Black Rock Guardian. Jenna Kernan

places, she realized that she’d never been kissed like this. The warning bells sounded too late. She’d made a mistake, a costly one, because her body did not understand that this was work.

      Beth broke away and saw that she’d wiped the crooked smile off Ty’s face. He was now looking at her with a mixture of anticipation and healthy wariness. All large predators had that instinct—the ability to judge if he was facing an opportunity or a threat.

      Ty reached past her and pushed open the door. The roar of the customers mixed with shouts of encouragement.

      Someone shouted after them. “Fix that bike, Ty!”

      Beth turned but not before she saw Ty wave to the crowd like the victor of some sporting competition. Beth smiled. He thought he’d won, but she believed that, in the interrogation room of his tribe’s police station, when she flashed her badge, he might see things differently.

       Chapter Five

      Outside, the world was dark except for the single spotlight fixed above the bar, illuminating the rutted dirt parking area before the roadhouse. In the windows, the neon glow of beer advertising sent beams of bright color reflecting off the windshields of dusty pickup trucks.

      “I’m this way,” she said, leading him to the darkest portion of the lot.

      Ty dragged her between two trucks and kissed her again. This time she did not kiss him for show. Oh, no, this time she let herself enjoy each nerve-tingling second. But when his hand moved from her lower back to her backside, she stepped away.

      “The bike?” she reminded him.

      “Yeah, but I’m figuring that if I fix it, you might use it to get away.”

      She smiled at him. He really was a handsome man. Such a shame he’d chosen so poorly in life. Those dark eyes gleamed with the promise of pleasure, and his mouth turned up in a way that offered a challenge she was tempted to accept. It was a winning combination. Especially when coupled with the hard jawline, straight nose and dark, slashing eyebrows. His hair was a windblown mess, as if he didn’t care how it looked or, perhaps, understood that his mop of hair begged a woman to comb her fingers through the tangles. She indulged herself in the impulse as her eyes feasted on the quintessential bad boy.

      The tribe should make warning posters about this one. Still, she was tempted. So tempted to see what he had.

      “You need a shave,” she said. His hair was as thick as a horse’s tail. She drew her hand back and touched her own cheek. “You’re giving me razor burn.”

      “I have a razor at my place,” he said.

      The man did not waste time.

      “Unfortunately, I can’t ride there. My bike...” She offered him a regretful look, but her eyes offered something else.

      “Let’s go see.”

      She led the way across the rutted, dusty lot. He fell into step just behind her left shoulder.

      “What kind of sled you have?”

      “It’s a BMW F800GT.”

      He whistled as his hand stroked her bike, starting at the leather saddle and gliding all the way up to the instruments until his long fingers finally wrapped around one grip.

      Beth shivered in response to that sensual glide, and he hadn’t even touched her.

      “Rich,” he said. He stretched out his fingers and then wiped his hand across his flat stomach.

      Beth’s skin flushed and she found she needed a long intake of air. “I got it used off a guy who...well, he gave me a good price.” She let him wonder about that. The bike was truly hers. She had purchased it at a police auction and knew it had been owned by a man who liked to gamble with his clients’ money. The way she figured it, a bike like this deserved a better owner.

      She’d parked it at an angle so no one parked too close and so she could push it out, if necessary.

      “You rode in here?” asked Ty, turning his attention to the bike.

      “Yeah. It died at the diner. So I checked what I could and then did a push-start. Lucky the diner is on a hill. Got it going all right.”

      Ty looked at the bike. “Battery, maybe.”

      “It’s fine. Nearly new.”

      “You might have left the headlight on when you were in the diner.”

      She flipped on the headlight, which glowed brightly.

      She pointed to the console. “Says it’s good, plus I flipped back the saddle and tested one of the terminals to ground. It arced just fine.”

      “Gas?” he asked.

      She cut her gaze away. “Please.”

      “So I won’t ask if the kickstand was up and the sled in Neutral.”

      “You try and start it,” she said.

      He straddled the bike. She couldn’t believe it, but he looked even more handsome. The neon glow from the beer signs illuminated his high cheekbones, and a lock of hair fell over his forehead as he tried and failed to get the bike started.

      “How are the plugs?” he asked.

      “Good, I think.”

      “Well, then I’d say you have gunk in the fuel lines. Maybe the clutch starter. Bike needs air, fuel and spark. We know you have spark and fuel, so...”

      She swore as if surprised it was not a quick repair.

      “Did the guy at the diner mention that I have a garage?”

      Beth nodded.

      “I live above my garage.”

      Which she knew, but it was obvious he wanted her to know where the closest bed might be.

      “You want me to bring it tomorrow morning?”

      “Now is good.” He gestured with his thumb over his shoulder. “Only thing, you’ll have to drive. I already had too much to drink.”

      Which was interesting because she knew from Jake that Ty Redhorse did not drink.

      “I don’t think I want a drunk working on my bike.”

      “I could fix a carburetor drunk or asleep.”

      “Nobody drives my bike.”

      He slid back on the seat. “You want me to bump-start the bike with you on the back?”

      He wiggled his eyebrows and she accepted the challenge.

      “What about your bike?” she asked.

      “In good hands.”

      No one would touch his bike. He had the protection of the Wolf Posse and tribal police, since his brother was on the force.

      “Just out of curiosity, how were you planning to get home?”

      “I never plan that far ahead,” said Ty.

      “You don’t look or act or smell drunk,” said Beth.

      “Maybe I just can’t resist lying flat across your back or maybe I want to see what an eight-hundred-cc inline engine feels like. It’s a tour bike. Plenty of room.”

      “If you fix my bike, I’m paying for the repair and I’m not sleeping with you.”

      “If you say so.”

      Had she anticipated an argument? She didn’t expect him to give up so easily. But maybe he figured, wrongly, that he could change her mind. He was too charming and too good with that sexy mouth. She imagined he wouldn’t disappoint in the bedroom. But her plan involved trapping him, not the other way around. Sleeping with