Page 3 of The Lasso Master

And for the first time in a long time, Harper Langston had no idea if she was walking into trouble or straight into her own damn undoing.

2

REED

Reed didn’t believe in coincidences. Coincidences were for amateurs—people who mistook patterns for luck and ignored cause for comfort. In his world, every move had a motive, and every motive left a trail. A woman like Harper Langston showing up at Iron Spur, uninvited and inconveniently timed, wasn’t just noise in the system. It was a signal. Clean, sharp, deliberate. He didn’t need fate to wave him down. All he needed was instinct—and hers had already lit up every warning light he had.

She moved with the kind of confidence that came from being watched—and from knowing exactly how to use it. A head-turner, sure, but also a strategist. Every step, every glance felt mapped. Calculated. And that mouth—sharp, unapologetic, like it had been getting her into trouble long before she learned to like it. Reed didn’t just see a submissive. He saw a challenge dressed in black lace and who had sharper instincts than most of his operatives.

And damn if it didn’t stir something deeper than professional interest. Not just heat—though there was plenty of that—but a pulse of something primal and possessive. Her control and deliberation were too strong. He wanted to crack that calm,wanted to find out what she looked like when the mask dropped and she let go, really let go. That curiosity was a razor under his skin, and it was getting sharper by the second.

His training had taught him to analyze enemy terrain with quiet deliberation, and that’s how he watched her. Thoughtful. Intent. Picking up all the little tells. Though she showed submission, she tempered it with a steely control of her own. She offered her surrender like it was a dare. As if she wanted to see who was dominant enough to earn it.

He’d taken her hand anyway and led her out of the club. That was the first mistake. He’d sent her home but had assigned men to track her from a safe distance. And not just because she was suspicious—though she was. No, it was because she left a scent of questions he couldn’t ignore.

Reed stood in his office, shadows sliced by soft desk lighting. His tablet blinked quietly on the leather-topped surface, running a full sweep through Silver Spur Security’s internal network. Backgrounds. Aliases. Digital fingerprints. The works.

Behind him, the door creaked open.

“Thought I’d find you brooding,” came a low voice. Jesse Bryant stepped inside, drink in hand, sleeves rolled, and amusement carved into every line of his face.

“I don’t brood,” Reed said without looking up.

“You smolder aggressively while staring at data like it owes you child support. Same thing.”

Reed rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched before he could stop it. Jesse always knew how to needle him, which made him both useful and dangerous in equal measure. He didn’t respond, but the subtle shift in his expression was enough to tell Jesse he’d scored the hit—and they both knew it.

Reed didn’t answer. The search had finally hit something. His eyes flicked across the screen. Juvenile records—sealed. Multiple IDs. One dormant Interpol alert from three years ago,closed and quietly buried. The details weren’t just missing—they’d been scrubbed, and by someone who knew what they were doing.

Jesse came closer. “She yours now?”

“No one’s claimed her.”

“Bullshit. That look you gave her across the room? That was a claim if I’ve ever seen one. Even if you didn't mean it as one, every Dom in the place recognized it for what it was.”

Reed turned slowly. “She gave me attitude. Stepped into someone else’s scene. Almost caused a scene herself.”

“And?”

“And she did it with precision. Not a mistake. A move. Calculated. Which makes her either a brat with good instincts or a liar with an agenda.”

Jesse arched a brow. “You’ve been with both. Which one’s your money on?”

Reed turned back to the screen. “Neither. She’s something else. And I intend to find out what.”

He let the silence stretch just long enough to press. Then, without looking up, he added, “And while we’re at it—why did she have a guest pass?”

Jesse’s grin faded.

Reed looked at him now, sharp. “Don’t play coy. The system said she came in under your name.”

Jesse shifted. “Yeah, she did. Look, she helped me out last year. Quiet job. No names. But it saved my ass. I owed her a favor.”

“A favor that lets a woman like that waltz into my club under your clearance?”

“She said she needed access. Said she was meeting someone. I didn’t ask questions because she didn’t act like she was here to cause trouble. Hell, I figured if anyone could handle her, it was you.”

Reed exhaled slowly through his nose. “You might’ve just thrown her into a wolf’s den.”

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