RattlingtheCage Read Online Free PDF Page A

clanged and echoed. She’d stayed low, easing toward
the door. The rat scurried onto a woodpile, squealing in delight. A board had
slid and created a mini avalanche. Wincing, Montana had reached for the knob. Pop
pop went the gun. Above her head, two objects had ricocheted off the
building, followed by a sprinkling of neon green.
    “Montana Lee. What the hell?”
    A second scream stuck in her throat. She burst to her feet,
hands pressed into the wall for balance.
    Chuck stood in the doorway, hands outstretched, brows
arched. “Were you asleep?”
    Her lips wouldn’t pry apart. She shook her head.
    “What the hell happened to the sign?” He volleyed his head
from the broken sign to the ground. “Damn vandals.” Gesturing to the door, he
said, “I need you back inside. I’ve gotta take off.”
    Montana didn’t want to go inside. She wanted to go home,
curl her body into a ball and pretend she had a mother who’d once comforted her
with soothing words and lullabies.
    Her gaze fell back to the bullets. Shot for snooping. What a
way to go.
    “Montana?”
    “Yeah, sure,” she mumbled and unsealed herself from the
wall.
    “What were you doing out here?”
    “I-I needed air,” she lied.
    “So, everything’s good, you’re all under control, right? I
can leave?”
    His words drifted out warbled. What control? She didn’t have
anything under control. Not her heart rate. Not her nerves. And even more apparent,
not her life.
    “Montana!”
    She cringed at Chuck’s impatient tone. “Go home,” she said,
her voice hoarse. “I deal with enough assholes inside. I don’t need to deal
with one outside, too.”
    “Nice.” He slid past her. “Night, then. See ya tomorrow.”
    “Yeah.”
    Montana slunk inside and closed the door. She re-tied her
apron, the strings having come undone, and filled a pitcher of beer. Why the
hell had Lawson fired blindly into the night? Who did that? His short fuse
disturbed her. Bad enough that he’d left the bar like an ass—throwing money on
the table the same way men had tossed money at her mother on their way out. Did
she want to trust someone so impulsive?
    She’d made a move. He didn’t bite. She refused to waste her
time.
    Tears stung her eyes.
    She was stuck in a dead-end town, and stuck on a man who
almost shot her dead.
    * * * * *
    Lawson stormed the motel room, adrenaline pumping. His
fingers opened and closed. What an idiot. He shouldn’t have fired into the
dark. What if he’d shot an innocent person? A drunk? What if he’d shot Montana?
He couldn’t go firing a gun whenever he got spooked. Most small towns kept him
on edge, but this town damn near made him mental. Too many memories. Too many
ghosts.
    Pulse still racing, he worked to calm his breath. Put focus back
onto his plan. His reason for returning to this repulsive place. But he wanted
Montana. He burned for her. There’d be no rest tonight if he didn’t see her.
Taste her.
    Lawson pictured the sensuous curve of her shoulder. Soft,
creamy skin that he ached to brush his lips against. And her legs. He wanted
them locked around his waist as he…ah hell. She was right about the pent-up
sexual need. He hadn’t counted on there being one good thing in Rattler City.
One pretty little thing he’d have a hard time leaving behind.
    Frustrated, he stalked back to the bar, through the door and
straight to the counter, ignoring the hush that followed his arrival.
    His breath hitched when she walked out from the back
carrying a pitcher of beer.
    Without thinking, he slapped his hand on the counter and
demanded, “Get me a glass and a bottle of whiskey.” Screw the manners, she
hated him anyways.
    Her lips thinned. “You again. I’ll deal with you in a
moment.”
    Lawson beat his fingers against his jeans. Both knees
bobbed. He watched her in motion, the way she swiveled her body between tables,
gathering glasses, pouring beer, collecting plates in the provocative crook of
her arm. Graceful. Fluid. Moving like a