Chapter One
Mad Dog tried to claim Cheyenne at the cemetery right after Frankie`s funeral. The rest
of the gang watched as they re-mounted their gleaming choppers.
"I`m leader of the Vipers now," he growled, seizing her long, dark hair in his
beefy fist. "Everything Frankie owned is mine, including you."
Cheyenne didn`t waste her energy squirming. She had been expecting a move from Mad Dog,
though she had hoped there would be time enough to get away later tonight when everybody
was good and drunk.
"I wasn`t Frankie`s property," Cheyenne hissed defiantly as he pulled her
against his hard, leather clad body. "And I`m sure as hell not yours."
Mad Dog laughed, low and mean. She could smell the whisky on his breath. Cheyenne had
tried to warn Frankie about the man. He was no good, disloyal and selfish. She half
suspected him of collaborating with the Hell Raisers, Frankie`s killers.
"You`re lucky we`re out in public," he told her. "Or I would teach you a
lesson."
"You will be the one to learn the lesson," Cheyenne retorted. "You`re no
leader. You won`t last, you`re going down, I promise."
Mad Dog`s beady eyes gleamed. His ugly forehead crinkled. Predictably, he snapped into
violence mode, cocking his arm to strike her. "The only one going down is you,
bitch!"
Cheyenne closed her eyes bracing herself. Better to be hit than lose her self respect.
Incredibly, the punch never came. A man had appeared behind them, his voice freezing Mad
Dog in mid swing.
"If I were you, friend," the stranger drawled, eerily calm, "I would think
very carefully about my next move."
"What the hell?" Mad Dog let go of Cheyenne and whirled about, visibly shocked
that anyone would dare approach him like this.
Cheyenne drew a ragged breath. The stranger was gorgeous, his six foot tall, muscular
body poured into a black tee shirt and jeans. He wore boots, combat style, not
motorcycle. His hair was as dark as hers, though it was shorn like a newly recruited
marine. He had the face of a model. His nose was perfectly proportioned, he had a solid
chin and totally killer blue eyes.
The kind of eyes a woman could lose herself in. The kind other men knew better than to
mess with. But this was Mad Dog they were dealing with, backed by ten of his henchmen.
"Good boy," the stranger praised Mad Dog`s initial response. "Now how
about if you and the rest of your degenerate playmates run along before something nasty
happens?"
Mad Dog bared his teeth. "Either you`re looking to commit suicide or you`re the
stupidest mother fucker on Earth. You get any idea who we are, friend?"
The stranger stood with his hands at his side, seemingly indifferent, hough Cheyenne had
a feeling he was ready for anything. "You are members of a criminal organization
known as the Vipers," the man said, as though recounting the exploits of a stamp
club. "You have rap sheets as long as my arm and at present you are being hunted
down by an even worse gang, which, from the looks of you, is going to win."
Mad Dog pointed a stubby finger. "You think I won`t kill you just because there
might be witnesses?"
"No," the man replied without skipping a beat. "I think you won`t kill me
because you`re not good enough."
That was all Mad Dog needed to hear. Letting out a blood curdling roar, not caring that
a priest and several members of the cemetery staff stood within earshot at Frankie`s
grave, Mad Dog charged like a wild bull.
Cheyenne was pretty sure he was going to regret such an unplanned attack, and sure
enough, he might as well have taken on a brick wall. It was all over in a heartbeat. The
handsome stranger coolly stepped aside and grabbed hold of Mad Dog from behind, pulling
his arm up behind his back.
There was a sickening crack and Mad Dog fell to his knees, screaming.
"Who`s next?" the man asked.
Two of the gang members came at him once. They had knives.
The stranger had them both down on the ground, one with a broken wrist, the other with
the wind knocked out of him.
"This is just the warm up," said the stranger to the rest. "We can get to
the main event or call it a day, your call."
The others looked at each other, frowning.
"Screw this," said Medicine Man, the scraggly haired third in command.
"The little bitch ain`t worth it."
The Vipers scrambled to mount up, the healthy ones helping the wounded. Without so much
as a goodbye to the woman who had lived with them as their leader`s girlfriend for over a
year, they took off, spewing gray fumes into the crisp, morning air.
Just like that, it was the two of them.
"I guess I owe you my thanks," Cheyenne said, trying to decide what if anything
the stranger might want in return for his act of gallantry.
Silent as a ghost, the stranger moved in on her.
"Hey, what do you think you`re doing?"
He took hold of her wrist, spinning her about. The handcuffs were cold and unyielding.
He wasted no time securing Cheyenne`s hands behind her back.
"Who are you?" Cheyenne demanded as he pulled her by the arm towards a waiting
SUV, black and military looking, just like him. "Some kind of cop?"
He opened the passenger door and helped her inside. The squirming she had put off
earlier happened now as the man leaned in close to buckle her seat belt. She could smell
pine and musk, fresh after shave and the scent of testosterone. His beefy shoulder
brushed her arm. Damn, this guy was hot, uber hot, the most stunning example of alpha
male she had ever run across.
And he had her helpless, in bondage, for heaven`s sake. What if he were to decide to
turn the whole thing sexual, putting his lips on hers, his hands on her defenseless
breasts under the tank top and open leather jacket–no bra, nipples turgid?
"I`m not a cop," he said. "Your father hired me."
Oh, fuck. Cheyenne`s world dropped from underneath her as he shut the door, metal on
metal. Why couldn`t it have been the police?
Even Mad Dog wasn`t looking so bad now.
Cheyenne watched the textbook male specimen climb in behind the wheel. His meaty thighs
pressed the seat, drawing the material tight across his crotch. He was packing heat in
those tight jeans and she didn`t mean a gun. Was it her imagination or was he getting a
hard on?
Licking her lips she made a fateful decision.
It was likely the only way to get out of this predicament and, hell, it had its fringe
benefits.
"Whoever you are, really," she said, steeling herself. "I don`t care.
But if you agree to let me go...I`ll have sex with you."
* * * *
Reed Tanner clenched his teeth, forcing himself not to react to the sultry proposition.
Indeed, there was nothing more in the world he wanted right now than sex with his lovely
passenger.
Scratch that, Reed wanted to possess her completely, putting her incredible body to their
mutual pleasure, marking her in the process, branding her like no other man ever had. He
knew her type. The spoiled daddy`s girl turned hell raiser, biting every hand that tried
to feed her when all she really wanted was a man strong enough to tame her.
"Didn`t you hear me?" she said at last. "I made you an offer."
The impatience in her voice, the implied arrogance heated his blood all the more. She
was a spitfire, all right. For all her time spent in the company of supposed bad boys,
however, he doubted she had ever felt the touch of a real man.
"I heard you just fine," he said, driving the custom SUV past the cemetery
exit. It was a loaner, from an old friend still with the FSA, the Federal Security
Agency. It had a few extras which might come in handy, including bulletproof tinted glass
and a built in machine gun. "Sex isn`t an option, that`s all."
He felt her eyes on him, hot, green, and indignant. As the only child of Rutherford
Miles Stanley, owner of three television networks, a pro ball team and a hundred or so
newspapers, she was not used to getting no for an answer.
"Don`t tell me you`re gay," she said.
Reed clutched the wheel. With a woman like Cheyenne he wondered if any man could be gay.
Barely five foot four, she was all curves, her soft body and silky raven`s hair built for
a man`s hands. And that face. She could be an angel if she cleaned up her act. Although
he had to admit, the demonic act with those piercing green eyes and slicing cheek bones
had its appeal, too.
Oh, yeah, he wanted her...more than he had wanted a woman in a very long time. But sex
was not on the agenda, not by a long shot.
"How about if we just drop the subject, shall we, Cheyenne?"
"Sure, why not," she dripped sarcasm. If eyes could dispense daggers, Reed
would have been cut to ribbons. "There are so many other things to talk about. Like
what the fuck you think you are doing holding me against my will? You do know this is
kidnapping, right?"
"Technically, yes," he conceded. "But there are extenuating
circumstances."
Cheyenne snorted. "Yeah, right. This is so like my father. I`ve just lost the man
I love and he has to go and humiliate me, hiring some goon to drag me off from the only
people that care about me."
Reed wasn`t sure where to start, there were so many absurdities in her statement. To his
knowledge Cheyenne`s association with Frank Korwin and the rest of the Vipers had been a
cynical attempt to humiliate her father for supposed wrongs in her upbringing.
Then again, Reed had only heard her father`s side of things.
"For people who supposedly care about you that much, the Vipers didn`t shed many
tears over you," Reed observed.
"How could they?" she snapped. "They were too busy trying not to get
killed by you."
"I had no intention of killing anyone."
If Reed had, they would have been dead, all eleven of them. It wasn`t bragging, just a
statement of fact. Reed had been well trained and he was experienced, too, his mettle
forged in the fire of a hundred operations, many of them deep in hostile territory.
Cheyenne shook her hair over her shoulder proudly and raised her nose in the air. His
mouth watered at the brief flash of white skin, her neck, her ear lobe. She looked good
in those handcuffs, damn good.
Maybe this assignment was a mistake. Reed was an aficionado of bondage and he liked
willing women in captivity. He had to remember this was life and death, though, not a
romp in the hay. This female, desirable, vulnerable and sexy, was in grave danger.
And it was up to him to save her.
If only Cheyenne knew what lay ahead for them both. A week, maybe a whole lot longer
confined in a small cabin, just the two of them.
She wasn`t the only one with an ordeal ahead.
Would Reed be able to keep his hands off her and on his work?
Theoretically, the answer was yes. Reed had encountered beautiful, off limits women
before.
The thing of it was Cheyenne was different. She was already managing to get around his
defenses, making him feel things a professional should not.
And there was another thing, too, potentially the biggest danger of all.
Because unless he had missed his guess something had sparked in her eyes when he had
belted her, handcuffed into the seat.
Cheyenne wasn`t just gorgeous, she was submissive.
Did she know it herself?
He hoped not. For both their sakes.
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