Bind Me Close: 3 (Knights in Black Leather) Read Free Page A

Amazing what this man could talk about while driving
like a roadrunner. She clutched the door handle as he skidded around a corner.
“He didn’t write about everything. That’s why I’m here. To learn more.”
    “We’ll give you that for certain.”
    “I’ll start with this belief you have that Fancy Turner
married two men. I mean, how does a woman do that?”
    “Yeah. Well, you need to ask Cara MacRae that one.”
    “She knows?” Willow tried to match his casual tone. “How’s
that? I thought she married into the MacRaes. That her maiden name was Ford.”
    “It was. She comes from one of the few families in town who
were not related to us.”
    “Us? You really are a distant relative then?”
    “Not so distant. Cousins. All of us.
MacRaes-Turners-Saxons.”
    “So how does Cara know about Fancy?”
    He chuckled, eyes straight ahead as he took the two-lane
road like a jackrabbit. “She’s not only read Fancy’s letters but Cara knows a
lot about being married to more than one man.”
    “What do you mean?”
    He shot her a curious look. “You don’t know? Hmm. Guess Cara
and Samantha Turner figured you’d learn a lot when you got here. Well. Okay.”
He took another one of those two-wheel turns that made her wince. “Cara is
married to the three MacRae brothers.”
    Willow blinked. “You’re kidding.”
    “No.”
    She scowled at him. “You are! You’re pulling my leg.”
    “No.”
    “How can that be?”
    When Maureen started to chatter at him again, Willow hung on
tight to her seat. Her mind whirled with the facts of Cara MacRae’s marital
state. God. Married to three men. That had to be heaven or hell.
    His dispatcher chatted at him about the problems his deputy
was having.
    “Okay, Mo. Okay. I’m coming up on the intersection with Route
46. Where is Harris? Yeah. Okay. I hear you. Hang with me here while I see
who’s on this iddy biddy road—oh, hell! There’s the Honda!”
    Streaking past them going in the opposite direction was a
white flash.
    Saxon did a hand-over-hand circle of the steering wheel.
    Willow grabbed at the dashboard and caught no traction.
Jesus.
    They fishtailed, then off they zoomed. Right on the trail of
her hijacked Honda. Then, as if the thief had put wings on her car, it sped
ahead and disappeared over a hill.
    The crash they heard was mind-jarring.
    Saxon rammed on the brakes. “Grab the roof handle!” he
yelled at her as they crested the hill.
    As they cleared the rise, Willow spotted her car to one
side.
    Tumbling over and sliding, it crumpled like an old tin can.
It teetered on its passenger side, slammed into a tree, the roof crushed. Smoke
rose from the wreckage.
    Willow clamped her hands over her mouth. “Oh god. Oh god. Oh
god.”
    Saxon screeched his truck to a stop, tail-spinning in the
rocky soil. He put a hand to hers and crushed it tight. “Stay here!”
    As he ran toward the Honda he yelled into his dispatch radio
and Willow could imagine what he said. Come. Get an ambulance. Where’s
Harris?
    Willow just sat where she was and shook. The adrenalin
rushing through her was the wildest blast she’d experienced in years.
    * * * * *
    By his dashboard clock Willow knew she waited for the wreck
to clear for over three hours. Rapt, she’d just watched Saxon and his team of
emergency responders as they tried to ply the driver from the front seat of her
car with the ugly Jaws of Life. Firemen came too, in two different trucks to
put out a blaze that began in the engine. Willow sat, numb, figuring her
suitcase and her laptop were either burned or waterlogged. She counted her
blessings. She really did, happy the thief had stolen only her car and hadn’t
tried to take it with her in it. But she was at a loss for what to do without
transportation, clothing or her security blanket, also known as her laptop.
    Shit. Damn. Hell!
    Drained like an old dishcloth after so many hours of
tension, she stopped cursing in self-pity. She watched Sheriff Saxon talk on
his