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too.
    Checking her cell, she noted the
bus would be arriving in under an hour, and then she’d travel well into the
night. It was still summer but the days would fly by quickly, and she’d heard
winters up north were worse than here. She tucked her phone back into her purse
and settled in to wait and avoid thinking about Ashton and Craig at all costs. The squicky guy was still hovering, and she was glad
there were people around, as she resolutely ignored him.
    A black truck cruised along behind
the line of buses, and she idly wondered if the driver couldn’t read. The area was
clearly marked for no traffic other than the buses themselves. As it drew
closer, the emblem on the side grabbed her attention, and her heart jumped into
her throat.
    Oh
my God. The Rolling
R Ranch. Ash’s
truck.
    Climbing to her feet on legs that
no longer wanted to hold her, she floundered, not knowing what to do next. She
was so darn happy to see them materialize after thinking about them, but
instinct told her to run. A big hand grasped her bicep in an inflexible hold.
    “Going someplace, darlin’?” Craig’s
stern visage loomed in her line of vision, eyes nearly black with anger. Oh, shit. He must have gone in through
the front of the depot and come out the back while Ash drove along here. She
tamped down the burst of heat that surged clear up from her pussy.
    “I’m going to Canada,” she
announced, proud of only a tiny wobble in her voice, because her knees were
knocking to beat the band.
    “Not.” He walked her to where Ash
had drawn up into a fortuitously empty lane, blithely ignoring more posted
signs.
    Ash jumped out and came to meet
them, a study in outraged male, and her belly clenched even as her pussy
thrummed harder. She wasn’t afraid of them, but she was scared shitless. It
didn’t matter if made no sense. She leaned sideways, and Craig handed her off
to his brother like a package. He half carried, half dragged her to the truck,
yanking open the back door. It struck Sinclair that there were still other
passengers standing about, and that they’d drawn the attention of at least one
driver and a security guard. The latter was straightening his uniform shirt and
strutting their way, and it was now or never. If this didn’t look like a
kidnapping in process, then people were freaking blind. She opened her mouth … and
closed it when a large hand fit itself over her bottom and squeezed.
    “Get in the truck, Sinclair. Now.”
    With a combination of a mad
scramble and a lift of Ash’s hand—via her bottom—Sinclair found herself
sprawled across the wide leather seat. She raised her head to see her luggage
sailing into the bed of the truck, and then Craig followed her inside. He
shifted her over with a press of his hip and dropped her purse and laptop to
the floor.
    “Hey, mister.” The security guard was hard on Ash’s heels. “There’s no parking here.”
    “Sorry. Our woman should have been
waiting out front. We’ll get out of your way right now.” Ash shut the truck
door in the guard’s face and threw the vehicle into gear. Any thought of
speaking up faded with a glimpse of Ash’s features reflected to her via the
rearview mirror.
    Crap.
    Wait
a minute. Their
woman? What was that all
about? Not their sister, then. She carefully looked at Craig, who still
appeared royally pissed. He caught her glance and said, through his teeth, “You
might just want to be quiet for a bit until we negotiate the traffic.”
    There was plenty she’d like to say,
but for the life of her she was having trouble formulating it all, her senses
invaded by Craig’s spicy scent and the heat of him, so close beside her. Ash
favored a citrus soap and shaving gel, she recalled, and surreptitiously
sniffed to see if she could smell him.
    “Are you crying?” Ash snapped the
question, and Craig stiffened.
    “What? No, why would I be crying?”
    “Maybe because
you didn’t get away? Or maybe because you know we’re gonna take you to