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CHAPTER1
“Damn,”Drake Morgan muttered, checked his speedometer and repeated the expletive.
He hadn’t realized he’d been going over the sixty-miles-an-hour speed limit until blue lights flashed in his rearview mirror. Lifting his foot off the accelerator, he slowed and eased to the side of the road, just a few miles from his destination.
A county sheriff’s SUV pulled to a stop behind him, and a deputy dropped down from the driver’s seat.
The tan, short-sleeved uniform shirt stretched taut over full breasts, the shirt-tails tucked into the waistband of dark brown trousers, cinched around a narrow waist with a thick black belt.
Definitely female. Too petite and pretty to be out patrolling the wild roads of rural Montana.
He lowered the window of his Ford F250 pickup, reached into his glove box for the vehicle registration and insurance information she’d surely request and straightened.
“Sir, place your hands on the window frame,” she said.
He raised his hands, one of which held the documents. The other he carefully placed on the window frame of his door, staring out the open window into the barrel of a pistol. He raised his gaze to the deputy’s and cocked an eyebrow. “I have a concealed carry license,” he warned. “My weapon is in the glove compartment. I’m unarmed at this moment.”
“Just keep your hands where I can see them,” she said, her tone curt, her eyes narrowed as she held the pistol pointed at his head.
“Can I ask why I was pulled over?” he asked in a calm, even tone, knowing the answer.
“You were exceeding the speed limit,” she said. “If that’s your title and registration, I’ll take those. But no funny business.”
“Trust me,” he said with a crooked smile. “I’ve never been accused of being funny.”
Her eyebrows pulled together to form a V over her nose as she took the papers he held out for her.
She studied the documents then glanced up. “You’re not from around here,” she said.
“No, I’m not,” he said.
“Do you know how fast you were going?” she asked, all business, no smile.
Drake almost grinned at the seriousness of the young woman’s expression and the way she stiffly held herself. “Over the speed limit?”
She snorted. “By at least fifteen miles an hour. In a hurry to get somewhere?”
“I was.”
She shook her head, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “And how’s that working out for you?”
“You tell me,” he quipped.
She was pretty in a girl-next-door kind of way with light brown hair pulled back in an efficient ponytail.
Drake stared up into her eyes, trying to decide if they were brown, gold or green, finally settling on hazel. To cap it all, she sported a dusting of freckles on her bare face. “You have my information, but let me introduce myself.” He stuck out his hand. “Drake Morgan.”
Her brow furrowed as she contemplated his extended hand. “I’m Deputy Douglas.” She gave a brief nod, ignored his hand and stared past him into the vehicle. “Since you have a gun in the vehicle with you, you’ll need to step out of the truck while I run your data.”
Already late for the meeting with his team, their new boss, and this his first day on the job, he sighed, pushed open the door and stepped out with his hands held high.
“Turn around, place your hands on the hood of your vehicle and spread your legs,” she said in a tone that brooked no argument.
He cocked an eyebrow. “I’m not a convicted felon. I owned up to the gun in my glove box. I’m unarmed and at your mercy.”
Having stated her demand once, she held the gun pointed at his chest, unbending, waiting for him to follow through.
Rather than give her a reason to pull the trigger, he turned and complied with her command.
