clay continued,
“Zack Hunter: ICE agent, recently married to a local ranger, Skyler MacKenna. He’s
from these parts, but stayed away a long time.”