Cassie Miles - Warrior Spirit

“I don’t,” she protested. “I don’t owe you squat.”

She started running. Her feet were numb. She could hardly move. But she couldn’t let Lyle touch her and pull her into the grave with him.

She ran as fast as she could, into the trees. The forest closed around her. Then she saw another man, tall and still. His long black hair fell to his shoulders. His startling blue eyes drew her toward him. “Trevor,” she whispered.

His arms enfolded her. This felt so real; she could hear his heart beating, could smell his masculine scent. Her fingernails scratched against the cotton of his shirt. When she looked up at him, she was amazed by how handsome he was—his high cheekbones and straight nose. And his lips…

She wanted to kiss those well-shaped lips. Well, why not? She could hardly blame herself for dreaming. “Kiss me, Trevor.”

His mouth joined with hers. An incredible warmth flowed through her veins. Oh God, this was good. It seemed right. She felt alive and strong.

His mouth moved against hers, and she darted her tongue across the surface of his lips. He responded with the skill and strength she had come to expect from him after knowing him for only a few short hours. Pure sensation washed over her. This kiss was sexier than anything she’d felt before, sexier than going all the way with most men.

With a sigh, she separated from him. Awash in pleasure, she leaned back and enjoyed the fantastic awakening of her sensuality. “Oh, Trevor.”

She lifted her hand to her tingling lips. So good. So very good.

Then Sierra opened her eyes and blinked. Trevor was nowhere in sight. She was alone in the square, featureless room. Her arms were no longer tied down, and she raised her hands to her face. Her cheeks felt warm, probably because of her sensual dream. Or something else? What was it? Though she was refreshed and alert, her mind was blank, as though recent memories had been swept clean.

She knew that Trevor had brought her to this place. He had tied her up and asked her questions, and she remembered feeling angry and sad. But why?

“Lyle,” she said.

Sierra pushed herself out of the chair, went to the door and twisted the handle. Trevor stood in the hallway outside. He nodded to her.

He was as gorgeous as in her dream. Tall and lean and muscular. His black hair, pulled back in a ponytail, glistened. And those blue, blue eyes!

But he wasn’t her fantasy lover. This man was her captor, and she hated his guts. “I want to go home.”

“Sure thing,” he said. “Come with me.”

She followed him down the hallway. They seemed to be in a basement with low ceilings, but there wasn’t a musty smell. This place was clean, almost sterile. “Where are we?”

Instead of answering, Trevor pushed open the door to a bathroom. “Your clothes are inside if you want to change.”

Though she had a million questions, Sierra also had an overwhelming urge to pee. Bathroom first. Questions later.

She relieved her bladder, dressed quickly and splashed water on her face. When she slipped on her wristwatch, she noted that it was after six o’clock. She’d been here almost four hours. Doing what? She hadn’t been sleeping all that time.

Her purse sat on the counter beside the sink, and she checked the contents. Her lipstick, breath mints and ball-point pen were there. She still had seven dollars in her wallet. The only thing missing was her precise memory of what had happened to her in that interrogation room.

She returned to the hallway, where Trevor was waiting.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“I’ve been better.” She braced her fists on her hips. “Now I have some questions for you.”

“Shoot.”

“Let’s start with this—where the hell are we?”

“A good-size cabin with a couple of outbuildings, a barn and a stable in back. It belongs to Cameron Murphy.”

The name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t put a face with it. “Why did you bring me here?”

“I thought you might have information.” He placed his battered black cowboy hat on his head and started down the hallway at a casual saunter. “I expect you’re ready to get home.”

She also wanted answers. And he was being deliberately evasive. “Hold it right there, Trevor.”

Raising one eyebrow, he gave her a look that was about as innocent as that of a mountain lion. “Is there a problem?”

“Damn right! You threw me on your horse, brought me here and tied me up in that weird little room. I want to know why.”

“I asked you some questions.” He smiled calmly, but she remembered his other expression. His shimmering blue eyes could also be hard and angry. He was capable of inspiring fear. And yet when she’d dreamed about that kiss he’d been something else altogether.

“Who are you?” she asked. “What’s your job?”

“I’m a bounty hunter.”

“And you’re after the Militia.” When he opened the door to a root cellar, she balked. “Where are you taking me?”

“This is a back door. I wanted to avoid anybody who might be upstairs.”

Still she hesitated to follow him. “I don’t trust you.”

“I won’t hurt you, Sierra. You have my word.”

“The word of a bounty hunter? That’s not reassuring.”

“We’re on the same side,” he said. “You and I want the same thing.”

“To bring down the Militia?”

“You hate them as much as I do. Probably more.”

“But I’m not going after them.” She wanted to be left alone, to get on with her life. “I want no part of them. Or of you.”

“Will you allow me to take you home?”

She gave a curt nod. “And that will be the last we’ll ever see of each other.”

As she followed him to the doorway and out into the night, her firm decision wavered. Seeing Trevor again might not be the worst thing that ever happened to her.

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