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task for running in the first place.” Ash glared at her from the
mirror.
    “I’m not crying. And you’re not the
boss of me.” Oh, real grown up, Sinclair. Schoolyard stuff. Quickly, she added, “I’d like to
know what’s going on.”
    Craig distinctly said, “You’ll be
finding out soon enough.”
    His dark threat didn’t make her
feel anything other than aroused, and how weird was
that? Maybe it was the way he looked at her, nothing like he’d look at a sister . She felt the heat of those eyes
as they drifted over her face and to her breasts.
    The bus depot wasn’t far from the
outskirts of the small city, and she became aware Ashton was consulting the
GPS. He traced a line on it and grunted in apparent satisfaction, then pulled
off to follow a country road rather than go back to the interstate. Curious.
    “What do you know about ménage?”
    Startled, she turned her attention
to Craig. “Uh, whatever the internet could tell me, I guess. And whatever I
figured out, picked up from you and Ash. And Melinda.” She didn’t mention any of the other female names she’d gleaned from listening
to the gossip around the area. Or how hot the idea of being
sexual with her two men made her.
    “We have no interest in Melinda.”
Sinclair felt like she was watching a tennis match as she looked back at Ash.
His look in the mirror was steady.
    “I thought…” she faltered.
    “You thought because you
eavesdropped at the vent like you did when you were little. And
didn’t hear it all.”
    “I heard you talk about the girl
next door and about Melinda. And … and me not being
like the women you favored. You’re ashamed to be with me.” Her voice cracked on
the accusation, and she willed it not to be true.
    Ash’s hands came off the wheel in a
“heaven help me” gesture he used to use around her all the time, and Sinclair
bit her lip. Craig made a sound so close to a growl she of course snapped her
head in his direction.
    “I’m not waiting to get home, Ash.
Figured you aren’t either, seeing as we aren’t on the interstate. I’ve been
thinking about this since I read that goddamned note where you verbally smacked
us in the head, Sinclair.”
    “Thinking about what?” She nearly
shrieked as he hauled her over his lap, reversing her body as neatly as any
calf he’d roped, to trap her legs between his own muscular ones. The top of her
head rested on the hump on the floor behind the console.
    “Craig, I’m driving.” Ash was
protesting, but not interfering. She struggled.
    “Then adjust the mirror to bear
witness or find a private place to pull over. I’m not waiting. We were taught
not to string punishment out. Sinclair listened to a private conversation, then didn’t hang around to hear us out. And she ran away
like a spoiled brat.”
    Punishment. Sinclair tasted the word and assessed her position. She’d never been spanked
and didn’t plan to change that fact. Besides, they were as much to blame as she
was. “Quit that.”
    Craig’s big hand,
maybe a tad bigger than Ash’s, smoothed over her jean clad buttocks. He
followed it with a solid whack, and it freaking stung. Her scream nearly
overshadowed Ash’s curse, and she felt the truck weave to one side and come to
a shuddering halt. Saved.
    Another smack, this one on her
right buttock, testified to the point the bucket seat had been slid forward to
give him more working room. What the
hell? She struggled against his hold and flailed her arms, grabbing behind
her. All that did was give Craig the opportunity to gather both wrists in one
of his hands and pin them against the small of her back. Whack. She yelled at him to stop. Her ass was heating up and
stinging. A blast of warm air and the smell of country washed over her as Ash
exited the truck before his door slammed shut again. The rear passenger door
opened and she relaxed, waiting for him to make his crazy brother see reason.
    “Good hold.” Ash sounded grudgingly
approving. What?
    “I