The Cowboy's Secret (Cowboys After Dark: Book 3) Read online

  Ignoring her warning voice she darted into the barn to make sure it was empty. Checking the tack and feed rooms she found not a soul, and hurriedly returning to the corral she walked past it to the far side so she could hike up the back of the gentle slope. To her delight she found a path was already in place, and heart pounding she walked forward, finding the climb an easy one, but when she reached the top she paused.

  I can’t believe I’m doing this.

  Neither can I. Please turn around.

  For a moment she considered the option, but the temptation was too great. Walking cautiously forward she headed to a window, but to her great disappointment the curtains were closed and there was no possibility of peeking. Moving around to the side of the house she discovered the same was true of those windows as well. Frustrated she turned to leave, but to her horror she banged into a brick wall, the brick wall being a strapping cowboy blocking her path.

  Gasping and stumbling backward, she stared in shock at the piercing blue eyes that glowered back at her from under a black cowboy hat. The man wasn’t tall, but his chest and arms were powerfully built, his muscles easily discernible through his thick, plaid shirt, and before she had a chance to speak he clutched her elbow.

  “I-uh-I came to, uh, ride Jiminy,” she stammered.

  “Not interested,” he gruffly replied marching her away from the house.

  “Where are you t-taking me?”

  Ignoring her question he started down the track back to the barn, and try as she might to wrench her arm free it was impossible, his fingers had her in a vice.

  “P-please,” she begged as they reached the bottom. “Let me explain.”

  “Any explainin’ you can save for the boss,” he growled leading her into the barn.

  “Dammit, let me go,” she demanded, hoping an offensive attitude might prove more effective than the woeful one. “Clint knows me, he was expecting me.”

  Reaching the tack room he opened the door, led her inside and released her, but before she had a chance to speak, or even attempt to run past him into the barn, he swiftly turned and closed the door. As she listened to him turn the key in the lock she clenched her fists and stamped her foot.

  “Dammit, dammit, dammit!” she shouted, and grabbing the door handle she rattled it furiously, but found it well and truly locked. “Shit! I can’t believe this. I’m such an idiot.”

  Looking around she realized the only place to sit was on top of one of the tack trunks, so finding a thick saddle pad she put it in place and dropped down.

  I don’t know how you’re going to talk your way out of this one.

  There’s nothing I can say. I’ll simply tell the truth. My curiosity got the better of me. That’s it.

  Better make sure you sound like you regret it.

  That will be easy, I do, big time.

  Leaning back against the wall she closed her eyes and sighed.

  “I am such an idiot,” she repeated softly. “I swear, there’s something seriously wrong with me.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Clint had been watching for old man Tate and his daughter when he’d spied Amelia’s car driving down to the barn; she was early, very early, and grabbing his phone he’d hastily called Sam.

  “A woman is here to ride Jiminy. She’s arrived way ahead of time and I’m in The Woodshed,” he’d said urgently.

  “I’m out in the back pasture. I’ll get there as fast as I can,” Sam had promised.

  “If she stays down at the barn with Jiminy that’s fine, just stop her if she starts up to the house.”

  “Don’t worry,” Sam assured him. “I’m on my way.”

  A few minutes later the black Mercedes had pulled up to the door, and as Clint had stepped on to the porch he’d glanced down; Amelia was standing by Jiminy’s corral, staring up and watching. Silently grimacing he’d turned his attention back to the matter at hand; the pouty teenager had left the car and her eyes were glowering at him.

  “Come back in about twenty minutes,” Clint had told her father, “and Anastasia, you and I are gonna have a little chat. See if we can work out your problems. You got your phone in that bag?”

  “What’s it to you?” she spat.

  “It’s in there, I made sure of it,” her father replied as he’d climbed back into his car.

  Clint had taken the girl by the elbow and walked her inside, locking the door behind them. He’d already decided on his ‘Shock And Sore’ introduction, a quick, sharp visit with his crop to get her attention, then ten minutes in the corner to consider her predicament.

  Marching her straight to the buffet, knowing the sight of his many implements would be intimidating, he grabbed the crop of his choice.

  “I’ve heard all about you, and you don’t scare me,” she snapped, trying to wrestle away from his grasp.

  “I’m not interested in scarin’ you, but you will listen, and you will lose that attitude,” he said calmly, and lifting the crop he delivered three harsh swats across the middle of her backside, then immediately released her.

  She squealed loudly as she grabbed her bottom, then stared up at him in stunned alarm.

  “Take yourself into that corner over there, and put your hands behind your head,” he growled. “You’ve got three-seconds to do it, and if you’re not there you’ll get three more stripes. Test me and your ass will be sorry.”

  Every defiant bone in her body screamed at her to rebel, to curse at him, to throw a massive tantrum, but the steely glint in his eyes and the burn in her bottom made her pause.

  “One, two-”

  “Okay, I’m going,” she cried, and hands still clutching her stinging seat she moved quickly to the corner to which he had pointed.

  “Hands behind your head,” he reminded her.

  Lifting her hands off her backside she placed them behind her neck, and though she was wriggling, she didn’t say anything or look back at him.

  Excellent start, he thought. This might be easier than I anticipated.

  “You think about why your ass is on fire, you think about what a brat you are, how rude you are to the parents who have done nothin’ but love you. Think about all the crap you’ve pulled, and in a little while we’re gonna have a conversation.”

  Ambling into the kitchen he set the oven timer for ten minutes, and was pouring himself a mug of coffee when he thought he heard something near the back door. Moving quickly to the window he peered through the side of the curtain, and to his surprise he saw Sam had Amelia by the arm and was walking her back to the track that led to the barn.

  Damn. She actually came up here to nosey around. Looks like I’ll be spankin’ you sooner than I thought, little lady.

  Relieved that Sam had caught her in time, and still somewhat bewildered that Amelia would do such a thing, he moved back to the counter, grabbed his coffee, and picking up Anastasia’s bag where she’d dropped it on the floor, he settled on the couch to search out her phone.

  Flipping through her text messages he wasn’t surprised to find topless photographs of herself, along with naked pictures of a man named Wayne. Dozens of sexy texts had passed between them, with Wayne doing his best to persuade her to ‘go all the way.’

  There were also messages in which she boasted about it easy it was to sneak out her second story window, but the texts asking if he could score more weed were the most troubling.

  None of this is good, but askin’ him to score weed? Damn! This has to come to a screechin’ halt!

  Standing in the corner Anastasia was still coming to grips with Clint’s unexpected attack. Even though she’d heard stories about the cowboy and his ‘woodshed,’ she had thought he would just sit her down and scold her, and maybe smack her on the butt a couple of times. The crop had stung like crazy, and Clint Hogan had totally stunned her.

  I have to find a way out of this. Shit. I’ll just agree with everything he says, like I do with dad. I just have to be really convincing.

  It was at the same time that Amelia was sprea
ding the stable blanket on top of the tack trunk, that the oven timer in the guest house sounded its bell, startling Anastasia and telling Clint the ten minutes was up.

  Grabbing the ottoman where it lived by the wall, he moved it in front of the couch and sat back down.

  “All right, Anastasia, you can drop your hands and come on over here”

  Turning around she walked slowly towards him, spying the deadly crop on the couch and the ottoman in front of him.

  What the fuck? Now what?

  “Kneel in front of the ottoman, sideways to me,” he directed.

  Nervously moving forward, doing her best to convince herself she could win the battle, she settled on her knees and looked over at him.

  “Hands on the opposite side,” he instructed.

  “Are you gonna whip me?” she asked, doing her best to sound scared and childlike.

  “That depends on you,” he answered. “If you don’t do exactly what I say, and answer my questions honestly, yes. Now put your hands on the opposite edge of the ottoman like I asked,” he repeated, picking up the crop and resting it on her bottom.

  Leaning forward she realized her backside was perfectly positioned for more punishment, and the nasty crop was already in place.

  “So, let’s begin. Tell me, Anastasia, do you think you’re a kind, thoughtful, grateful daughter?”

  “Not so much,” she frowned. “I try, but dad is so old-fashioned, and mom is a pain most of the time.”

  “Uh-huh. I’ve been told you have a relatively high IQ, but you only manage C’s, sometimes even D’s,” he remarked. “Homework is always late, if it’s done at all, and you’ve had numerous suspensions for rowdy behavior. What do you have to say about that?”

  “Nothing,” she said quietly, then added quickly, flashing him an earnest look, “but I’ll try and do better, I swear.”

  “Let’s talk about boys for a minute,” he said, inwardly smiling at her futile attempt to appease him.

  “Sure, whatever you want,” she nodded, still looking at him with innocent wide eyes.

  “Do you have a boyfriend?” he asked, gently tapping the crop against her seat cheeks.

  “No,” she replied lightly.

  The strike of the crop was swift and hard, eliciting a howl of pain. Bolting upright she threw her hands behind her, clutching her bottom and staring at him in disbelief.

  “What the fuck?” she gasped.

  “You get to cuss just once, and that was it,” he said calmly. “Next time you get a strike.”

  “Why, why did you hit me?” she whined.

  “I told you I would if you didn’t tell me the truth. You lied, so you got the crop. It’s really very simple Anastasia. You can’t bullshit me, not even for a second, got it?”

  Biting her lower lip she stared at him, then nodded her head.

  “Good, now then, back over the ottoman and tell me about your boyfriend. What’s his name?”

  “Wayne,” she mumbled, bending forward.

  “And how old is Wayne?”

  “Twenty-seven. He works at dad’s lumber yard.”

  “That’s how you met him?”

  “Yeah, but dad doesn’t know. He’d have a cow.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Seventeen, I’ll be eighteen in a month.”

  “Don’t you think it would be reasonable for your father to be worried if he found out you were goin’ out with a man so much older than you, a man who works for him?” Clint asked.

  “I guess,” she muttered.

  “Do you drink or do drugs?” he asked, tapping the crop.

  “I drink beer and wine, and smoke pot sometimes,” she whimpered.

  “Sometimes? How often is sometimes?”

  “I guess, every day or so,” she whispered.

  “Good, you’re doing well. See, tellin’ the truth isn’t painful. Lyin’, though, lyin’ is painful. Where do you keep your stash?”

  “In a shoebox under my other shoeboxes in my closet, but I only have a little bit left,” she confessed.

  “When was the last time you snuck out of your room?”

  “I, uh, how do you know all this stuff?” she blurted.

  “Was that the answer to my question?” he warned.

  “Two nights ago,” she said quickly.

  “Good, you just narrowly avoided another strike. Now then, this is what’s going to happen,” he began pulling the phone from her bag.

  “Hey,” she started, then immediately bit her lip.

  “Wise choice,” he smiled. “First, we’re gettin’ rid of all these disgustin’ photographs of you and your boyfriend. Ever thought what would happen if your phone got stolen? Would you like naked pictures of yourself all over the internet for anyone to see?”

  “N-no,” she stammered, “I hadn’t thought about that. Please don’t look at them again.”

  “Embarrassed?”

  “Yes,” she whimpered.

  “I just deleted all the images on your phone. Have you had sex with Wayne?”

  “No, I swear it, I haven’t,” she replied urgently.

  “If you did and got caught, Wayne would probably go to jail. Would you like to have that on your conscience the rest of your life? An unskilled guy with a sex offense record would have a tough time gettin’ on in life. You want that to happen to him?”

  “No,” she whimpered, a hot lump forming in her throat.

  “I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, Anastasia, but I don’t think he’d stick around for very long once he got you in bed.”

  “You don’t know that,” she protested.

  “No, I don’t, but I know guys, and screwin’ the bosses daughter would be a kick. It’s irrelevant though,” he said softly, “because you won’t be seein’ Wayne again, and your entire life is about to change.”

  “How, why, what are you talking about?” she demanded, suddenly finding a second wind of courage.

  “I understand you’re upset, but if you raise your voice to me again I’ll have to give you three hard cracks. Got it?”

  Tears brimming, she stared at him as she nodded her head.

  “Now be quiet,” he said firmly. “I have a call to make, and while I’m talkin’ you don’t make a peep, you hear?”

  “Yes, I hear,” she muttered.

  Touching the screen of her phone, he waited patiently as it rang, and when Wayne’s voice came on the line Clint hit the speaker button so the sorry girl in front of him could hear the exchange.

  “Hey sexy, are we gettin’ together tonight? I’ve got your weed baby.”

  “Wayne, you don’t know me but I’m callin’ for Anastasia.”

  “Oh yeah? You want some weed too? Hey, why do you have her phone?”

  “I want you to listen to me very carefully, Wayne. If you call, email, text, or attempt to see or communicate with Anastasia in any way, her father will be told that you’ve been seein’ her and sellin’ her dope. If you see her walkin’ towards you on the street, cross over, if you see her in a movie theatre, leave, if you see her in the diner, leave, you gettin’ the picture here, Wayne?”

  “Fuck man, don’t be so fuckin’ heavy. You think she’s the only chick I’ve got. I don’t need this shit. Don’t worry, she’s history.”

  Clint wasn’t at all surprised by Wayne’s outburst and cowardly reaction, but Anastasia was, and a sorrowful frown crossed her brow as she heard her supposed boyfriend toss her away.

  “Are you listening to me, Wayne?”

  “Yeah, man, I’m listenin’, I’m listenin’.”

  “Delete all the photos you have of her right now. I’ve got someone watchin’ you, Wayne, and if you don’t do exactly what I say he’ll take your phone away from you, possibly break a couple of fingers in the process, delete the pictures himself, then do something quite unpleasant with that phone and your backside. Any questions?”

  There was a pause, and Clint could imagine Wayne, fear shivering in his gut, frantically trying to figure out who the
thug could be. Clint was sure the lumberyard provided plenty of candidates, and he was right. As Wayne scanned the immediate vicinity several guys looked right back at him, and he quickly decided a few pictures weren’t worth taking the chance. Cursing himself for not having downloaded the images on to his computer, he considered emailing them to himself, but changed his mind.

  “You’re taking too long, Wayne,” Clint pressed.

  “I’m deletin’ the pictures,” he said hastily, seeing a tall, hulking figure in a red and black plaid shirt walking towards him.

  “Your computer will be hacked any minute now, and unless you want it lifted and the hard drive fried with some battery acid you’d better erase anything about Anastasia-”

  “I don’t have shit on my computer,” Wayne interrupted. “I swear.”

  “Remember, my man is watching you,” Clint lied, then ending the call he looked across at the quaking girl in front of him. “Now you know the truth about your so-called boyfriend,” he said softly. “I’m sorry you’ve been hurt, but-”

  “He’s just an asshole,” she blurted out. “I never cared about him anyway.”

  He could see the pain in her eyes, and while he felt sorry for her, it had been a good lesson. Taking a deep breath he put the phone on the couch and continued his lecture.

  “The phone is going to stay with me for a while, and you’re grounded for a month. I’ve given your father some software that will allow us to monitor your computer. You’ll be driven to school and picked up afterwards, and startin’ tomorrow, you’ll be comin’ here every Sunday at one o’clock sharp.”

  “Here? You mean, here, to you?”

  “Nope, I mean you’re gonna learn how to ride a horse. You’re gonna muck out stalls, and brush the horses, and take care of them, but if you get sassy with your folks, yep, they’ll bring you here and I’ll spank your bare ass. If you pull any crap at all, I’ll spank your bare ass. You’re gettin’ your act together, Anastasia, and the faster you change your attitude, the happier everyone’s gonna be, especially you. Any questions?”

  “I can’t believe this. This is horrible!” she groaned.

  “Horrible is being strung on weed, horrible is hangin’ with some no good loser who only wants to get in your panties, horrible is havin’ parents who don’t care about you, who don’t feed you or clothe you or give a rats ass. That’s horrible. What’s happenin’ to you right now it’s love girl, it’s your mom and dad’s love.”