they lived in.
Thorn didn’t know much about the cosmos other than what he’d read in magazines, but he knew how to find the Big Dipper and Orion’s Belt because of Kayla. And because of Kayla, Thorn never failed to marvel at the immensity of the universe, much less the galaxies beyond their own solar system.
Tonight the vastness only made him realize just how alone he was.
Little Joe ground to a halt, jarring Thorn out of his morose thoughts, and just as well. Coiled in big, loose curls was a tangle of barbed wire where the fence had been cut.
Thorn cast a quick glance around to make sure whoever had cut the fence wasn’t still lurking before he went to work mending the break. An hour later, fence mended, he stretched aching muscles. The moon had risen high above, near full, shedding enough light that it could have been daytime. The light wouldn’t last long. Thunderclouds looming to the west would change that soon. He’d have to hurry if he wanted to get back to Hank’s before the storm reached him.
In the dust at Thorn’s feet, a single tire track, probably a motorcycle, led from the break in the fence into the ranch. At that moment, the wind wasn’t blowing and the track remained intact. Thorn stowed his tools in his saddlebag and swung up into the saddle. Hank’s sprawling ranch house lay in the general direction of the tracks. With the moonlight illuminating the trail, Thorn chose to follow the tracks and see where they led. Perhaps he’d catch up with the trespasser.
After thirty minutes of slow riding, dropping to the ground to double-check the direction and climbing back into the saddle, Thorn spotted what looked like an old hunting cabin ahead in the distance. The motorcycle tracks were on a collision course.
Thorn pulled his rifle out of the scabbard and checked to make sure it was loaded and ready. When he got close enough, he dropped down out of the saddle and left the reins hanging.
Thunder rumbled, and Little Joe tossed his head and whinnied.
The flash of lightning reminded Thorn that the storm would soon be on him, obliterating the moonlight and any chance of finding his way back to Hank’s ranch house in the dark.
Thorn crept around the cabin, checking for any sign of life. He spotted the motorcycle buried beneath a couple of old tires. His pulse quickened.
The person who’d cut Hank’s fence was inside the cabin.
Standing to the side of the door, Thorn balanced his rifle against his hip, grabbed the doorknob, shoved open the door and darted out of range.
An explosion erupted from inside the cabin and wood splintered from the door frame, bouncing off Thorn’s face. He ducked low, rolled through the doorway and came up in a crouch, aiming his rifle in the direction from which the last bullet had come.
“Vaya, o disparo!” Another shot blasted a hole in the wall near Thorn’s shoulder.
He threw himself forward in a somersault, coming up on his haunches. The rifle lay across the cot, pointed at the side of the shooter’s head.
“Por favor, no disparar!” a shaky female voice called out. “Don’t shoot!” Slim hands rose above the other side of the cot.
“¿Hablas Inglés?” Thorn asked.
“Sí. Yes. I speak English. Please, don’t shoot.”
“Place your weapon on the floor and push it toward the door.”
The thunk of metal hitting wood was followed by the rasp of it sliding across the floor.
Thorn hooked the gun with a foot and slid it toward himself. “Now you. Stand and walk toward the door.”
She hesitated. “Do you promise not to shoot?”
“I’m not going to shoot, as long as you don’t do something stupid.”
A slim figure emerged from the shadows, rising above the cot. Long, straight hair hung down around her shoulders, swaying slightly as she moved toward the door, picking her way carefully. For a second, she stood silhouetted in the light filtering in from the moon, the curve of her hips and breasts in sharp contrast to her narrow waist.
She glanced toward him, moonlight glinting off her eyes.
Thorn stared, transfixed.
Then, before he could guess her intentions, she flung herself outside, slamming the door shut behind her.
Thorn shot to his feet, ripped the door open and ran outside. He turned left, thinking she’d go for the motorcycle under the lean-to.
Just as he rounded the corner of the house, he realized his mistake.
Little Joe whinnied, then galloped by with the woman on him.
Thorn tore out after them, catching up before Little Joe could get up to speed.
He grabbed the woman around the waist and yanked her out of the saddle, the force of her weight sending them both to the ground.
The wind knocked out of him, Thorn held on to his prize, refusing to let go, a dozen questions spinning through his mind. Who was she? What was she doing on the Raging Bull? And why did her soft curves feel so good against his body?
Chapter Two
When Sophia landed on the man, the fall forced the air from her lungs. She lay there for a moment, gathering her wits and her breath. Then she fought to free herself of the steel vise clinched around her waist. “Let go of me.” She scratched and clawed at his arm.
“No way,” the deep voice said into her ear, his breath stirring the hairs at the back of her neck. “You almost killed me twice and tried to steal my horse.”
She jabbed her elbow into his gut and jerked to the side.
The man grunted and refused to loosen his grip.
Lightning flickered across the sky and a crash of thunder sounded so close, Sophia stopped fighting for a second.
The horse, standing a few feet away, reared and took off, probably racing for the barn as the sky lit again, this time with a thousand fingers of lightning.
Wind whipped Sophia’s hair into her eyes, and the first drops of rain peppered her skin.
The cowboy gripped her wrist and rolled her off him onto her stomach.
He came down on top of her, straddling her hips, his pressing into the small of her back. “I’ll let you up if you promise to behave.”
She snorted and spit to the side. “And I should trust you?”
He chuckled. “You don’t have much of a choice.”
Sophia squirmed beneath him, trying to free her wrist from his ironlike grasp. “Let go. I’ll leave and you will never see me again.”
Thunder boomed so loud it shook the ground.
“Sorry, sweetheart, you’re not going anywhere in this storm.”
As
