Justice Inked (Cowboy Justice Association 7) (9 page)

Speaking of no Sherlock Holmes…

Deputy Billy was lumbering into the sheriff station to take the late shift. Dare was ready to go home, pop open a beer, and sit in front of some mindless television. He wanted to forget this frustrating case even if it was only for one night.

“Hey, Sheriff. Sorry I’m late.”

Again. Billy must have been an overdue baby because he’d been running late since then. Time seemed to have little to no meaning in his world.

“It’s been quiet. Call if you need me. I’m heading home.”

With any luck it would stay quiet.

“Will do. By the way, tell Sophie I really like her new tat. I saw her and Tim at the diner and she was showing it off, but I didn’t have a chance to tell her myself. I was already running late for here.”

Ink? No fucking way.

“Sophie was showing off a tattoo?”

Billy shrugged out of his jacket and hung it on the peg next to the door. “Sure was. On her left shoulder. Pretty purple flowers. Rayne sure did a good job. She’s got talent.”

And nerve. Dare had already told that woman not to ink his little sister. He’d known Rayne was trouble and this simply confirmed it.

He needed to have a talk with Miss Rayne Dunn.

Right now.

Chapter Ten

A
nother boring Saturday night at home.

Despite what seemed like the longest week of Rayne’s life, she wasn’t asleep and drooling before nine o’clock at night. The mere thought of having the next two days off from work had given her a second wind. Now she was prowling her house looking for something more exciting to do than the laundry.

I am the most boring woman on the planet.

A cursory inspection of the contents of her refrigerator revealed a slab of baby back ribs and a half-eaten slice of chocolate cake. They were leftovers from dinner a few nights before and she congratulated herself on remembering to eat them before they grew a layer of fuzz like most of the food in her kitchen did. Recently she’d thrown away a plastic container of pudding that had been in her refrigerator so long she was shocked it hadn’t learn to speak and drive.

Settling in at the kitchen counter, she poured herself a glass of wine and bit into the tender ribs, the barbecue sauce firing up her taste buds with just enough sweet to take the edge off. She’d worked through the whole rack and was digging into the cake when she heard banging on her front door.

Not knocking. Pounding. Like the person outside was drunk and she’d insulted their mother.

Quickly running her sticky fingers under the faucet, she hurried to the door hoping the jerk hadn’t grabbed the attention of her nosy neighbors.

“Just a second. Hold your horses.”

Rayne swung open the door and had to take a big step backwards. Dare Turner stood on her front steps looking mad as hell. His brows were pulled down and a muscle was working in his jaw, his teeth gritted together. His arms hung loosely at his sides but his shoulders were tense and his hands were furled into tight fists. From what she could tell, he was barely holding himself back from punching her right in the face.

What the hell did I do to deserve that?

Forcing herself to stand her ground, she didn’t move any farther to let him in. Instead, she squared her own shoulders and braced herself for incoming fire.

“How may I help you, Sheriff?”

“We need to talk,” he snarled, although it didn’t make him one bit less handsome.

Jerk.

“It’s a little late in the evening for that,” she replied, keeping her voice even despite her curiously knocking knees. She didn’t think he’d truly take a swing at her but he was damn intimidating in this mood. “I’m guessing you got all my messages then and want to discuss the case?”

“No. Are you going to let me in?”

Not yet. She wanted to piss him off a bit more first.

“No, you didn’t get my messages or no, you aren’t here to talk about the case? Either way, it isn’t really the best time for me. You should call first.”

His face and neck were red and there was a distinct possibility he might explode all over her front steps, leaving a gooey mess.

“We need to talk,” he said between gritted teeth. “We can do it out here for all your neighbors to hear or you can let me in. Your choice.”

With a put upon sigh, Rayne stepped back so he could enter. “You can come in but you need to leave your attitude outside. This is my home, Dare, and I reserve the right to kick your ass right out of it.”

He clomped through the entryway and into her living room, his narrow eyes taking in the bright colors and comfortable surroundings. She had a flair for decorating and this room was one of her favorites, second only to the bedroom.

“People don’t usually kick the sheriff out of the house. They’re usually more respectful.”

Rayne couldn’t stand this passive-aggressive shit. If he was pissed off he just needed to damn well say so, although she had no idea what he could be angry about.

Life? Ice cream? Good friends? Delicious food? Kitten whiskers?

The man was mad all the time and that was his issue, not hers.

“When I’m treated respectfully I return the favor. Sadly, banging on my door unannounced on a Saturday evening and then growling at me doesn’t seem very respectful, but then I’m from out of town. Maybe it’s different here in Montana.” Rayne perched on the edge of her couch trying to appear completely calm. “Why don’t you sit down and tell me why you’re here?”

Another scowl but he sank into the cushions of her leather recliner. His icy blue gaze rested on her and she had to quell the urge to squirm in her seat under such scrutiny. She wasn’t going to allow him to intimidate her, although with his imposing frame it wouldn’t be difficult.

“I’ve been trying to get in touch with you all week. You’re a hard man to pin down.”

A good offense was the best defense so she threw the first salvo, hoping to get her own questions answered before he went into some diatribe about an imagined slight.

“I got your messages. I’m not here to talk about that.”

“Then why are you?” she snapped, her temper simmering under the surface. “You came to me, remember?”

He hopped up from the recliner and paced the small space between her coffee table and the television before finally turning back to her, his gaze stormy. “I told you not to ink Sophie.”

That’s what this was about?

“Yes, you did. What’s your point?”

“My point is that I told you not to do it. She’s too damn young.”

“She’s of age–”

“Fuck that.” Dare leaned down, his hand on the arm of the sofa and his face inches away. She could feel the waves of anger coming off of him, the fury mixing with the scent of his skin and giving him an otherwordly vibe that messed with her head and made it hard to concentrate on his words. “She’s a kid. She may be eighteen but that doesn’t mean she’s ready to make a decision like this. Is that how you run your business? You prey on the young and naive?”

Oh no, he didn’t just go there.

Rayne poked her finger at the wall of muscle he called a chest, her own eyes narrowed and her lips twisted with anger. She stood up and moved so close to him he stepped back, perhaps not as sure of himself as he had been seconds ago.

“Just so we’re clear here, Sheriff, I provide a service. A service that can be purchased by anyone sober and over the age of eighteen. It would be bad business to pick and choose only those people I think should have a tattoo. In fact, some people might even call it discrimination.”

“She’s a little girl.” Dare’s voice had inched up several decibels but her own had gone almost to a deathly whisper.

“She’s a grown woman and you are a big baby. I’ve never seen a man so petulant every single hour of the day. Is your fucking life so bad, Dare, that you have to be an asshole all the time? Is it? Just what do you have to complain about? Good health? A job? A roof over your head? Just what is your fucking problem? Hemorrhoids? My advice is to take that gigantic stick out of your butt. You’ll be a lot more comfortable.”

The hiss of his breath was the only indication he’d heard her, his features a mask of stone. She didn’t feel sorry for her outburst because God almighty, somebody needed to tell this man a few home truths.

“You’re treading on dangerous ground, woman.”

At the moment, Rayne didn’t give a flip. She was on a roll and it felt amazing to let loose. She was tired of everyone in this town scowling at her like she was the Antichrist.

I’m just a woman trying to make a damn living. Jeez.

“Am I? How will I know, Dare? Will you hold up a sign? Because you only have one expression and that’s pissed off, so I don’t think I’ll be able to tell the difference. Are you ever happy? Does anything make you smile? Are you going to go to your grave with that sour puss because, let me tell you, it’s not a good look for you.”

Dare took two strides forward until he towered over her. “Do you want to know what makes me smile, Rayne? Do you really want to know?”

Rayne practically vibrated with anger and she looked up at him with a smirk. “Yes, I do because I’m not sure that you really can. Your face might peel off.”

Rayne barely had time to suck in a breath before his lips came crashing down on her own. She squeaked in shock even as her hands curled around his rock hard shoulders to keep herself from falling in a heap on the floor. His tongue ran along her bottom lip seeking entry, and to her utter shame she found herself opening up and allowing him to explore her mouth thoroughly.

Skillfully. Arousingly. Achingly.

Clearly she’d been too long between men. Her body was pressed against the hard planes of his and she could feel the outline of his cock against the softness of her belly. His tongue was sweeping her mouth, teasing and playing until she was a mass of desire in his arms. Her panties were soaked and her nipples were peaked and he was the last man she wanted to be doing this with.

Dare Turner was the devil in disguise and here she was handing over her soul with barely a whimper of protest.

One huge hand was at the base of her spine and the other cupped the back of her head, tangling in her long hair. He lifted his lips briefly to change the angle on the kiss and she could have pushed him away at that moment or told him no, but her body had other ideas and most of them involved the shedding of clothes. He tasted like coffee and oranges and the mixture was intoxicating, making her head spin with arousal.

Her heart was racing and her breath ragged when he finally lifted his head. Those icy blue eyes were dark with desire and she felt an answering tightening in her pussy. Despite his outwardly sullen appearance he was a gorgeous man and he awakened every biological need deep inside of her.

His own chest was rising and falling rapidly but he still didn’t move away, seemingly content to stay close. The heat of his skin burned through the thin fabric of her t-shirt and his manly scent teased her nostrils – a mixture of clean sweat and something woodsy. If he bottled it he’d make a fortune.

The silence stretched on and it played on her already frayed nerves. She couldn’t take it.

“Why did you do that?”

Instead of the strong confident woman she’d wanted to sound like, the words came out soft and tentative. They mirrored her current emotional state but that was the last thing she wanted Dare to know.

“Because I couldn’t help myself. I apologize.” He paused for a long moment. “Do you want to slap me or something? I’ll stand still and let you.”

She was tempted but her innate honesty wouldn’t allow her to blame him for something she’d enjoyed. A heck of a lot. The man was a veritable kissing maestro and she’d been the willing instrument in his hands.

“I want to smack you all right, but not for kissing me. Is this how you court a woman? Accuse her of crappy stuff and then kiss her breathless?”

His eyebrow quirked and by all that was holy, his lips actually turned up a little. It wasn’t a full smile but it was close.

And it was glorious. He’d been handsome before but now he was downright sexy. Completely gorgeous. If he ever truly smiled at her she’d probably slide down the wall in a dead faint, overcome with the beauty that was Dare Turner.