Free Out Of Control by Desiree Holt

provide her with some insight.
    Her
BlackBerry was her Holy Grail. Sometimes she felt as if they had an umbilical
cord relationship. It kept her organized and connected to her stray thoughts,
her impressions, and everything that might otherwise seem trivial. Not to
mention that it also contained every important number and name in her small but
exclusive inner circle. She was never, ever without it.
    Feeling
the edges of panic creeping in, she searched again through her briefcase, her
purse, her coat pocket and again came up empty. Frustrated, she dumped everything
out of her briefcase and purse, scattering the contents on the table and
shoving objects this way and that.
    She
bit her lip in frustration, hard, as she dug through the mound of papers and
junk. Still nothing. Again she checked the pockets of the slacks she’d been
wearing. Nothing. Forcing herself to be calm, she went through every room in
the house, trying to think where she might have put it down, a tiny thread of
alarm skittering through her.
    Thirty
minutes later, she was still empty-handed and fighting another full-blown panic
attack. What the hell had she done with it?
    When
was the last time she’d seen it. The table in the sheriff’s department popped
across her mental television screen. The small digital device lying on the
table, peeking out from beneath the folders. She was always so meticulous about
things like this, aware of the nature of the info it contained.
    But
today she’d been too anxious to escape the good sheriff. That was pretty damn
stupid. She’d let Cole Landry throw her off balance, and it had screwed her up.
She rubbed her forehead, the headache nudging its way back to the forefront
again.
    All
right. So she’d have to give in and admit that it was at the sheriff’s office. Had
he looked through it? Pried through her personal information? Although it
required a password, she knew police departments had electronic wizards who
could bypass such things.
    And
what the hell did she do now? Wait until tomorrow? Go back there tonight and do
battle with some night dispatcher who might not even know what she was talking
about?
    Well,
damn it all anyway.
    The
jangling sound of the doorbell startled her. Dana frowned. She didn’t think the
few people she made contact with since arriving in High Ridge would be coming
around to pay her a social visit. Grant had once urged her to get a gun,
telling her anyone who traveled alone to the weird places she ventured ought to
have some protection. Now she wished she’d taken his advice.
    The
bell rang again. This time the sound was a little longer, as if someone was holding
a thumb down on the button.
    She
looked through the peephole in the door and nearly passed out. Cole Landry,
macho sheriff, all around pain in the ass and the object of her unexpected
erotic daydream stood on her doorstep. Wiping her suddenly damp palms on her
shorts, she undid both locks and cracked the door open.

 
     
     
     
     
    Chapter
Nine
     
    He
looked at his handiwork, pleased with himself. Leanne was spread-eagled on the
back seat of the truck, restrained, eyes wide with fear.
    “What
are you doing?” The words came out as a whimper. “Let go of me! Get off! Get
off of me right now!”
    He
laughed, enjoying himself. This was the beginning of the good part. “No one can
hear you, little girl. Go ahead. Scream your lungs out. Still,” he cautioned, “can’t
take any chances.”
    He
slapped a piece of duct tape across her lips. Moving closer, he sang as he
shoved her thighs even further apart, stretching her to an impossible angle,
filling her with pain.
    “There
was a little girl, who had a little curl, right in the middle of her forehead. Now,
little girl. Let’s see how nice you play.”

 
     
     
     
     
    Chapter
Ten
     
    Cole
Landry’s huge presence filled Dana’s tiny porch and crowded her doorway. His
Stetson was still perched on his head, but apparently he’d taken time to ditch
the uniform. His