Cage: Montana Bounty Hunters: Dead Horse, MT

by Devlin, Delilah

  Elaine gave it to her, but frowned. “Why do you need it?”

  Fig held up a finger.

  Elaine stayed silent until Fig nodded.

  “Okay,” the woman said. “His phone’s on. If they lose sight of the Beemer, they can still track him.”

  Elaine’s gaze swung to Cage. “You can do that?”

  Cage shrugged. “Guess so.”

  She turned to look at the big guy who seemed to be in charge. “What now?”

  “We head back to our motel. We’ll tight until Brian and Felicity tell us where your brother lands. Then…we’ll see.”

  Chapter 8

  Back at the motel, Cage took Elaine straight to his room. Reaper and Fig followed on their heels, closing and locking the doors, then moving to the window to flip down the blinds. Fig turned off the overhead light and moved to the bathroom to turn that light on, but left the door only opened a crack.

  “Is the cloak and dagger shit necessary?” Elaine asked, hugging her torso with her arms.

  She was quivering, and her jaw was tight, likely to keep her teeth from chattering. Seeing as the room was muggy and warm, he guessed she was a little shocky after tonight’s events.

  He gripped her wrist and walked her to the bed. “Sit.”

  Her chin lifted at his curt tone, but he kept his gaze steady, telling her silently to obey. He didn’t have patience for manners. His body was wired, ready to do battle, but the fight was miles away in a car going who knew where. At the moment, he was powerless to do anything but wait.

  And he wished like hell Reaper and Fig would get the hell out because he wanted to wrap Elaine in his embrace and draw her against his body—to stop her shivering, to warm her. Hell, who was he kidding? Standing this close and with as much tension as was riding his body, nothing short of fucking would ease what was wrong with him, and he was pretty sure Elaine would be right there with him. It had always been like that between them. When they couldn’t solve their issues by talking through them, they’d fucked.

  Reaper’s cellphone rang, and he exited the room to stand on the landing outside the room, closing the door behind him.

  Fig cleared her throat. “We’ll let you know when we get word back from Felicity and Brian. Hang tight.” Then she, too, left the room.

  At last, he was alone with Elaine, who sat on the edge of the mattress, arms crossed in front of her, her head bowed.

  Cage moved swiftly, climbed onto the bed, then sat behind her and slid forward to cradle her back against his front. His arms surrounded her. “I’m here, Lainey.”

  “Can’t lose your cut of the bounty…” she whispered.

  “That’s not what’s important. Not now.”

  “Then what’s changed?” she asked, turning her head to glance back at him.

  He cupped her chin to keep her turned toward him and kissed the side of her mouth. “I stayed away because I needed a new life. And maybe it was a mistake, but I couldn’t be with you and watch you sacrifice yours. You wouldn’t listen.”

  “I listened, but you weren’t willing to give me time.”

  “I gave you two years, Lain. Nothing ever changed. He whined, you gave him cash. He got busted on a DUI, you bailed him out. He got behind on his rent, you paid that, too.”

  “It was just money.”

  “And now? Now, when you see what his excesses have brought down on him…on you?”

  She tried to turn away her face, but he pinched her chin to keep it there, to make sure she saw his eyes, his expression. “I hoped you’d follow me.”

  Her breath caught. “You never offered me that option. You walked.”

  “You could have made the effort to find me. I didn’t make it hard.”

  Her eyes glittered. Her chin rose higher. “He’s my brother. The only family I have left.”

  “You were my only family.”

  She closed her eyes, and a single tear trickled down the side of her face. The first he’d ever seen her shed. He swiped it with his thumb and brought it to his mouth to lick away. Then he released her chin, gripped her waist, and turned her, waiting as she crawled over his lap to straddle his hips.

  Fisting her hair, he brought her in for a hard kiss, wanting to punish her for the waste of a tear, the waste of two years.

  Their lips rubbed and suctioned. He thrust his tongue against the seam of her mouth. When she didn’t open to him, he pinched her chin again and dragged it down. Once inside her mouth, he groaned and let his hands roam her body.

  He’d missed her curves, the underlying muscles that flexed and rippled as he caressed her. He’d missed her mouth, her hair, which he continued to hold. Her plump breasts flattened against his chest, and he felt the scrape of the tiny tips of her nipples through his tee and couldn’t help cupping one full globe, reveling in his possession of her tit.

  Tweaking the tight bud, he swallowed her gasp and continued to kiss her, letting his body react to her nearness, his cock straining, prodding her center as she began to rub herself against him.

  He dragged back her head. “Let me lock the door.”

  “Bathroom’s closer,” she whispered.

  Abruptly, he stood. Her legs encircled his hips as he walked quickly to the bathroom, and then because neither of them could wait to be naked, he turned her toward the mirror over the sink, unbuckled his belt, and opened his pants while she did the same and shoved down her pants to mid-thigh.

  When she bent over the counter, he froze. “Fuck.”

  Her wild gaze met his in the mirror. “I’m still on the pill, but I haven’t been with anyone.”

  “Last woman I fucked was you,” he said, his voice as raw as he felt.

  “Then we’re okay,” she said. “Please.”

  He prodded her once, found her opening, and plunged inside.

  She gave a mewling cry. In the mirror, he watched her eyes close as her teeth clamped down on her lower lip. Gripping the notches of her hips, he powered into her, driving as far upward as he could, withdrawing, then stroking her again.

  She was slick and hot. Her inner muscles clutched his shaft, rippling around him. “Your tits,” he rasped.

  She let go of the counter, opened her blouse, then tugged her bra beneath her breasts, which forced the lush mounds high. Then watching every shiver and bounce, he stroked faster and faster, knowing they had little time, but that they both needed this…this reconnection…in body and spirit.

  “Mine,” he whispered, his lips tightening and baring his teeth as he fucked harder.

  “Mine,” she said with more emphasis, shaking out her hair and meeting his gaze in the mirror. His warrior, again. His perfect match. His mate.

  When her breaths began to grow more ragged, he paused and reached around her, thrusting two fingers into the moisture surrounding his dick then using his rough fingertips to circle on her hard clit. Then gripping her with one hand, he resumed his motions, encouraging her to meet his thrusts with backward pulses.

  She braced a hand on the mirror and used the other to squeeze her tit, toggling the tip and pinching it, letting him watch while she pleasured herself.

  His slippery fingers rubbed faster, moving in quick circles on her bared clit. When she gasped and tossed back her hair, he pinched her clit and held it while jerking deep inside her.

  His climax slammed through him, his balls exploding and come pulsing in hot jets inside her. She gave a little shout then clamped her lips together, her eyelids fluttering but not closing.

  Fuck, she was beautiful. Perfect as she orgasmed, her fingers clutching her nipple and her cunt tightening all around him.

  When he slowed his motions, he reached around her to cradle her breasts, continuing to move inside her as his erection waned, loath to leave her wet heat.

  When he finally stopped, he pulled free and turned her. Now cradling her cheeks, he kissed her mouth, her cheeks, her closed eyes.

  A knock sounded on the door. “Better get cleaned up,” Fig said. “The eagle has landed.”
r />   Their gazes locked. “That means Brent has arrived at his destination?” she asked.

  He nodded. “I think Fig watches too many movies.”

  She cleared her throat. “This,” she said, signaling between their bodies, “doesn’t change anything.”

  She was wrong, it had changed everything, but he gave her a nod. The time to hash out exactly what this thing was would come. Just not now. Soon though, he promised himself.

  Five minutes later, he and Elaine left the bathroom with pink cheeks and swollen lips, not that he gave a shit what the Fig and Reaper might be thinking or whether he’d broken some bounty hunter code by fucking his wife.

  Ex, he reminded himself, but repeating that thought didn’t hold the same power as it had before. He’d used it as a guard against feeling anything for her, but he’d shot that excuse all to hell minutes ago. Instead, the word Mine echoed in his head, and he knew to his bones that would be true for the rest of his life.

  But what to do about it? He hadn’t a clue. They had to rescue her brother then deliver her to jail. She’d stand trial, and unless she rolled on her brother, she’d be in jail for years, unless by some weird happenstance she knew someone who sitting on the bench who might be willing to go easy on a first-time offender.

  Yeah, and unicorns farted rainbows.

  Outside on the walkway, he found Reaper and Fig.

  Reaper was looking at his watch and then lifted his gaze to Cage. One eyebrow rose. “Thought you two were in a hurry.”

  “We were,” Elaine said, then pressed her lips together and glanced away.

  Cage’s mouth twitched, but only for a second. “Do we know where he is?”

  “We do. And it’s not going to be easy to go in after him.”

  “Anyone give any thought to calling law enforcement or the FBI?” Fig asked.

  Reaper frowned. “Do we have the time?” he asked, glancing at Elaine.

  She shook her head. “By the time we tell anyone what we know and they verify my brother’s there and move people into place, there’s a good chance he’ll already be dead or tortured so badly he’ll wish he was.”

  “We’ve only got three hunters here with any real tactical training and experience,” Reaper said. “So, we can’t rush the place without reinforcements. I put out a call to my guys in Bear Lodge and to Fetch. They’re on the way, along with some operatives from Felicity’s other workplace, Renegade Investigation and Protection. They’re experts in extractions. I’m not sure they’ll be in place in time to be of any help, but if this thing drags on, we’ll have more resources. Plus, Fetch knows some folks in the ATF and at the FBI. He said he’d give them a call when he was on the road. I expect we’ll be covered up in law enforcement types, but not so soon they’ll get in the way.”

  “Where is he…my brother?” Elaine asked, her voice husky.

  “A ‘recreational area’,” Fig said, drawing air quotes with her fingers. “A survivalists’ training ground, Brian thinks. Felicity flew a very small drone over the area. They watched Brent being escorted into the main building on the property. So, we’ve had eyes on him.”

  “How long ago?”

  “Half an hour.”

  Elaine drew a breath and nodded. “How long to get there?”

  “Thirty minutes give or take ten,” Reaper said. “The ops van is outside their area, parked at a highway rest stop along the way. I didn’t want them getting any closer and giving away the fact we’re surveilling the property.”

  “Did Felicity mention how he looked?” Elaine asked.

  Reaper shook his head. “Just that he made his way on his own two feet.” He shot a glance at Cage. “Fetch is bringing tactical gear.”

  Cage nodded. This was something he knew how to do.

  Fig raised a pointed finger. “Just a reminder, boss,” she said to Reaper. “I may not have been spec ops, but I’m ex-Army. I do have some training.”

  Reaper studied her for a minute then gave a slow nod. “Noted. The folks in Bear Lodge have been doing some extra training, military-style conceal and cover, battle tactics. They’ve trained as a team.” His mouth stretched into a humorless smile. “Seeing as we’ve had the occasion to have to work with law enforcement and alphabet agencies, Fetch thought we ought to be prepared for whatever comes our way. Plus, the cookouts afterward are pretty fun.”

  Cage shook his head. Bounty hunters training for battles. It was looking more and more like he’d found someplace he could use the skills he’d honed for years.

  In Montana. Against right-leaning wingnuts with dreams of overthrowing the government. Who’d have thought he’d be preparing to go to war on his own home soil?

  “We better get on the road,” Reaper said. “Let’s take my SUV. I have some gear in the back.”

  Once they were on the road, headlights slicing through a steady drizzling rain, Elaine leaned forward. “What will I be doing while you guys are trying to rescue my brother?”

  Reaper glanced into the rearview mirror to meet her gaze. “You’ll be sitting it out in the ops van with Brian and Felicity. Are they going to have to handcuff you to your seat? Or are you going to sit tight and let us do our jobs?”

  “I’ll sit tight. I don’t know anything about military tactics. You’ll all be armed?”

  “To the teeth,” Reaper said. “We know what we’re going up against.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  Cage wondered the same thing. Letting her return to the fight had been one thing. Taking on an armed group was quite another.

  Reaper’s gaze went back to the road. “I’m aware we don’t have skin in this game. However, because it’s obvious Cage cares about you, that makes you part of the Montana Bounty Hunter family. We don’t abandon family.”

  Elaine turned her head toward Cage. He didn’t know what she saw, but the slow breath she released, and the way she leaned against his shoulder, had him settling back into his seat. Then her hand crept inside his, and they laced their fingers together.

  “I’m glad you’re on my side,” she whispered. “I feel sorry for Whitcomb and his crew.”

  His mouth stretched. “Babe, I do, too.”

  Chapter 9

  For Elaine, the next hour passed in a blur—almost like she was watching a movie on a screen unfold, feeling like she was outside her body and someone else with her voice was going through the motions, acting in her place, because nothing made sense.

  She couldn’t be surrounded by so many faces she found strikingly familiar—from the big blond man she knew as Reaper on a cable reality show, Dagger and Bounty Hunter Barbie—no, Lacey, the woman had corrected her with a smile. There was Hook, the hunter with the “bionic” arm, Cochise with his long dark hair and piercing eyes, and Brian, who was no longer wheelchair-bound, an episode she’d particularly enjoyed because he’d seemed to bloom in confidence from the quiet, haunted man she’d watched at the beginning of the series to the confident operative he was now, headset on, eyes scanning the row of monitors on the countertop behind which he sat. The monitors were filled with the glowing green images of the team members and the terrain around them. For her part, Felicity, a tiny redhead with a startlingly intense and intelligent gaze, was operating the controls of a drone that flew over moon-silvered treetops, relaying the images of red blotches moving in an arrow-shaped formation—the hunters as they moved swiftly through the trees.

  All the while, she heard radio squawks and terse commands as the team quickly covered the mile through the woods, heading toward the training area where her brother was being held.

  Every now and then there would be a pause of movement as one of the team, outfitted with night vision goggles and cameras that fed the images on the monitors, raised a fist to halt all movement while team members negotiated tripwires and booby trapped holes in the ground with sharp spikes sure to maim the foot of someone who wasn’t familiar with the makeshift security measures the men inside the compound had prepared.

  Her gaze stayed
glued to the monitor Brian had labeled “Cage”, so she saw everything he did. She held her breath as he climbed over a wire or ducked beneath something meant to swing and, if not decapitate, force a carved wooden spike through a temple or face. Although she’d watched as the men had donned their equipment prior to the raid—Kevlar vests, web belts filled with “flashbang” grenades, long magazines filled with bullets to use in the serious-looking weapons each team member carried, AR-15s and shotguns, Felicity had said, as well as various pistols strapped inside holsters—Elaine still feared for the people who were so willing to go into battle for her brother. This was the real deal, and now, she was properly freaked out because while she’d watched some action films in the past, this was actually happening, and the men they were creeping up on would be just as well armed.

  On the monitor labeled “Dagger”, a clearing appeared just ahead. Beyond the tree line, she could make out a tall chain-link fence and the outlines of several buildings.

  “When I saw those earlier,” Felicity said into her mic, “they appeared to be barracks. The main building is in the center of the compound.”

  Another figure passed Dagger holding out a large pair of bolt cutters. Cochise made quick work of the fence, cutting enough links to bend back the fence to allow each of the team to move through the opening. Once inside the fence, and following a series of silent hand motions, the team spread out, running toward the buildings and slipping into the shadowed spaces between them.

  She sat on a bench on the opposite side of the van from the long counter where Brian and Felicity worked. Her feet tapped nervously, and she caught herself chewing on a fingernail. Curling her hands in her lap, she sat forward, afraid to breathe too loudly because she wanted to hear everything, see everything.

  They were doing this for her. Well, for Cage, Reaper had said. Because he was family now, even though he was new to Montana Bounty Hunters. However, in the same way the rest of them seemed to work together so organically, likely because of years of military training, he was right there with them, the barrel of his weapon at the center of the screen because he was looking straight ahead, the camera on his helmet capturing everything he saw.