Rita Herron - Cowboy to the Max

And his mouth…thick lips that scowled one minute as if he was the devil himself, then twitched up into a lazy grin that had made her weak in the knees.

And Lord, those big, strong, wide hands. What he could do with those hands was sinful. Downright lethal.

He had destroyed her for wanting another man as a lover.

And her attacker, the one who’d held her down, nearly suffocated her and cut her, he had destroyed her trust in men in general.

“If I were you, I’d stay away from him.” Sadie hoisted the beer-laden tray with her right hand, juggling it as she added a basket of peanuts. “Five years in a maximum security prison…you don’t know what they did to him inside.” Horror stories of beatings and prison rapes tormented her.

“Yeah, but that means five years without conjugal visits,” Amber said with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “I bet he’s ready for a woman.”

A streak of jealousy pinched Sadie’s gut at the thought of Amber taking Carter to bed. Guilt followed that she had helped put him in that godforsaken jail. That five years of his life had been stolen from him when if she’d only told the truth, he wouldn’t have been convicted.

Yes. And you would have been dead and so would your mother.

“Hey, sugar, we’re thirsty,” one of the men yelled.

“And I’m hungry,” his buddy shouted, as he reached out a hairy hand to pull her to him. “Hungry for you.”

Sadie forced a polite smile as she sidestepped his grip, desperately trying to control a nasty retort that would not only cost her a tip but her job. Five years of working in low-rent restaurants and divey bars just to make ends meet and take care of her mother had taken its toll on her body and shattered her fantasies.

But her mother was gone now, God rest her soul.

Unfortunately so were her dreams of becoming a doctor.

She was broke, alone, and she’d been looking over her shoulder so long that she was half-afraid of her own shadow.

But she had enough sense to know that she was still in danger. Maybe even more so now.

Because Carter Flagstone was most likely looking for her to force her to go to the police about the night of that murder. Which meant the man who’d threatened her life and cut her was probably intent on preventing her from doing just that.

Her own private hell was starting all over.

DARK, HEAVY CLOUDS ROLLED across the night sky as Carter snuffed out the campfire where he’d cooked the fish he’d caught earlier in the stream. He tensed at the sound of a car engine rumbling down the road. He had to hide his tracks.

Still, he was anxious to talk to Dunham and find out if anyone had been snooping around the ranch.

He thought he might have seen something suspicious today. Maybe hints of a cattle rustler. He’d heard they’d had some vandalism and problems before at the BBL, and wondered if this was the same lowlife or a band of rustlers.

Not that he needed to get involved. Hell, no. He had his own problems.

But Johnny and Brandon were dedicated to this ranch, and with more campers due to arrive the next day, they sure as hell didn’t need thieves on the land. Especially if they were toting guns.

Most likely, they were.

He rubbed the matchbook with the BBL logo on it, the image of a group of boys getting shot because they’d stumbled on some rustlers, sitting low and heavy in his belly.

The car engine sounded louder, and he stepped back behind a thicket of trees, gripping his gun to his side as he studied the situation.

Dust spewed in a cloud around the truck, then the muffler made a backfiring sound, and the headlights of a rattletrap truck coasted toward him.

Dunham.

The poor guy’s truck was in worse shape than the one Brandon had loaned him.

Relaxing, he shoved the gun in the back of his jeans, but he waited until the truck had parked and Dunham climbed out before he showed himself.

His boots crunched the dry twigs and grass. “Thanks for meeting me.”

Dunham gave a clipped nod. “You said you saw trouble?”

Carter explained about the two men he’d seen on the hill in the north pasture. “They had binoculars and looked as if they were staking out the lay of the land.”

Dunham made a frustrated sound. “I’ll tell Mr. Bloodworth. We’ll keep an eye out.”

Carter nodded. “How about you? Any sign of Sadie Whitefeather on the ranch?”

Dunham shook his head. “No, man. But I know where you can find her.”

Carter’s head whipped toward him. Could he finally be this close? “Where?”

“She works at the Sawdust Saloon near the reservation. Cocktail waitress.”

Damn. Same job. Different location. And only a few miles from the BBL.

“Did you talk to her?”

Dunham frowned. “Ordered a beer and tried to get friendly, but she brushed me off.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “She’s a looker, man. Half the men in the bar were itching to get in her pants, but she wanted none of it.”

Carter gritted his teeth. She sure as hell had been receptive to him.

At the time, his ego had soared. He’d been thrilled to have her attention, and her body in his bed.

Little did he know that she’d only been using him. Setting him up to take the fall for murder.

She hadn’t been working alone. That much he was sure of. He wanted to know who her partner was. That name would lead him to the killer.

And real freedom. Not this sick shade of it where he was hiding behind shadows and trees, skulking around in the night like a damn snake, afraid to show his face during the day for fear of getting his head blown off.

“Thanks, Dunham, I owe you.”

“Just don’t get yourself caught.” Dunham extended his hand and Carter shook it. “Or killed.”

Carter sobered, knowing either one was possible. And could cause Dunham to go back to jail and land Brandon and Johnny in hot water as well for helping him.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m going to see Miss Whitefeather right now. When I finish with her, she’ll talk.”

A worried look darkened Dunham’s face, but Carter didn’t care. He’d spent five long years rotting in prison for a crime he hadn’t committed, all because of one night in the sack.

Two, if the one he couldn’t remember counted.

Nothing would stop him from making this woman finally tell the truth.

SADIE CLEARED her assigned tables, swept up, then counted her tips. A couple hundred dollars. Hardly worth the never-ending ordeal of fending off dozens of men’s wandering hands.

Still, she needed every penny and would add the cash to her medical school fund. If she ever had enough time to study for the MCATS.

She’d barely been able to finish her undergraduate degree for taking care of her mother during her illness. Now…she was so exhausted after work that she couldn’t think about studying.

Amber waltzed out the door with one of the men she’d hooked up with for the night, and Big T—Teddy, the owner—waved to her to go on. Sadie settled her purse tightly over her shoulder, one hand rubbing the leather to make sure her derringer was still tucked inside, then gripped her keys and stepped out the door.

Although questions and doubts needled her. Would she be able to use the gun if she needed to defend herself? Her Native American roots haunted her—every life is sacred…

At one time, she’d been so close to her roots that she hadn’t doubted her people’s ways. But that was before the attack…

That horrid day had changed everything. Changed her.

And she didn’t like it.

But she had no idea how to rid herself of the fear that plagued her. Not when it was so real.

Nerves tightening her body, she paused, her gaze scanning the dark parking lot and the corner of the alley, searching to make sure one of the men she’d blown off during her shift wasn’t waiting to ambush her. That or the man who’d threatened her years ago. She’d sensed he was following her the last few days.