Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 95756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
“I’ll find her, Clint. All of my available men are out there searching, including Jed. If he can’t find her…” he trailed off before finishing that sentence, realizing that was the wrong thing to say.
“They better find her,” Clint told him in a low, threatening voice.
“They will, and I’ll call you as soon as they do.”
Kent ran Jensen Security International. He only hired the best. Ex-special forces, former Navy SEALS, ex-FBI and CIA, and even a few mercenaries. His men damn well better find her.
Or Clint was going to kill all of them.
Her fingers and toes were numb. The best thing to do was keep moving. Right? Except what if she was moving further away from the house? When would anyone figure out she was missing and start searching? At dinner time? Kent and Eden would notice then. Clint’s younger brother was staying in the big house while Clint was away, keeping an eye on her and Eden, who was the youngest of the three siblings.
Except, what if Eden had gone out? She didn’t say she had plans, but it was a Friday night. And what if Kent worked late tonight?
“Get moving, Charlie,” she ordered herself. “Can’t wait around for a rescue party. You can do this. Don’t panic. Don’t panic.”
Why had she wandered off? What kind of idiot was she? She sniffled, feeling sorry for herself. What if she died out here? Would Clint find someone else? He’d been on his own for a long time, surely he’d mourn her for a while first.
“Probably go find himself a woman with more sense than a fly,” she muttered. “Who doesn’t cause him any trouble.”
She tripped over a root and realized she was starting to tire. She used the sleeve of her jacket to wipe away the tears blurring her eyes.
“Come on, Charlie, you haven’t got time to blubber. You can figure this out. You can’t have walked far. One foot in front of the other. You’ve got this. You’ve got—” her last word was bitten off as she screamed in terror. Because out of the bush, like a scene from a horror movie, appeared a huge man. Dressed in army fatigues, his face covered in paint, he was absolutely terrifying.
She stumbled back and fell on her ass, her breath coming in sharp pants. She put a hand on her heart, trying to calm herself before she hyperventilated and passed out.
“Bloody hell, Rambo! Don’t you know better than to scare a person like that!”
2
“God damn it! Will you put me down! I don’t need you to carry me!”
Charlie had been in plenty of embarrassing positions since she’d come to live on Sanctuary Ranch. Such as being upended over Clint’s knee, her panties around her ankles, getting her ass spanked. Or being sent to stand in the corner with her burning butt on display after she’d done something particularly naughty and Clint thought she needed some time to reflect on her behavior. Clint was a believer in giving punishment as soon as possible after it was earned, so she’d been spanked in pretty much every room in the house.
But this… this might top them all.
She lay swinging over Rambo’s shoulder, her thighs pinned down by his massive arm so she couldn’t kick him. Pummeling her fists against his back hadn’t even made him flinch. No, she was probably giving him a nice massage.
His name wasn’t really Rambo, of course. It was Jed. But with his long, dark hair, wearing camos and the paint on his face, he certainly looked like Rambo. It probably hadn’t been a good idea to say that to his face, though. She got the feeling he hadn’t appreciated it. Although it was hard to tell. Jed’s facial expressions were basically fierce, fiercer, and pee-your-pants terrifying.
After taking hold of her camera, he’d swung her up and over his wide shoulder, then proceeded to carry her through the woods. All without saying a word. At first, she’d tried to reason with him. Then she’d ordered him to release her. He’d ignored her. As they passed the stables, a few of the ranch hands called out greetings. He said nothing back.
Her face burned.
Maybe she should be more apologetic. If she said she was sorry, perhaps he’d let her walk.
“Look, I’m sorry I called you Rambo. I promise I didn’t mean anything disrespectful. It’s really a compliment. I mean, Rambo’s hot, right? Well, sort of. I’ve never been a huge Sylvester Stallone fan. I’m more into Harrison Ford. I mean, Han Solo, right?”
She really needed to stop waffling.
He stilled. Finally. Thank God. Because she didn’t know where she was going next with this apology. Suddenly she found herself turned right side up and settled into the cab of a red pick-up that had seen better days.
Jed stood with his hands on his hips, scowling down at her. She had to fight hard not to cringe. Jeez, who knew he’d be so touchy about a nickname?