Stealth Honeybun

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Stealth Honeybun Honeybun Cousins Book Three By Sam Cheever

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Stealth Honeybun by Sam Cheever Red Rose™ Publishing Publishing with a touch of Class! ™ The symbol of the Red Rose and Red Rose is a trademark of Red Rose™ Publishing Red Rose™ Publishing Copyright© 2012 Sam Cheever ISBN: 978-1-4543-0163-9 Cover Artist: Shirley Burnett Editor: Bernadette Smith Line Editor: Red Rose™ Publishing All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. Due to copyright laws you cannot trade, sell or give any ebooks away. This is a work of fiction. All references to real places, people, or events are coincidental, and if not coincidental, are used fictitiously. All trademarks, service marks, registered trademarks, and registered service marks are the property of their respective owners and are used herein for identification purposes only. Red Rose™ Publishing www.redrosepublishing.com Forestport, NY 13338 Thank you for purchasing a book from Red Rose™ Publishing where publishing comes with a touch of Class

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Stealth Honeybun Honeybun Cousins Book Three By Sam Cheever 4

Chapter One

Peyton Honeybun drove past the state capital and craned his neck, trying to see why there were dozens of cop cars parked in the street and barricades closing off the intersecting streets. He saw a crowd of protestors on the lawn and an ambulance. A variety of signs in all shapes and sizes bounced above the crowd or lay in forgotten piles on the lawn. Traffic crawled as other drivers, like him, slowed to watch the action on the sprawling lawns around the Morton Sculpture. A naturally nosy man, he grabbed his cell phone off the dash and dialed his cousin Percy, whom he’d just left behind after enjoying a raucous but fun family dinner at the Honeybun family home. Brita Muldane, the love of Percy’s life, was an Indianapolis Police Detective so Peyton figured if anybody knew what was going on, it would be Percy. The phone rang three times before his cousin picked it up. “Hey, cuz. What can you tell me about this mess on Washington St?” “The Statehouse?”

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“Yeah. It looks like there’s been some kind of riot or something. There’s an ambulance.” “I only know what I saw on TV. Brita’s been on the phone all night and she won’t answer any of my questions.” Percy’s tone was tinged with pain he didn’t think anybody else noticed. Unfortunately for him, the whole family knew how much he suffered from his and Brita’s mostly off again romance. “I guess a group of protesters got carried away. Somebody hit an old man on the head and shots were fired. The police aren’t giving any more information out.” Peyton thanked his cousin for the information and disconnected, heading out of town, toward the countryside South of Indianapolis and the Go Slow Ranch. As a professional ranch business consultant, Peyton made a living helping small business owners turn their ranch properties into money making ventures. His clients at the Go Slow wanted to turn their property into a Dude Ranch. Though he considered Texas home base, he’d been in Indiana for several weeks helping them construct the bones of a business. A smart Dude Ranch gave its clients much more than just horseback and carriage rides. Peyton’s most successful clients offered hiking, bike ride tours through national forests, apple orchards, lakeside cliff dives and swimming holes, trust building activities for local corporations, and zip line courses.

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Peyton had helped Go Slow create a truly entertaining environment for tourists. It was a premium property and he thought it might be his best ranch rehab yet. He had his doubts about the owners though. He wasn’t sure they had what it took to run the type of operation he was designing for them. He was in the final stages of his work in Southern Indiana. Soon he’d be going home. But he still had two weeks of Wendi Halton’s cooking to endure. The woman wasn’t a very creative or talented cook so she tended to cook a lot of quick, easy meals, like eggs and bottled spaghetti. He thought he’d die if he had to eat one more omelet with green pepper and mushrooms. His first suggestion had been for them to hire a chef. Fortunately for future customers, Chef Paul would start work in a couple of weeks. That wouldn’t save Peyton though. Passing a small, country grocery store, he made a quick decision to pull in. He could stock up on some things to keep in the bunkhouse kitchen for snacks and light meals. The bunkhouse boasted a refrigerator and stove, as well as a microwave. It was the part of the facilities where families could stay and cook some or all of their meals. The annex had a fifty two inch television in the main room, a pool table, and game accessories.

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Lately he’d been utilizing the kitchen more in an effort to salvage his palate. As Peyton climbed out of his mud covered, black pickup, the sound of helicopter rotors drew his attention upward. The airborne support chopper flew by overhead, low enough that Peyton could see the officer hovering in the open door with binoculars lifted to his eyes. They appeared to be searching for something. Or someone. Peyton locked his truck and strolled toward the grocery. With a belly full of Wanda Honeybun’s delicious cooking, he was feeling pleasantly sleepy. He figured he’d get a six pack of beer then he could settle down to watch Monday Night Football on the fifty two inch screen. The thought made him smile as he pulled the door open and went inside.

Willa Sloan caught her breath as the tall man wearing the cowboy hat and boots headed toward the front door. He walked like a predator, with an agility that carried his large frame easily across the crumbled asphalt and through the maze of potted flowers lined up across the front of the store. He even took a moment to check out the horse swings, cut from old tires, she had hanging beside the door for sale.

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His hands, when they reached for the rope tail on one of the cute oddities was large and tanned, like he spent a lot of time outdoors. He wore clean, fashionably tatty jeans that hugged his long legs all the way to his scuffed boots. The jeans rode low on his hips and caressed long, muscled thighs and a tight, round behind. Willa closed her mouth with a gulp, heat spiraling through her as she took note of and broad shoulders beneath the well-worn flannel shirt. She could see the small vee of a stark white t-shirt inside the open neckline of the flannel. He dressed like a man who was used to hard work. And he was built for strength and agility. Willa licked her lips. He definitely wore it well. As he reached for the front door, Willa grabbed her produce cart and scurried toward the back of the store with it. The last thing she wanted was to get caught mooning over some good looking guy who would probably be an ass. It was her experience that really attractive men were usually vain and stupid, thinking mainly with their nether regions. She’d had her fill of that kind of stupidity. She wasn’t interested in dealing with it again.

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Her last serious relationship had been with an up and coming executive in a major US corporation, who’d chosen to move to another state when he was offered a promotion, leaving behind promises that they’d be together again soon. Those promises had left Willa alone in a cold bed with only a healthy collection of doubts to keep her company. When her fiancé’s hourly calls became daily calls and then weekly calls, Willa had been forced to admit to herself that distance had driven a wedge between them that she wasn’t able to heal. The last time she’d called him a woman had answered his cell with a laughing, “Hello!” Before the distant fiancé had retrieved the phone and tried to explain. The experience had exploded Willa’s world. She’d curled up into the fetal position and had almost not recovered. Although, she had to admit, a broken heart had been the impetus for her having bought the struggling country grocery store. And it had kept her mind focused on the task at hand as she set about turning it around and making it a success. It hadn’t been a quick proposition. She’d worked twenty hour days, seven day weeks, for two years to get to that point. But by combining good quality food

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with a craft-store atmosphere, and offering special orders to regular customers, Willa had made it work. She was turning the corner on a viable business and it was very exciting. The last thing she needed was a man to screw it up. Not a chance. She was going solo for the foreseeable future. Despite the desire sliding through her body as she watched her sexy customer glide through the front door.

Mack Bixley dropped another round into his 38 special and glanced up. “Any sign of the cops?” The driver called himself Studs but his real name was Billy Jenks. “Nah. Usin’ the crowd to slow ‘em down was pure genius man.” Buck Williams shook his buffalo sized head. “They ain’t gonna be put off for long, Studs. You don’t just pistol whip a rich guy with a sign on a stick and walk away.” Buck told Mack. Mack glared at him. “You shouldn’t have fired that shotgun into the air. The cops take that shit pretty serious.”

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“So much for a low profile,” the fourth man in the ancient station wagon murmured. He fixed a dark look on the other three men and wondered again how he’d sunk so low as to be rolling around in the muck with the idiots in that car. He’d bombed the police in the 60s. His people had talked about taking over the country. They’d seriously considered how many millions of people would need to die in order to force a new world order on the people of the country. That was important shit. He’d gone underground in the early 70s and had stayed safely out of the eye of the fascist cops since then. And now he was running from them with the three stooges. All because he’d been bored and wanted to relive his glory days. A good, non-violent protest on the lawn of the capitol building seemed just the thing. Karma was a cross-eyed, three toed bitch. Studs glanced at him. “Where we goin’?” Sirens sounded in the distance behind them and, overhead, the sound of rotors split the near silence of the dinner hour streets south of the city. The pigs had broken out the air support. Not a good sign. The man made a quick decision. “We aren’t going to outrun them in this piece of shit. We need to find a place to hunker down, maybe take some hostages

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so we can make demands. It’s our best chance of getting out of here without bracelets on our wrists.” Studs nodded. “So where we goin’?” The man expelled a breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them again a small country store came into view just ahead. The store was situated in a tiny town with only one other retail establishment and no police station in sight. “There. We’ll have food and hostages. It’ll be a good place to hang out until I can come up with a plan.”

The store was older and small, but everything was clean and bright and well laid out. The walls were painted a soft, creamy white and the black, red, and white tile at the front of the store looked new. The smell of herbs filled the air and every available surface was covered with unique items like old farm implements, dried flower arrangements, and antique toys. It could have looked cluttered. But Peyton felt the warmth of the place, the coziness that made it feel like home. He liked it a lot.

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The two cashiers looked up and smiled as Peyton walked through the door. “Evenin’ ladies.” He put a little extra drawl into his Texas accent just for fun. Peyton tipped his cowboy hat and the younger of the two women tittered coyly. He gave her his patented Honeybun grin and her shoulders dipped a little as if her knees had buckled. The older woman reached up to fluff her graying brown hair. She bit her bottom lip and asked, “Is there something I can help you find?” Peyton winked at her. “Cold beer?” “Just past the produce section on the left. The cooler’s on the back wall.” The woman took a step away from her station and Peyton shook his head. “I can find it myself, ma’am. Don’t you bother yourself now.” His grin widened with mischief. “I might pick up a few more things along the way. But I’ll be back.” Both women gave a visible sigh as Peyton turned away and headed toward the back of the store. He could feel their gazes on his backside and gave them an extra little swagger just for fun. He loved the ladies. He knew they liked him too but that didn’t mean he took them for granted. Far from it.

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Peyton loved women. Everything about them. He loved their soft bodies, their even softer skin, and the way they smelled. He loved the way they smiled, the way they walked, and the way their eyes sparkled when they looked at him. He even liked their minds, which worked differently from his. He could respect the differences. In fact he relished them. Peyton found the cooler and plucked a six pack of his second favorite beer out of the pristine space before closing the glass door. Small town groceries rarely carried his favorite beer. He stood for a moment getting a fix on the layout. “Can I help you find something?” The soft, slightly breathless voice seemed to come out of nowhere. Peyton looked around but didn’t see anybody. Finally, a dark head lifted from behind a cart filled with vegetables. Soft brown eyes peered at him as a long fingered hand gripped the top of the cart. Peyton opened his mouth to tell her he was fine, but something about those eyes drew him in. As he strolled closer, she stood up and Peyton caught his breath.

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She was incredible. An unruly cap of black hair curled softly around a slightly round face with fine features and a cupid’s bow mouth. Her chin was small and her neck was long, elegant. Her skin was a soft, creamy brown, and she was tall for a woman, probably 5 foot 10 inches. She dropped a cabbage leaf into a bin at the top of the cart and placed a smooth green orb onto a pile of cabbages in the open cooler. “You look lost. You new in town?” Her smile sent a heated spiral spinning through his gut and Peyton felt himself responding as he hadn’t done in years. He stopped a few feet away and shook his head. “You could say that.” “Can I help you find something?” She repeated. “Happens I just needed a cabbage or two.” She rolled her lips to stop the smile he suspected came easily to her. Her beautiful brown eyes had soft crinkles at the corners that told him she smiled a lot. “Two cabbages, huh? What are you making?” “He leaned a hip against the cooler and grinned. “Now that’s a very personal question, ma’am. I don’t generally divulge my recipes until at least the third date.”

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She threw back her head and laughed, the sound finer than Mozart on a warm summer evening. “I wasn’t asking for your recipe, just your menu. They are different you know.” Her brown gaze slipped over him and the smile turned soft. Then she seemed to catch herself and she blinked, looking away. She bent down, pulled another cabbage from the bottom shelf of the cart and ripped an outer leaf from it rather ruthlessly. “I just wondered if you were going to need carrots to go with your cabbage.” Peyton’s gaze never leaving hers, he gave her a seductive grin. “Absolutely. I wouldn’t think of leaving here without some carrots.” She bit her bottom lip and nodded. “Let me just put together a basket for you.” She swung away from him, swaying down the cooler toward a stack of plastic baskets at the end. Peyton watched her softly rounded hips sway and found himself licking his lips. She was truly fine. And she seemed to be putting a little more into that sway than was absolutely necessary. Peyton realized with a jolt that she was giving him a little of his own back. He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Name’s Peyton Honeybun.”

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She glanced back. “Willa Sloan. Nice to meetcha.” Plucking a basket off the top of the stack, she started back. On the way she plucked a few more things from the cooler. “If you’re making soup you’ll need some other vegetables to go with the cabbage.” His eyes never left her as she plucked and selected. She had long legs and a pert, round behind that made his mouth water. When she stood in front of him again she handed him the basket. Plucking a head of cabbage from the cooler, she placed it inside with the other vegetables. “I’m thinking you’ll only need one head of cabbage.” “How do you know I’m making soup?” She gave him a brazen head to toe and widened her eyes appreciatively. Peyton laughed at her brash appraisal. “I don’t know what else a man like you would do with a cabbage.” They shared a smile. Finally she nodded toward the beer. “Did we have the brand you like?” He looked down at the six pack as if he’d forgotten he was holding it. “Oh, the beer. This will do.” “Just do? Is there something you like better?”

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“You don’t carry it.” She headed toward the back of the store, “You might be surprised. I special order some stock for my regular clients. I might have what you want in the cooler in the back.” “You have any Foster’s Lager?” She frowned. “That I don’t have.” Then she brightened. “But if you like Australian beers I do have one you might like. Wait here. I’ll be right back.” She slipped through a swinging door into the back room and Peyton returned to the cooler. He’d already decided whatever she came out with he was gonna try. Aside from liking to try a new beer once in a while, he wanted very much to please the woman offering it to him. As he opened the glass door a bell rang at the front of the store, announcing the arrival of a customer. He settled the beer back on the shelf where he’d gotten it and was closing the door when the cashiers started screaming.

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Chapter Two

Peyton ran toward the front of the store, silent and quick. He skidded to a stop as a deep, cigarette roughened voice demanded that everyone hit the floor and shut up. Taking care to stay out of sight, Peyton peered around the end cap and swore silently as he counted three men holding guns. The two women he’d been chatting with earlier were on their stomachs on the cold tile floor, sobbing hysterically. The sound of swearing and scuffling coming from the opposite side of the store preceded the arrival of another man, dragging an older woman with pouffed, light gray hair and fire in her eyes. As Peyton watched in horror, the gunman shoved the elderly woman forward and she barely caught herself with a hand on the countertop or she’d have gone crashing to her knees, surely breaking something.

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He clenched his fists and growled low in his throat. Nobody treated a woman like that around him and walked away from it unscathed. Particularly an elderly woman. Peyton cast his gaze around the store, trying to come up with a plan of attack. The soft whoosh of a door opening in the back of the store brought horror climbing into his throat. Willa! He ran as quickly and silently as he could toward the back. As he reached her she looked up and smiled, opening her mouth to speak. He clamped a hand over her mouth and kept running, dragging her backward toward the door to the backroom. She gave a little squeak and her hand opened, dropping the box of brown bottles she’d been bringing to him. Peyton caught the little box and whispered in her ear. “Don’t speak. Move fast. There are four men with guns at the front of the store.” To her credit she didn’t argue. Her pretty brown eyes widened in quick understanding and she nodded. Peyton removed his hand and they hurried back into the store room.

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As the door whooshed closed behind them, Peyton heard a shout from the front of the store. “They heard us. Quick, where can we hide?” She shook her head. “My people…” “I’m going after them. I just need to find a safe place to put you first. Do you have a back door?” She was shaking her head before he finished the sentence. “I’m not running away like a scared bunny rabbit while Cathy, Paula, and Irene are out there staring into a gun.” Damn! She would have to put names to the terrified faces he’d seen. Peyton grabbed her shoulder and turned her toward the shadows at the back of the storeroom. There had to be a door into the back parking lot somewhere. “Argue later, cooperate now. Or they’ll grab us too and nobody’s gonna get out of here.” He shoved and dragged her behind a set of metal shelves which ran from floor to ceiling along two thirds of the long, narrow space. The shelving was filled with boxes and bottles and assorted supplies. As the door from the store swung open, Peyton shoved her into the skinny space between the shelf and the wall and grabbed a mop from a dry bucket nearby.

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Nothing like bringing a mop handle to a gun fight. Glancing at Willa, he placed his finger over his lips and slid silently away. He kept to the deep shadows, carefully stepping around a seemingly endless supply of stuff littering the concrete floor. The man stood just inside the door, his rifle held loosely in his left hand. He was searching the wall around the door for a light switch. Peyton crouched and carefully balanced the mop across his knees so he could unscrew the string mop from the handle. The mop gave off a slight squeak as he started unscrewing it and he stopped, holding his breath as the guy at the door jerked his head in Peyton’s direction. “Who’s there?” Peyton didn’t move. He quickly assessed his chances of reaching the man before he was discovered. In his current position, crouched behind a rolling cart filled with cleaning supplies, toilet paper, and paper towels, it would be nearly impossible. There was nothing but open space between him and the man at the door.

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Despite that, Peyton wasn’t willing to miss the opportunity to take one of the gunmen out. So he took a deep breath and flexed his muscles in preparation for a mad dash toward the door. He rocked forward onto his toes to give himself the best chance at a quick start, and started to move out from behind the cart. But when he looked up the guy was gone. He looked around, perplexed. Something smacked against the doors from the outside and a skinny body with dark, curly hair fell through with a squeal of fear. Peyton looked into the startled face of a teenage boy. His features were partially illuminated by the florescent lighting in the main store and Peyton saw the surprised widening of his light colored eyes. “Get up asshole, or I’ll drag your skinny ass up to the others!” The end of the rifle suddenly appeared above the kid’s chest, pointed toward his head. Peyton placed a finger over his lips and gave the kid a nod. Thank god, scared as he was, the kid let himself get dragged out of the dark storeroom without giving him away. It was all he could do to watch the boy get taken away. But Peyton knew his only chance was the element of surprise. Armed only with a large stick, he had no

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chance against the guys with the guns unless he picked the time and place of his attack very carefully. And at the back of his mind he was constantly aware of one, nerve melting reality. If he wasn’t successful, all of the people in that store could die. He had to keep his cool and think. He couldn’t let his emotions rule, or his fear. He’d take one challenge at a time. With that thought in mind, he headed toward the back of the storeroom and Willa. She wasn’t where he’d left her. “Pssst! I’m in here!” Peyton turned and saw her curvy shape, backlit by dim blue light. She motioned for him to come and then stepped backward, the blue light disappearing as the door swung closed with a soft whoosh. With a final glance toward the main door into the store, Peyton headed in that direction. He reached for the edge of the door, pulling it open to reveal a long, narrow, refrigerated area. The front of the room was comprised of a series of glass doors, which provided access to metal shelves filled with plastic and cardboard items.

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He was looking at the back side of the store’s refrigeration system. He found her at the end of the long space, peering through a collection of milk cartons. She wore a heavy sweatshirt that zipped up the front. She hadn’t had that on before, Peyton realized. She must have found it in the refrigerated room. He shivered slightly and she pointed to a series of hooks on the wall. A variety of jackets and sweatshirts hung there. “I’m okay,” he told her. Peyton moved up next to her and peered through a small space she’d cleared on the shelf. She had a decent view of the front office, where most of the action seemed to be centered. She turned to him, biting her full bottom lip. The weak blue light from the refrigeration unit illuminated a silvery trail down her cheek. A single tear shimmered as it slipped downward, toward her chin. “They have them tied up. Irene has a heart problem. I don’t know if she’ll survive this.” She sniffed, dragging a hand across her nose. “I’m really scared, Peyton.” He placed an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, rubbing her arm comfortingly. “I’m scared too, Willa. But we don’t have time to think about that right now. Those people up there are in danger and we need to help them.” She sniffed again and nodded. “So what now?”

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He moved away from her and peered through the refrigeration unit, moving along the glass doors. He could see down nearly all the aisles from their current location. The only ones he couldn’t see were on the extreme north and south ends of the store. He knew produce was on one side. “What’s on the north side of the store?” “Bakery and Deli. Irene’s area.” “Does this unit go that far?” “Close. Eggs and dairy are at the very end and then there’s a short wall before the Bakery starts.” Peyton patted his shirt pocket and swore. “I left my cell phone in the truck. Do you have a phone back here?” She grimaced. “No, it’s out of order. I’ve been meaning to get it fixed.” “Cell phone?” “In my office at the front of the store.” Peyton thought about this for a minute. “Okay, we still have a few advantages over those guys out there. Most important is that we know about them but they don’t know about us.” She nodded.

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“We also know the layout of the store. All the nooks and crannies.” Her eyes widened. “We do. Yes.” “So we have the element of surprise.” “And they have guns.” Peyton frowned. “We need weapons.” Willa chewed on her lip, her thoughts skittering across her face like information on the jumbo tron in Times Square. He knew the moment she found gold. “The kitchen aisle! I have some really big knives there.” Peyton nodded. “That’s a great start. We’ll need vinegar and baking soda too. Some bottles…” She frowned, “Why?” Peyton grinned. “When you put fifteen boys of various ages together at the family lake cottage at Crooked Lake every summer and let them entertain themselves, it’s amazing what trouble they can find.” Willa grinned. “You have fourteen brothers?” “Fourteen cousins. Actually there are lots more, but we discovered fifteen was the maximum number we could have at the cottage at any one time before the

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neighbors started calling child services…or the cops.” He laughed. “The year we set off firecrackers in the yard and started the neighbor’s roof on fire was the last straw. After that we had to rotate cousins. Remind me to tell you about them sometime. It’s an interesting group.” She thought about what he said for a minute. “Did you say Crooked Lake? So some of your family lives in Indiana? But you’re not from around here are you?” “Texas. But most of my family still lives in Indiana. When I got this chance to come help the Halton’s create a guest ranch here, I was really excited. It’s been fun hanging out with my cousins again.” “I’ll bet!” “Anyway, I have a couple of ideas for some good diversions.” He peered toward the front of the store again. Three of the men with guns were gathered together in the glass fronted office area and one of them was talking on the phone. Probably making his demands. The fourth was standing over the hostages, a rifle slung across his arm, looking menacing. Peyton started toward the door. “Stay here.” Willa hurried after him. “Where are you going?”

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“I’m going to do a little reconnaissance, get the lay of the land, and hopefully get some of the stuff we need.” “I’m going with you.” He opened his mouth to argue but Willa shook her head. “I have four brothers myself and I’m used to being bossed around. The last time one of them told me I had to listen to him he ran home crying with a black eye.” She placed her hands on her hips and glared at him, daring him to argue. Peyton lifted his hands in surrender. “All right. I’m not gonna boss you, Miss Willa. Just stay behind me in case things get ugly, okay?” She picked up a box cutter and jerked her head toward the door. “Lead on, Indiana Honeybun. I’ll slash anybody who tries to hurt ya.” Peyton shook his head and pushed the door open, peering carefully into the storage area beyond. As he was starting to move out of the refrigeration unit, the overhead lights in the storage area clicked and buzzed into life. He barely had time to shove Willa back before one of the gunmen sauntered through the door, rifle first.

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Chapter Three

Mack climbed the short run of steps to the store’s office, which sat higher than the rest of the store so they could see everything going on. It was also equipped with limited video of the parking lot, where a single black and white sat waiting. The cop car had been there for several minutes and Mack couldn’t see what the cop inside was doing. He could have been eating donuts and reading Party Boy magazine for all he knew. But under the current circumstances it made him uneasy. He opened the door and went inside, fixing the dark haired man in the single chair with a questioning look. He’d been on the phone for most of the night. Mack wondered who he was talking to. The man hung up and looked at Mack. “What?” “There’s a cop outside.”

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The man swung his gaze to the small screen hanging above the desk. The black and white sat on the outside edge of the screen, unmoving. “I noticed. I’ve been watching the news and they haven’t said anything about this store yet. I don’t think they know we’re here.” Though sirens had been sounding all around and air support had made constant passes over the area. It was clear to him the cops knew the general vicinity. “Are you sure you guys hid the car well?” Mack nodded. “It’s under a tarp in somebody’s carport several blocks away. Even if the owner finds it and reports it to the cops, we’re far enough away we should be able to get out before they pin us down.” Which brought him to the subject of his visit to the office. “Me and the boys think we should get out while there’s only one cop. We could get the keys to that fine truck out there and just drive away.” The man looked at the television screen again. The black pickup truck sat a few slots closer to the store than the cop car. It was a really nice truck, and the mud spattered along the bottom third of its otherwise shiny surface probably hid the license number. He nodded. Even the Stooges occasionally got a good idea. “Find out who it belongs to and get the keys. If the stuff I’m trying to work out isn’t successful, we’ll use the truck to leave.”

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Mack headed back down to store level. He headed straight for the boy. Chances of that truck belonging to one of the women were slim. In the back of his mind an idea was forming. The man upstairs was starting to give him the creeps. He was way too bossy and thought he was better than them. He hadn’t even tried to hide it. Mack might just take that truck and get the hell out of there alone. If Buck wanted to go, he might take him too. They could swing around to the back and pick up Studs. Let the asshole in the office take care of himself. Mack was sick to death of being on the receiving end of the man’s snotty tone. With that happy thought in mind, Mack sauntered toward the hostages.

Willa peered over Peyton’s shoulder, though a tiny crack in the door. The gunman’s gaze swept toward the back corner, where a lighted ‘Exit’ sign glowed just above the shelves full of supplies. He did a cursory scan of the room and headed for the back door. Apparently they’d sent him to guard the door into the alley.

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Peyton allowed the door to the refrigeration unit to close. Bending closer, he spoke quietly into Willa’s ear. His breath fluttered warmly across her cheeks, making her thighs clench against a wave of need. “Lights. He hasn’t seen this door yet.” She reached over and flipped a switch, casting them into darkness. Cold as the room was, standing next to the hot blooded tower of a man, it felt more like an intimate cocoon than a refrigeration room. She licked her lips and inhaled deeply, his heated, sun drenched scent overriding the usual tang of spoiled dairy that permeated the space. “They might notice the units are dark from the store side.” “We’ll have to take that chance.” “What are we gonna do?” Peyton stood perfectly still. For a moment Willa thought she’d lost him. She reached over and touched his forearm. It felt like steel beneath the soft fabric. “Peyton?” He cupped her face with his large, warm hand, running a slightly calloused thumb across her bottom lip. Despite the tension turning her stomach to knots, it was all she could do not to moan. When he lowered his head to within an inch of hers, Willa thought he was going to kiss her.

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She knew she should step away, deny him the kiss, but everything inside of her screamed for his touch…his taste. But he didn’t kiss her. His lips stopped a breath away from hers and he said, “This is the best chance we’re gonna get to take one of them out without the others knowing. By the time they start to wonder about him we’ll be ready to fight back.” Stark terror swamped her. He was gonna go up against the guy with the rifle. “But you don’t have anything to fight him with.” His lips lowered the mere fraction of an inch they’d been apart and touched hers softly. So softly she thought for a beat that she might have imagined it. But the whisper soft kiss rolled through her like a tornado, shaking her to her very roots. Everything about the man called to her, tempted her. Despite her determination not to succumb to his charms. “I’ll be fine. While I’m gone I want you to look for some rope or something we can tie him up with.” He took off his cowboy hat and handed it to her. “For safe keeping.” He had a smile in his voice. She couldn’t see the color of his hair but it looked dark, and it framed his head in unruly curls that showed off his square jawline and made his neck look even more muscular in the dim light.

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She longed to run her fingers through the glossy curls. Just once. In fact her fingers twitched with the need. Instead she took the hat, feeling as if her eyes might pop out of her head. Fear washed through her at the thought of him facing the guy with the rifle weaponless…helpless. As she watched him glide silently through the door, however, she couldn’t help thinking that Peyton Honeybun was probably never helpless.

Peyton could hear him moving around, scratching the stubble on his weak chin, and spitting lugeys onto Willa’s clean concrete. He grimaced, disgusted, but was glad the man obviously wasn’t paying attention. Peyton would have the element of surprise on his side. That was pretty much all he had. He found the mop handle and picked it up, and then began moving silently toward the back corner. The exterior door opened briefly and Peyton stopped as the bright light of an exterior spot flooded the shadowed area around the door. He peeked around

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the shelves and watched the man stick his head out the door and look around, probably looking for the police. It was the opportunity he needed. Gripping the mop handle in both hands, he moved swiftly forward. The man pulled his head back inside the door and was starting to turn when Peyton twisted his wrists and smashed the mop handle into the side of his head. The gunman grunted as his head slammed sideways and into the closing door. He slipped downward and the door thumped against his head again as it closed. Peyton reached for the gunman, grabbing his shoulders to yank him upward, but he kicked out, sweeping Peyton’s legs out from under him and Peyton fell sideways, into the shelf. Boxes crashed to the ground around him and the gunman was on him, punching his face as he tried to get up. Peyton smashed his fist into the man’s jaw and jammed his foot into his gut, sending him scrambling backward. The gunman’s butt hit the ground beside the shelves and a box of batteries landed on his head. His eyes rolled back into his head and Peyton thought he was going to pass out. Peyton climbed to his feet and started for the gunman. But as he approached, the man’s arm snaked sideways and came up with a rifle.

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Peyton stopped as he found himself looking into the muzzle of a deadly hunting rifle. “Stop right there, asswipe.” The man was much smaller than Peyton, wiry, with greasy black hair that hung in strings around big ears. The right ear sported an earring in the shape of a cross. Despite the cool Fall temperatures, the man wore an old army jacket with the sleeves ripped off and a stained wife beater t-shirt beneath it. One of his stringy biceps had a large, black, skull and cross bones tattooed on it. Blood blossomed from a cut on the side of the man’s head and dripped onto his jacket. As he looked at Peyton he blinked and swiped an arm over his temple to stop the blood from dripping. “Well lookey what we got here.” He grinned widely, showing gray teeth that were surprisingly even and straight. “Mack’ll be happy to hear we got us another hostage.” Peyton relaxed his posture, allowing one end of the mop handle to touch the floor. “Okay, you got me. I was hoping to hide out here until y’all got bored and left.”

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Even the bad guy was disgusted by this. “You know there’s women and children up there right?” Peyton shrugged. “Every man for himself, I always say.” The man glared at Peyton. “You’re not from around here are ya, son?” Peyton allowed his gaze to go soft as he shrugged, leaning sideways against the nearest shelf. “Happens I’m from Texas.” The man snorted derisively, shaking his head. “Damn Texans. You’re all a bunch of hot shots aren’t ya? Flashin’ your guns and stridin’ around with big attitudes.” Since the other man was the one with the gun, Peyton snorted. The man peered at him, wondering if he should be insulted by the snort. “You’re just a bunch a pansy ass jerks,” he informed Peyton. The muzzle dropped a hair toward the floor, indicating the man’s inattention. It was what Peyton had been waiting for, and all that he needed. Using speed and reflexes that had allowed him to stay on a horse when a rattler had spooked it into a bucking bolt, or wrangle a terrified herd of cows in a stampede, Peyton struck out hard and fast with the handle, jamming it into the smaller man’s stomach.

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The other man choked, gasped, and doubled over, his fingers going nerveless around the rifle. Peyton cracked him over the head and caught the rifle before it fell. “Let that be a lesson to ya, asshole. Don’t mess with Texas.” Then he grabbed the man under the arms and dragged him back to Willa.

Willa was on lookout as Peyton navigated the baking and spice aisle. He’d grabbed one of the brown, plastic baskets piled up at the end of the aisle and was quickly dropping items into it. He’d already picked up a small bottle of vinegar and some baking soda, next stop was the beauty products aisle for some spray cologne. Footsteps sounded on the tile toward the front of the store and Willa gave a short, sharp whistle in warning. From her vantage point behind the refrigeration units, she could see the movements of the three gunmen remaining at the front of the store. The only time she lost sight of one of them was when they wandered into either end of the store or hit the rest rooms. A woman’s sharp outburst brought his head up as he was hurrying back the way he’d come. He stopped and turned just as Irene stumbled into view at the other end of the aisle.

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She started to turn and glare at someone behind her but stopped when she saw him. Though her eyes widened slightly, she recovered quickly as Peyton placed his finger over his lips and she turned around, taking a quick step backward as she scolded her companion. “There’s no call for violence, young man. I’m at least ten years older than you…” “Thirty years older if you’re a day.” A gruff voice argued. She placed bony hands on bony hips and glared at him, her gaze sliding briefly sideways to check Peyton’s position. Peyton frowned at her for taking a chance with the gunmen and scooted back to the store room with his loot. One more foray into the store and he should be ready. It was slow going because they could only move when the gunmen were in places where they wouldn’t be caught. For the last couple of hours the gunmen hadn’t moved, stalling their movement around the store completely. The lateness of the hour was probably getting to them. Peyton had caught the thugs dozing a few times, but before he could get where he needed to go they’d roused, forcing him to return to the back room or get caught. Peyton figured it was time to take another one of them out. He wasn’t comfortable with the situation at the front of the store. Those people were in real

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danger. And at least one of them wasn’t smart enough to keep her mouth shut and a low profile. Despite himself Peyton grinned. He was looking forward to shaking Irene’s hand when it was all over. She was his type of woman for sure.

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Chapter Four

Willa stuffed another strip of butcher paper into the can and glanced at Peyton. “We could just use the rifle we took off that jerk in the freezer.” Peyton shook his head. “There are still three of them with guns and only one of us. Besides, the last thing I want to do is get into a shootout with all of your employees in the cross fire.” She sighed. “I know you’re right. But this waiting is frustrating.” She thought they’d been hunkered down for several hours at that point, she wasn’t wearing a watch but she’d watched the sky outside darken and felt the hours passing in the weariness of her muscles. The stress was starting to wear on her. Peyton sprayed another sheet of paper with cologne and tore it into strips. “We’ll be ready soon.” He glanced at his watch. “Did you get me that cayenne pepper?” She watched him work, finding that she really enjoyed watching him do anything. He reached into the basket and pulled out the small jar with the dark green label. “What do you have in mind?”

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She grinned, holding up a plastic squirt gun. “I’m going to make my own pepper spray.” His grin made her brain go all soft and her body tighten with need. “If you don’t look too closely that squirt gun could pass for real. Good thinking!” Willa laughed. “You’re not the only one who was bored summers as a kid.” He reached out and pushed a ribbon of hair off her face. “I won’t ask who you used it on.” “That’s probably best.” She flushed under his gentle touch, her face heating with embarrassment and pleasure. “I got an F that summer in Pervie Pedwick’s World History class.” “Pervie Pedwick?” She slanted him a look. “His name was Frank Pedwick.” “Ah.” Peyton shook his head. “Summer school?” “Yeah. The administration was less picky about the teachers they got to teach in the summer.” Peyton frowned. “He didn’t hurt you did he?”

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His concern touched her. She wouldn’t have expected it from a near stranger. But, then again, Peyton Honeybun didn’t feel like a stranger to her. If she believed in that type of thing, she would have thought they’d known each other in a previous life or something. She gave him a soft smile. “He didn’t get the chance. In fact, as I recall, he was fired shortly afterward.” She laughed. “His eyes were so red he looked like a vampire for days.” Peyton chuckled. “Good. He deserved much worse.” They worked in silence for a few minutes. Willa lifted her gaze from her work. “So what is Peyton Honeybun from Texas doing in Indiana? And please don’t tell me you’re running a herd of cows through town.” Peyton chuckled. “No. I’m a ranch consultant. I help people design guest ranches.” Willa grinned. “Dude ranches?” He nodded. “I prefer guest ranch, but that’s what people like to call them, yes.” She grimaced. “In Indiana? I didn’t even know we had such a thing here.”

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“There are several in Southern Indiana. This one’s in Brown County, not all that far from here. It’s gonna be a great place, one of my best so far I think.” Willa noticed the wistful look on his handsome face. “You love what you do, don’t you?” “I do, yes. But someday I’d like to have my own place. I’ve learned a lot about what works and what doesn’t helping other people build their dreams. One day it will be my dream and I’m gonna make it the best ranch in the country.” “Somehow I believe that.” Willa focused on her work for a minute, her mind churning through thoughts she shouldn’t have been thinking, and then asked. “In Texas?” He glanced up, “What?” “Will you build your ranch in Texas?” “Oh. Yeah. Probably. That’s my home base.” Suddenly he turned toward the door. Willa hadn’t heard anything. “What is it?” He stood quietly and grabbed the rifle, motioning for her to stay back as he stood to one side of the door, the long muzzle of the gun held toward the ceiling.

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As Willa watched with horrified fascination, the refrigeration unit door slid open a crack and a head slipped through. Before her stock boy, Jeff could even squeak, Peyton had the muzzle resting against his cheek. “Peyton! Stop!” But he was already dropping the gun and grabbing the kid’s arm, yanking him inside. “How’d you get away?” Jeff Boarman lifted the food he had clutched in one hand. A fat, deli sandwich wrapped in cellophane and a cold bottle of beer. “They told me to bring this to the other guy.” His narrow face was pale under an unruly cap of dark brown hair and the light sheen of metal from braces shone between his lips. He looked to be about fifteen years old and he was obviously terrified. Willa enveloped the young boy in a hug and pulled him away from the door. “Jeff, thank god you’re all right. You can stay here with us. Peyton’s working on a plan to get everybody out of this mess.” The kid pulled away from her, shaking his head. “No! I have to get back. They’ll hurt the others if I don’t.”

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Willa looked at Peyton, her lungs clenching at the thought of sending the boy back into danger. Peyton patted him on a skinny arm. “That’s very brave of you, Jeff. But you’re not going back there.” “Did you guys take out the jerk they sent to watch the back door?” “We did.” The teen frowned. “Then they’ll come looking for me and figure that out won’t they?” Peyton nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m counting on.” “But once they know you’re here you’ll lose the element of surprise.” Peyton frowned. “It can’t be helped.” “Yes it can!” Jeff handed Willa the sandwich and beer. “Let me go back and tell them the guy needs to talk to one of them. They’ll send another guy back and I’ll be there to protect the ladies when you start with your plan.” The kid gave them a pleading look that made Willa tear up. As scared as he was, he wanted to protect the other employees. She reached over and touched his face. “Your dad would be very proud of you, Jeff.”

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Tears filled the kid’s eyes and he looked away, embarrassed. “It’s what he would have done.” Peyton gave her a sharp look and she nodded. “Let him do this, Peyton.” He expelled air in a wash and looked toward the door, obviously considering. Finally he nodded. “Okay. But I don’t’ want you taking any crazy chances. I’ll tell you what to tell the gunmen. And then I want you to tell the ladies something too. Do you think you can do that?” The teen nodded, sniffling. “The ladies already know about you. Irene told them. It would be good if they knew what you were planning. Maybe we can help.” Peyton clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s exactly what I’m hoping, Jeff.” He gave the teen his instructions. When he was finished, Jeff said, “There’s one more thing you should know. They wanted the keys to your truck. I think they were gonna steal it or something. But none of us had the keys.” Peyton glanced at Willa. “So they know I’m here somewhere?” “Hopefully not. I told them the truck belonged to a guy who drives an 18 wheeler and the store manager lets him park it here when he’s on a run.”

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Peyton grinned. “That was really quick thinking, Jeff.” The boy grinned, his pale face filling with embarrassed color. “Thank you, sir. They’ll probably figure it out eventually, but hopefully it will slow them down at least.” Peyton’s mind churned the problem, looking for options and pitfalls. He’d left his cell phone in the truck. If they broke into it they’d quickly learn who he was. They might even see the phone number of his uncle, Senator Brick Honeybun, along with the business numbers and addresses of his other cousins, who, among other things, included cops, lawyers, private detectives, and bodyguards. They would most certainly make it a priority to find and utilize a man with such a gold mine of connections to their benefit. He took a deep breath and expelled it in a sigh. There was nothing he could do about that at the moment. “Okay, let’s kick our plan into motion. You’ll remember everything I told you?” The boy nodded. Peyton watched him leave with a heavy heart, wishing he could figure out a safer way to accomplish what he needed to do. Willa touched him on the arm and he turned to her. “It’s okay. He’s been mourning his dad for months and trying to keep it all together. It’s just him and his

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mom now and he really wants to grow up so he can help more. Way too fast, I’m afraid.” Peyton nodded. “At least he’s not wallowing in self-pity.” “Yes. Which is why I gave him this job. He needs to prove himself…to everybody it seems.” Peyton glanced at her, surprised to see tears still shimmering in her pretty brown eyes. “You’re a softie.” She sniffled. “Shut up, Honeybun.” “What happened to his dad?” She answered with a single word. “Afghanistan.” Peyton nodded. He didn’t require any more explanation than that.

Peyton moved into position. When the door was opened he’d be behind it. Willa stood on the other side with her pepper spray gun. She bounced on her toes with excitement. “I can’t wait to see if this actually works.”

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Peyton slanted her a look. “You are not going to fire that gun at this guy. It’s too dangerous. Just point it at him to confuse and distract him long enough for me to get his gun.” Willa stopped bouncing and bit her bottom lip. “Oh, yeah. That took the fun right out of this.” She glared at him. “Party pooper.” Peyton frowned. “I’m still not comfortable about using you as the distraction, Willa. These guys are dangerous. If he doesn’t buy that toy as a real gun, you could get hurt.” “Peyton, I’m not discussing this again. I’m doing this, whether you want me to or not. I’m not just gonna hide in the back while you risk your life to save all of us.” She gave him a soft smile. “Besides, I trust you to get him before he hurts me.” Peyton shook his head, clearly unconvinced. The sound of heavy boots on the linoleum outside brought his head around. He held a hand up, silencing her. Willa slipped behind a large, metal container, the gun resting across the top where it would be visible. She was so nervous she thought she might puke. But what she’d told Peyton was true, as scared as she was, she didn’t intend to let him

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take all the risk. Those were her people out there, and her store. It was her responsibility to make sure they were safe. She held her breath as the door started to slide inward. A massive man with a huge head and ruddy cheeks stepped into the storeroom. Wild brown hair stuck out around his head like a scraggy aura, making him look like he was half wild. He looked to be at least 400 pounds and most of it was muscle. She gulped, suddenly worried Peyton wouldn’t be strong enough to take him if it came down to a fight. The gunman held a pistol in one hand but he didn’t look like he expected to use it. When he spotted the toy gun, his bulging light green eyes widened and his gun hand started to come up. “Hey! Who are…” Willa panicked and tried to fire the gun. It made a spitting sound but nothing came out. The gunman leapt toward her, smacking the water pistol out of her hand and sending the metal cabinet she was crouched behind scraping toward her. Willa screamed as the man grabbed her arm and jerked her hard, knocking the wind out of her as the sharp, metal edge of the cabinet slammed into her midsection.

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The man’s gun came up and a large hand grasped his wrist, holding the gun away from Willa as she crouched on the floor, struggling to catch a breath. Nausea roiled through her and, for just a moment, she saw stars. The sounds of a struggle told her Peyton had his hands full fighting the big man. Boxes crashed to the ground and a supply cart slid past, barely missing her head as it slammed into the wall. As soon as she could gasp a breath and push to her feet, Willa looked around for Peyton. She sucked air when she spotted them, horrified. The massive gunman had Peyton against the wall, the muscles of his arms bulging as he held Peyton almost off the ground, strangling him. Trying to pry the massive hands away from his throat, Peyton looked as if he was only a moment away from passing out. His face had turned a terrifying shade of purple and his eyes were wide, bulging slightly. He stopped trying to pry the man’s fingers from his throat and started punching his face. He was quickly weakening though, and his punches weren’t having much affect. Willa’s gaze slid around the room, looking for the gun the man must have dropped.

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Peyton kicked out and caught the man in the groin, then followed up with a perfect roundhouse to the man’s chin as he loosened his grip and doubled over in pain. Willa finally spotted the handle of the gun sticking out from under the cart that had rolled by and grabbed it. The sound of flesh hitting flesh didn’t stop as she grabbed the gun. Apparently the massive gunman had barely been slowed down by crushed balls and a good crack to the chin. Peyton finally threw himself at the man, wrapping his arms around the man’s throat and sending them both crashing to the floor. They skidded across the room, landing at Willa’s feet. She held her breath as she reached down and placed the muzzle of the gun on the big man’s forehead. He stopped moving, small, light green eyes focused on her face as she struggled against panic. Her knuckles were white on the pistol, and her hand was shaking so badly it almost slipped off his head. Fortunately, Peyton took the gun from her before the man realized she was too terrified to do anything more with it than threaten. “Don’t fuckin’ move.” Peyton instructed the big man.

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Willa cracked the door to the store, listening. From the front of the store, a loud argument ended with a shouted warning. The hostages had done as Peyton had instructed, picking a boisterous fight to distract and cover any sounds he and Willa might make subduing the big gunman. She only hoped they’d been loud enough. With shaking hands, Willa returned to the gunman and stuffed a rag in his mouth, slapping a strip of duct tape across it as they’d done to the other gunman. Peyton held the gun firmly against his head and spoke to him in a soft voice filled with menace. “Now I need you to roll over and put your hands behind your back so the lady can tie them.” With some shoving, they got the big man onto his side and Willa tied his wrists quickly with packaging twine. “Make sure you tie it tight and wind it several times,” Peyton told her. “He’s a big guy.” “Do you think they heard anything up front?” Peyton shook his head. “I don’t think so, or somebody would have shown up by now to check it out. But let’s get this turkey trussed and flash frozen quickly, just in case.”

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They got him to his feet, shoving him back to the freezer vault, where his other buddy currently sat, shivering and complaining behind the taped rag stuffed into his mouth. They trussed the second man the same way, tying his thick ankles to match his wrists, and threw a thin butcher coat over him. “Sorry, no blankets. But hopefully you won’t have to sit in here too long before the police come for you.” Peyton told them. They closed the door and Peyton looked at her. She gritted her teeth and tried to look normal, but she was vibrating with fear. His face softened when he saw what a state she was in and he reached for her. “Awe, come here, honey,” he said. “You did good.” She sobbed out a laugh and buried her face in his shirt, too scared even to cry. Her hands clutched his shirt and she pressed herself as close to him as she could, reveling in his heat, his incredible scent, and his seemingly unflappable strength. They stood unmoving for a long moment, only the beat of their hearts breaking the silence surrounding them. After a few minutes she stopped shaking and took a deep breath, stepping away,

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He lowered his head and looked her in the eyes. “Okay?” Willa nodded. “Sorry I fell apart.” He pulled her in again, rubbing a hand down her back. “You were incredible. You have nothing to apologize for.” When he pulled out of the hug he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. Then he started pressing numbers into the cell phone they’d confiscated from the gunman. While he waited for his call to go through, Willa turned away and touched the spot where his lips had pressed. The skin was warm and still tingled from his kiss. Like she’d been touched by magic.

Peyton’s cousin Alfric answered on the third ring. “Hello?” “Alf, it’s me, Peyton.” “Hey, you been watchin’ the excitement down your way? Four gunmen have taken hostages in a little country grocery store not too far from you. They’ve barricaded the front door and have gone radio silent. The cops don’t even know how many hostages or what kind of fire power they have.”

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Peyton glanced at Willa. “Four hostages. Four gunmen with a combination of rifles and pistols. I’m right smack in the middle of it. I need you to have Brita send somebody to the store. She can come to the back door, in the alley. I’ll be waiting for her.” Silence throbbed across the phone line. “Wait…are you telling me you’re in that store?” “I am.” “You’re a hostage?” “No, I guess you could call me a stowaway. Up to this point the gunmen don’t know we’re here. The owner and I have incapacitated two of them.” “Are you serious?” “As a gastric bypass. I’m gonna offload these two goons and their weapons. Then Willa and I are gonna snag the last two guys.” “Willa? Wait…Peyton, you know Brita’s not gonna let you cowboy it down there. She’ll be in that store quicker ‘n you can say horse spit.” Alf drawled, doing his best imitation of his Texas bred cousin. “Very funny. No cops. They have three women and a kid up there. And from what I’ve seen these aren’t the sharpest spurs in the tack trunk.”

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“You’re right about that, cuz. Except for the one guy. He’s a pretty wellknown thug. Worked with the Weather Underground in the sixties. They did some pretty nasty stuff back then. From what we’ve seen of him recently he hasn’t mellowed much.” “What’s he look like?” Peyton moved to the refrigeration unit and looked through the glass, toward the front of the store. One of the guys had been on the phone almost constantly, in the manager’s office. He was making it tricky to sneak around the store without being seen. Fortunately he tended to turn away from the glass whenever he spoke on the phone, as if he thought his guys could read lips and he didn’t want them to know what he was saying. “He’s older, obviously. If he didn’t shave his head he’d be fully gray by now. He has no ink or piercings, keeps a pretty low profile, but he works out a lot. He’ll be the one dressed in a black turtleneck with bulging biceps. I read his bio, cuz. He’s a nasty piece of work. He threw a bomb at a couple of off duty cops just because they took a second look at him. Crippled one and severely injured the other. He went underground and the cops never found him. He was spotted at that rally at the capitol earlier today and the cops want him bad. He’s got a lot to lose if the police get hold of him, Peyton.”

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“I drove by that rally.” “Yeah, one of the dufuses he’s with pistol whipped an elderly black guy and took off, firing into the air. It was a peaceful tea party rally until they showed up. They were with the Occupy Indianapolis group and got a little too rowdy. We’re not sure why Michaels was there.” “Michaels?” “Sean Michaels. He’s the one you need to watch, Peyton.” “Got it. When the cops get here I’ll give them the two bozos in the freezer and any hostages I can manage to extricate. Then Mr. Michaels and I are gonna have a little meeting of the minds.” Alf sighed. “Good luck selling that plan to Brita.” Peyton frowned. “I changed my mind. Don’t tell Brita what’s going on, Alf. I’ll figure something else out.” “Too late, cuz. She heard me talkin’ and she’s already rolling. It might be wiser to just shove everybody out the back door and bar it from the inside.” Alf joked. Peyton grinned. “Not a bad idea. Later.” As he hung up he heard his cousin yelling at him not to be an idiot.

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“Who’s Alf?” “Little brown alien dude, always hung out behind couches and stuff. Had this stupid tuft of hair that stuck up from the top of his head.” Peyton shook his head in bewilderment. “He did have a certain cuddly charm though.” He grinned. “Like me.” Willa put hands to hips and glared at him. “Har de har har. Spill it, Honeybun.” “He’s my cousin. Works for a super secret agency of the government. Technically he’s a spy.” Her pretty face broke into a wide grin. “Double-Oh-Sexy.” Peyton frowned. “Yeah. He was a real hit with the ladies before he got lassoed by a pretty little filly named Pleasance.” Peyton smiled at her. “I’ll introduce you when this is over. You’ll like Pleasance, she’s strong enough to keep my cousin in line, but she’s a lot of fun too. Just don’t ask her to get into a plane with my other cousin, Godric.” Peyton did a mock shudder. “I’d love to meet her.” Willa told him, letting her voice convey just how much she’d like it. Getting to know Peyton and his family was quickly becoming

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more than a stray thought. The more time she spent with the sexy Texan the more she wished they could have a future together. “So what’s the plan?” She asked him. Peyton glanced toward the freezer door and grinned. “First we’re gonna see if we can get some more of the hostages out. Then we’re gonna do a bad guy dump into the alley.” He fixed her with a look. “I want you to leave through the back door too, Willa.” “No.” “Willa…” “I’m not leaving my people here alone with those assholes. I’m staying with you.” What she didn’t tell him was that she had no intention of abandoning him either. Peyton Honeybun was quickly digging a spot into her heart, and she wanted lots of time with him to explore their options. If she had to personally kick the asses of the two bad guys at the front of the store to do that…then that’s exactly what she’d do.

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Chapter Five

The parking lot was full of cop cars. The police had brought a locksmith in to unlock and search all the vehicles. Snipers held rifles on the store from across the street. Fortunately for them the store was fronted with brick and the windows were high enough to give them some cover. As long as he and his guys stayed away from the front door they were fairly safe. He’d ignored the cops’ attempts to engage him in discussion, letting his lawyer handle that end of things. He’d been in almost constant contact with his lawyer, managing the situation as best he could. Manny Levin assured him that, as long as he had information the cops wanted, he’d be okay. So, through Manny, he’d made the cops a deal they could hardly refuse. All he had to do was wait for them to understand they had no choice but to accede to his wishes. Then he’d be able to get the hell out of there. The news came on the little television near the desk and he turned to it, watching as a news babe interviewed a tall, attractive woman with short, choppy light brown hair and snapping gold eyes.

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The sky behind the attractive cop was starting to lighten with the first pale, pink streaks of dawn. He scrubbed his face, wearily. They’d been holed up in that little store for nine hours. It felt much longer. “Detective Muldane, I understand Senator Brick Honeybun’s nephew is in that store. Can you comment?” Michaels blinked and reached over to turn up the sound. For the briefest moment, the attractive police detective appeared to glare at the news babe. But she quickly masked her anger in a smile. “I don’t know where you got your information, Ms. Sommers. That’s just not true.” The news reporter nodded, looking unconvinced. “Can you tell us what the kidnappers’ demands are? Is it true one of them has offered information that will help the police close a couple of cop killer cases from last summer in exchange for his freedom?” Michaels swore as the detective affirmed the reporter’s information. Great! Now he’d have the Underground after his ass too.

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He turned the sound down on the TV and dialed his lawyer again. “Manny, they just outed me on television. The deal is off. I’m going to Plan B.” He hung up as his long-suffering lawyer squawked on the other end of the phone. He didn’t need the man anymore. It appeared he had a valuable hostage in the store. He’d use the kid to get out of there and then go underground again. It had worked for him before. He’d have to hope it worked again. Only, thanks to the flippin’ media, this time he’d be dodging his old friends in the organization along with the cops. He walked over to the office door and opened it, calling for Mack. The man appeared at the bottom of the stairs a moment later, his doughy face pale and twitchy with stress. “You ever find out who the keys to that truck belonged to?” Mack shook his head, his jowls wobbling. “None of them admitted to owning the truck.” Michaels thought about this for a minute. “Bring the boy up here. I need to talk to him.”

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Keeping an eye on the glass windows of the front office, Peyton slipped through the refrigeration unit and crouched low. He looked back at Willa. “Put the shelf back and just put a few things on it in case they come through this area. And make sure you’re watching for us because we’ll be moving fast when we come back.” Willa nodded. “Good luck.” He picked up the two cans he and Willa had prepped earlier and hurried toward the bakery at a crouch, praying the guy behind the window stayed on the phone and didn’t look up.

Bud Hinks strode across the street toward Brita, his step heavy. She figured he probably had more bad news and swore under her breath. Damn the whole Honeybun family. They were constant thorns in her side. Not a single one of them understood the concept of letting the police do their work. They all had vigilante hearts and rock hard heads. Stubborn didn’t even begin to describe them. She hit redial again. Calling the number Peyton had used earlier to call Alf. She’d run the phone and gotten the name Anthony “Buck” Williams and a sheet filled with a string of minor crimes,

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mostly fights and disturbance of the peace citations. She assumed that was one of the guys who’d taken over the store. One of the two Peyton told Alf he’d already “collected” to hand over to her. Brita’s temper was on boil as the phone continued to ring unanswered. Peyton had deliberately ignored her calls, knowing that she would make him give it up and let the police do their jobs if she spoke to him. She waited until Bud was close enough so that she could speak softly, not wanting the ever eager Madeline Sommers, Channel 13 News, to hear what they were doing. She walked away from the barriers and Bud followed. “Did they get the back door open yet?” Bud frowned. “They got through the locks but there’s something wedged under the knob inside. If we bash through it the kidnappers are gonna hear us.” Brita swore. Damn Peyton! “Cutters?” Bud’s face told her that was the bad news. “The locksmith thinks the door has asbestos in it. We can’t cut through an asbestos door unless we use a qualified asbestos abatement contractor.”

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Brita scrubbed a hand down her face. “Good lord. Can this get any more complicated?” As if in answer to her question, her cell phone rang. She looked at the number and then gritted her teeth. Accepting the call, she put it to her ear, “Peyton, this had better be good. I left the ragged end of my patience behind a while ago.”

Mack looked at his watch for the third time in fifteen minutes. Buck should have been back a long time ago. Or he should have sent Studs back instead. Something was wrong. And Mack was tired of standing around waiting for Michaels to figure it out. He climbed the stairs to the office again and shoved the door open. The kid was sitting in a chair in the back corner, blinking nervously, his skinny face was covered in sweat and his hair was dark with it. He wondered what Michaels had said to the kid to make him so nervous. “I’m gonna go check on Buck. He’s still not back. I need you to keep an eye on the hostages for a while.”

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Sean Michaels turned away from his perusal of the parking lot cameras and frowned. The cops were standing around the back door but they hadn’t made a move to breech the door yet. He had to wonder why. “No. Leave Buck and Studs alone. They need to stay by the back door in case the cops try to break the door down.” Mack bristled under the guy’s arrogant tone. But he forgot his pique a second later, when he glanced at the parking lot cameras. There were a hell of a lot of cops out there. “Holy shit!” “Hey, what’s that?” The kid’s voice cracked with alarm. Mack turned his head toward the office window and saw a thick cloud of gray smoke billowing through the store from the north end. The bakery. “Shit!”

The kid stood up as Mack ran out of the office. Michaels picked up his gun. “Where do you think you’re goin’, Honeybun?” The boy stopped dead, blinking. “Um. I was gonna help with the oven fire. I know how to put it out quick.”

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Michaels shook his head. “They can handle it. You just sit your ass down there and stay out of trouble. I have plans for you.” Michaels watched the kid until he was sitting down again, blinking rapidly and winding his hands together. The kid sure was twitchy. Michaels was willing to chalk the nervousness up to having a gun pointed at him. What bothered him more was the kid’s age. He seemed a little young to be Brick Honeybun’s nephew. He could be a great nephew, of course, but the news babe hadn’t called him that. It was a detail. But paying attention to details was what had kept Michaels alive for several decades underground. But the important thing was that the media, and the cops, apparently believed Honeybun was in the store. It should be enough to get him a ride out of there unscathed. When the kid was settled back into his chair Michaels picked up the phone and called 9-1-1. It was time he gave the cops his new demands.

One of the women started yelling as soon as Mack hit the stairs.

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“It’s my ovens!” The oldest one shrieked. “I left bread in there and it must have caught on fire.” She was trying to hobble to her feet as Mack reached her. “Don’t move, lady!” She glared up at him. “Honey, if we don’t get that fire put out fast, that whole oven’s gonna burst into flames and we’ll be sittin’ in the middle of a tinder box.” The older cashier nodded, “She’s right. The oven’s gas, and we haven’t cleaned it in a while. If that old grease catches fire you’re gonna have an explosion. It happened once a few years ago. They had to rebuild almost the whole store.” Mack glanced quickly toward the office. That asswipe, Michaels, was back on the phone, leaving him to deal with everything. He either needed to let the old bitch hobble back on her own, or take the whole group and go with them. He didn’t trust any of them enough to leave them alone and Michaels probably wouldn’t even notice if they all scurried to the front door and left. He made a quick decision. If he kept them together he could keep an eye on all of them, and they could stop by the storeroom on the way back to check on Billy and Buck. “Fine! He glanced at the hostages. But you’re all coming with me.” He lifted the muzzle of the shotgun to get them all on their feet. “Hurry up, the last thing we need is for this stupid store to burn to the ground around us.”

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Willa watched the hostages all climb to their feet and hobble as quickly as they could toward the bakery. Their ankles and wrists had been tied together so it was a clumsy, slow business. She couldn’t believe their luck. They’d be able to rescue all the hostages and get everyone out of the store. The police could storm the front door and get the last guy at their leisure. She tried not to think about the damage they’d accrue when they broke down the door and had a gun battle in her store. Maybe they’d have sharp shooters and could take him out in one shot. Then she realized Jeff wasn’t with the group. She ran along the refrigeration unit, looking for him. He wasn’t in any of the aisles. It was possible he was in the produce section or the bakery, but she doubted the kidnappers would have left him to wander around alone. That was when her gaze lifted to the man in the office again. He was turned in his chair, talking to someone. But the phone wasn’t in his hand. Her heart sank. For whatever reason, Jeff was in the office with the last hostage taker, in direct line of danger when everything started to go down.

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Willa swore and started pulling things off the shelf, intending to go through and warn Peyton. She spotted the guns they’d taken from the two guys in the freezer and grabbed the pistol. She didn’t know how to shoot the gun but she could certainly point it and pull the trigger if she had to. On impulse, she also stuffed the pepper spray gun into the waistband of her jeans and zipped up her hoodie to cover it. Stopping to consider her options before leaving the refrigeration unit, she looked at the gun clutched in her shaky hand. It wasn’t enough. But it would have to do.

Peyton waited until the man ushered the group of hostages into the wall of smoke he’d created with the home made smoke bombs. As they scurried, coughing, into the smoke, he reached out and hit the gunman hard over the head with a marble rolling pin, sending him to the floor. The women hobbled forward and helped him drag the guy to the back of the bakery.

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“I have some twine around here somewhere,” Irene told him. She’d grabbed a box cutter from behind the counter and was already sawing through the zip strips on the older cashier’s wrists with it. Peyton looked around. “Where’s Jeff?” The youngest of the two cashiers he’d spoken to when he entered the store started to cry, “They took him. He’s in the office with the last guy.” Peyton swore and started back toward the refrigeration unit. “You all lock yourselves in that storage area back there.” He handed the younger woman one of Willa’s pepper spray guns. “Use this if he comes through the door and scream. I’ll get back here as fast as I can.” Cathy cut the plastic ties off the other two women and they started toward the back. Peyton waited until the ladies had locked themselves in and then slipped around the bakery counter. He was worried that Willa had done something crazy when she saw that Jeff wasn’t with the others. If she had, he was gonna turn her over his knee. Why did that thought make his pulse speed up and his loins tighten? His timing had always sucked.

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A moment later, as he slipped through the shelving and found an empty refrigeration unit, he knew the worst had happened. Willa had gone off on her own to try to save Jeff. With his palms dampening in fear for her, and his heart pounding hard in his chest, he dialed Brita’s cell.

Brita slipped alongside the brick wall at the back of the store and lifted the can of spray paint, quickly coating the face of the security camera over the door and then pounding twice on the door. Peyton opened it and she slipped inside. “Remind me to throw you in jail when this is over, Peyton.” “Yeah, yeah. Save your hostility for the bad guys. I’ve lost track of a woman and a boy I care about and I have no patience for your ‘by the book’ attitude right now.” Brita didn’t like the fire in his blue eyes. She’d seen it too many times, in too many Honeybun men. It was his protective instincts rising to take over his feeble Honeybun brain. She’d never known a Honeybun who could step back and let others take care of stuff they’d decided was their responsibility.

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For whatever reason, it seemed that Peyton considered these people his responsibility. “Okay. We’ll work our way up the south side. You find the woman. Then try to draw the gunman out of the office so we can get a bead on him without endangering the kid.” “What if he won’t come down? Or brings the kid with him? I don’t like it Brita.” “You have a better idea?” Peyton expelled a frustrated breath. “If I did I’d have finished this without you.” She knew she should be mad at him but she couldn’t help feeling sorry. It wasn’t fun bearing responsibility for the world on your own shoulders. Even when those shoulders were broad and strong. “He’s gonna move soon. He’s asked for a chopper to carry him and his prime hostage out of here.” She lifted a light brown eyebrow. “Me?” “Yup. All we need is a tiny window of opportunity, Peyton.” She jerked her head toward the sniper behind them. “This is Tom Wolfe. He’s the best sharp

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shooter we have. Just give him six inches of space and he’ll take the guy down before he can even blink.” Wolfe inclined his head at Peyton in verification. “Six inches is a little close for my comfort. That boy has a mom who needs him. Let’s try to make it a lot less scary than that shall we?” Brita frowned. “Agreed.” “Okay then. Let’s go.”

Willa slipped along the produce case, keeping her head down and the pistol up, though it was quickly getting too heavy to hold in front of her in one hand. She’d heard the man come down the stairs, the third one from the top squeaked, but she had no idea where he’d gone from there. Her heart pounded hard against her ribs and her palms were so sweaty she’d almost dropped the gun a few times. Terror made her muscles weak and her bowels turn to water, but she knew Jeff, Peyton, and the others were in danger and she had to do something.

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She rounded the end of the cooler and stopped, her gaze slipping around the front area of the store. It was silent. Nothing moved. So she hurried past the potato chip covered end cap and peered down the next aisle. Empty. She hurried past the next end cap and looked down that aisle. Nothing. The next aisle was empty too. And the next one. She was dangerously close to the bakery end of the store and there was no sign of the guy with the rifle. A sudden thought made her gasp. What if he’d gone to the back of the store and released the others? Panic made her stand and start for the back. She didn’t get far. A bald, muscular gunman wearing a black turtleneck and jeans stepped around the end cap with a gun in his hand. Jeff was blinking in fear at the end of it.

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Chapter Six

Peyton showed Brita where his hostages were and her men carted them away. Then he went to the front of the room and slipped along the refrigeration unit, looking for Willa down all the aisles. There was no sign of her. Brita left to get into position near the front of the store. A moment later, a squawk sounded through the store and Peyton jumped. A voice vibrated over the public address system. “Mr. Honeybun.” The voice was raspy and deep, like someone who’d been sucking smoke through his throat for a few decades. His blood pressure shot into danger zone. If the guy knew his name… “I think you and I need to talk. There’s someone here who would greatly appreciate you coming to the office.” Peyton peered through the refrigeration unit and swore.

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Willa and Jeff stood side by side in the office, in front of the glass window, and the gunman was behind them. He held a rifle to Willa’s head. She had her arm around Jeff’s shoulders and looked terrified. There was only one thing to do. He couldn’t help them from the back of the store. He needed to get close enough to stop Michaels from using that gun. Peyton opened the glass door to the nearest unit and called out. “I’m coming out now. Don’t hurt them.” The PA system squawked again. “No guns, Honeybun. I’m watching.” “No guns!” Peyton figured he had about 30 seconds to do what he needed to do. He grabbed one of the water bottles he’d assembled and tucked it into the small of his back, covering it with his shirt. Then he went out through the storeroom and entered the store. Brita was nowhere to be seen. Hopefully she was already in place at the front of the store. Peyton took a deep breath. Time to wrangle a bad guy.

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Willa felt moisture on her belly and looked down, horrified to find that she had a wet spot spreading on the front of the hoodie from the pepper spray gun. She sucked in her stomach and prayed the gunman wouldn’t notice the wet spot. She was still determined to find a way to use it against him. She couldn’t let Peyton pay the price for her stupidity. What had she been thinking? She was no good at the crime fighting business. Obviously. She’d let herself get caught within minutes of deciding to ignore Peyton’s instructions and set out on her own. She just prayed she’d be fast enough to spray the gunman and grab his gun. Or strong enough. Hell, she just prayed the stupid gun would work! “Here comes your boyfriend.” She started to tremble, her teeth clacking together. Jeff reached over and grasped her hand, squeezing it. Tears flooded her eyes. The man behind her laughed. “You aren’t built for this kind of thing, honey. Next time just lay low and let things happen without you. Life passes much more safely that way.”

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“You mean while other people are bullied and trussed up and maybe killed? Sorry. I couldn’t live with myself if I did that.” He just chuckled, unaffected by her disgust. Peyton appeared in the center aisle, his hands up in the air as he moved toward the front of the store. Willa frowned, guilt swamping her. Their plan had been working so well. Why the hell hadn’t she done what he’d told her to do? She tried to send an apology to Peyton with her gaze. Even across the distance, she could read his concern for her in his gaze. She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer that he would be okay. That they would all be okay. Above them, the sound of helicopter rotors preceded a frightening thumping sound as, Willa presumed, a chopper touched down on the roof. The gunman looked up. “You have a stairway to the roof in this store?” Willa nodded, swallowing hard. “In the back.” The man with the gun picked up the microphone and pressed the button. A horrible squawking sound preceded his instructions to Peyton. Willa jumped. If she lived through the current crisis she needed to get the damn public address system fixed.

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“Stop right there, Honeybun.” He nudged her and Jeff back with the rifle. “Let’s go sweetheart. And don’t worry, as soon as I get your boyfriend in the chopper I’ll let you and the kid go. He’s worth a lot more to me than you are.” Willa saw stars and had to grasp the back of the office chair for a moment, feeling like she would pass out. It was all her fault. If only she hadn’t told him about Peyton. But when he’d jammed that gun under Jeff’s chin she’d panicked. The gunman gave her a brutal shove and they started out of the office, descending the stairs. She kept her gaze on Peyton as they approached. His pretty, blue gaze was locked on her face, watching her every move. Willa wished she could read his mind, because it was obvious he wanted to tell her something. But then his gaze jerked downward and she understood. She inclined her head slightly, her gaze fixed on his hand, where three fingers had turned into two and then one… She grabbed Jeff’s arm and hit the ground, pulling him down with her. Peyton threw something that looked like one of their baking soda bombs at the gunman and it exploded as it hit his face.

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Peyton dove for him. But the man recovered too quickly and the rifle came up, his finger on the trigger. Jeff flung himself at the man’s legs, throwing him off balance, and Willa reacted without thinking. She pulled the plastic gun from her waistband and sprayed it into the gunman’s face. She kept firing even as he started screaming and dropped the rifle to scrub at his eyes. Peyton tackled him, sending them both sliding down the water slicked floor toward the end of the aisle, where a series of clicks announced the presence of about a dozen cops. Willa laid there panting with nerves, her heart beating hard in her chest, as a tall woman with golden brown hair in a short, choppy cut and wide, dark gold eyes reached down to give Peyton a hand up. “That crap might go over well in Texas, cowboy, but the police in Indiana frown on vigilante justice.” Peyton grinned at her and turned to Willa. “You okay, honey?”

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The endearment took the last little bit of air out of her lungs and Willa found she couldn’t speak. She nodded as Peyton pulled her off the floor and into his arms. Then delayed panic set in and she couldn’t do anything for a while but sob into his shirt. Someone brought a blanket over and walked her to the stairs. She huddled under the blanket, shivering, while the police questioned her and Jeff and Peyton spoke to the tall woman, whom he called Brita. An eternity later, Peyton gave Jeff and the ladies a hug and led Willa out to his truck. She gave him her address and then closed her eyes, numb with weariness. By the time they arrived at her house she felt a little better. “Would you like to come inside?” Peyton grabbed her hand and pulled it to his lips. His kiss was warm and soft, lingering on her skin until her thighs tightened with pleasure. In the enclosed cab of the big truck, his wonderful scent surrounded her and the heat from his big body warmed the last of her chills away. “I’d like that. But I want things to be clear between us, Willa. When you were in danger back there…” He squeezed her hand. “Well, let’s just say you’ve come to mean a lot to me in a very short time. I want to get to know you better.”

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She smiled. “I’d like that too.” “But here’s the thing.” Willa’s stomach tightened. She recognized the goodbye tone. She’d certainly heard it enough over the years. “I’m only here for a couple more weeks. Then I’ll be going back to Texas.” Willa’s heart contracted painfully in her chest. “Oh.” Peyton leaned closer and pulled her toward him, lowering his lips onto hers. His touch sent tendrils of desire spiraling through her and made her toes curl. He tasted wonderful and smelled even better. And when his big hand slipped along her arm she shivered under the sensual onslaught. Her body responded to him like it hadn’t for anyone else…ever. And what she knew of him as a man made her heart and mind respond favorably too. But she couldn’t face that goodbye again. Not once her heart was engaged. It had nearly killed her the last time. Tears slipped from her eyes and Peyton pulled away. He skimmed a warm finger across her cheek to dry them.

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“There’s that soft center again. I don’t want you to cry, Willa. It doesn’t have to be over when I leave. We can…” “What? Have a long distance romance?” She sniffed, shaking her head. “Been there…failed that.” She took one of his hands between hers and looked into his pretty eyes. “I’ve really come to enjoy being with you, Peyton. Despite the fact that we were under stress and pressure the whole time. Maybe that’s why we’ve had such a strong reaction to one another. Because of the circumstances we survived together.” It was his turn to shake his head. “That’s part of it, sure. But there’s more to it than that, Willa. We…or at least I…have feelings that can’t be ignored.” She skimmed a finger over his knuckles. They were big knuckles, and his fingers were calloused. They were the hands of a man who worked hard. She’d always been partial to a man who worked with his hands. “I have those feelings too, Peyton. But…” “You’re gonna ignore them aren’t you?” Her lips quivered and tears threatened. Willa leaned forward and touched her lips to his in kiss that was filled with all the emotion she didn’t dare express.

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When she pulled away she couldn’t bear to look at him. “Goodbye, Peyton.” She climbed out of the truck and ran into her house without looking back.

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Chapter Seven

It had been seven weeks since Peyton had driven out of her life. Seven long, regret filled weeks. Willa had second guessed her decision a thousand times over the course of those weeks, but she always came back to the same place. She didn’t have it in her to attempt a long distance relationship. If she was gonna be alone, she’d rather do it without the constant hope and expectation that it would soon change. When in actuality it probably wouldn’t. Though she’d give anything at that moment to be brave enough to try it the other way again. There was a light knock on her office door and Jeff came in. “There’s a truck in the parking lot that’s been sitting there for a while. After what happened to us a few weeks ago, it’s making me nervous.” She didn’t look up from her paperwork. “That’s Barney’s new truck. He’s on a run into Kentucky this week.” Jeff’s story to the gunmen hadn’t been completely

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made up. Willa did let a local driver leave his trailer at the far edge of her lot when he was home, and park his pickup there when he was on a run. Jeff hesitated long enough for her to look up. “Is something wrong?” The teen’s face was flushed and he wore a wide grin. “I think you might want to take a closer look at that truck. It’s not Barney’s.” Willa frowned. She needed to get the produce ordered before four o’clock and she didn’t have time for the teen’s silliness. “Jeff, I…” A tall frame filled the door behind Jeff and Willa’s gaze lifted in surprise. “Hello, Willa.” His wide brimmed cowboy hat cast a shadow over his face, obscuring his pretty blue eyes. Willa didn’t need to see his eyes. She remembered them clearly; had dreamed of them almost every night since he’d left. Her stomach jumped, her heart raced, and her fingers clutched the pen until it creaked. She released the pen and tried to swallow the knot in her throat. “Peyton. What a…nice…surprise.” He frowned, evidently not missing the hesitation in her greeting.

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Willa picked the pen back up and set it back down again. She ran her fingers over the produce order, panicking. Silence stretched in an uncomfortable arc between them while full blown panic sliced through her. Oh god! What if she didn’t have the strength to turn him away again? The door closed and terror enveloped her. She was suddenly, inexplicably afraid that Peyton had left. Willa’s head jerked up, her gaze flying to the door. Jeff was gone, but Peyton was still there. He leaned against the wall, his long arms crossed over his chest, watching her. Willa finally stood up and turned, swiping sweaty palms down her jeans. “I…” She expelled a frustrated breath, shaking her head. “Let’s go get some coffee somewhere…and talk.” Peyton offered. She glanced at the produce order just as someone knocked on her office door and Irene shoved past Peyton. “I’ll finish that order, Willa. You go on now. You and Peyton have things to discuss.” Willa frowned. Why did she feel like her entire staff was in on some kind of secret with Peyton…and she was the only one left out of the loop?

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Peyton offered her his hand. “You heard the woman, Willa. She’s got this under control. And I do have something I need to tell you.” Willa swallowed hard and nodded, allowing herself to be escorted down the stairs and out the front door. Peyton’s big, warm hand kept her moving through a gentle pressure in the small of her back. Willa felt the gazes of her employees, and even a few customers, following them out. Nausea roiled in her belly from nerves, even while her body tightened and warmed with the pleasure of seeing him again. And his touch burned the skin of her back, sending spirals of need through her whole body. They were almost to the truck before she looked at it. When she did her eyes widened. It was the same black pickup truck she remembered from when he’d been there before, cleaner maybe, but bright white lettering now decorated the passenger side door. “Honeybun Guest Ranch?” She turned to him. “You opened your own place?” Peyton’s smile was slow and sexy, making her thighs clench with need. “I did. I finally bit the bullet.”

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“That’s wonderful! Congratulations, Peyton. I know how much you wanted to open your own ranch.” Willa was genuinely happy for him. But she was sad at the same time. If he’d put down roots in Texas her decision had been the right one. She could never give up her little store and move, and a long distance romance was out of the question. So nothing had changed. Which begged the question, why was he there? Peyton opened the door and gave her a hand up. “It was too good of a deal to pass up.” Willa snapped her seat belt closed and twined her fingers nervously as Peyton went around the truck and climbed inside. For the first fifteen minutes of the drive, they made small talk. Willa relaxed slightly as he told her about the ranch and all the things he wanted to do to make it a success. She even started to get caught up in his excitement with him, for a few minutes forgetting how much it would kill her when he left again. After twenty minutes they turned off onto a gravel road and Willa realized they were nowhere near a coffee shop. “Where are you taking me?” Peyton’s smile was mysterious. “You’ll see. It’s not far now.”

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A moment later he turned left and drove under a large sign that hung over a long, gravel drive. Willa peered upward, trying to read the sign, and gasped. “This is the Honeybun Guest Ranch?” He grinned. “I hope twenty-five minutes isn’t too far away for courting? I would have gotten closer if I could, but this property is just too perfect and my clients really weren’t cut out for the lifestyle. They made me a really sweet deal.” Tears flooded Willa’s eyes. “Oh my god…” her voice was husky with shock and tears, “You really did it? You moved to Indiana?” Peyton stopped the truck in a circular drive in front of a sprawling log building. A deep, inviting, covered porch ran the length of the ranch house and, at the center of the circular drive, a large fountain sprayed water from the hat of a cowboy on a bucking bronco. Flower boxes adorned every window in the long, low-slung building and overflowed water trough shaped planters along the front edge of the porch. Willa thought it was perfect. “Peyton, it’s gorgeous!” His grin reminded her of a small boy who’s made his parents proud. “You think so?” Peyton opened the door and helped her out of the truck.

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She laughed, spinning around in a circle to take it all in. “I do! Oh, this is going to be such a huge success! I can’t believe you actually did it.” “I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. And, as you know, I’ve wanted to build my own ranch. Most of my family is here in Indiana.” He turned to her, giving her his lazy, Texas smile, and made her heart melt with his next words. “And you’re here.” He took her hand and pulled her close. Willa gasped as she hit the broad, hard wall of his chest and her laughter caught in her throat. Peyton lowered his head, his lips stopping a breath away from hers. “I’ve missed you, Willa.” He cut the distance between them, his lips claiming hers in a soft, tentative kiss, as if he wasn’t sure how she’d respond. Willa wrapped her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss, suddenly starving for his taste, his touch. She couldn’t believe he was actually there, touching her, kissing her. Her lips tasted him hungrily as her hands slipped over his shoulders, down his chest, and around his narrow waist.

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Peyton groaned and wrapped his arms tightly around her, drawing her so close that she could feel every hard line of his long, sexy body through her clothing. His heat scalded her, tempted her, and his familiar and never forgotten scent pulled her in. She couldn’t touch him enough…couldn’t get close enough…taste enough. When he broke the kiss a moment later Willa made a little sound of disappointment before she could stop herself. He kissed the tip of her nose. “Come inside. I want to give you the tour.”

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Chapter Eight

As vital as it was to Peyton to see Willa again, to be able to hold her in his arms and relish the second chance he hoped they’d have together. He discovered that her approval of his handiwork at the ranch was nearly as important. He’d thought of her often over the past weeks, as he’d worked with decorators and contractors to make the place uniquely his. To give it the special touches he knew potential clients would enjoy. Showing it all to her was like handing her a piece of his heart. He prayed she’d accept it…relish it…and not find fault. But even gentle criticism would be good. He knew the place could benefit from a woman’s touch. As he could. Peyton opened the front door and ushered her in ahead of him. He clutched his hat between his fingers, denting it as he watched her carefully for signs that she liked or hated his creation.

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Willa’s pretty brown gaze swung around the room, seeming to take in the golden wood of the rounded log walls, the massive, crackling stone fireplace that dominated one long wall, the aged brown leather sofas and matching arm chairs, and the deep hues of jewel colored rugs scattered around on wood plank floors that shone with recent buffing. She lifted a long fingered hand to cover her mouth and walked around, touching shiny surfaces with silent reverence. Peyton started to get nervous when tears filled her eyes. “You don’t like it?” She turned to him and laughed, tears slipping down her cheeks. “It’s perfect! Just how I pictured it all these…” She stopped, looking shocked at what she’d apparently been about to say. Sniffling she touched a soft, mohair throw and said. “It’s lovely, Peyton.” Peyton threw his hat onto the couch and closed the distance between them in two strides, dragging her up against his body hungrily, his hands grasping her slim arms with an almost desperate need. “You’ve thought about us? While I was gone? You thought about me?”

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She framed his face with her soft hands and kissed him, then lifted her lips from his and peppered his face with quick, tender kisses. “Oh god, Peyton. You’re pretty much all I’ve thought about. I have second guessed my decision a thousand times. In the end I always came back to the same place. It wouldn’t have worked. I couldn’t have made it work.” Peyton felt his world tilting, teetering, ready to crash at his feet. She still didn’t want him. He dropped his gaze, released her arms, stepped away. “Oh.” Soft fingers wrapped around his forearm, slipped down to grasp his hand. “It wasn’t you, Peyton. Don’t you see? It was the distance between us. It would hurt too much not to see you. To feel the way I do and never be able to touch you.” His heart started to pump again. “That sounds promising.” She touched his face. “You dope. How clear do I have to make myself? I want us to work. It killed me to let you walk away.” Peyton held her gaze for a long moment and then gave a whoop and grabbed her around the waist. He kissed her laughing mouth and scooped her into his arms. Willa pushed on his shoulders. “Put me down! What are you doing?”

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But he was already striding toward the back of the building. “I’m taking you to my bedroom.” He stopped. “That is, if you’d like to go.” Willa frowned. “Do you need to show me the décor?” “Yeah.” He responded, matching her tone for seriousness. “Particularly the sheets. I had trouble picking them out. I want to make sure I did it right.” Willa leaned close, capturing his lower lip between straight, white teeth and nibbling it until Peyton’s jeans tightened uncomfortably and he thought he might embarrass himself. She licked the spot she’d worried with her teeth and lifted her head. “Something tells me you’re gonna do it just right.” He groaned and captured her lips in a ravenous kiss, striding quickly down the hall and pushing the door to his bedroom open with his shoulder. He placed her gently onto her feet beside the bed and wrapped his arms around her waist, dragging her into the hard ridge of flesh at the front of his jeans. “I feel like I’ve waited forever for this.” He told her in between lingering kisses. “I want you to know I didn’t take this move lightly. I’d been thinking about it for a long time. And, as you know, I’ve wanted to build my own ranch.” He turned to her, giving her a lazy, Texas smile, and made her heart melt with his next words. “There’s no pressure here. I want to spend time with you. But I don’t want you to feel obligated…”

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Willa took a dark gold curl between her fingers and twirled it, enjoying the silken feel of it. “You talk too much, Honeybun.” “Yeah. I’ve been told that before.” But he was determined not to be told that again anytime soon. Willa’s fingers worked on the buttons of his denim shirt with an urgency he recognized all too well. He stood completely still as she slipped it over his shoulders, and off, tossing it aside. He closed his eyes as she reached for him, her fingers slipping across his shoulders and down, fondling his pecs and tweaking the hard buds of his nipples. Her hands were exquisitely soft and her touch made his balls ache with need. Particularly when they skimmed along the line of hair leading from his belly button into the waistband of his jeans. “Honey, if you keep touching me like that this is gonna be a really abbreviated event.” She grinned up at him and slipped those cool, soft fingertips beneath the stiff waistband. Peyton sucked in a breath. “Okay, that did it.” Her grin widened. “Less talk, more action, Peyton.”

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“I aim to please, ma’am.” He lowered his head and nuzzled the side of her long, slim neck, nearly groaning from her sweet, warm scent. She smelled of vanilla and peaches, with just a touch of spicy ginger thrown in to curl his toes. She shivered as he licked her throat, tasting her skin and nibbling gently on the uber sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder. “Oh god, yes, Peyton. That feels wonderful.” Her hungry fingers no longer skittered across the skin of his lower belly. Instead she fumbled with the button and zipper of his jeans. Peyton resisted the urge to help her. He initiated his own exploration instead. His hands slipped beneath the light, stretchy cotton of her t-shirt, and skimmed upward, touching the velvet softness of her narrow waist and skipping along her rib cage, toward the beautiful mounds of her breasts. She wore a little nothing bra, which did little more than emphasize her large breasts by pushing them up and making them look even fuller beneath the soft cotton of her shirt. He dragged the t-shirt up with his hands and sighed as the milk chocolate mounds were exposed, all but spilling over the band of peach colored satin she wore as a bra. He gave in to the urge to taste her there, lowering his lips and kissing, then laving the tops of her breasts with his tongue. “So sweet,” he murmured before

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pulling the edge of the peach satin away so he could encompass a hungry, brown nipple with his mouth. Willa shivered, moaning, and her busy fingers stilled as he sucked gently on first one nipple, and then slipped his tongue across the warm silk of her skin to taste the other. She arched toward him, her body hungry for something he hadn’t yet given her. But Peyton wouldn’t be goaded into hurrying. He knew better than anyone that pleasure deferred was the greater pleasure. He lifted his head and pulled her shirt off over her head, leaving the sexy bra in place. Then he unbuttoned her jeans and skimmed them down her gently rounded hips, exposing a flawless length of shapely leg as he pushed them to the floor, dropping to his knees. She stepped out of them but Peyton didn’t rise back up, instead he leaned in and licked her softly rounded belly, just over the tiny swatch of peach satin that all but covered the enticing vee at the tops of her thighs. Willa’s fingers found his hair and tangled there, twitching against his scalp as he settled in to taste and explore the bounty that was Willa.

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His tongue slipped into her belly button, making her shiver and smile, and then skimmed downward, to lift the lacy edge of her little nothing panties. Willa’s body started to vibrate with need as his hands slipped up her long legs, caressing her from her slim ankles, along her calves, to the well-toned roundness of her thighs, and skimming beneath the peach satin covering her nicely rounded backside.

Willa widened her stance and cried out as his mouth covered the tender mound at the tops of her thighs, encompassing her pulsing flesh in moist heat. She was on fire, almost mindless with need, and the man kneeling between her legs didn’t appear to be in any hurry to douse that fire. He just kept building it higher. She pressed her throbbing mons into him and groaned as his tongue came out, slipping along the moist satin to build the flames even higher. She lifted one hand to tweak her own nipple, feeling a building pressure there to match the inferno growing in her lower belly. Her head went back, her eyes rolled closed, and she gave herself up to the awareness washing over her, through her, swamping her in need.

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Peyton followed the tongue swipe with a nibble on the hungry bud beneath the thin, damp satin. The gentle bite made her knees wobble and she saw stars as sensation flowed over her, sending delight in pulsating spirals through her belly. Her fingers rolled her nipples hard as the orgasm ripped through her. Peyton lifted his lips and slipped a substantial finger inside her still convulsing channel, sending her into another quick release with a series of talented strokes. By the time her body climbed down from her second orgasm, Peyton’s tongue was slipping around the edge of her panties and she was building toward a third. The feeling of his tongue on the outside of the satin had been overwhelming. The feel of his busy tongue sliding along the sensitized flesh of her sexual core without the thin barrier nearly made her lose consciousness. As his talented fingers caressed the skin of her behind and slipped along the sensitive skin at the backs of her thighs, his tongue skimmed the wet folds between her thighs and left her panting for more. Finally she couldn’t take any more. “Now, Peyton! I need you now!” His husky chuckle made her body clench hopefully. But when she pulled on his shoulders he rose, walking her backward until her legs hit the bed and she fell into its encompassing softness.

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Willa’s fingers slipped downward, beneath the drenched satin of her panties, to rub her clit as she watched him drag his jeans down his long, long legs. He stood before her in snug fitting boxers, with an impressive tent in the front. “Lose the boxers.” Willa’s stomach jumped at the sound of her own breathless command. She’d never been so demanding in sex, never so ravenous for a man’s hard body straining against hers. But she was starving for the man standing in front of her. Desperate to have him inside her. Peyton slipped his fingers into the waistband of the soft boxers and skimmed them over his hips, down his muscular thighs. Until he stood before her long, heavy, and impossibly hard. Willa gasped at the sight. She ached for him. Peyton reached toward the bedside table, opening a small drawer at the top, and pulled out a condom. Watching him, Willa’s body thrummed with expectation. Her gaze slipped hungrily downward, from his handsome face, across his broad shoulders, down the

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smooth expanse of sun-browned chest, with the tiny triangle of soft curls nestled between firm pecs, along the well-formed ripples of a washboard stomach, and to the impressive evidence of his lust for her. She licked her lips, feeling like the cat who waited for a bowl of rich cream. Peyton fixed her with a sexy blue gaze as he slipped the condom on, and then stalked toward the bed. The way he moved reminded her of a much larger and far less tame version of the kitty she’d compared herself to. In fact, he moved so aggressively that she found herself scooting backward as he crawled across the bed. Slipping his hands up her legs, he pulled her little panties off and lifted her into his arms to unclasp her bra. He laid her back down and knelt over her, gazing at her naked form with a hungry gleam in his blue eyes. She gasped as his lips found hers, and reveled in his weight, pressing her into the bed as his big body covered hers. Willa opened her legs and wrapped them around his thighs, running her heels down the muscled flesh as her mind melted under the passion of his kiss. Peyton’s big hands slipped up her arms, skimmed across her collarbones, and cupped her chin, holding her in the knee melting kiss. His tongue slipped

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between her lips and tasted her with abandon. Dancing along her teeth and tangling engagingly with hers. The hard length of his shaft pressed along her quivering belly. Lifting his head, Peyton slipped soft caresses over her lips with this thumbs. “I’ve waited a long time for you, Miss Willa. And I intend to enjoy you thoroughly tonight.” He emphasized his promise by arching his hips and pressing his hardness against her throbbing core. Willa gasped and reached for him. “Promises, promis…ahhhh!” Peyton drove himself deep, pulling the air out of her lungs with the exquisite slowness of his thrust, and sending sharp frissons of pleasure rolling through her. Willa slipped her fingers into his hair and took his sexy bottom lip between her teeth as he slowly and deeply embedded himself inside her, then drew the hard column of heated flesh back out, scraping his rigid shaft across supersensitized skin and sending ripples of delight twisting through her. She inhaled his sweet breath. Relished his scent, his taste. Her body heated, her skin tingled, and the slow glide of his fingers along her sides made her shudder with barely constrained desire.

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His gentle ministrations constructed a slow fire within her. Building beneath her skin and sending heat to the sexual hot spots he caressed with his shaft and brushed with the heated skin of his broad chest. The pressure built and her world narrowed, until the entire focus of her every thought, her every sensation, was Peyton, and the delightful things his body did to hers. Her muscles tightened slowly, her cheeks heated, and the world stopped for a breath as she held herself at the top of that precipice, perched on the bright edge, and slowly rolled over into release. Her body spasmed, thrumming with sensation, and enclosed his in a tight, hot embrace that brought him groaning into his own orgasm. As Willa’s muscles loosened, her body slipping into the soft aftermath of their lovemaking, she smoothed her palms over his buttocks and sighed, feeling incredible. “I can’t believe you came back.” He draped himself alongside her, smoothing circles with his big hand across her stomach. “I had an ulterior motive you know.” Willa slanted him a look. “Oh? And what was that?” He grinned. “I’ll need groceries and supplies for the kitchens.”

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She ran a fingertip down his chest, enjoying the soft patch of hair between his pecs. “You’ll probably want to buy them wholesale. It will save you money.” Peyton shook his head. “I already found my supplier.” His grin widened. “She’s very sexy. And she knows her way around a cabbage. What more could a guy ask for?” Willa laughed, shaking her head. “The first thing you’re gonna have to learn as a business owner is not to think with your libido.” He kissed the top of her shoulder, his tongue swirling warmly on the skin and making her shiver. “I ‘spect my supplier will have to give me some training too. I’m really more of a seat of the pants kind of guy.” After seeing what he’d pulled together in a few short weeks at the ranch, Willa sincerely doubted it, but she was happy to go along. She frowned, “Training a man like you might get really expensive.” She turned onto her side and tweaked one of his nipples playfully. “I hope you can afford me.” Peyton reached out and returned the favor, pulling one of her nipples to an alert peak. “Oh, believe me, darlin’, I can pay for it. In fact I intend to put a substantial deposit on that account tonight.”

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Willa licked her lips. “Yum. What’s the hold up on that, Honeybun? As my favorite college English teacher always told me, ‘show, don’t tell’.” Peyton grabbed her around the waist and lifted her, causing a surprised squeal as he settled her astride his belly. She laughed huskily when she felt the quickly recovering evidence of his promise beneath her buttocks. “Here at Honeybun Guest Ranch, we aim to please, ma’am.” His sexy grin twisted the growing coil of desire tighter in her belly. “Let’s ride!” And ride she…erm…did.

The End

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www.samcheever.com

Author Bio

Award winning author Sam Cheever mixes in a little fun, a little adventure, and a little real-life spice to create her sexy fantasy and romantic suspense stories. Sam’s fictional peeps fight their way through a dizzying array of dangerous challenges without letting little things like mean tempered ex-girlfriends, dangerous villains, or angry, manipulative gods dampen their zest for life and hot love! To find out more about Sam and her work, please pay her a visit at any one of the following online hot spots: her website; her author page on Facebook; her MySpace page; or her blog. She always loves to chat with readers.

Red Rose Publishing

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Dancing With Tad-available in ebook and print For Life A Honeybun and Coffee- available in ebook and print Life, Liberty, and Pursuit of a Honeybun- available in ebook and print Fast Track to a Honeybun- available in ebook and print A Honeybun in Hell- available in ebook and print Purple Prose- available in ebook and print The Shadow of a Honeybun- available in ebook and print Honeybun Sheik Stealth Honeybun Ellora’s Cave Nocked Over Nocked for a Loop Cerridwen Press ‘Tween Heaven and Hell Tween a Devil and His Hard Place

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Tween Heart’s Fire and Devil’s Delight ‘Tween Hopeful and Hopeless

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