Bridled and Branded (3 page)

They rounded the corner at the end of the first row of large rigs where the majority of the horse vans were parked, and Blaine gasped when he spotted her. “What the hell?”

Up against one of the trailers, in the third row of campers, the cowboy no one knew used his body to block Lynlee. “Come on, sugar, you expect me to believe you ain’t let that Mitchell guy tap your sweet little pussy?”

“Get away from me. Right now!” She screamed her lungs out. They were near one of the lampposts, and body formations were easy to make out, which only fueled Blaine’s anger.

“You lay one hand on me and I’ll hunt you down and kill you myself! I said let me go!”

“Get down,” Blaine whispered. “He’s got a knife at his side.”

“Why the hell is she provoking him, then?”

“She may not know he has a weapon. Look in his right hand.” Blaine kept his voice low and ducked behind the tailgate of a new Ford Super Duty F-350. Even in the wake of danger, Blaine appreciated a fine automobile. He was thankful he could hide behind the shiny, silver extended cab with its long bed.

As if Lynlee’s perpetrator suddenly remembered his weapon, he brought the blade to her throat. The knife shimmered when the light cast a spotlight on the jagged edge, and Blaine felt like someone punched him the stomach.

“Ah, come on, doll. No one is here but me and you. Tell me the truth now. Are you sure you aren’t fucking Mitchell and his buddy, what’s his name?”

“I don’t know,” she screeched, the fear evident in her voice.

Blaine winced. Damn her for lying and placing herself at risk.

Rhett was all over it. “How about that? Guess you didn’t make an impression after all.”

“Shh! I don’t want to hear your rapping right now. He has a blasted knife at her neck.”

“He won’t use it,” Rhett said. He was such a natural at being a badass. “But he may know what it feels like to have the dang thing slice at his skin by the time the night is over.”

Point made.

Blaine gritted his teeth as the fury whipped around him faster than tornado winds. He saw the guy run the tip of his knife over her neck. Back and forth, he traced it like a madman waiting to draw blood.

“Do you have bikini panties on underneath those riding pants?” he asked Lynlee.

Her stifled cries prevented an answer and then she stuttered a reply. “N…no.”

He ran his hand up and down her thigh. “A thong?”

“Ye…yes,” she said.

He’d definitely scared her now. Her stuttering and stammering hit a nerve deep inside of Blaine, and all he wanted to do was run to her, save her. He realized to lose control placed her at risk. He had to wait, and with perfect calculation, strike at the man with more venom in his veins than he had love in his heart.

“Oh, hell,” Blaine muttered.

“What is it?” Rhett asked at his ear.

“Nothin’,” he retorted.
Shit!
Blaine had been so busy chasing Lynlee that he’d failed to notice, or rather admit, something he should’ve accepted a long time ago.

Blaine was madly in love with Lynlee Lewis. Sure, he knew his feelings had deepened, and over the years, he’d come to expect that they would one day have a future together, but when had the attraction changed to this profound need to love and protect her? When had his desire to hold her become such an obsession?

Lynlee released what sounded like the start of a scream, jolting Blaine’s attention back to where his focus should’ve remained.

“Did Mitchell watch you dress this morning?”

“No!” Lynlee cried out.

“Who is that guy?” Blaine asked. “Lynlee is where she is now because that madman thinks she’s with you.”

“Dunno.” Rhett leaned in and stretched his neck for a closer look. “Never seen him before.”

“Look harder,” Blaine snapped.

“Did you show your pretty little thong to Mitchell yet?”

“He sure knows you,” Blaine said.

“No…I…I just…met him today,” Lynlee stuttered.

“You did, did ya?” The stranger continued badgering her.

“Yes! I met him at the show.”

Blaine’s chest tightened. What the hell had Rhett done to this guy? What kind of revenge was he seeking and why was he using Lynlee to find it?

“I’m still gonna have a lot of fun with you, Lynlee. You know why?”

She didn’t respond, or if she did, Blaine couldn’t tell.

The ramblings of a lunatic continued. “He’s been running his mouth all day long about what he plans to do with you, and you know what?”

“I don’t know anything,” she wailed.

“He planned on taking you to bed with his buddy, the one you don’t know. His name is Blaine McCain.”

“I…didn’t…know.”

“Of course not.” He grabbed her hips and pressed against her. “Feel that?”

“Yes…yes…”

“You have two choices now. Wanna know what they are?” The cowboy’s voice oozed with pure meanness.

She didn’t say anything.

“Lynlee? I said do you wanna know what they are?”

“Yes.”

An evil laugh filled the air. “Good. You can either let me fuck you and try to enjoy yourself, or I’ll do it anyway and not care one way or the other.”

“But…please don’t…”

“Don’t what?”

“I’ve never had sex before. I’m a …”

“A what? Virgin?” He laughed outright. “You expect me to believe you’re talking to Mitchell and McCain and you’re a virgin? Try again, sweets. Those two friends of yours wouldn’t know what to do with an inexperienced woman.”

“The hell I wouldn’t,” Rhett said in a raspy voice. “You didn’t tell me.”

“I didn’t know,” Blaine fired back.

Virgin? Another sweat bead formed over Blaine’s brow and his balls pinched off any and all good judgment then. He should’ve been shot between the eyes. He was staring down a long, dark alley waiting for his chance to move on Lynlee’s assailant and all he could think about was the status of her purity.

If he were any kind of man at all, he’d place a target on his forehead and let someone take their best shot. He deserved one, right square between the eyes, with an air soft gun, of course. Then again, maybe he needed something with enough kick to make him think straight again. God in heaven, what had he gotten himself into?

Shit. What had Lynlee gotten herself into?

He looked down at his watch. It was twelve o’clock. A lot of the party goers would head toward their campers soon. Some of them would stop off at the barn and check on their animals first.

If anyone happened their way, they’d use their limited window of opportunity. Maybe with foot-traffic, the SOB would drop the knife out of sight. Better still, away from all body parts, particularly the ones untouched by a man. Yes, indeed, he had to keep those areas secure for sure.

Blaine would get Lynlee out of this unexpected predicament. Afterwards, come hell or high water, he’d keep her safe. He also planned to tell her what was on his mind.

He was going to love her. Hell, he’d loved her for most of his adult life anyway.

Chapter Four

Lynlee’s heart skipped a few beats when she saw Rhett and Blaine duck out of sight. They’d followed her. Thank God Blaine had been interested enough—or perhaps even a little jealous—to trail behind them.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked loudly.

“You’ll have to ask your boys. They should be able to tell you all about my reasons, especially Mitchell. Word is he never shuts up. He shouldn’t have a problem boasting about why he and I have some unfinished business.”

“What’s this got to do with me?”

“Plenty,” he yelled, turning his head like he wanted someone to hear him. “A few months ago, Rhett Mitchell got my wife drunk at a local pub. Whole thing happened two weeks after we came home from our honeymoon. He took her to his place after a few drinks and straight into bed with his roommate—the fellow you don’t know, for the record—and ruined a ten-year relationship.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have gotten married,” she suggested. Lynlee hated to tell him this, but if it took him ten years to marry the woman and then only two weeks for her to find her way into another man’s bed, there was something wrong, somewhere. Rhett Mitchell or no Rhett Mitchell, they certainly weren’t the poster couple for wedding magazines.

“You think you’re telling me something I don’t know? Why do you think it took me a decade to propose?”

“Why did you?” she asked, determined to keep him talking. As long as they weren’t doing things she didn’t want to think about, she’d gladly discuss relationship issues, world peace, or even global warming. Any topic would do.

“You want me to open up and tell you the problem I had with my wife?”

Hell no. She could guess. Given the size of the erection pressed against her leg, she had a good idea of the reasons why his wife might look at a few cowboy strangers. He sure didn’t offer much by way of manly gifts or a winning personality.

The crunching of gravel moved closer and closer. Someone was walking toward them. The man dropped the knife away from her neck and pressed against her again.

“When these folks walk by, I want you to act like a love-sick pup, or I’ll stab you in the side, got it?”

She grunted and reluctantly complied, throwing her arms over his back and hoping she wouldn’t have to smell his bad whiskey breath against her lips longer than absolutely necessary. The folks staggering past them kept their heads down, and Lynlee tried to draw the disgruntled cowboy into a closed-mouth kiss.

Lynlee didn’t want Blaine and Rhett making out like heroes, especially since she wasn’t convinced the man who held her wanted to harm her. He was drunk, looking for a little revenge, and only wanted to draw out Blaine and Rhett. Surely he saw them at the exhibitor’s party.

Even with the threat of danger, Lynlee noticed something. The man’s demeanor changed and practically softened. He sort of had kind eyes after she took a closer look, and he hardly possessed the cold, empty stare of a rapist or even a murderer.

She quickly reminded herself that she didn’t know that many serial killers. Maybe they all had big, brown, puppy-dog eyes and looked like they could have been anyone’s brother, father, nephew, or son. Maybe somebody had once loved Charles Manson and thought of him as harmless. And Jeffrey Dahmer—perhaps other people trusted him and never saw their death arrive when it snuck up on them in the
dead
-heat of a hot,
suffocating
night.

Oh, God, she thought.
I’m panicking!

She felt the man stiffen when her lips met his again after hearing another few people approach. She was going to be sick. If he opened his mouth and made her take his tongue, she might throw up right there.

When the idiot finally dropped the knife to his side, her need to self-preserve kicked in, and she placed a clasped hand around his wrist, running her fingers through his hair with her free hand. She wanted that knife under her control when Blaine and Rhett approached, certain they had a real fondness for the body parts this strange character might try to disassemble.

Footsteps moved closer and Lynlee recognized the pronounced walk of one mad-as-hell cowboy. Blaine knew how to strut, and the way he worked those spurs when he took his time in a cowboy’s pace made Lynlee a tad bit nervous.

For love and mercy, Blaine had always been the man for her, and there’d never been any question about the way he made her feel. But that was when she was just a girl and he was just a boy.

Even when she’d dreamt about him, she hadn’t imagined anything quite as romantic as this. Now, Blaine McCain wasn’t just a man, and she wasn’t only his woman.

He was her hero. And he had come to save her.

* * * *

Everything happened fast. Rhett and Blaine moved quickly once Blaine gave the signal. He motioned for Rhett immediately when he saw Lynlee curl her fingers around the perpetrator’s wrist.

Within seconds of their approach, there was a struggle. They rolled to the ground and Blaine straddled the guy’s middle. He threw back his arm, itching to punch his lights out.

“No!” Lynlee wailed.

Immediately, Blaine’s gaze drifted in her direction. “What the hell do you mean, ‘no’?”

“Don’t hit him.”

“Give me one good reason not to.” He didn’t drop his arm. His closed hand burned for a connection. He wanted to break the man’s jaw.

“You fucked his wife.” She stated the facts as easily as she might have talked about two horses breeding.

“Watch your mouth. Your sweet momma didn’t bring you up to talk like a man’s whore.” He hadn’t meant to sound so cross, but damn it, the last thing he wanted was Lynlee talking like a tramp—especially in front of Rhett.

The man underneath him said, “She might as well act like a working girl. You and Mitchell expect her to behave like one when she’s with ya.”

Blaine grabbed the fellow by the collar. “I got a right mind to send you straight to hell, mister.”

“Already there, asshole,” he drawled. “You and your buddy put me there when you took the only woman I ever loved, held her in your arms, and fucked away the love my wife had for me.”