With Just Cause (4 page)

“The woman you’re holding. Her name’s
Deandra. Don’t know much else. May not need to. You probably should
leave. No sense rattling my soon-to-be rescued females any more
than I have to. Any beauties among them?”

“None are older than twelve.”

“Kids? I’m about to rescue kids?”

“I told you I got angered.”

Len sighed loudly. Then he addressed her.

“Well. I guess, all that’s left is what
Deandra wishes.”

“What?” she asked.

“You coming with me to escort eight scared
young females back to the hacienda? Or... you going with him?”

“Now, wait. I never said—”

“She gets the choice, Tex.”

“I told you. Don’t call me that.”

The reply grumbled through his chest. This
just got weirder and weirder. They were giving her the choice? Damn
everything. It would be so much easier to be forced, even while
enjoying the heck out of it. That way, she’d have somewhere else to
assign blame and responsibility. She trembled. His arms tightened
slightly. He wasn’t cold anymore, either. He was warm.
Breath-catching. Enticing.

Hmm...

Go back to the 2100 Radical Society retreat?
Never knowing what she’d passed up? Or spend some time with what
might be heaven? Decisions. Decisions.

“I’ll stay with him,” she said.

“You get motion sick?”

The question rumbled through the chest she
leaned against, jogging her from a semi-conscious state that
approached the divine. His voice added to the heavenly sensations
overtaking her. He still sounded like really dark melted chocolate
would if it had a voice. Deep. Sinful. Baritone. Yet melodic. (Like
one of those voice-over ads for decadent lodgings.)
Wow.
It was almost too much. She’d never been carried so closely, so
securely, or for so long. The tremor he gave occasionally only
added to the impact. It felt absolutely right. Perfect. Or damn
near it.

Deandra shifted her head, bringing his jaw
into focus. And sighed. She couldn’t help it. He had the slightest
scuff of whisker on his jaw. It darkened his chin where the bare
shadow of a cleft beckoned a touch. A trace of whiskers also shaded
his upper lip, drawing her eye to really kissable-looking lips. The
guy was so gorgeous it impacted her breathing. Thinking. Pulse.
Again. Still. Double wow.

They were moving. She didn’t know how.
Nothing seemed to move on his lower body. She really didn’t care,
however. It was enough that wherever they touched, her body could
actually feel him. And was enjoying it immensely. Even through
their clothing.

“I’ve never ridden a horse... so I don’t
know. But I doubt it.”

He smiled, putting nice lines into play about
his eyes, and giving her a hint of teeth through his parted lips.
She sighed again. Louder this time.

“Didn’t bring a horse.”

“Oh. Well, you can’t possibly drive any worse
than Len. So, I’ll probably be fine in a truck, too.”

His smile broadened into a grin. There still
wasn’t much light, but what there was glimmered on pearly white
teeth. And what looked like really sharp canines. Deandra’s eyes
narrowed at the sight an instant before he sobered; and half an
instant before she thought about worrying over it. She’d crossed
over into insanity. Going heaven-knew-where, with a man she’d just
met. She didn’t even know his name. She told her body to stiffen.
Nothing obeyed.

“Close your eyes,” he said.

“Why?”

“Trust me.”

“You have to be joking. Trust you?”

“You’re safe. Promise.”

“If I don’t trust you to begin with, why
would I believe that?”

He twisted his lips as if considering it, and
then moved the arm that was wrapped about her ribcage. Deandra’s
breasts got squashed against really hard, muscled pecs as he
fumbled with something beneath his vest. That was enough to make
her sigh again, but this time she held it. She supposed if she was
willing to risk everything for a night in a stranger’s arms, it was
a huge benefit that he had the body of Adonis. Or Atlas. Or
whichever god had the most muscles. Maybe it was Hercules.

“Here.”

He moved again, releasing her from the
breath-stealing hug. A tremor went through him again, transferring
into her. Then he pressed something into her hand. For that he had
to pull it from where she’d clamped it about his neck. She wasn’t
acting much like an abduction victim, she decided. Deandra toyed
with the thing for a bit, even pricking her palm with the
stick-pin.

“Is this... a badge?” she asked.

“Yep.”

“You’re a Ranger, maybe?”

“Marshal.”

“You’re a US Marshal? Seriously?”

“You’ve got my badge.”

“Hmm.” She rubbed a thumb along the ridges of
his badge, where raised letters proclaimed whatever it said. Inside
the circle was the outline of a star. Wow. Maybe the angels really
did look out for fools, after all. Deandra smiled.

“Well. I guess I’ll trust you, then. Even if
I don’t know your name.”

“It’s Grimm.”

“Grimm?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s your last name? Reaper?”

“No. Bradley. Why?”

Deandra regarded him for a few moments. He
wasn’t kidding. He looked serious. He sent a glance down to her,
stopped her heart and her breathing, and then looked back out at
wherever he was moving. He didn’t even crack a smile. Okay. So he
didn’t have a sense of humor. Or if he did, it was dry. Fine by
her. He was the handsomest thing she’d ever seen, had a physique
that she was going to love exploring, and he wasn’t just
law-abiding. He upheld the law. It could be worse. A lot worse.
Starting with - she could be back at the hacienda with Edna and the
others.

Deandra closed her eyes. It felt like they
started moving even more rapidly. She’d have checked but her
eyelids felt leaden. Her senses fine-tuned to his embrace. His
scent. The sound of his heart pounding.

...or was it hers?

She couldn’t tell. She didn’t care. Grimm
Bradley. Mrs. Grimm Bradley. Marshal and Missus Grimm Bradley.
Deandra giggled to herself. She hadn’t had these sorts of thoughts
since she was little. This was insane. And it was sure nice. She
tightened her eyes and hugged into him.

o0o

He had his mate. Of all the impossible,
improbable, and unbelievable events, it was still true. His
mate
! Her. The being fated for him for all eternity. No
wonder he shook.

He had her. Now. Right now. In his arms!
Sweetly curving into him. Every bit of her. Flesh and blood and
sinew, and muscle. Sweet heaven! It wasn’t possible. She was almost
too perfect. Totally feminine, and pleasingly curved. Eye-catching.
No. She was beyond that. His mate was beauty personified. Large,
wide eyes of some light hue... maybe gray? Perfect facial features.
Long dark hair she wore in a pony-tail. She was tall but not overly
so. Probably fit beneath his chin. And she was womanly. Soft and
round where she should be. Whittled in at the waist without use of
any foundation he could feel. All of it solid. Tangible. Real.
Heart pounding real.

Heart pounding...

As if he still had one.

His mate’s pulse was a drumbeat in his ears,
filling his chest cavity with the thrum. The same cadence. As if it
forced his dead heart to life and then dragged it to an exact
rhythm. That wasn’t the strangest part, either.

He’d been cold. Chilled and lifeless and
dead. A corpse. For nigh a century and a half now. And yet the
moment he’d sensed her presence standing in that window, the
opposite sensation had started somewhere deep within him. Warmth
had sparked to life, radiating through him until he’d actually shed
his jacket somewhere back there - in the courtyard of that
hacienda. Him? Grimm Bradley? The man who should even now be
resting beneath the tombstone in The Bradley Ranch’s little
cemetery? Under the briefest of age-worn epithets? The one that
simply said: R.I.P. 1873?

It wasn’t possible.

He’d lost his purpose. His mission. His
anger. His wits. He hadn’t said anything to her then because his
mind didn’t cooperate with forming words. His lips wouldn’t have
mouthed them if he’d tried because his vocal cords hadn’t felt like
they belonged to him, either. Everything on him felt strange.
Electrified. Alert. Like it was getting reanimated. Despite the
impossibility. Somehow. Through some power.

Grimm hadn’t anything to compare it to. He
still didn’t. And every time he thought of what was happening, he
couldn’t contain the instant tremor that ran his frame, making him
clench her tighter. Nearer. Holding her closer to where his heart
actually felt like it was pounding with fluid that required a
pulse. It wasn’t possible.

And yet...

His flight overshot the cemetery, and then
the gatepost announcing the Bradley Homestead. He’d almost reached
the entrance to his lair before stopping. Dropping. Flexing his
legs for the move, and actually feeling the muscles respond. And
then more. His eyes widened as he felt the stir of it. His groin.
He had to look up and somehow swallow the groan at holding it back
as even that part of life got gifted back to him.

By her. His mate.

“So... hey. Can I open my eyes now?”

The whiff of breath attached to her question
slithered over where he should have fastened the top button of his
shirt. And worn a kerchief. Anything to prevent contact that
sensitized the skin beneath his jaw. Farther. Over his chest.
Spreading in ripples resembling waterfalls down his belly to where
he was studiously doing his best to control. And failing. All of it
transferred to a tremor that rocked his frame, and then her. Grimm
actually had to swallow.
Swallow?

“Yeah.”

The word was rasped, but intelligible. He
glanced down and quickly jerked away from the contact. Better to
look down into the valley. At the plethora of buildings. The hum of
activity. The yard lights. Dim hints of light in barn windows, even
now in the middle of the night, as someone checked prized
livestock. He felt so out-of-sorts and foolish. He didn’t dare look
at her. He was barely handling the sensations fate sent him
already. Connecting with her gaze could be his undoing. Flickers of
heat and want and craving, and all of it combined with absolute
need, had been tendered just by the feel of her in his arms.

It didn’t matter much. He felt her unwavering
gaze on him. Steady. Unblinking. Easily discernible in the
combination of illumination from the quarter moon and what light
the Bradley Ranch exuded. That gaze of hers sent kindled passions
right past the smoke stage...pretty close to catching pure fire.
And he didn’t know what might happen then. He’d never felt it, and
hadn’t any experience on handling it.

Grimm tightened everything in an effort to
tamp it. Or, at least control it. His abdomen. Shoulders. Calves.
Thighs. Buttocks. Groin.

Damn it!

That was stupid. His arms clenched
instantaneously, lifting her body higher into his chest, and adding
to the affliction. This was pure madness. And complete wonder.

“Wow.”

More of her breath touched his chin, starting
the chain of events all over again. Ramping it higher, extending
the range of each separate sensation. Heat. Craving. Excitement.
Anticipation. All of it with increasing intensity. Grimm nearly
groaned.

“I mean... double wow. Do you live
there?”

She was speaking of the ranch.

Disappointment invaded, dulling the edge of
what promised to be uncontrollable. Deflating. Reducing.
Diminishing. It was akin to shoving his head in the horse trough.
Dribbling water into a hot skillet to test for temperature. Shoving
wet wood onto a bonfire.

His arms loosened, dropping her weight
slightly. He wondered if she noticed.

“That’s the Bradley Ranch,” he finally told
her.

“Bradley Ranch. Hmm. That’s probably listed
in a guidebook about Texas, isn’t it?”

“Maybe.”

“Lot of acres?”

“Yeah. Sections.”

“Sounds... rich. Real rich. Any of those
barns look bigger than the Special Events Complex back home. Are
you one of those cattle baron millionaire guys? Maybe an oil
tycoon?”

“Not me.”

“Sure looks like it. Maybe you’re the heir?
Or one of them?”

The awe staining her voice was worrisome. As
was the excited tone that looking over the Bradley riches imbued
into her voice. The combination started a twist deep in his gut. He
shouldn’t have stopped. He could have had her deep into the mine
with him. In his rooms. On his bed. But some bit of steel deep
within him made this happen, creating this conversation. Forcing
the secrets into the open. And he knew why. She was his mate. She
existed. And he’d found her. Mating with her on that bed was going
to be pure perfection. No lies. No secrets. No darkness. He
wouldn’t allow it.

“Well?”

The breath from her query chilled and muted
this time, altering the forces he’d been barely keeping at bay with
something else. It wasn’t disappointment. It went a lot deeper.
More personal. There wasn’t anywhere to hide. It was easier to
stick with short answers, even if they kept getting harsher
voiced.

“Nope.”

“You don’t live there?”

“Nope.”

“But you’re one of them? A Bradley?”

“Yes. And no.”

“That sounds promising... in a sinful kind of
way. Dark. Exciting. Illicit. I’m game. Are you like a black sheep
or something?”

Her voice sounded sincere, saying things that
couldn’t be. As if it was nothing.

“Sort of,” he answered finally.

“What did you do?” She asked it expectantly,
and with a hint of drama.

“Came from the wrong side of the blanket.” He
avoided looking anywhere near her as if an infusion of real blood
darkened his already swarthy skin. He
flushed?
Incredible.