Hooked (A Romance on the Edge Novel) (15 page)

“Uh-huh, right. I know. A few more minutes.”

He croaked out a laugh. “Another minute and I’ll be inside you.”

“And that will be a bad thing, right?”

“So
very
bad.”

The way Garrett said “bad” didn’t make it sound bad at all. In fact, it sounded way too good, which naturally meant anything that good had to be bad.

She swore.

“Babe, I’m all for that,” he muttered, his words strained, “but one of us has to be responsible.”

“That’s going to have to be you. I’m past that point.”

He sucked in his breath and she realized she’d just given him carte blanche to do anything to her he wanted. He groaned and dropped his forehead to hers. She realized that being a cop, Garrett would have responsibility up the yin yang.

“Okay, this is what we are going to do.” He met her gaze. “I need you to lower your legs.”

“I don’t know if I can do that.” She really didn’t
want
to do that. A few more minutes of riding him like this and she’d feel a hell of a lot better.

“I’d love nothing better than to take you against this wall, but can you honestly say you wouldn’t regret it afterward?”

She was too tired to make these decisions. Why did he have to be so honorable? She didn’t want to think. She’d been doing too much thinking with all that had been happening. She wanted a moment of oblivion and having Garrett between her legs more than promised a trip.

“You sure know how to spoil a mood, Garrett.” She unhooked her legs from around his waist and made sure she rubbed down the length of him as she regained her balance.

Apparently, she’d made her point because it seemed as though Garrett couldn’t think clearly now. His eyes were shut tight, lines bracketing his mouth, and sweat beaded his forehead. Having him in such obvious sexual torment shouldn’t make her want to smile. But it did.

“Happy now?” She couldn’t help goading.

He speared her with a gaze so hot she wished the wall wasn’t at her backside so she could step back from the heat.

“Not even close, Sonya.”

“Garrett—”

“Give me a damn minute.” Garrett’s tone was soft and dangerous. He turned and paced the length of the building.

She was quiet and gave him his space. It didn’t seem so much fun to torment him when there were still sparks snapping in her own body. In fact, those sparks were better off refueling her anger. What the hell had Garrett been thinking, kissing her like that, pressing his rock-solid body against hers, and then saying they shouldn’t be doing this? He’d been the one to torment
her
. With all that she had on her plate, an oversexed fish cop was too damn much.

“You started that,” she pointed out.

He glared at her from across the room. “I’m not getting into an argument with you again.”

“So you admit it.”

“Sonya,” he said through clenched teeth. “I understand that you are scared over the criminal mischief you’ve experienced. Picking a fight with me isn’t going to help you.”

There was that “criminal mischief” phrase again. It didn’t matter if Peter said it or Garrett, it caused a shudder to run through her. Garrett was right. She wanted to fight someone and he was convenient. If she couldn’t have sex with him, picking a fight was the second best thing she could think of.

She decided it was best to keep quiet. The only problem was that without the simulation of desire or anger, her exhausted body turned on her. She slid down the wall and sat on the floor. Her hat laid there where Garrett had dropped it when he’d grabbed her. She didn’t even have the energy to reach for it. She rested her arms on her raised knees and lowered her head.

She was asleep before she shut her eyes.

Garrett paced the confines of the old cannery, keeping his distance from Sonya. He swore he could smell her all the way over here. He’d never been attracted to a woman to where he couldn’t think around her.

How did she do that? Turn him into a walking hormone. He’d had more control in high school than he did around her.

“What time do you figure we’ll be able to reach the skiff?” He waited for Sonya’s response, and when it didn’t come, he turned toward her. Her head was pillowed on her arms as she sat hunched over on the floor, fast asleep. All his pent up passion reduced to a simmer. She was lovely, with her mouth partly open, dark lashes fanning her cheeks. She seemed done in. How long had she been burning the candle at both ends? How long did she think she could get away with it before she collapsed?

The sooner he could get to the bottom of this the better for all of them. Lord knew he couldn’t take more moments in her company like the last few.

He walked over and lightly shook her shoulder. On a snort, she jerked awake. He couldn’t contain the smile. She was adorable.

“What?” She blinked and straightened like she hadn’t just been caught sleeping.

His smile widened. “Let’s get down to the beach and see if we can reach your skiff.”

She scrambled to her feet. He went to help her and then thought better of it. If he touched her again, he didn’t know if he could keep himself off her. Instead, he reached for her forgotten ball cap and handed it to her.

She took it and flipped her pony tail through the opening as she put it on. Then she pointed at him, her finger going up and down. “Uniform.” The yawn that surprised her completely ruined her demand.

“Not going to change. Deal with it.”

She narrowed her eyes and then seemed to realize that she didn’t have much of a choice. Make that any choice.

“Fine.”

She made for the exit, but his next words brought her up short. “I’ll drive.”

“The uniform is bad enough. I’m not going anywhere in the same vehicle as you.”

“Sonya, be reasonable. You’re too tired to drive.”

“I just had a power nap. I’m good to go.” She gave him a steady stare that clearly said, don’t mess with me.

He let the subject pass since he’d be driving right behind her on the way to the Savonskis’ camp in the Jeep. “Let’s go then.”

“I’ll go first. You wait five minutes, then follow.”

He folded his arms across his chest. “Not going to happen. I’m leaving
with
you and following
right
behind.” He raised a brow when she opened her mouth to argue. “Say another word and I’m carrying you out of here and driving you to camp in my big brown trooper Jeep for all to see.”

She snapped her mouth shut and turned on her heel. He tried not to enjoy his short victory or the view of her sweet backside as she swaggered out of the cannery to her 4-wheeler. That was one stubborn woman he was attracted to.

Why couldn’t he go for an easy-going homemaker type?

C
HAPTER
T
WELVE

“The skiff
would
have to go dry in the mud,” Sonya muttered as she stared at the mudflat the receding tide had revealed. It seemed unassuming, solid even.

The mud was anything but ordinary. It could be deadly.

“Don’t worry, Sonya. We won’t let the mud take you,” Gramps said as he sidled up next to her and Garrett. “Will we, Peter?” Gramps had already greeted Garrett with a hearty handshake. It didn’t seem to bother him that a fish cop was on the premises.

Peter, on the other hand, seemed to be in the same mind-frame she was. Until he took in Garrett’s sidearm, and perked up.

“Naw, we won’t let the mud take you, Sonya.” Peter winked. “We need you for fishing.”

It was a standing joke that the mud was out to get Sonya. The only problem was everyone thought it was funny except Sonya.

The mud
was
out to get her.

Alaska had many hazardous areas where mudflats thrived. Bristol Bay wasn’t immune. The region was blighted with them. They showed themselves at low tide and were made up of fine silt particles, the result of glaciers milling away the surrounding mountains. The mud made a treacherous quicksand—called quicksilt—that sucked at your feet and made it precarious to walk across its deceiving surface. If that wasn’t a big enough problem, the mud also contained hidden sink holes. Many an unsuspecting person had been killed when caught in a hole that seemed to have no bottom.

One of those deadly sink holes had almost taken Sonya when she’d been sixteen. The summer after losing Sasha and her parents, she’d fallen prey to one. The mud had grabbed onto her with no intention of letting go. She’d fought for her life, while the incoming tide stealthily crept forward to drown her as Gramps, with the help of the Hartes, had worked frantically to free her from the mud’s fatal clutches. Since then, she never ventured into the mud unless she absolutely had to. What really pissed her off was that Wes, Peter, and Gramps never had a problem with the mud.

Unfortunately, the situation with the skiff was one of those absolutes. Another thing to lay at the vandal’s feet when they caught him.

Peter had already hooked the trailer up to the 4-wheeler so that they could bring the outboard engine back with them, in a wasted attempt to try and save it. Spending the afternoon drowned in salt water wasn’t going to do the aging outboard any good.

The four of them were outfitted in chest waders and ready to face the mud. Well, three of them were ready. Sonya was never equipped to face the mud. Turned out, Garrett was one of those prepared cops who had a pair of waders in his Jeep. Had she really thought he wouldn’t be primed for any situation? He’d probably had a handy condom in his pocket when they were at the old Diamond O Cannery, too, just in case.

Wes currently kept watch aboard the
Double Dippin’.
Sonya wasn’t taking any chances leaving the drift boat unattended with all that had happened.

“You ready, Sonya?” Gramps asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” she muttered, wishing she could be doing anything else at the moment. She’d rather have a Brazilian wax than traipse through the mud.

Garrett laid a hand on her shoulder. “You okay?”

The heat from his palm cupping her shoulder made her want to rub against him, much the way a cat would. She stepped forward to break the contact before she did just that. “I’m fine. I just have a healthy respect for the mud.”

“You can wait here while we take a look and get the engine,” Gramps said, mounting the 4-wheeler behind Peter.

“No.” She was running the fishing operation now, and she’d be involved in every aspect of it, whether she liked it—feared it—or not. She turned to the remaining 4-wheeler and climbed aboard, sweat already breaking out over her body.

“Do you want me to drive?” Garrett asked.

“No, I can do it.” She could, damn it. If she had to confront the mud, she was definitely driving. She’d be the first to admit she had control issues and wasn’t about to put her fate in the hands of anyone else, no matter how capable Garrett’s hands seemed to be.

Garrett swung a leg over, and nuzzled up behind her on the seat that hadn’t seemed that small a few seconds ago.

“Do you have to sit so close?” She tried to ignore the heat infusing her body with him plastered against her.

“Yes.” His breath caressed her ear as his rock-hard chest pressed against her back. “I do.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Probably more than I should. Besides, you wanted to drive.”

Right, but who was really doing the driving?

She started the 4-wheeler and followed the trail Peter had forged through the mud. She tried to keep her speed steady and stay in Peter’s tire tracks, praying that this time she wouldn’t get stuck.

Garrett’s hands snaked around her waist.

She jerked, which made the handlebars do the same, and the mud grabbed at the tires. “What are you doing?”

“Hanging on.”

She gave the ATV a bit more gas and breathed a silent sigh of relief when the heavily treaded tires climbed through the muck. “I’m not going that fast. If you need to hang on to something, there’s the rack behind you.”