“No.” He held the binoculars loosely at his side with one hand while bringing the flask to his lips with the other and taking a drink. The muscles working in his throat held her mesmerized as he swallowed and she knew then that it would be her life’s regret not to see more of those glorious muscles of his.
When he lowered the flask, she realized that he had caught her staring at him. His darkened gaze settled on her lips briefly before meeting her eyes, both of them reliving that kiss. His eyes were hot, blazing across the few feet separating them. “If my brothers are the giant and the Spaniard, who am I?”
“What do you mean?” Her heart pounded in her throat once before it skidded to a complete halt.
Taking another pull off the flask, he grinned. “I understand why you’d name him the giant. He’s one of the biggest men I’ve ever met. And the Spaniard, well, that’s obvious, too. But what have you named me?”
“I—I—what? Nothing. Nothing! I haven’t named you anything.” Her entire face flamed as her heartbeat seemed to have returned to beat an absurdly loud tempo in her ears. If she had to admit to naming him “The Pretty One” she’d die right here in this cave.
He was smiling as he looked down to screw the cap back on the flask and set it beside him. He was laughing at her and she was torn between dying of embarrassment and panicking because he wasn’t drinking the sleeping powders and she knew as diluted as they were, the little he’d had wouldn’t be enough.
“Let’s see.” He was still amused when he looked back up at her, seeming to consider his options. “You’ve named us based on our obvious physical attributes, so what’s the most prominent thing about me?”
She squeezed her eyes closed, certain that her nickname for him would be obvious. He knew he was pretty. Hell, Jake had known he was pretty.
“It doesn’t really matter, does it?”
“That bad, huh?”
“No, not that bad.” She opened her eyes to see him still watching her, one arm draped lazily over his knee, the whiskey still at his side. How was she ever going to get him to drink more? “Take another drink and I’ll tell you.” She blurted those words out before she could figure out anything.
His brow furrowed and he looked down at the whiskey and then back at her. What a way to make him suspicious, Em! Dear Lord, she was horrible at this, whatever this was. Subterfuge. Finesse. Being clever.
“It’s embarrassing.” It was the only explanation she could offer. Still unable to get her brain wrapped around a coherent thought tight enough to formulate a plan, she walked on her knees to sit beside him while still facing him and grabbed the flask. Her fingers worked to unscrew the cap as she met his gaze. Lord, she couldn’t force him to drink.
Or could she? Her gaze shot to his mouth and her lips tingled as she imagined it on hers, a hasty plan formulating. “Will you promise not to say anything if I tell you?”
He nodded once. The mood had sobered and she wasn’t entirely sure what it meant. “I promise.” His deep voice filled the small gap between them, vibrating across her senses.
Staring at the stubbled hair on his chin, she whispered, “You’re ‘The Pretty One’.”
He kept his promise and didn’t answer. His lips parted as if he might say something, but he paused and closed them as he took the flask from her, tipping his head back just enough to take a long drink.
She felt like a ridiculous little girl admitting she’d taken a fancy to the older gentleman in one of the Gothic novels her mother had favored. Chancing a look at his eyes, she saw they weren’t laughing at her. Not anywhere close to laughing. He was staring at her with that same intoxicating look that made the green appear so vivid. The one that made her think he was imagining kissing her. That look didn’t make her feel like a little girl at all.
Taking the flask back from him, she took a swig of the laced whiskey, the rich, oak taste of the amber liquid sitting on her tongue as she held it in her mouth. Her gaze locked on his lips, she leaned forward slowly, anticipation making her skin prickle until her lips pressed to his. They parted beneath her and she fed him the warm liquid. He made a rough sound in the back of his throat as he drank from her. When he’d taken it all, his tongue teased across her lips, dipping inside to brush against her tongue. She wasn’t prepared for the answering flare of heat deep in her belly and a small moan escaped her.
His hands immediately seized her waist and dragged her astride his lap, strong fingers unyielding on her hips as he pulled her into him. She gasped aloud at the shock of his hard arousal pressed against her so intimately, but he chased her mouth with his, covering it with his as he pushed up against her. The flesh between her thighs grew wet with her desire, making her ache from the rough contact and the need to be closer. Her fingers clenched tightly in his hair as she stroked his tongue, needing more from him.
Only the need for air drew them apart, then he just pressed kisses to the corner of her mouth and then her chin as he pulled back far enough to look at her. His scent was all around her and she realized just how much she craved it. Need burned hot in his eyes as they held hers briefly before he took her lips again, devouring her with his kiss. His hands moved in a slow circular caress up and down her hips, finally moving to fill themselves with her bottom which he squeezed gently as he rocked her into his hard arousal. A whimper escaped her as the ache increased in intensity.
“Emmy.” Her name whispered against her lips made her stomach flip pleasantly. “When this is over with Campbell... I want you.” He took her mouth again in a rough kiss, his tongue slipping between her lips to brush hers.
“I want you, too.” The words were out before she could stop them. It would never happen. When this was over with Ship she’d be long gone. But it was a pleasant idea, even if it was wrong in so many ways. She wanted him so badly that it was taking away her reasoning. Would it be so bad to lie with him just once?
Yes! The accusation was so loud in her head that it made her draw back from him. She wouldn’t become her mother. She wouldn’t become a whore. Her virtue was the only thing she had any control over and she couldn’t let this happen.
“I’m sorry.” She pulled back so abruptly that she felt the need to apologize. But the wounded look on his face made her offer a jumbled explanation. “I...my mother... I shouldn’t.”
“What’s wrong?” His hands were so tender as they touched her face that more words poured out.
“I’m so afraid of becoming like her...a whore.” She had no idea why she was giving voice to her deepest fear. To him. Probably because she knew that he wouldn’t remember any of this. His voice had thickened as the powders were already starting to take hold.
“Dear God, Emmy, do you really think that you ever could be?” The intensity on his face was as if she had blasphemed.
Furrowing her brow, she nodded. “Yes, sometimes it’s not a choice.”
“That’s not who you are.”
“You don’t know who I am.”
“No, I don’t.” He eyes held hers and refused to let go. “But you’re not a whore. No matter what happens, that’s not who you are. My own mother used her body for profit. Believe me, I’m familiar with that type of woman.”
“Your mother worked in a brothel?”
He smiled and it was distinctly self-deprecating. “No, nothing so honest as that. She did her work in a marriage bed with a husband she didn’t want. It’s rather the same thing, don’t you think?” He paused then and stroked his thumbs over her cheekbones, trailing fire across her skin. “That’s not who you are. You could sell your body every night and that’s not who you would be.”
She couldn’t stop the sudden ache in her throat or the blush that stained her face. No one had ever paid attention to who she was before. No one had cared to notice. Words wouldn’t move past the thickness of her throat, so she kissed him instead. A slow, lingering kiss that s
he hoped let him know her gratitude.
He groaned softly and put his arms around her again, squeezing her bottom to pull her against him and deepen the kiss. Pulling back slightly, he blazed a path of hot kisses down her neck. “I want to know all about you,” he whispered against her skin.
She knew the feeling. She wanted to lie with him and talk to him for hours, for days. She wanted him to open up to her even more. Pressing her face to his hair, she breathed in the intoxicating scent of leather and man, knowing it was for the last time. If only they had met some other way. If only Ship wasn’t his enemy. If only she had a different life.
“And I want to know you.” She pulled him up to kiss him again, stopping whatever other silly promises he might want to make. She knew they weren’t real. His eyes were clouded and muddled. He’d forget everything that happened.
His hands moved back to cup her face and he was surprisingly strong when he pulled back to look at her. “When this is over—”
“When this is over,” she agreed, cutting him off before he could finish.
Then he gave her a tongue-tangling kiss that sent tendrils of longing through her whole body, making her long for a few more minutes with him, but sooner than she would have liked his hands dropped to his sides and his body relaxed beneath her. Pulling back to make sure his eyes were closed in sleep, she gave into the urge to brush her lips against his one last time before getting to her feet. She covered him with his coat and picked up the canteen, debating on taking it or leaving it. He’d seemed confident that his brothers would find them that night, but she wasn’t sure and knew the powders would leave him dehydrated and thirsty when he awoke, so she placed it beside him, giving him one last lingering look. She did take one of his guns, extra bullets, most of the jerky and the bedroll before heading down the mountain to where he’d tied his horse.
The large black snorted at her when she tried to put the saddle on his back and pranced to the side. It took her four tries, her arms burning from the exertion, before she finally made it. She tried to calm him just as she’d seen his master do it by running her hand down his neck, but he was having none of it and tossed his head away. Grumbling under her breath, ever aware of the sun sinking behind the mountains, she tied her supplies down and took a firm grip on the reins to lead him downward. There was no way she was chancing a mount until they were on level ground.
The narrow path seemed to take hours to navigate, but finally she was wading through the grass, grasshoppers jumping out of her way. “Okay, beast, just hold still and I promise this won’t hurt either of us,” she whispered to the animal as she put her foot in the stirrup. With a quick prayer, she swung her other leg over his back, holding on for her life when he pranced beneath her. It seemed he didn’t like what was happening any more than she did.
Once she was settled she glanced to the south, toward her home and her sisters. Her heart clenched with the pain of the decision she had to make. She couldn’t go back there just yet. The outlaws would find her easily and even if they didn’t, her problems wouldn’t be solved. She had to find a way to get the girls to safety. That meant getting them away from Ship and his outlaw life. This could quite possibly be her only chance to do that. Her sisters would be fine with Jake for a few days, just long enough for her to do what she had to do and come back for them. With a quick glance of regret up the mountain and the man she’d left sleeping, she turned the horse north.
An idea had been forming in her mind over the past two years, but she’d never been brave enough to act on it. Never desperate enough. Now she had no other choice. She had to keep her sisters out of danger, she had to take back control of her life, even if it meant following in her mother’s footsteps for one night. At least she’d have the rest of her life to be free of men like Ship.
Chapter Nine
Hunter opened his eyes to a searing headache and a heavy feeling deep in his gut that said something was wrong. Horribly wrong. His eyelids felt as if they weighed ten pounds each, but he managed to open them with some effort. When he did his eyes were gritty and his mouth was as dry as if he’d eaten a bucket of sand. The world swung precariously as he sat up, hanging his head between his knees until his stomach settled and everything righted itself.
What the hell happened? It took a moment longer for the fog hanging over his brain to lift and for him to get his bearings. He lifted his head and realized that he was still in the cavern, then it all came rushing back. The saloon, the kidnapping, the woman who’d been such a complete surprise, that kiss. Holy hell, that kiss.
Emmy! He rose so fast he banged his head on the rock ceiling of the cavern. “Dammit!” Pressing a hand to the wound, he crouched, looking around to see if he could find her, but the cavern was empty. Maybe she’d gone out to stretch her legs.
He prayed—prayed for the first time in years—that the bastard who’d been shooting at them hadn’t come back and found her. He wasn’t entirely certain the man had been one of Campbell’s. If he wasn’t, there was no telling what he’d do to her. Heart beating a harsh rhythm in his chest, he moved on his knees to the opening and peered out. It was mostly dark though, only a small sliver of sunset lighting the mountain. But it was enough to see the shadow coming up the path.
For one blessed moment relief filled his chest, but then Cas called his name and Hunter realized his earlier calls were what must have woken him.
“Hunter, you are here!” Cas called with relief. “We didn’t see the black and I thought something had happened.”
“He’s not there?” Tension coiled tight in his shoulders as he realized exactly what that meant.
“No, he’s not under the trees.” By this time Cas had come close enough that he could make out his brother’s furrowed brow. “Did you leave him somewhere else? Where’s the girl?”
“She’s gone.” The girl had poisoned him with something and then stolen his horse. That kiss had only been to catch him off guard, to make him take whatever drug she had put into his whiskey. It had all been an act. The little lying wench.
As he turned to grab his gear, a tiny light in some dark recess deep within him wondered if he was judging her too harshly. He’d looked deep into her eyes, he’d seen the uncertainty and longing within them, and he knew it had been more than just a kiss for her. Molars grinding together, he silently vowed to find her no matter what it took. He needed to get to the bottom of whatever this was between them.
* * *
Hunter stood in the foyer of Victoria House and seethed, his rage threatening to burn out of control. The girl had left him days ago and only one person stood in his way of getting her back. Social etiquette required that he at least wait for the woman descending the steps to actually reach the bottom before he strangled her.
“Now, Mr. Jameson, you’re not actually suggesting that I turn over the poor little dove who came to me for sanctuary? I’m sure it doesn’t bear repeating, but you know my stance on such matters.” Glory Winters, the madam of the most exclusive brothel in Helena, couldn’t have been more than thirty, but held herself like a queen. Stepping off the bottom step of the elaborately curved staircase, she came to a stop a few feet before him. The heels of her silk-encased slippers left tiny divots on the Persian rug in her wake. She was elegantly dressed as always in the latest fashion from Paris, in a gown of royal blue silk. The shining red of her hair, her crowning “glory”, was twisted up in a thick pile atop her head, impeccable as ever. He’d never wanted to shake it out of place as badly as he did right in this moment.
“Cut the bullshit, Glory. She’s mine and I want her back.” Days of dead ends and hard riding had left him short-tempered and ready for murder.
“Are the rest of you gentlemen as sociable as Mr. Jameson this evening?” Calm and collected, her rouged lips parted to flash a white smile as she looked over at Cas, who only scowled back, and then on to Zane, who raised a brow. Zane was t
he only one of the group to look as if he wasn’t fresh off the trail. He’d returned the day before and had had a day of food and rest.
Hunter knew that he himself must look at least as bad as Cas, neither of them having had a decent bath or shave since his brothers had found him in the cavern. They had left Zane to continue on to Helena with his charges while he and Cas had followed the girl’s tracks north. They’d lost them once she’d hit the train tracks. It had appeared she had followed the railroad east, her tracks leading them that way until they had disappeared. Once they had reached Billings, Hunter had checked the depot and found a telegram from Glory waiting.
The madam was the only one in Helena who knew they were the notorious Reyes Brothers. She had come to him once for help when men with money and greedy appetites had moved into town hoping to take over her business. Since then they had coexisted in Helena as associates, helping each other out when the need arose, which was rare since they generally kept their outlaw activities further south. But because of her unique position, she’d occasionally have access to information they needed.
During their cooperation, they had set up a system of alerts, just in case they ever needed to communicate. Glory had recognized his horse when the girl had arrived and sent a coded telegram to him that would be received at each stop along the railroad, both east and west. She hadn’t mentioned the girl in the telegram, just that his horse was in Helena and he’d hopped on the first train headed in this direction, hoping like hell that she was there, too.
There had been no time to send for his personal train car, so they’d endured the trip with minimal food and no baths. Once the train had reached Helena they’d found Zane waiting at the station and had come directly to the brothel. The comforts of home would have to wait until he found her.
“Glory.” It was a warning growl. The only one she’d get. He wouldn’t physically harm the madam, but he’d smash through every polished wood door in the sprawling, three-story mansion until he found Emmy.
The Innocent and the Outlaw (Outlaws of the Wild West) Page 9
