Last of the Red-Hot Heroes Page 3

  “It’s not as dire as he makes it sound,” Fallon said.

  “So you’ve gone to the medium, too? Did you take my team there?”

  “I followed them, but I didn’t take them. And yeah, I might have listened to what Madame Griselda had to say once I was there.” Fallon shrugged. “Figured I might as well.”

  “I am so about to lose my temper,” she warned Fallon. “You came in here to let me know that my team was sneaking out there. Obviously you don’t think this Griselda is totally on the up and up.”

  “It’s just that your team is a little green,” Fallon said. “They’re lively, talented, hotter than pistols, but green.”

  “Green?” Harper glared at him.

  “Inexperienced with the ways of Hell. They might be getting drawn in to more than they bargained for,” Fallon said, suddenly looking downright miserable at being the one divulging the team’s mischief.

  “Tell her why,” Declan said. “You started it. Finish it.”

  “Drugs, maybe, maybe not,” Fallon said with a drawn-out sigh. “Lots of hooch and sexy young things being prime candidates for mischief. There’s a bunch of hocus-pocus going on that isn’t entirely legit, even for a man such as myself who’s pretty comfortable with the spirits.”

  “Are you certifiable?” Harper demanded. “Completely certifiable?” She swung her attention to Declan. “You knew this and you didn’t tell me?”

  He raised his hands. “I didn’t know all of this. I haven’t done the recon my brother has.” He saluted Fallon a little mockingly, but still with respect. “Being a nosey sonofabitch may not be the worst thing you are, Fallon.”

  “I’m going out there right now, and I’m going to tell Ivy Peters that’s she’s not ever to allow any member of my team—”

  Declan caught her by the arm. “Hold on a second, beautiful. Let’s not go off without a plan.”

  “Plans are good,” Fallon said, and Declan said, “Get out.”

  “Sure, shoot the messenger,” Fallon said, departing.

  “You’re an ass,” Harper said, shaking her arm out of Declan’s grip. “You weren’t going to tell me my team might be in danger?”

  “Harper, how many times did you and Cameron and Ava sneak out to the Honky-tonk, in direct defiance of Mayor Judy’s orders and curfew?”

  “I don’t have time for this.” She hurried to her truck. He might be gorgeous, absolutely to-die-for, and he might have stunned her a little with his amazing kiss—but her son and her team were the bedrock of her focus. Not a hot cowboy who apparently thought keeping things from her was a good idea.

  Declan jumped in the passenger side as she roared the truck to life.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Harper demanded.

  “Going along for the ride, looking for trouble, whichever you want to call it. Have to make sure you don’t start something.”

  She pulled out from the training center, gravel shooting from under her tires. “I thought you didn’t want to be a hero anymore.”

  He rolled down the window, looked up at the clear blue sky studded with stringy wisps of clouds. “I was never a hero.”

  He had two medals from Afghanistan, but wouldn’t admit what they were for. She’d only heard of the honors from Saint and Trace. For a man who claimed he was no hero, Declan certainly showed up when times were tough in Hell. “You don’t have to come. Nothing’s going to happen except a chat with Ivy, and then one with the charlatan.”

  “You may have to think through your chat with the so-called charlatan,” he said, poking his head back in the window to glance at her. “She told Fallon some things that freaked him out pretty good.”

  “Fallon’s susceptible to a pretty woman.”

  “Aren’t we all.”

  “I suppose that’s the typical male response. I’m disappointed that you fall into the same line of thinking. Anyway, I don’t believe in that nonsense. She’d better not have told my team anything that’ll mess them up.” Harper’s breath was so tight inside her that even her stomach felt tight. “Those are young, impressionable girls. And they’re my responsibility.”

  “Yeah,” Declan said, “better start thinking of a backup plan.”

  Chapter Three

  The damage was done in more ways than one, Declan knew, as the blond cupcake driving the hell out of her truck—not speeding, but not leisurely poking along, either—swung into the Honky-tonk parking lot. He should have told her—though to be fair, he’d wanted to avoid a scene exactly like this. Ratting out the young team hadn’t seemed exactly right—and he hadn’t figured they were doing anything any different than what Cameron, Ava, and Harper had done in their early days on the team. In Hell you sank or swam; survival was for the strongest.

  But the blond cupcake was now wearing a layer of frost on her—icy frost, not sweet frosting—that he could feel even as she hopped out of the truck. The county road that drew the line between Hell proper and Hell county-in-the-sticks, where Ivy spun her webs, was busy today, with vehicles vying to get into the packed parking lot. Far enough out from the main heart of town, Ivy was in the prime spot to run a business just this side of legal.

  Maybe not even this side of legal.

  “I’ll be backing you up every second,” Declan said, and Harper replied, “Do whatever makes you happy,” and marched across to the rocking Honky-tonk.

  “This doesn’t feel entirely auspicious, but what the hell.” Declan loped across the road, hot on Harper’s path. As he knew from dealing with their big-haired, opinionated mayor, nothing was guaranteed to blow up a man’s day quite like a blonde on the warpath.

  Still, he’d survived worse. “Hold on, Sparky. What’s the plan?” He caught her hand, slowed her down enough to take some wind from her sails.

  “The plan is to tell Ivy to leave my team alone. And tell that fake fortune-teller my girls are off limits.”

  “Here’s the thing, gorgeous. We may have to consider that the conversation you need to have is with your team.”

  “I intend to have that one as soon as I’m done here. And by the way, there’s no ‘we’ where my team is concerned. I can handle this, Declan. Thanks.”

  “We don’t know that Fallon was being honest, Harper.”

  She stared at him, and he reveled in her beautiful eyes focused only on him. One day she was going to look at him with another expression in her eyes, and he was going to love every second of it.

  “He wouldn’t lie, would he?”

  Declan snorted. “It’s Fallon. He’s a Horseman. They’re always on the shady side.” His twin had chosen another way in life. He’d accepted it long ago, when they were kids. Fallon was always getting in trouble and shirking chores, and hanging around out with the kids who’d eventually grown up to form a business and call themselves the Horsemen, direct rivals to the Outlaws. “Anyway, you know Ivy and the Horsemen stay tight.”

  “Are you suggesting Ivy’s setting me up?”

  He shrugged. “All I’m suggesting is that we go in carefully, beautiful.”

  “Again, there’s no ‘we’—”

  “I know.” He opened the door for her. “My role here today is perfunctory backup.”

  She frowned as she walked past him, but he didn’t care because he caught a whiff of sweet perfume, which reminded him of the peachy-bloomed mimosas deep in his woods. “I doubt you’ve ever been perfunctory.”

  “I’m okay with my role,” he said cheerfully. “After you.”

  She didn’t look satisfied, but the sight of Ivy perched on her bar, wearing a flaming sequined red dress, her long, platinum-over-dark tresses shining under the chandeliers, caught Harper’s attention. The little lady always walked fast, but right now, she positively had lightning in her boots. Declan followed at a measured pace, giving her all the space she wanted.

  “Look what’s blown into my humble establishment,” Ivy said above the music as they approached. “Hello, Harper. Hellooo, handsome,” she said, sliding off the bar and sli
nking up real close to Declan. “Crystal, get Declan a drink while Harper and I talk business.”

  Ivy up close was an amazing spectacle. Declan held his breath as she brushed too tightly against him, a sleek ribbon of woman entwining him with feminine firepower. There was a reason their stalwart Mayor Judy wanted her handsome sheriff nowhere near this man-magnet. Declan put three careful inches of space between them—only to find a stunning redhead in the shortest teal blue dress he’d ever seen embedded in his other side.

  “Private bar’s this way, soldier,” Crystal said. “Ivy and Harper will only need a minute in her office to straighten out their deal.”

  “I’m a sailor, thanks. And I think I’ll hang out here, uh, Crystal.”

  “I have to do my job,” Crystal told him, pulling him through a red door. “You don’t want Ivy to fire me, do you?”

  He dug himself in before she could usher him down the secret hallway only the most select guests ever saw. He knew what lay down this passage—wild pleasures a man could only dream of. “Crystal, that woman I came with is just as dangerous as Ivy. And she’ll fire me if I don’t stay away from you.”

  “Possessive, huh?” He stepped out of the hallway, the private red door closing behind them. The bouncers protecting the door hadn’t even blinked as Crystal had tried to drag him into the secret passage—ultimate guest privacy was Ivy’s calling card. Crystal went behind the bar, poured them both a whiskey in a cut-crystal glass. Handed it to him with a smile that promised a long night of sexy sin. What the hell, he needed a drink right now. As long as the little lady in the super-short dress stayed behind that thick chunk of wood, he was safe. No harm, no foul.

  “Not possessive,” he said. “Harper’s businesslike.” He tossed the whiskey back, put the glass on the bar, stepped away. This was fine, everything was going according to plan. He was playing perfunctory backup, just as he’d offered. There were no squeals of rage coming from Ivy’s office, so everything was on go.

  Until he realized he was getting a bit dizzy.

  Crystal smiled at him. God, she was a beautiful woman. Of course, he couldn’t remember thinking she was any prettier than any other of Ivy’s girls, but right now, she was hotter than a pistol. Decadent, desirable, her smile on fire, he blearily realized she was drawing near.

  His boots shifted unsteadily underneath him—and then it hit him.

  They’d done it to him again. He’d been drugged, or something. Just like before—only that night three years ago, he’d nearly drowned.

  Damn those Horsemen.

  Damn them to Hell.

  * * *

  Harper’s meeting with Ivy got cut short when she heard a crash in the barroom. She hurried out to see what Declan was tearing up, relieved to find he’d only fallen over like a large, six-foot-plus tree, mauling a small table in the process.

  He seemed none the worse for wear physically—but something was definitely wrong with him, and she had a good idea what it was.

  “Come on, big guy. You’re going to need a nap.”

  “Yeah,” he whispered against her hair. “We’ll nap in my bed.”

  A tingle slipped up her back. He was way too close—but there was nothing to be done about that. Luckily she wasn’t a petite woman, or she wouldn’t be able to support his weight, which seemed heavier all the time.

  “Can I help you?” Ivy asked as she dragged Declan out the door.

  “I think you’ve done enough. I’ll be back to finish our chat.”

  “You do that. I’ll be right here when you’re ready.” Ivy laughed and the heavy wood doors of the Honky-tonk swung shut.

  “It’s cold,” Declan said.

  “That’s because it’s started to rain.” Buckets and buckets of water felt like they were pouring down on them, and still Declan seemed to get heavier and slower with each inch of shuffling movement. She began to wonder if she’d be able to get him to her truck. “Just a few more steps.”

  “You feel wonderful. Sexy. Hot.” Declan veered toward the truck, listing when she leaned him against the truck as she unlocked the door. “You smell delicious, too. I could eat you up all day.”

  Harper shot a quick glance at him. He was crazy, talking out of his head, of course. Never once had he really even hit on her—even that kiss at his place had been a strange sort of one-off occurrence.

  It was whatever they’d slipped in his drink talking.

  “You know better than to drink at the Honky-tonk,” she said, half-shoving, half-helping him into the seat. He proved a willing victim, falling into the correct position, at least enough so that she could get the seatbelt on him. “I’m taking you to Steel’s so you can dry out. Or come down off this whatever-high you’re on.”

  “No,” he said, suddenly very determined. “I’m going home. My horses need feeding.”

  “Suit yourself.” She slammed the door and got in the driver’s side, switching on the engine. “Here’s a spare towel. Dry off, a little, anyway.” She pulled two clean towels that she kept on hand for animal needs from the back seat, mopping her face and pushed her dripping hair out of her face. He barely dusted his face with his. “Feeling any better?”

  “Those gals can mix a helluva drink.” He sounded cheerful and maybe even impressed.

  “I’m sure they can.” Sighing, she flung the towel in the backseat and eased her truck onto the single-lane divided road that separated the Honky-tonk from the rest of Hell, one lane going one way, one going the other. Ivy couldn’t have chosen a better location for her hangout, far enough out from town that she very rarely attracted notice from the community.

  For years, it had been an unspoken rule: Ivy didn’t bother the town, and Hell didn’t bother her much.

  Only in the past couple of years had the town and Ivy been mixing with some disastrous results. Like this one.

  “I think you men like coming out to Ivy’s for the charge you get, the walk on the wild side you crave.”

  Declan snorted, pulling his hat down over his face. “Don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”

  “Thanks to you, I didn’t even get to tell Ivy to keep herself away from my team.” Ivy could be very competitive—and destructive—when it came to the team Mayor Judy had originally started. Ivy had proved innumerable times that when it came to growing Hell with families, even with projects that would better the town and make it less of a wild-west land, she had no intention of being supportive.

  “Didn’t convince her that your team is off limits?”

  “I barely had time before you hit the floor!”

  “My plan was a success then.”

  He was going to claim he’d had some grand plan, when it was completely obvious that he’d been waylaid by a beautiful woman and fallen for her charms. The Outlaws were like that—flirts and rascals, until they fell hard for the lady who changed them. Both of her friends, Ava Buchanan and Cameron Dix, had snagged an Outlaw. Harper had always excluded herself from any situation that seemed too close to a man—she had Michael and that was enough in her life. She didn’t want to introduce a father figure into his world. Lately, Dr. Jack had stepped into that role in an unofficial capacity, and she felt safe with Jack. His heart belonged completely to darkly-beautiful Hattie with the gracious soul. And Steel was a big help with Michael—Michael looked up to the kindly, though tough-when-needed sheriff.

  But Declan—she glanced over at the cowboy who slumbered under his hat, completely unfazed by the fact that she’d had to rescue him.

  Rescued him from a fate he probably didn’t want to be saved from, judging by the prowling, sexy woman who’d loosened him up with one of Ivy’s special, high-octane drinks.

  She wasn’t jealous. Not one bit.

  “Well, that was fun.” Declan pushed back his hat, tugged a lock of her hair teasingly. “You came out of Ivy’s office like you were afraid of something.”

  He seemed suddenly sober, alert, and purposeful even. Harper shot him a glance. “What are you doing?”

  “This?�
�� He gave her hair one last gentle tug, grinning. “Just seeing if it’s as soft as it looks.”

  She raised a brow. “Are you flirting with me?”

  “Might as well. Any man who rescues a damsel in distress is at least allowed to pull that damsel’s hair a little.”

  He relaxed in the seat, all muscles and lazy grin and macho-ness, pleased with himself.

  “I rescued you. Just as I knew I’d have to.”

  “We won’t examine too closely why you appeared like a jealous ghost in the bar to check on me,” he teased. “Couldn’t be because you didn’t want another woman smooching on this handsome face or anything.”

  A sneaking suspicion dawned. “That was your plan? Create a disturbance so I’d have to leave? Is that why you’re suddenly sober as a pastor on Sunday?”

  “I didn’t know you cared so much.”

  “Care? About what? You?”

  “It’s okay. You don’t have to admit it if you don’t want to.”

  He was teasing her, like the bad boy he was. Yet it was hard to stay mad. Declan was as incorrigible as the rest of the Outlaws—but he also had his kind and protective moments, especially with Michael.

  But he’d scared her when he’d fallen. “You know, you can run awfully fast for a woman wearing boots on a slick wood floor made for dancing,” he said.

  He just loved to tease her. Tease anybody. “I suggest we drop the subject.”

  “So what’s the deal with you and Dr. Jack?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  He wore a fairly sheepish expression. “I just noticed everybody’s favorite vet has been helping you out with Michael.”

  “And that’s your business how?”

  He shrugged. “Because I’m making it my business?”

  She pulled into his drive. “For the record, nothing I do is any of your business.”

  Declan nodded. “I get that. So I think I’ll head back to Ivy’s. There’s something I forgot.”

  He tipped his hat, closed the door, went whistling down his drive, despite the pouring rain. His horses ran in a graceful line along the fence to greet him, and he shouted to a border collie that jumped the wood rails to put its paws on his chest. She hadn’t known he had a dog.