Bound by the Don(26)

"I told you I'm fine," she said with a rough edge to her honeyed voice. Suddenly, she looked around her. "Where's Goat? Is Goat okay?"



"Goat … ?" Hatchet cocked an eyebrow. Maybe she'd hit her head harder than he thought after all.



"Yeah, Goat," she insisted again, pushing herself up enough to sit and point at the horse that she'd been thrown from, the same horse that was now contentedly grazing just a few yards away.



Hatchet felt a pang of regret at the loss of her in his arms but, at the moment, he was more worried about her. Maybe she'd got a little scrambled in the fall. He sure as fuck hoped so because, with every passing second, he realized that he couldn't just let her leave. She'd seen his face. She could ID him in a lineup. And he sure as hell wasn't up to babysitting a crazy person until he could figure out what to do with her.



His mind instantly conjured up several, incredibly appealing things he would be more than happy to do with her, but he shoved the images to the back of his mind, forcing himself to stay focused.



"Sweetheart …  that's a horse," he finally said, trying to keep his voice gentle, all the while aware that he was running out of time. They couldn't just stay there out in the open like that.



The blonde beauty rolled her big eyes in his direction. It was too dark to tell their color, but he saw that gesture, no problem.



"I know it's a horse," she snapped. "The horse's name is Goat."



"Funny name for a horse," Hatchet said.



"Funny, maybe. But he looks just fine and that means I can get going." She started to rise but he stopped her.



"Go?" Hatchet shook his head as he spoke. "I don't think you understand yet, lady. You aren't going anywhere, except with me."



"What the hell?" She jerked her body away from him and Hatchet regretted what he was about to do. In his experience, women didn't really like being told what to do. And they especially didn't like being tied up and thrown over the back of a horse, but that was exactly what was about to happen.



"Come on, sweetheart. It's gonna be a whole hell of a lot easier on you if you don't struggle."



"Struggle?" She hissed out the word, staring at him wide eyed. "I'm not about to let you take me anywhere, mister."



"It's not ‘mister'. It's Hatchet."



"Oh, that's real reassuring, Hatchet." She snorted as she said it. "What sort of name is that anyway?"



"What sort of name is Goat for a horse?" Hatchet shot back.



"This is ridiculous. I'm going home."



"I'm afraid you're not, darlin'," Hatchet sighed, reaching out to grab her arms. That's when the hollering started.



"Let go of me right now, you …  you …  insane person! What the hell do you think you're doing! You have no right to … " Her angry stream of words cut off abruptly as Hatchet reluctantly shoved the bandana he had in his back pocket in her mouth, quickly tying it securely behind her head.



"I really am sorry about that, sweetheart, but you're being awfully loud and I can't afford you bringing any attention out here."



Shocked by the gag, she just stared up at him with those big eyes. He cursed the darkness, suddenly needing to know just what shade they were. Get your fucking head in the game, Hatchet. You're no Romeo and this fine female form sure as hell ain't your Juliet.                       
       
           



       



The mental scolding had Hatchet moving quickly, tying her hands together behind her back so she couldn't move. His hands on her arms kept her from bolting but it did nothing to protect him from the glare she cast over her shoulder at him.



Slowly, as gently as he could, Hatchet patted her down. Running his hands down the side of her ribcage, he marveled at her tiny waist, easily encircling it with his two hands. Halfway through the search, he didn't notice his touch slowing to almost a caress as he swept his palms up and down her soft body. For a long moment, he lost himself in the feel of her, barely remembering what he'd been doing in the first place.



With a jolt, he pulled his hands away from her, but his palms were still tingling and the unexpected  –  and damned unwanted  –  attraction was still making itself known in the tightening in his pants. Hatchet shook his head, cursing himself for a fool, and forced himself to keep his focus on the job ahead of him instead of the delectably curvy woman. It was harder than it should have been.



Quickly, he finished the pat down, finding only her cell phone. He threw it on the ground behind him and ignored her gasp of outrage. It was muffled by the gag, but it did nothing to dilute the glare she was shooting at him now.



"What the hell am I going to do with you?" Hatchet whispered the question out loud, but no answer came, just that furious glare and her soft skin glowing pale and luminescent in the moonlight. It was the only light besides the stars that twinkled down at them and, before he could second guess himself, he was pulling her to her feet and sweeping her up in his arms like some damned white knight. More like black knight, Hatchet thought to himself. He was definitely not the hero of this story and, from the looks of it, the woman now wriggling against his arms was no damsel in distress.



He looked down at her then, struck by a vague familiarity as he tried to make out more of her features in the dark. But after a moment he gave up. Jackrabbit's out there waiting for me and the cattle, and I'm just standing here drooling over a dirty but beautiful farm hand.



With one final look around him, Hatchet carried her over to his horse. With a bit of maneuvering, was able to get the woman on the saddle before leaping up to sit behind her. Hatchet breathed in sharply as the back of her body fused against the front of his and her hips nestled tight in the open vee of his own. Hatchet cursed silently again at the delicious feel of her.



Damn it, maybe this is a bad idea after all, he thought as he heeled his horse to a trot. He had to gather the cattle and get back to Jackrabbit fast, before he did something really stupid.



***



What is happening to me? This can't be real. This just can't be real. But, as Elsie watched the ranch disappear behind her, she knew just how real it was. Her hands were bound tightly and the stale taste of the fabric gagged her mouth. She'd been kidnapped. Of all the ridiculous, annoying, bothersome things to have happen to her, she had one more to add to the list. Elsie McLaurel  –  kidnap victim.



It wasn't something she'd ever thought would be added to her resume, but she had to admit that the man sitting snugly behind her on the large stallion wasn't like any kidnapper she knew. Not that she knew many or any personally, if she was being honest. The only kidnapping she'd ever seen was on the big screen. But if this had been a movie, he'd be scary and mean-terrifying her, threatening her. Instead he'd been …  gentle, if tying up a woman and dragging her off to god knows where could ever be gentle.



And there had been something else there too. Maybe it was just because, even in the dark, she had seen his dark eyes burning over her skin, or the fact that he'd towered over her, or the fact that he was more handsome than sin, all wrapped up in a bad boy package that had her body going haywire. But when he touched her while he was binding her wrists together with the rope, his hands had lingered longer than they needed to and a spark of electricity had shot through her. It was something she'd never felt before and something-damn her soul to hell and back-she desperately wanted to feel again.



What the hell is wrong with me? I should be fighting. I should be doing something! But she didn't. And that worried her far more than the man currently riding in the saddle behind her.



She'd always been cautious, careful. Too careful according to Rachael. But right then, at that moment in the darkness, with the feel of a stranger's hand-big and hot and heavy-against her waist, she felt anything but cautious. For the first time in her life, Elsie McLaurel felt reckless.



What was worse, she liked it.                       
       
           



       



That was it. Maybe she really had lost her marbles when Goat had bucked her from the saddle. Maybe she'd hit her head, and this was all some big hallucination. Yep, that's it. That's the only reasonable answer for all of this. That was the only solution that made sense. She'd finally gone off the deep end.



Elsie held that thought tightly as her captor-Hatchet if he could be believed-rode confidently through a dark forested area. She had to admit that he knew his way around a horse, the large stallion responding easily to his deft touch on the reins. It made her wonder what else he had a deft touch with. The thought left her cheeks burning so hot that for a split second she was glad of the darkness.



He stopped only once to collect the cattle he had tied up to a tree just beyond the ranch's property line. Elsie instantly recognized them as the cows that had gone missing earlier in the day. It was too dark to see but she could guess that their trackers were the ones she'd followed to the grassy field. After a few moments the cattle ropes were tied up behind the saddle and they were moving again.