Roping Ray McCullen (9 page)

Ray shook his head. “I told you I'm fine. I'm just sorry I was late getting here. Did Pullman try to break in?”

A shudder coursed up Scarlet's spine as she remembered his taunting. “Not exactly.”

Ray took her hands in his, the worry in his eyes touching a tender chord inside her.

“What does that mean?”

Scarlet sighed and averted her eyes. More than anything she wanted Ray to wrap his arms around her again. To hold her.

Kiss her.

Stay with her tonight and keep her safe.

“Scarlet?”

“He just taunted me, Ray. He ran from window to window, banging and making noises, tapping at the windows, acting like he was going to come in.”

“Sick bastard,” Ray muttered. “He claims he didn't cut your brake lines, but we'll find a way to nail him. And you're going to take out a restraining order against him.”

Scarlet nodded. “What about you? Did you recognize the man who attacked you?”

Ray shook his head. “No. But I'll file a police report.”

Scarlet's gaze met his, the tension between them thick with worry and fear and...something else. A sexual tension she hadn't felt in a very long time.

She needed to step away. Remember all the reasons she shouldn't get involved with Ray. His brothers didn't even know about her. They had his father's will to work out.

“You should have called the deputy,” Scarlet whispered.

Ray's breathing grew heavy, his gaze steeped in desire. Then he reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I was too worried about you. Too afraid Pullman had broken in.”

His voice triggered a warm tingling to start deep in her womb. She wet her suddenly dry lips, aching to touch him more intimately.

Ray murmured a sound of need. “Dammit, Scarlet, what are we doing here?”

“I don't know,” she whispered. But she was helpless to stop the ache in her body and in her heart.

Ray must have sensed her need because he traced a finger over her lips with one finger, then drew her to him and closed his mouth over hers.

* * *

R
AY
'
S
BODY
HEATED
with need as Scarlet parted her lips for him. Images of his crash, of her accident, of that maniac Pullman getting to her flashed in his head, and he deepened the kiss, desperate to feel her against him.

He needed to know she was safe.

Her lips felt soft, tender. Her body quivered against his. He stroked her back and plunged his tongue into her mouth. She sighed into him, a breathy sound filled with desire, and he lifted her hair from her neck, then trailed kisses along the smooth column of her throat.

She tilted her head back, and he tasted the sweetness of her skin, making him want more. She tossed his Stetson to the sofa, then dug her hands into his hair, and he groaned, then they walked backward to her bedroom.

Raw need consumed him, and he pressed her against the wall, then eased open the top buttons of her blouse, dropping kisses along the sensitive skin of her throat as he pushed the fabric aside. She rubbed his calf with her foot, moving her body against his in invitation.

His sex thickened, hardening at the contact, and he made quick work of the rest of the buttons, exposing a dark blue lacy bra that barely covered her breasts.

He sucked in a breath. His body ached for her like he hadn't ached for anyone in a long time.

Bruises marred her torso, from the air bag, he assumed. But a couple of other scars caught his eye. Two small round ones that looked like cigarette burns. Then a crisscross one that had probably been made by a knife.

She must have realized he was looking at them, because she covered herself with her hands. “Ray?”

“Shh, it's okay. How did you get them?”

She tried to pull away, but he pressed his body into hers. “Tell me. Was it a foster parent? Bobby?”

“Both,” she said in a pained whisper.

Dammit to hell
. Pure rage engulfed him, but he held himself in check. Scarlet had obviously seen her share of angry men who took their anger out on women.

He would not be one of them.

Instead, his gaze met hers, and he tried to tell her with his eyes that she could trust him. She must have read the silent promise because she lifted her head and kissed him again, this time her kiss filled with a greedy kind of hunger that invited him to love her.

He wanted her. The sex would be epic.

But if he made love to her, would he be able to walk away from her later?

Chapter Fourteen

Fueled by passion, Ray kissed her deeply, then trailed his tongue down her breasts to those scars and gently kissed each one of them. Scarlet moaned and tunneled her fingers in his hair again, as he stroked her nipples through the thin lacy barrier.

She whispered his name, and he quickly unfastened her bra, his breathing husky at the sight of her breasts spilling into his hands. Her skin was soft, her breasts full and round, her nipples perfect rosebuds.

They stiffened at his touch, making his mouth water, and he lowered his head and drew one turgid pebble into his mouth. Scarlet whispered his name on a moan, letting him know she liked it, and he suckled her until her body quivered.

She reached for the buttons on his shirt and unfastened them, then slid her hands inside, raking her nails over his chest. He inhaled at her touch, his body humming to life with erotic sensations.

Then her finger slid over his bruised ribs and he winced.

“I'm sorry, Ray.”

“You can make it better,” he said in a gruff voice.

His shirt fell to the floor and he walked her backward to the bed, but as they started to lie down, she shifted to move something.

A doll.

Ray froze, his heart thumping. That doll...the blond hair, big baby blue eyes...

For a moment, he felt as if he'd been sucker punched. “Where did you get that doll?”

Scarlet's eyes were glazed with passion, but his question dampened the mood. “Your father gave it to me.”

Ray had no idea why that bothered him, but it did. “My mother collected those dolls,” he said with a pang to his chest.

“I know,” Scarlet said softly. “Joe told me about her, that she loved the dolls. That's the reason he wanted me to have one.”

An image of his mother with those dolls haunted him. For some reason, it seemed wrong that his father would give away one of the few things they had left of hers. Not that he wanted the dolls, but...they had been special.

It felt like another betrayal, just as he'd felt betrayed when he'd seen his father with Barbara as a child.

Scarlet gently touched his arm. “Ray?”

He flinched slightly. Then his phone buzzed, and he yanked it from his pocket and checked the caller ID. Brett.

Damn
.

Scarlet was half naked. His body shouted for him to take her to bed and finish what they'd started.

But that doll and his brother's call reminded him what was at stake. He'd felt betrayed by his father—how would his brothers feel if they discovered they had another brother, and that he had slept with the girl Joe had considered his daughter?

The girl he'd kept secret. The one who was going to inherit part of their family legacy.

“I...” Ray grabbed his shirt and backed away. He hated himself for leaving Scarlet when she looked so beautiful. And so damn vulnerable.

His phone buzzed again, and he gestured toward it as he inched to the doorway. “I'm sorry, Scarlet. I have to take this.”

She looked hurt, but she reached for her robe on the side chair. Ray left the room, feeling like a bastard.

* * *

S
CARLET
YANKED
ON
her robe and belted it, a flush creeping up her neck. She felt naked and lonely and...hurt.

What had she done wrong? Ray hadn't seemed repulsed by her scars. But the sight of that doll triggered a different reaction.

She closed her eyes, battling tears. She refused to cry over his rejection. But how dare he get her all heated up and needy, then leave her wanting more.

She tiptoed to the doorway and saw him pacing by the fireplace, his phone pressed to his ear. Maybe the phone call had been really important.

God knows they'd both almost been killed today. And the danger wasn't over. Someone was sabotaging the ranch, and Pullman wanted revenge against her.

All the more reason she needed Ray.

Needed
him?
The thought sent fear streaking through her. She had never needed a man before. And she couldn't allow herself to need Ray.

But this was a different kind of feeling, she silently reminded herself. She craved comfort, a pair of strong arms to lean on, a night of lovemaking to relieve the sexual tension brewing between them. Being with Ray would have reminded her they were both still alive.

Except...for that doll... The truth dawned, making her chest squeeze. It reminded him of the mother he'd lost as a child, and the fact that his father had betrayed her with Barbara.

That Joe had a second family. One who stood to throw a monkey wrench into their family business by taking part of it.

She wasn't part of the family.

That was the reason he didn't want her to have the doll. She was not a McCullen and no matter how much Joe loved her, she never would be.

A desolate feeling overcame her.

If Ray didn't want her to have that doll, he certainly wouldn't want her to have a piece of his father's ranch.

* * *

“W
HAT
HAPPENED
TO
YOU
, Ray? You ran off like something was wrong.”

Ray chewed the inside of his cheek. He hated lying to his brothers and had to tell them about Bobby and Scarlet soon.

But not tonight.

“I'm sorry. I had some business to attend to, then a man came out of nowhere, ran me off the road and attacked me.”

“What?” Brett's voice rose an octave. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, just bruised.” His ego had taken a beating, too.

“Do you know who it was?”

“No, a big guy, two hundred pounds, scruffy. But it was dark and he came at me so fast that I didn't get a good look at his face.”

“You talk to Deputy Whitefeather about it?”

“Not yet. But I will.” Scarlet had to talk to him about getting that restraining order, too.

“Why did you call, Brett?”

A heartbeat of silence passed, and Ray regretted his defensive tone. They were brothers. Brett didn't have to have a reason.

“I found Hardwick, but I haven't talked to him yet. I'm outside The Silver Bullet where I spotted his truck. I thought we might confront him together.”

Ray glanced at the bedroom. In light of the night's events, he hated to leave Scarlet alone. What if Pullman returned?

Yet...if he stayed he'd be tempted to go back inside, apologize for being a jerk and ask her to give him another chance to love her.

He'd call the deputy to come over. Whitefeather could get the restraining order underway.

“I'll meet you at the bar in ten minutes.”

Brett agreed, and Ray fought guilt over keeping silent about Scarlet. But he would tell Brett soon. He'd have to.

Tucking his shirt back in his jeans, he fastened his belt, retrieved his gun and Stetson and went to the bedroom and knocked. Regret needled him as Scarlet opened the door.

Pain glinted in her eyes, but she quickly lifted her head and masked it.

“That was my brother. We may have a lead on the arsonist. I'm going to meet Brett to question the man.”

“Fine.”

Her curt tone told him all he needed to know. She was ticked off.

“I'll call Deputy Whitefeather and tell him about the attack on me, and about Pullman. I'll ask him to come by and get the ball rolling on the restraining order.”

She gave a quick nod. “Thanks, Ray.”

He hesitated, tempted to pull her against him again and assure her everything was all right. But he couldn't promise that it would be, not until he talked to his brothers.

And not until he found out the truth about the fire at the ranch.

“Scarlet, I—”

“Just go, Ray,” Scarlet said. “You were right to put a halt to things.”

Her look dared him to argue. He couldn't. He agreed with her.

But that didn't mean he liked it. Hell, he still wanted her with a vengeance.

* * *

S
CARLET
PROMISED
R
AY
she'd keep the doors locked until the deputy arrived.

But she was seething inside. She might understand Ray's hesitation over sleeping with her. And she should be grateful he'd left. But her body still tingled with need.

She wasn't the kind of girl who slept around. In fact, she'd actually climbed into bed with only two men in her life. Well, not men. Boys.

Once at seventeen when she'd first entered college, and she was young and foolish and thought she was in love. But she was inexperienced and happily-ever-after to her meant exclusivity and marriage. To him it had meant sex with no hassles.

The second time, she was twenty-one and had dated a prosecutor, but he'd decided to join a law firm that focused on defending hardened criminals. He'd wanted the money—and she hadn't been able to stomach the people he represented. Not after the violence and abuse she'd seen in her own life and through her work.

She made a cup of tea to settle her nerves, then heard the rumble of an engine and hurried to the window to make sure Pullman hadn't returned.

The deputy's car rolled to a stop and turned in the drive. Relieved, she set her tea on the coffee table, then unlocked the door.

Deputy Whitefeather looked solemn as he strode up the steps. “Miss Lovett, Ray McCullen called and said you had trouble.”

“Yes.” She gestured for him to come in. “I need a restraining order against Lloyd Pullman.”

“Tell me what happened.”

She offered him some coffee, but he declined. So she led him to the den, explained the circumstances with Pullman's daughter and described the way the man had tormented her earlier.

The twisted man didn't realize that by threatening her he'd hurt his chances of regaining his child.

* * *

R
AY
SPOTTED
B
RETT
'
S
truck when he pulled into the packed parking lot of The Silver Bullet.

Brett met him in the parking lot as he climbed from his SUV.

His brother caught his arm and frowned. “Hell, man, you
did
take a beating.”

Ray had forgotten about his black eye and the bruises. “Don't remind me.” He should have been faster to his gun.

“You been inside?” Ray asked.

Brett shook his head. “Figured I might need backup.”

Ray nodded, and they walked into the bar together. Cigarette smoke clogged the air, and the room smelled of beer and whiskey. Country music was piped through the speakers, some sad song about a man losing a woman, which made him think of Scarlet.

Except Scarlet was not his woman and never would be.

Laughter and conversation echoed from the bar and a dart game was underway in the back corner. Two biker-looking dudes occupied the pool table.

Ray swept his gaze through the crowded room, and Brett nudged his elbow, then gestured toward a young man in his twenties with a goatee, cowboy hat and boots. The watch on his left arm looked expensive, and so did the signet ring he wore on his right hand.

Cowboys didn't usually make that kind of money. Maybe he'd earned his by working for the enemy.

Brett started toward the bar and Ray followed. He strode to the opposite side of the man while Brett moved in on the other. The man had just tossed back a shot and ordered another.

Brett indicated that he and Ray wanted a shot, and the bartender set three on the bar.

Hardwick went to pick up his glass, and Brett laid a hand on his shoulder. “We need to talk, man.”

Ray set a hand on the other. “Yeah, Hardwick.”

Panic flashed in Hardwick's eyes, the kind born of guilt. He slid off the barstool and sprinted through the crowd, pushing people in his haste to escape.

“Dammit,” Brett muttered.

Ray cursed, too, then took off running.