Page 69 of Rescued By the Mountain Man

For months, she’d been in Washington, DC, attending funerals, sorting out things with her old job, giving statement after statement, testimony after testimony about how she had discovered the clinic scam—and to her surprise, her discovery had started a chain reaction.

More clinics across the country had gotten under scrutiny, and five more sham clinics had been found—all tied to Drayton Conglomerate.

In two months, half a million investors had jumped ship, and the company was sinking faster than the Titanic. And that was without the charges of attempted murder, intimidation and coercion, vandalism, attempted human trafficking, and there was even political bribery—some mayor or governor, she’d said.

“Santos,” Isaac called over to our newly readmitted member, who had been cleared from the hospital. “How is the south fence?”

“Fixed, barbed, and electrified,” Santos shouted back. “The cameras are up too and have the link to all of our phones. We’ll see if anyone or anything else tries to come through there just like fucking Drayton Jr.”

When the FBI had forced Drayton Jr. to talk—his father had escaped to Russia…or was it Switzerland? Some country with no extradition—he’d admitted he’d used that pasture to enter our lands because that pasture was connected to O’Hara’s land. I would have flown Jake up a pole if I’d learned he’d allowed the man to use his lands, but O’Hara had been at his bar all night, and that added trespassing to his long laundry list of crimes.

Speaking of Drayton Jr.'s cronies, Benson had cut a deal to testify against him for lesser jail time, but he would still be in for at least 15 years. I’d suspected that Drayton Sr. had been the one holding up the Processing Plant—I’d been wrong; it had been Benson.

Apparently, he didn’t want the plant because he wanted that land for himself, so every time the proposal hit the Chamber desk, he pushed it back. But now, the all-clear had been given, and the land was being prepared for the Plant.

I was so glad to have Santos back, and I was deeply gratified that he had not broken a bone, shattered a rib, or gotten gored as I’d thought. He rode his horse back over to me and looked over the land, teeming with new calves and their mamas.

“Your biologist in Texas?—”

“Biochemist,” I corrected him. “Rhys would take offense to being called something so pedestrian.” I laughed.

“Well, he sent up some good stuff,” Santos added. “These calves are healthier than you and I put together.”

I nodded. “And about that, he was supposed to come up here sometime this fall or winter to see if this ranch can be added to his brand and his partner’s conglomerate. The calves should be bigger then, and he can see his handiwork.”

My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I plucked it out.

I’m in Helena, coming up.

My heart sped up. “Hey, guys. It’s time to pack it up!”

Frankie grinned at me. “How close is the new Missus Donovan?”

“Helena close,” I replied. “And I’d be fucked if I were up here while she’s coming home.”

Steering my horse down the hillock, I headed to the house, undressed the horse in quick time, and headed to the house for the quickest shower of my life—but didn’t make it on time. Zoe was in my room, her duffel bag dropped at the foot of my bed.

She looked up, a smile flirting on her lips. “How is it that you are dirty and sweaty and smelling of horses, and I still find you the sexiest man alive?”

I pulled her from the bed and had her against the wall. “Funny you said that—” My eyes held hers while my tone dropped. “—because I was about to say that about you.”

Zoe pulled my head down for a hard kiss, and my tongue swept between her lips, danced against hers. My palms slid down to cup her ass. I squeezed and kneaded those perfect globes as my tongue swept through her mouth. A soft moan left her mouth, and I knew she had missed me as much as I missed and wanted her.

I cupped her face and kissed her softly this time, a slow, sensual gliding of lips over lips, a light stroking of my tongue. I was hard and ready for her. “Are you a good girl, Zoe?”

She opened her eyes and blinked at me slowly. “My nickname is Goody Two Shoes.”

“I think there’s a bad girl in you,” I said while popping her jeans button and skimming over her panties. “I think when I get you going, you’re very naughty.”

“How naughty do you want me?” She arched into my hand.

I stripped her pants off and cupped her pussy. “Begging me naughty, wet and wild naughty, not leaving my bed for three days naughty.”

With that, I slid one digit into her wet hole, slowly, but nice and deep. She moaned and gripped my arms, her tight, slick muscles clenched down hard. “Good girls don’t get fingerfucked up against a wall, naughty girls do.”

She bit her lip, and her eyes rolled back into her head while her slender fingers wove into my hair, urging me on. “Do naughty girls get fucked against a wall too?”

My chest puffed with possessiveness and lust. “Yes, they do.”

---