“I’ll take that bet.” Zane chuckled and spurred his horse forward.
“That bastard Campbell has Miguel. I know it, Hunter. I’ll do whatever it takes to get him back.” Cas picked up his pace and followed Zane.
Hunter spared them both a cutting glance. His black faltered slightly in his step, uneasy with the tension he sensed in his master. Patting his neck and murmuring gently to calm him, Hunter turned his attention back to the trail they were following. The drunk hadn’t known any more. If he had, he would’ve talked before Zane’s fist left him unconscious.
Zane was like that sometimes, too powerful for his own good, too caught up in protecting the family to allow anyone to threaten them. He was loyal to a fault. Generally that power and dedication made him excellent at his job. Men would spill what they knew at the sight of him, or at least with very little persuasion. Hunter cringed to think about using intimidation like that with the girl. Especially a girl who refused to talk because she legitimately didn’t know anything. She wasn’t a criminal. Her innocence wasn’t feigned. It was real. Her father might rob banks and outlaws, and ransom Cas’s younger brother, but that didn’t mean she’d had anything to do with it.
Or was it just simply his attraction that made him want her to be innocent of Campbell’s crimes? He wanted her. That much he had known from the second her gaze had connected with his. The attraction had hit him low, like a punch to the gut. And dammit if she hadn’t returned his interest. Raking a hand through his hair, he blew out a breath to clear his head. The last thing he wanted was to be involved with a Campbell, so it annoyed him that he found her intriguing.
He suddenly wanted to figure out why. Slapping the reins, he soon outpaced Zane and Castillo, his sharp gaze taking in the grasslands. There were copses of trees in the distance and if she’d made it that far then they might lose her. But some instinct—the same one that wanted her for his own—told him that they were very close.
After a minute or two, a movement caught his eye, but it was too shadowed to distinguish from the scenery. He might have disregarded it as unimportant had the moon not decided to aid in his pursuit and shine a shaft of light down on that particular spot. The ivory of her skin shone like a beacon in the night, as if the gods themselves were gifting her to him.
Smiling, Hunter set a path directly for her, anticipation already warming the pit of his belly.
Chapter Three
Emmaline’s heart sank the instant she realized they were riding directly toward her. Panic threatened to overtake her, but she managed to keep a grip on herself. There were only two choices: fight them or run and hide. Neither of those seemed to have a chance in hell of working out in her favor.
If she ran, she could try to make it to the trees to hide, but even as she looked to confirm the distance she knew that she wouldn’t make it. It was too far; the very reason she had opted to hide in the grass. Transferring her grip from the locket to the old Smith & Wesson Schofield hidden in the pocket of her coat, she pulled it out. Like her coat, it was a castoff of Pete’s, given to her when he’d bought his new Peacemaker. Despite the scoundrels Ship and Pete sometimes brought home, she’d never had cause to shoot a man. She didn’t want to shoot one now. She had to get home to her sisters, and on the small chance the strangers didn’t already know where she lived, she wouldn’t risk leading them to her home.
Her hands shook as she slid bullets into the cylinder, wondering why she’d allowed her fear that it might go off on its own to stop her from keeping the damned thing loaded for emergencies. She counted each one as she did, a simple way to keep her mind focused on the task and not give in to the anxiety that threatened to overtake her. The bullets were cold in her fingers, making her realize that she’d forgotten her gloves back at the saloon. Finally loaded, she ran her thumb over a bit of rust as she pulled back the hammer, her hands shaking. She didn’t want to shoot anyone. Maybe if they realized she had a gun, they’d leave her alone.
Closing her eyes to steady herself, she opened them and raised her arms to aim. They must have seen her gun, because they split up, each taking a different direction. She frowned, but it hardly mattered, she just wanted them to leave. Aiming in the direction of the nearest one, making sure her aim was a bit high, she fired.
The shot left her ears ringing and her hands vibrating from the shock, but she’d missed. The rider changed directions, galloping off to her right. Readjusting her aim, she followed him, but he moved too fast for her to get a clear shot. Dammit! Knowing she might not get another chance, she pulled the hammer back anyway, but then the grass rustled very close to her left side. She swung back around to that side, but before she could even get a glimpse of who had approached, she was knocked off balance by a large body. The momentum sent them rolling together through the tall grass until they finally came to a stop. She had managed to keep a grip on the butt of her gun, and pulled her hand up immediately, only to have it slammed back to the grass.
In a blind panic, she fought, but he wrestled the gun from her and threw it away before pinning her wrists to the ground over her head. She bucked to get him off, but he settled the full weight of his torso on her, effectively stopping her fight. His heavy, muscular thighs on either side of hers held her virtually immobile. Only then, when she was trapped, did she look up into the face above her own. Of course it had to be the pretty one staring back at her, his expression fierce and angry.
“You could have killed someone!”
“You could have left me alone.” Though she knew it was useless, she struggled beneath him anyway.
“It was stupid thing to do. You’re outnumbered.”
“What would you have done? Waited patiently for three strange men to come and get you?”
A sliver of moonlight crossed his features, creating hollows below his high cheekbones and showing the anger that lit his eyes. He was livid, but he smirked at her remark. His lips parted a bit to reveal a flash of white teeth, a predator toying with his meal. A shot of fear darted through her belly and it was as exciting as it was terrifying. Or maybe it was the wicked excitement that terrified her. She couldn’t bear to acknowledge its existence, much less contemplate it. Jerking her gaze away, she held herself rigid beneath him and asked, “What will happen to me?”
Her question must have settled him, reassured him that she was accepting her fate, because he relaxed above her, his muscles softening just enough so that she felt the weight of him pressing her down even more. It wasn’t as unpleasant as it might have been. He’d settled into the ease she remembered from the saloon, tempering his fierce edge just a bit. “That all depends on you, sweetheart. If you cooperate, you’ll be fine.”
She almost believed him, but then he called for rope, his voice hard as it rumbled through her. A coil landed in the flattened grass near them. He moved off her then, to grab her upper arm and pull her up to her feet. Only then did she realize how her legs trembled as her knees threatened to buckle. He must have seen, because his voice gentled as he pulled her wrists in front of her to tie them together. “Cooperate and you won’t be hurt,” he reminded her.
But she couldn’t stand there docilely to let herself be bound. Every instinct within her urged her not to let them take her. So she pretended compliance until he gave his focus to the task of tying her wrists and then she elbowed him hard in the ribs and took off. Though he grunted at the impact, she barely got two steps before he pulled her back against his chest. He was tall enough that she fit tucked beneath his chin so that he could look down to finish the task. His arms held her pinned while he fit the noose around her wrists and tightened it before she could do more than yelp in surprise. Pressure built up in her chest, but she fought it down and stared at her bound hands. She’d never before felt so horribly helpless and vulnerable and angry, all at the same time. She’d done nothing to deserve this. Damn Ship and every outlaw she knew!
She p
ulled at the binding and struggled against her captor’s hold, but then the Spaniard walked up to them, holding her gun loosely in his right hand. It wasn’t a threatening pose, but she knew that it could be aimed at her in the blink of an eye, so she stilled her struggles. She fervently hoped that he hadn’t been the one she’d shot at. But, then, that would only leave the giant and she really didn’t want him angry with her either.
“I’ll ask you once more and this time I’d appreciate an honest answer.” He paused to allow the importance of those words to sink in, his handsome face solemn and fierce at the same time. “What do you know of Ship Campbell?”
She pressed back into her captor’s chest, instinctively trying to distance herself from the gun. She might have imagined it, but his thumb traced lightly over the exposed skin of her wrist. The resulting involuntary shiver it caused unnerved her, so she jerked away, making him grasp her arms tightly. Instead of answering the question, knowing that her voice would only give her away, she shook her head.
The Spaniard sighed and looked down, shaking his own head at her. “Looks like we have an interesting night ahead.”
The deep voice at her back rolled through her. “The horses!”
At that, the giant walked out of the darkness and into her line of sight, holding the leads of all three horses. The dead weight of dread settled in her stomach, but she resolved herself to her fate. If they had followed her, then that meant they didn’t know where she lived and more than likely her sisters would be safe. If she could keep that information to herself until tomorrow, then Jake would find them alone at the farm by morning and take them back to the saloon. They’d be safer there with him.
She just had to make it through the night. The thought made her heart pound in her ears. These men wouldn’t give up until she told them whatever they wanted to know. They weren’t taking her to keep her tied up; they were taking her to force her to talk. She closed her eyes to fight back the treacherous tears that threatened. Whatever happened, she could endure it as long as she knew the children would be spared. She had to; they needed her.
The pretty one moved forward to his horse, a beautiful animal whose coat shimmered black in the moonlight with a pretty white star pattern between his eyes. What sort of outlaw owned such a magnificent creature? With the force of his body propelling her toward the horse whether she wanted to go or not, she didn’t have time to ponder the answer to that question. When they reached it, he stopped and looked down at her. She knew because his breath was suddenly very close to her ear, sending a strange tingle shooting through her, making her turn her head away to stop it.
“I can sit you in front of me without tying you down, if you promise to behave.”
“Go to the devil.” She bit the words out between clenched teeth.
His chuckle was anything but reassuring. Before she could anticipate his movement, he picked her up and sat her awkwardly across the saddle. When she would have kicked out, he grabbed her ankles and wrapped the length of rope hanging from her wrists around them, so that she was literally bound hands to feet. Then he mounted behind her and placed an arm securely around her waist and pulled her back against him.
His breath brushed her ear as he spoke. “We have a ways to go, so use the time to think hard about telling us the truth. No one wants you to get hurt.”
She almost scoffed, but held herself in check. Ship had brought home plenty of men like these. Ruthless men who wouldn’t hesitate to hurt her if it got them what they wanted. Though Ship had taken care of her and her sisters in his own way, by giving them shelter and the most basic of necessities, their lives with him were far from safe. She lived in constant fear of his enemies finding them at home alone, or even Ship’s own men becoming disgruntled and taking their anger out on one of them. It was bound to happen eventually and it looked as if it finally had. She hated to admit it, but if it meant keeping Rose and Ginny safe, she would have already given him and Pete up if she only knew where they were.
* * *
The ride to the abandoned miners’ shack took a little over two hours. Though she’d held herself stiff for the first hour so that she wouldn’t touch him any more than necessary, the girl had eventually relaxed into him. Hunter had to admit that he liked how that felt. He liked her in his arms, warm and soft, her faintly floral scent teasing his nose so that he was imagining far more of her body than he wanted to. Once or twice her ragged coat had fallen open, revealing the creamy flesh that her dress put on display. He’d pulled it closed both times, because it was cold and because he didn’t want to dwell on how much he liked looking at her. She was an attractive woman, but still, the way he wanted her was embarrassing. His loyalty to his brothers was more important to him than anything else. But this was asking too much.
It was almost with relief that he pulled up in front of the shack and dismounted. A glance at her face confirmed that the fear she’d been fighting had taken hold. Her eyes were wide with it and her hands trembled as he massaged them to ensure good blood flow. When she met his gaze, he had to look away from the force of it and remind himself that they were doing this for Miguel. Miguel, a stupid kid with a big heart who’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time. He didn’t deserve to be taken any more than she did. But there was no telling what that coward Ship Campbell had done to him, so if there was any chance at all that she knew where Miguel was, they had to find out.
Without a word to her, he easily lifted her over his shoulder and walked toward the shack they had staked out before heading into town. The word ‘shack’ was generous. It was a small, one-roomed affair, just large enough to keep a man out of the elements, with a crudely built hearth and place for a bedroll. If the four of them slept here tonight, they’d almost be shoulder to shoulder.
If Campbell hadn’t taken Miguel to retaliate for his pal’s death, Hunter would be at home in Helena by now surrounded by the luxury he’d once taken for granted, yet had come to appreciate in his years of riding with the gang. Their activities necessitated weeks camped outside and meals that were humble at best. The fact that Miguel had been kidnapped just after their last job, thus delaying his trip home, only angered him more.
Zane had already lit the lamp in the single room and was kneeling at the hearth to start a fire when Hunter walked in with her. No one was around to see their smoke, and even if there was, they’d be long gone before anyone came to check it out in the morning. Setting her on her feet, he took the knife from his belt and bent to cut the rope from her ankles and then her wrists. It only took a moment to jerk the old coat off her shoulders and down her arms, before catching her wrists again and tying them—despite her protests—and looping the end of the rope around the low rafter in the ceiling. She gasped when he pulled it tight so that her arms were raised high above her head and only her toes touched the ground. Though she didn’t say a word, her eyes were accusatory, making him feel like a bastard for putting fear into them.
He took a step back to get a good look at her in the light. Her dark hair had loosened so that it tumbled in disarray almost down to her waist. Her features were delicate and gentle, pretty in a wholesome way that wouldn’t normally hold very much attraction for him. He liked experienced women who expected nothing more than a fun night. But there was something more in her pretty face. A challenge. A secret. Something that made him want to study her longer.
His gaze caught hers and held as her eyes blazed at him, anger beating the hell out of the fear that was also there. It displaced but couldn’t completely hide her interest in him, lurking in their depths. Was she even aware that it was there shining out at him? No, she didn’t know what she was revealing to him. Her eyes were wide with an openness that was almost naive. It drew him in, even though he knew it couldn’t be real. She worked in a saloon. She knew men.
Turning on his heel with a muffled curse, he glared at Zane who was standing, having just finished with the fire. “Don’t
touch her. She’s mine.” He’d meant that he would handle the interrogation, but the words felt too right. Too primal. This was a bad idea. Zane flashed him a knowing grin and held his hands up in compliance.
Hunter was fuming as he walked outside and over to where Cas was taking care of the horses. Without bothering to say a word, he tore into one of his saddlebags to make sure it was the one with the food he’d stashed there earlier in the day. Dried beef, not exactly the supper he’d been hoping for, but it was all they’d get that night and it looked like much of his portion would go to the girl.
“Hunter?” Cas’s voice cut through his anger.
“What?”
“Taking her was our only choice. Even if she doesn’t know anything, which I still don’t believe is true, we need her to exchange for Miguel.”
Cinching the leather bag closed, he glared at his brother. “Zane won’t talk to her. I’ll do the interrogating.”
“Hunter—” But whatever he was planning to say, he stopped when he noted the determination on Hunter’s face.
“You’re my brother, Cas. I joined up with you because what happened with your grandfather—his murder, the money stolen from your family—was horrible. I want to help you restore your family’s empire and bring his killers to justice. I vowed to help you do that and I meant it. But the girl isn’t part of that.” He nodded toward the shack. “She’s mine.”
Cas took in a deep breath, clearly torn between his need to find Miguel quickly and his respect for his half brother. Finally, he relented. “You have until morning. If she doesn’t talk by then, I’ll have no choice.”
“She will.” Hunter smiled, slinging the saddlebag over his shoulder and tucking his bedroll under his arm, before going to confront his captive. She’d talk by morning, because he had no intention of letting Zane—or anyone else—touch her. She was his.
The Innocent and the Outlaw (Outlaws of the Wild West) Page 3
