Page 95 of Wild Mustang Security Firm

“I take it you’re a special forces veteran.”

“Yes, ma’am. Three tours of duty.”

“Which branch?”She would have an easier time conversing with Jasper.

“I prefer not to talk about it,” was his curt reply.

“How did you meet Mr. McDaniel?”

Croft shook his head. “You may be the only person within a thousand miles who calls him Mr. McDaniel. Many people still refer to both him and John Hampton as Marshal, but most of us call him Mac. I met Mac when he needed a tracker. I was cowboying for the cattle ranch that abuts his and Willa’s place.”

“Why would someone with your skills want to be a cowboy?”

“Why wouldn’t they?” he said a bit defensively. “It’s a simple, honorable way to make a living. After all I’d seen and done, I needed simple. As I said, I’d prefer not to talk about it.”

“Why would Mac need a tracker? My research indicated Willa is…” Finn’s sentence was cut off when a small rock dislodged, falling from the edge of the trail. She couldn’t stop the horrified shriek that escaped her lips.

Croft swung around in the saddle and looked at her—really looked at her for the first time. That was the problem. He hadn’t been looking at her face when he’d come around the end of the trailer, he’d been looking at her ass, and she had a damn fine ass. How could he have failed to notice the woman was absolutely terrified? Oh, sure, he’d noticed she was beautiful, stunning in fact. That was damn hard to miss—and hard was the operative word. It had been a while since he’d mounted a woman and sunk his cock balls deep into her wet heat. His dick throbbed, reminding him the gorgeous Ms. Reid would be an outstanding choice to break that particular dry spell.

“Are you all right, Ms. Reid?” he asked, knowing full well what the answer would be if she told the truth.

She took several deep breaths. “I don’t think this was a good idea. Is there someplace we can turn around?”

“Not until we get to the bottom of the trail on the canyon floor. At that point, it’d be twice as bad to come back up. I thought you told Mac you could ride?”

“I can. I ride all the time in Fairfax County—fox hunts, cross country, and I take dressage lessons at least weekly, more often if I can.”

“Shit,” he swore under his breath.Better a rank beginner than someone who had just enough knowledge in civilized arena riding and on groomed courses to be dangerous.“Areyou afraid of heights?” he asked, noticing her looking down into the vast chasm.

“I never thought so. How much longer?”

“It’s probably another three hours to the canyon floor, then a couple more to Phantom Ranch. That’s the closest place they can land to airlift you out. Why the hell did you say you were experienced?”

“I am experienced,” Finn argued.

Croft answered with a snort, shook his head, and turned back toward the trail.

“Is there a wide spot I could just get off and walk? I don’t think this mule is paying attention. Every time the trail changes directions, he almost walks off the ledge.”

Croft kept riding but called over his back, “There is no wide spot, and Jasper is one of our most experienced mules. He’s not going to fall off unless you somehow manage to pull him off his feet and over the edge. If you’re that scared, why don’t you close your eyes, hang on to the saddle horn, and I’ll take his reins and lead you down.”

“Oh God, I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Don’t puke on yourself or Jasper,” he commanded. “In this heat, it’ll stink to high heaven.” Croft stopped his mule, and Jasper stopped several paces behind him.

“Come here, Jasper,” Croft said, turning toward the rock face to their right and extending his hand to the mule.

The sight of her blanched face let him know Finlay Reid was in way over her head. The Grand Canyon had always been a place of solace for him. He knew from experience what usually got people hurt or killed was fear. Jasper stepped forward, and Croft stroked his long, Roman-nosed face.

“Ms. Reid, I need you to untie the lead rope around the saddle horn and toss it to me.”

“I know how to ride,” Finn said tersely.

“Not a mule and not on this trail. I’m notaskingyou for the lead, I’mtellingyou to toss me the rope.”

“I don’t like not having control.”

“I’ll bet,” he said, trying to keep his tone on an even keel. “You need to give me the damn lead—now untie it and toss it to me. You look like you’re going to be sick and pass out. That isn’t good. There’s a kind of belt with a buckle attached to the saddle behind you. You’re going to strap yourself in and let me get you to the bottom of the trail.”

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