“I’m not stupid!” she shouted, not seeming to care about the commotion we were causing.
I touched my cheek, startled by her sudden reaction. She took a half step toward me, her chest puffed forward and hand balled into a fist, as though she wanted to hit me again. She considered it, then relaxed her fist.
“Not that I owe you an explanation, farm boy,” she said, running her fingers through the long, dark strands of her hair. “But you seem to have a hard time grasping the concept of a sexually empowered woman. So, before you start putting your meek little dairy maid standards on me, maybe you should shut up and listen.” She was shaking, and so was I.
“I was The Kid’s age when Jones started forcing me to help the crew run cons. The same con I pulled on you,” she said. A lump formed in my throat; I struggled to swallow around it.
“Only, the kind of men who’re lured by ten-year-old girls into dark alleys don’t have your gentlemanly tendencies.” She pressed a finger to my chest and bucked up to me, forcing me to take a step back.
“It was never about Will, or that guy last night, or you. It was about me. My body. My pleasure. My choice.” She turned then, her entire body shaking. Fury was in her eyes; my shoulders deflated. Silence stretched long between us, but she didn’t walk away.
“I already told you: you aren’t my type,” she said.
“And that Will guy is?” I said, my voice quieter than before.
“Yeah. He’s a piece of shit. Fucked up and broken, just like me.” Bonnie turned to face me, a sad smile on her lips. She let out a dark laugh. “You aren’t like that. You’re way too good for someone like me.”
Then she walked away. I watched her climb into the car and out of sight.
It hit me then, standing alone on the side of that train, that she and I had an agreement, but that agreement didn’t give me rights over her. It wasn’t my place to judge her or shame her for her decisions. That’s what they were. Hers.
Just like I could have fucked one of those women yesterday.
The difference was that I had feelings for her, and she didn’t give a shit about me.
Chapter Nine - Bonnie
Had it only been an hour? It’d felt like a hundred years. The train rocked before dragging forward and gaining speed. Finally. The silence was stifling. Even The Kid was too wary to speak. No doubt due to the glares shot like shrapnel between Jesse and me anytime either one of us accidentally caught the other’s gaze. Quanah, frustrated with her multiple ignored attempts at conversation, shuffled out of the train car on stiff limbs. I noticed her lumbering form through the small window of the car door.
The car door...
I needed this. I could feel the tremors of my past like a sluice in my mind, gashing open wide and threatening to drain the humanity from inside my skull. I let him kiss me, his mouth too eager as his large lips crushed against mine. It was too harried to be considered a good kiss, too greedy. I didn’t care. This wasn’t about indulgence. It was a necessity.
Will’s words echoed louder and louder in my mind. Reminding me of all the things Jones would do when he caught up to me. It’d been so close. Too close. Will’s hands had been on my skin. His blade pressed into my throat. Had it been his father, that blade would’ve dragged along my body until I begged for death.
I needed to sink into mindlessness. Needed the heat from this man’s skin to burn away all the darkness inside of me. I pushed him away, hard. His eyebrows knit together in confusion, until my hands dropped to my zipper and I stripped from the waist down. His eyes sank to the place between my thighs, hungry. I pulled myself up on top of the bar and spread my thighs shamelessly. A clear indication of what he should do next.
“You are so—”
“Shut up,” I said as he neared me, his hands slipping over my bare legs. Another clouded look of confusion. “I can’t imagine you’re someone else if you talk.” I pressed my hands to his shoulders until he dropped to his knees before me. I tried to order my thoughts, to imagine some other handsome stranger to distance myself from this, from everything. His breath on my inner thigh made me shudder. My eyes closed, and I tried to find the mindlessness I craved. At the first touch of his mouth against my flesh, an image of Jesse flashed in my mind.
No. I shouldn’t be thinking about him. I knew that, but my body disobeyed me.
Those lightning strike eyes darkened in pleasure as he pressed me to the ground beside the fire. His smug smile on the top of that red rock in the desert. The scent of him lingering in the sheets of the bed we’d shared. How I’d touched myself that morning remembering the echo of his arms wrapped tight around me.
The mindlessness grew into something else, not an escape anymore, not sweet oblivion. I chased the sensation, desperate for more. I buried my fingers in his hair and dragged him against me.
Jesse’s hips pressed too close to mine as we danced. His eyes lingering on my skin. Always lingering. How I felt those obsessive glances like fingertips all over my body.
More. I needed more. There was no mindlessness here. It was too real, too visceral, too fucking good. I moaned, unable to contain it. My body jerked on its own as I teetered on a knife’s edge of something reckless.
A slam forced my eyes open to stare at Jesse’s furious gaze before I shattered, gasping his name into the night. My pleasure rolled through me and left me feeling weak and spent. By the time I finished, Jesse was gone.
The betrayal in his eyes, however, lingered. No matter how I tried to forget, no amount of mindless pleasure would let me.
Shame heated my cheeks in a furious flush as Quanah slammed the car door shut. She crossed to me with a stony look of understanding that felt like she could peer into my mind. Quanah handed me a steaming mug of herbal tea without comment or question.
Jesse sat in the corner, eyes carefully averted, using a small pocketknife to clean his fingernails as I leaned against one of the crates. The Kid settled down near me. I took a sip of the tea and grimaced at the bitter taste.
“What is that stuff?” The Kid asked, and I didn’t know how to answer him. Naturally, he didn’t let it go until I sighed deeply and fixed him with a too-honest stare.
“I like you, Kid, but I don’t want one of my own.” I raised my glass in a toast and took another large gulp, choking it down. The taste wasn’t pleasant, but necessary. The angry words from earlier crowded the space between Jesse and me. There were things I said that I didn’t mean, others I couldn’t take back.
I fucked him because I feel out of control when I’m with you.
I couldn’t say that, though. I closed my eyes against The Kid’s incessant talking and remembered how it felt, waking up after Jesse held me all night. Surrounded by his scent on the sheets and the echo of his warmth on my skin. I’d woken up alone, sure that at some point I’d been tangled in his long limbs.
I’d never felt safer.
Maybe if I were a different person, that wouldn’t scare me so much.
“Bonnie, what’s rule number three?” The Kid asked. I blew some hair out of my eyes and turned to face his maelstrom of curiosity.
“Rule number three: keep your word,” I said, draining my cup and standing on the now-thundering train car, the vibrations forcing me to continuously shift my balance to stay upright. “Outlaws may steal, lie, or cheat.” I ruffled his hair affectionately. “But if we make a promise, we keep it.”
“Like the promise you made in Vegas?” he asked. The air shifted wrong in my throat, and my eyes widened. How did he know about that? My pulse thrummed in my ears at the thought that The Kid had heard my not-so-decent proposal to Jesse.
“When you promised nothing bad would happen to me or Jesse while you were with us?”
I breathed a sigh of relief. My eyes softened at his innocent expression. My fingers ran through his beautiful blonde hair, like sunlight reflecting around his face.
“Yeah, Kid, I meant that promise,” I said softly, my eyes sliding over to Jesse and offering a small, concili
atory smile. He didn’t smile back, but something tense around his eyes relaxed. I half stumbled towards the open car door, looping my hands through the bar at the top for stability and watching as the sun dipped lower in the sky and the desert raced past. The light was fading quickly now, and sooner than I wanted to admit, we would be in Santa Fe.
Then Roswell.
“You can stay with us,” The Kid said, stealing my attention from the desert landscape.
“What?” I said, blinking to clear my vision. I couldn’t have heard him correctly.
“When we find Mom and Pop, you should stay with us! Jesse and Pop won’t let Sixgun hurt you,” he said, the idea catching like a spark and burning into a blaze of excitement on his face. I stared, open-mouthed, unsure how to respond. My frantic gaze shot to Jesse, a silent plea for help, but there was a dark expression in his eyes that stilled my words. What could’ve possibly made him appear so guilty?
“Mom’s gonna like you a lot; she always talks about how she wished there were more girls around, and you can sing while Pop plays the piano and—"
“Kid,” I said, crossing the car to kneel down in front of him. “Listen—"
But I never got to say what I wanted. A high-pitched screeching resounded around us, and the car lurched as if stopping too quickly. I slammed backwards and slid a foot towards the open car door before the momentum of the train righted itself. Before I could stand, Jesse was there, having crossed the space in a few long strides. His hands were on my arms as he helped me stand.
I searched frantically for The Kid, who was crouched near Quanah, helping her into a sitting position. She groaned at the quick movements.
“More mechanical trouble?” Jesse asked Quanah, but her eyes were wide and panicked. A soft shake of her head sent my heart hammering against my ribs.
“We shouldn’t be stopping yet,” she confirmed with worried words. I swung towards Jesse with a plan already forming on my lips.
“I’ll check the other car,” he confirmed before I even had a chance to speak. As I began to step away from him, I realized our hands were gripped tightly together, fingers entwined unconsciously. When did we start holding hands? I offered a gentle squeeze before dropping them and making purposeful strides toward The Kid.
“What’s going on?” he asked, but I shook my head, gripping his arm tight and dragging him behind the metal crates on the far side of the car.
“Nothin’ good,” I said, eyes scanning for danger before falling to his fearful eyes and trembling lips. “Rule number four: always listen to your commanding officer.” His bottom lip stopped wobbling as he nodded. “Stay here. Okay?” He opened his mouth to protest, but I gripped his shoulders tight. “Stay hidden. Stay quiet. No matter what you see or hear, you don’t come out unless me or Jesse come get you. Got it?”
He clenched his teeth and nodded again. Fear rolled off of his tense shoulders; his hands shook as he white-knuckled the hilt of his knife. Fuck.
“Give me your knife,” I said. He gripped the hilt tightly. I pulled Selene out of my waistband and offered her to him on an open palm. Reluctantly, he unsnapped the knife from his belt and handed it over.
“Remember, that’s not a toy,” I said. He cradled Selene to his chest and sat behind the crates, eyes wide in understanding. I stood and began to make my way across the space.
Now that The Kid was settled, I needed to find Jesse and—
“There you are, Bonnie.” His voice was deep, slick with deadly intention, and too familiar. Sixgun. Frantically I unsheathed the knife and brandished it to the open car door and the darkness beyond. My heart crashed to my feet, and I struggled to breathe. Seeming to materialize from within the shadows themselves, Sixgun Ellis stepped onto the train car, his spurs echoing against the metal floor with each hateful step.
His smile was carnivorous, lips pulled back too far, exposing too many gleaming teeth in the dim light. Tipping up his black cowboy hat, he smirked at the small knife as my only defense against him. Heat pooled in the corners of my eyes, and I blinked it back, hard.
“Put the blade down,” he commanded. His hand rested easily on the silver gun at his hip that’d given him his name. The need to run was desperate within me; my muscles burned with an ache to burst into action.
“I’m not goin’ back, Sixgun. Not alive. You’ll bring my corpse back, but not me,” I said, voice raw. I turned the knife, pressing the blade to my throat. He laughed, a triumphant guffaw that put me even more on edge.
“I have a feeling you won’t be doin’ that,” he said, smacking his lips and letting out a low whistle. The car door slammed open, and three men dragged Jesse in. He fought against their hands, wrenching his arms as hard as he could, trying to get free. They slammed him onto his knees. My arm fell down to my side, my knife forgotten.
“Bonnie—”
His anguished cry was cut off as one of the men slammed the butt of his pistol against Jesse’s cheek. He cocked the hammer back and placed the barrel flush against the back of Jesse’s head. I wavered, lurching a half step towards him with a strangled shout before catching myself. What was I planning on doing? Sixgun held all the cards, and with a glance at his self-satisfied grin, it was clear he knew it too. Sixgun whistled low, his spurs clanging against the floor as he walked a few paces closer. My eyes never left Jesse; unspoken words rested on my lips, but the opportunity to speak them was wrenched away.
“This is the same bastard from Vegas; imagine my surprise to see you still runnin’ with him.” He clicked his tongue in disappointment as he crossed to Jesse. “That’s not like you at all.” Sixgun pulled out a large bowie knife from his gun belt, the metal glinting in the sparse lamplight as he reached towards Jesse. Not that knife.
“No!” I cried. I adjusted my grip on the hilt of the blade in my hand. “Leave him alone,” I growled, watching as amusement flicked across Sixgun’s face.
“Now, why would I do that? You know I don’t like it when other men touch my masterpieces,” he said, rounding on me, his madness flaring bright in the dark pits of his eyes. I swallowed down the fear that clawed its way up my throat and spared a glance at Jesse.
The choice was clear to me now. It was my life, my freedom, my dignity... or theirs. I couldn’t have both. I sucked in a terrified breath and steeled myself against the choice. I had a promise to keep, and only one way to keep it.
“What if I go quietly?” I asked.
“No!” Jesse shouted, lurching forward so violently, one of the men holding him fired a warning shot. The sound blasted through the air, everyone flinched, and Sixgun swore. How stupid did you have to be to fire a gun in a metal train car? In their distraction, Jesse renewed his struggle, and I forced my eyes away from him.
“Will you let them go?” I asked, voice steadier than I felt.
“It’s a deal,” he said. His sneer deepened as I dropped the knife, defeated. He advanced on me like a mountain lion striking down its prey. Sixgun’s thick fingers knotted themselves into my hair.
“Attagirl,” he said, fisting his hand tight against my scalp until my eyes watered. He dragged me forward, stumbling, and threw me bodily to the ground. I landed hard, my shoulder screaming in pain as I stifled a groan at the impact. Quanah cried out in protest, and Sixgun snarled at the interruption.
“You promised. Now let ‘em go,” I said, catching my breath as Sixgun meticulously began to undo his ornate belt and slip it through the loops on his jeans, one loop at a time, painfully slow.
“I said I’d let ‘em go. I didn’t say when. I think they should see what happens when you forget your place,” he said, leaning down to crowd me. I rose onto my elbows and spat in his face, watching with pleasure as he scraped the saliva from his cheeks.
The back of his hand cracked hard against my face. My teeth cut into the soft skin of my mouth, and I tasted blood. Pain flared bright behind my eyes, and I blinked to clear the black spots from my vision.
“Don’t you fucking touch her,” Jesse said, his deep
canyon timbre laced with a deadly tone I didn’t know he was capable of. Sixgun’s expression hardened as he turned to regard Jesse for a few long moments. Whatever he saw in Jesse forced a glint of malevolence into his dark eyes.
“‘Cause that would bother you,” he said, testing the words out on his tongue. Like he couldn’t understand why seeing someone hurt could possibly be hard to watch. “I wonder what’ll bother you more: when I split open her skin, or when I fuck her while she bleeds.”
His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip. I trembled in the face of his depravity. Fear cloaked me; I breathed it down into my lungs, and it sank into my skin. I wasn’t Bonnie the outlaw anymore. I was a scared little girl hiding helplessly beneath a bed, trying not to scream. Sixgun’s hands came down on my body, and my flesh recoiled from his greedy fingers. He started to rip at my jeans, and I kicked out against him, but he pressed a knee against my chest until the pressure built and I couldn’t breathe.
“I wonder if it bothers you that other men have touched your masterpiece,” Jesse said, spitting blood onto the metal floor. “Because I’ve had my hands all over her.” Sixgun stilled but didn’t turn to face Jesse. “I don’t think she’s your masterpiece anymore.”
Sixgun’s dark eyes held no remorse, no empathy, no spark of human emotion. He leaned down until I could feel his rancid breath in my mouth.
“Is that true?” he asked, something unhinged in his tone. I couldn’t speak. Heat gathered in my eyes, and my mouth opened wordlessly.
“Of course it’s true,” Jesse said, giving a bitter laugh. “You should ask the bartender she fucked last night.” A muscle in Sixgun’s jaw twitched, an indication he’d been pushed too far. Sixgun whirled to Jesse, knife flashing, and I screamed.
“No! Sixgun, please.” My words were calming, pleading, begging. The fear that’d paralyzed me a moment before spurred me into action now. I crawled, scrambling over the metal floor on hands and knees until I could wedge myself between Jesse and Sixgun’s knife.
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