Page 23 of The Lasso Master

Or maybe he’d keep her closer still—handcuffed to him, ankle to ankle, so she couldn’t take a step without brushing against his skin.

She’d protest, of course, roll her eyes and throw barbs in that smart-ass tone she used like armor. But the moment he touched her, all that fight would melt into need.

And he’d take his time proving she was his—every inch, every breath, every broken moan.

She’d never get the chance to leave him cold again.

And she’d gone after a ghost alone. Not for long.

He was already moving before the chair stilled, his body running on instinct and adrenaline. By the time he hit the locker, he was mentally mapping out every resource, every contact south of the border. His travel pack hit the floor with a thud, and he tore it open with practiced efficiency—ammo, weapons, burner phones, encrypted drives, cash. Everything he’d need to follow her trail and burn the world down if he had to.

He holstered his sidearm, threw in a combat knife, then yanked on a dark tactical shirt, his movements clipped and precise. No hesitation. No room for doubt. Just the promise inhis chest and the image of Harper—defiant, brave, and too damn alone.

She thought she had to do this without him.

She was wrong.

He was coming.

No way in hell was he letting her face this alone.

Not his woman.

Not his little thief.

11

HARPER

It had started with a lie. The softest kind. A kiss to his temple while he slept, her lips barely brushing the warmth of his skin. She lingered there, breathing him in—his scent, his stillness, the faint furrow between his brows even in sleep. She wanted to smooth it away with her mouth, wanted to wake him and tell him everything. But that would break them both. So she didn’t.

“I love you,” she whispered, shaping the words like a prayer she wasn’t sure would be answered, like a secret she hoped he heard in his dreams. Then she slipped from the bed, one foot already in the shadows of goodbye.

She dressed silently in the dark, every layer she pulled on feeling heavier than the last. Her fingers trembled only once—when she reached for the flash drive. It was small, unassuming, but everything he needed was on it. Everything she couldn’t say aloud.

She clipped it onto the center of his keyboard and tied the red ribbon around its base with painstaking care. A marker. A message. It felt intimate in a way she hadn’t expected—this last minor act of connection, a piece of her left behind in a house that had started to feel like home.

He would find it. He’d understand. He was smart enough to read the signals, strategic enough to follow the trail, ruthless enough to do whatever it took to get to her.

And when he did, he’d come after her—with fury, with discipline, with the kind of possessive heat that would make her pay for every second she left him cold. And gods help her, some part of her wanted that more than safety. More than peace.

The thought made her stomach twist, sharp and deep. She felt like one step forward would cut her wide open, like standing on the edge of a blade. Half dread, knowing she might never see him again.

Half desperate hope that somehow, through the chaos she was walking into, he'd find her. That he’d come for her not just because she mattered to the mission, but because she mattered to him.

That was the part that made her breath hitch. That he might love her back. That he might not. That he might never know how hard it was to walk away from the only man who made her want to stay. It struck something deep inside her, something tender and raw. The part that made her ache wasn't just the goodbye. It was everything she was leaving behind in him—and everything she might never get to feel again.

She didn’t want him to come after her. She wanted him safe, untouched by the mess she was walking into.

But she also wanted him to burn the world down to find her. Wanted the full weight of his fury and protectiveness chasing her down. Wanted his voice in her ear, his hands on her skin, reminding her who she belonged to. But gods help her, she also wanted it more than anything. Wanted to feel the weight of him at her back, the fire in his eyes when he found her, the dominance in his voice when he dragged her back to his side. She ached for it even as she tried to push it away. That was the truth. That was the lie she was trying to live with.

The drive out of Texas was long and quiet, her mind tangled with memories—fragmented moments replaying on an endless loop. Reed’s voice whispering filthy promises in her ear. The warm rasp of his palm as it slid down her spine. The way he looked at her when she surrendered—like she was the only thing that had ever truly belonged to him. Like she wasn’t a thief. Like she was his.

He’d held her like she was breakable. Fucked her like he needed her. And when she’d whispered his name into the dark, she hadn’t been acting.

She’d never belonged to anyone. Not until him... and now she was walking away.

She’d never felt so much like a traitor.

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