Page 8 of The Lasso Master

For the first time since the text, Harper’s pulse didn’t race from fear—it pounded with something far more dangerous... arousal and hope.

And under that hope, a single thought sparked bright and sharp:

If Reed Malone found her first—before the cops, before Stuart’s people—he might save her life.

But if he chose to try to tame her instead? She wasn't sure she could stop him.

4

REED

Reed stood with his arms crossed, jaw tight, as the security footage looped again. He wasn’t just reviewing a breach—he was trying to decide what to do about the woman causing his blood to run hot and his instincts to go sharp.

Harper Langston was no novice. Every movement she made was deliberate. Controlled. And maddeningly compelling. He’d watched it four times now—each pass drawing the line between suspicion and obsession a little closer to the edge. Not just because she’d conned Jesse into allowing her into the club, but because every move Harper made screamed precision. Purpose. She was too smooth, too careful. Calculated, but never frantic.

It wasn’t just that she was casing the place. It was how she moved—like she belonged in every shadow. Like the darkness didn’t threaten her. It obeyed. God help him, that got under his skin.

She was a threat. And threats Reed could handle. But she was also a challenge. A puzzle of silk and steel. And the sick part was, the more she refused to acknowledge what seemed to be a strong mutual attraction, the more he wanted to bend her. Not just her body… her will.

Taming her wouldn’t be easy, which only made the idea more enticing.

Harper Langston, or whoever the hell she really was. Gliding too smoothly past the edge of the gallery hallway at Iron Spur. Her movements weren’t the nervous flutters of a curious sub. They were calculated. Controlled. She paused where the hallway narrowed, tilted her head like she was admiring the paneling—and her fingers brushed the seam of the wall, counting, testing.

She had broken no rules on paper—Jesse’s guest pass had technically given her access—but she’d still been casing the place. And she was good at it. Subtle, methodical, like she was reading the walls for secrets only she could decode. The kind of good that made professionals nervous and Doms curious.

It wasn’t just her technique that got under his skin—it was the elegance of it. She moved like a thief with a dancer’s grace and a soldier’s edge. It stirred something in him—lust, yes, but more than that. A deep, driving hunger to see what she'd look like when the sharpness softened, when the discipline cracked under his hand. She was everything he craved and everything he warned others about—danger dressed in elegance.

“Pause it,” Reed said, voice low.

The screen froze. With her face turned slightly toward the camera, Harper was caught mid-blink, her lips parted as if about to whisper a secret to the shadows. But even in the still frame, she radiated a quiet, dangerous confidence. Not just beautiful—formidable. Every inch of her posture spoke in a code Reed understood all too well. She wasn’t just in control of her body—she was weaponizing it. Calculated charm. Quiet defiance. Her body language was taut with hidden intent, hitting Reed like a silk-draped dare. One that made him wonder how she'd look unraveled. Not just exposed—but claimed.

Gavin leaned against the desk, arms folded, watching the frozen image of Harper like it might wink back at him. “You sureshe’s not some spoiled heiress slumming it for kicks? Got the look of a socialite with a brat streak and a taste for trouble.”

Reed didn’t answer right away. He was still staring at her—eyes narrowed, brain turning over every detail like pieces of a high-stakes puzzle. Not just watching—assessing. She had a predator’s grace, the kind that wasn’t taught but earned. Every tilt of her head, every shift of her weight, was purposeful. Intentional. She meticulously filed, cataloged, and cross-referenced every detail against instinct and threat response.

But it wasn’t just the risk she posed that made his blood thrum.

It was how badly he wanted to peel her apart. Not to punish her. Not yet. But to uncover what made her tick. To figure out whether she broke easy… or begged when pushed. That was the question that kept itching beneath his skin—and damn if it wasn’t getting harder to ignore.

“The two aren't mutually exclusive,” he said finally. Pointing toward the screen, he continued, “That’s not a brat. That’s a thief.”

“She say anything yet?”

“She said she needed help.”

“Vague.”

“I get the feeling that she’s trying not to lie directly. She’s hiding something, but she hasn’t run. That tells me she’s either desperate, calculating, or both.”

Gavin raised an eyebrow. “And you’re what? Intrigued?”

Reed didn’t look away from the screen. “I’m not blind.”

And that was the truth, sharp-edged and inconvenient as hell. Because it wasn’t just that he noticed her—it was that he couldn’t stop. Every move she made scratched at something inside him, something old and deep and wired to conquer. She lit up the part of him that craved control, that wanted to see whatshe looked like undone—stripped of her sass, her secrets, her steel.

Maybe that was the real threat. Not what she’d done, but what she made him want. Wanting her chipped at his control, pulled at pieces of him he kept locked down tight. He didn’t lose focus. Didn’t crave things he couldn’t contain. But Harper Langston? She was temptation in its purest, most dangerous form.

Harper Langston—or whatever name she used on any given day—wasn’t just beautiful. She was fascinating. Sharp. Unyielding. The kind of woman who looked at rules like suggestions and saw dominance not as something to submit to, but to test. She had the kind of attitude that made men like him want to break it down, not just to control it—but tounderstandit. To see the moment her eyes went soft, her breath hitched, and her walls finally cracked. Reed didn’t just want her compliant. He wanted her willing. And the idea of bending that fierce spirit to his command made something primal in him snap awake.

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