Guns & Smoke

by Lauren Sevier

  “Then you think of something,” he said.

  “Who said I wanted to name my horse?” I asked teasingly. I sat straighter in my saddle, tipping my hat back. “Jesse James and the Horse with No Name.”

  “That has the makings of a tall tale, farm boy. There may be hope for you as an outlaw yet,” Bonnie said. A wave of heated satisfaction shuddered through me. I didn’t look at her. I didn’t trust myself not to say something stupid.

  “Jesse can’t be an outlaw,” The Kid said matter-of-factly. I looked over at him with a brow lifted.

  “Why not?” Bonnie asked.

  “He doesn’t follow any of the rules,” he said. My mouth hung open at the blatant disdain in his eyes. Bonnie stifled a laugh by biting her bottom lip. That damn lip. She met my gaze before sitting straighter in the saddle.

  “You have a point, Kid,” she said.

  With a click of my tongue, I dug my heels into No Name’s sides to pick up the pace. I don’t follow the rules? Well, they weren’t wrong, but that didn’t mean I had to admit it.

  The sun continued its long descent toward the western horizon behind us. We didn’t stop for most of the afternoon. Instead, we opted for walking the horses at a lazy pace and ate in the saddle. We left Lamesa too late and were too distracted this morning to make any real progress. By the time we stopped to make camp, my back and shoulders were tense from riding. I tried not to watch Bonnie as we moved about the camp. Tried, and failed. She spent time with The Kid, showing him how to set up an old tent.

  While I set out the bedrolls, she watched him take the tent down and put it back up until he could do it by himself. His chest stuck out with pride as he turned to me with a grin on his face. I smiled at him. For a moment, I saw myself at his age, learning how to take apart the car Pop had kept in the barn. Remembering him was normally hard, but right then, it was like looking at a mirror. Except I was Pop, and Harry was me.

  Life would never be the same, but that didn’t mean we stopped living it.

  Bonnie crawled inside the tent with him. I stoked the small fire I’d built, straining to hear what story she’d decided to tell him tonight. Instead, all I heard were muffled voices and the crackle of the fire. I settled back against our bedrolls. We’d stopped laying them out separately at all now. I stared into the flames as they licked the black sky, impatiently waiting for her. My hands tingled at the thought of touching her, of kissing her, of doing all of the things I’d imagined doing to her.

  The zipper of the tent stole my attention. Bonnie stood there, staring at me. I was the exception. I sat up, resting one of my arms on a knee. Alone. Finally. I wanted to finish what we’d started this morning, what we’d started all of those weeks ago in that alley. She crossed toward the fire, her breath fogging on the chilly air. I was anything but cold.

  “The Kid’s asleep,” she said, her voice breathy.

  “Good,” I said gruffly. I caught her by the wrist, and with one quick tug, she dropped onto a knee before me. Her blue eyes darkened as I lifted a hand to her cheek. She crawled toward me until there was less than a hair’s breadth between us.

  “Rule breaker,” she said, her breath hot on my lips. Her voice was low and husky. I leaned forward, bypassing her lips to brush my mouth against her neck. Bonnie’s head tipped back, a moan escaping from deep in her throat.

  “You said I was an exception,” I said against her pounding pulse. I ran my hand down her throat, reveling in her smooth skin. It came to rest at her neckline, stroking the smooth skin of her breast. “So, which is it? Do I break your rules or am I an exception to them?”

  “Yes,” she breathed.

  Bonnie’s hands found my shoulders, but they didn’t stop there. She raked her nails down the center of my chest. I tensed at the enticing contact, tangling my fingers in her dark hair. Tension had been building for weeks now. Bonnie’s breath hitched, and something sparked between us. She wanted me. I was her exception. Our desire flared to life, and my mouth crashed down against hers. I wasn’t gentle. I needed to taste her, needed to feed this sensation raging out of control within me. She whimpered into my mouth, and I swallowed the sound. I consumed her.

  Every look, every touch, every moment. With each desperate, clinging breath, she got closer. Arching her back, wriggling her hips, yielding to me in ways I’d scarcely imagined she ever would. She would be the ruin of me, and if this was what it felt like, I would happily let her be my destruction. We twisted until she was beneath me. Her hair splayed against our bedding, her eyes glazed in desire. She reached for me then. Even if she destroyed the Jesse who’d made that long journey from Montana, she would rebuild me into a new man.

  The fire Bonnie had started back in Vegas raged out of control. We collided together in an explosion of sparks and flame. She clung to me, fisting her hands in the front of my shirt. I hooked one of her legs around my waist, settling deliciously against her.

  It could have been minutes or it could have been days. I’d lost track, and I’d gladly never find it again.

  Animalistic groans came from the back of Bonnie’s throat as my hands explored every curve and hollow of her body, committing her to memory. My hand slipped beneath the fabric of her shirt, cupping her breast. Her back arched into my touch, pressing her breast further into my hand. I pulled back to watch her expression. My thumb brushed a quick circle at its peak, her body shuddering in pleasure.

  Bonnie had scorched herself like a brand on my skin in that alleyway. Now I would finally return the favor.

  Chapter Seventeen - Bonnie

  Every touch, every kiss, every breath felt new and thrilling, as if I’d never experienced any of these things before Jesse. His hands were on my breasts, teasing and exploring with equal parts adoration and fervor. Until he’d wrenched an anguished moan from my mouth. I wanted to feel him. I wanted to feel his body on top of me, inside of me, behind me. I wanted to feel the heat of his skin, sliding against mine.

  The rasp of his callused hands slipped from my breasts to stroke the midsection of my torso. Long, elegant fingers tracing the curve of my ribs and the flat planes of my stomach. Then back again. The friction was maddening, a shiver of pleasure racing up my spine. I couldn’t catch my breath. I needed to feel him.

  I reached between us, fumbling with his belt as the fire burning low in my belly blazed out of control and threatened to reduce me to ash. His hand pulled my wrist away. I whimpered into his mouth.

  “Not yet,” he said, his deep canyon voice forcing my eyes to his face. “For weeks, all I’ve thought about was what I wanted to do to you when I had you beneath me again.” He changed his position, his wicked hand sliding down the length of my body as I squirmed beneath the friction of that motion. “First,” he said, kissing my open mouth and popping the top button on my jeans, “I’m going to touch you.” He slid the zipper down slowly. “Everywhere.”

  Then that wicked hand disappeared beneath the waistband of my jeans.

  My entire world narrowed to the place where he touched me, slick heat flaring bright within me. The evidence of my desire flooded over his fingers, and a satisfied smile curled deep across his mouth. He stroked me, his eyes cataloguing each jerk of my hips or muffled groan. Until I was lost, mindless and adrift, being dragged along as his motions came faster and faster. Tossing my head back, I barely muffled the loud moan that ripped free from the back of my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut, writhing beneath his touch as my heart slammed against my ribs. My hips bucked, and I made breathy, desperate noises as I raced towards the peak of my pleasure, begging him to let me fall over.

  “No,” Jesse said, his voice a hard growl. “Look at me. I want to watch you.”

  His hand slowed. My eyes shot open in desperation, and he raced me to the edge of my oblivion. He cradled my face, guiding my gaze until all I could see was the blue fire of his eyes as I tumbled. I bit back my scream of release into a choked cry as pleasure shuddered through me, until I was pliant in Jesse’s arms, sinking in a trembling heap ont
o the bedding. His hand slid free from my jeans. I reached up to him, kissing him softly.

  “We aren’t done yet,” he said as soon as I pulled back. A self-satisfied grin curled on his mouth. “I’m going to taste every inch of you and show you exactly what you missed on that train.”

  “Oh,” I said, still trying to catch my breath.

  “Then, when you think you’re spent, I’m going to give you a real reason to bite that lip of yours.” He leaned forward to bite my bottom lip gently.

  “Were you expecting me to argue?” I asked. He laughed against my neck as his mouth left a hot trail down to my collarbone. His stubble scraped against my too-sensitive skin, still flushed from moments before.

  Click.

  The soft sound almost didn’t register. Almost.

  “Jesse,” I whispered as the barrel of a gun came into focus above us. He stilled, his entire body taut in an instant. Where a second before there’d been stifling heat, suddenly I was plunged back into reality and the frigid night air. It must’ve been the cold that made my body tremble involuntarily.

  “Get up,” an unfamiliar voice said. From my view on the ground, I couldn’t make out the man’s face. Jesse moved slowly, deliberately, pushing to his feet and angling his body between the barrel of the gun and me. My mind went blank. A weapon, I need a weapon, I thought desperately, but I immediately dismissed the idea. It wasn’t just me alone anymore; if I made any sudden moves, the man would shoot Jesse, and a bullet wound at this range would be catastrophic.

  Just the thought of that paralyzed me with fear.

  “What d’ya think, Sean?” the man asked, looking Jesse up and down. “One in the knee? He’ll have a limp, but he looks strong enough that the workhouses in New York would still pay for him.”

  “You could’ve let him finish,” another voice said. A tall man with a bright smile stepped from the darkness just beyond the campfire. His smile was cold and lascivious as he stalked toward me in loping strides. “Look at this one. She’ll be worth a pretty penny.”

  Slavers.

  I refused to let my eyes wander back to the tent. It took every ounce of self-control inside of me not to check if they’d discovered where The Kid slept. The tall man, Sean, raked his eyes over my disheveled clothes and swollen mouth. He scrutinized me until his expression faded into one of hated recognition. Dread unfurled within me.

  “It’s you!” he said, something dark in the cadence of his words. “The bitch from the wanted posters. Because of you, there have been slave revolts along our route. I don’t usually sully the merchandise, but I think I’ll make an exception.” His eyes darkened in a way that was too familiar, and the echo of the broken little girl I once was raged forward. Suddenly it was like I was back under that bed as the men broke down our door.

  “Look at you,” a man said, but all I could see were his boots shuffling closer to my mom’s bare feet, the laced edge of her skirt resting just above her ankles.

  “Looks like she was just waiting for a real man to show her a good time,” another voice said, the edge of something dangerous in the words.

  Small and quiet. Mommy told me to be small and quiet.

  “It’d be a shame to leave her so unsatisfied, wouldn’t it?” The man’s words snapped me out of my memory and plunged me back into the danger I faced here. Now.

  “If you touch her, I’ll fucking kill you.” Jesse’s deep canyon voice rumbled through the air.

  “Tough words,” the man with the gun said, pressing the barrel flush to Jesse’s forehead and walking him a few paces away from me.

  I scrambled, trying to get my feet underneath me so that I could run. Before I could even rise all the way, the tall man threw me down bodily. My head cracked against the ground, and a high-pitched ringing sounded in my ears.

  “No! Please!” my mom screamed as she was thrown to the floor. She scrambled with large, dirty hands that ripped her dress open. All of her struggles were futile; the man tore the lace edge of her night dress off, exposing her skin to his punishing touch.

  I’m not her.

  His hands reached to me, and instead of swatting at them ineffectually, I raked my nails down his face, aiming for his eyes. His skin caught beneath my nails, and dark lines of blood followed them. He roared, his fist thudding against my face. Stars exploded behind my eyes, and his hands ripped my shirt, bruising my skin while he explored. I tried to blink away the disorientation of the blow.

  “Not the face!” the other man called, chuckling.

  “You’ll pay for that, bitch,” my attacker said, shuffling to loom over me. Fear forced my thundering heartbeat into my throat, choking me. A sob escaped, and the tall man grinned wider, encouraged by the weak sound. I pushed against him, but he was immovable, my struggles amusing him.

  They pushed up her skirts, and I squeezed my eyes tight. I was all alone in the darkness now, surrounded by the sounds of my own terrified breaths, the clink of a belt buckle, and Mommy’s crying.

  “Stop!” I cried, tears tumbling unbidden to drip unattractively off of my chin. He fumbled with his belt buckle. Using his weight against me, oppressive and suffocating, he pushed my jeans lower as he moved to position himself between my thighs.

  “Please,” I sobbed. The desperate plea wavered in the air before a gunshot pierced the night.

  Jesse.

  My tears fell faster, the realization rattling me to my foundation. They shot Jesse. I renewed my struggle, even if it was pointless. Suddenly, the man’s weight was ripped away, and the cold night air rushed into the empty space where he’d been moments before.

  Thoughts formed and shattered in the seconds that followed. My hands shook so badly it took me two tries to pull my jeans up and fasten them. The sound of a fist slamming into flesh resounded around me, but I couldn’t focus on anything. Rolling to my side, then struggling to my feet. Each motion felt too heavy. Too slow.

  The man with the gun lay in a dark pool of blood. I swung my eyes over to the struggling figures on the ground; Jesse’s broad shoulders shifted as he brought his fist down again and again. Relief threatened to knock me back to the sand. Alive, he was alive.

  I crossed to my saddlebag, pulling the M9 out with more effort than it should have taken. The weight dragged my arm down in a way it never had before. My eyes burned with tears that rolled down my cheeks, making tracks in the desert dust coating my skin. The tent flap was open, and I shuffled on legs that were too heavy to peer inside.

  The Kid was gone.

  I took a moment, only one, to gulp in a steadying breath. I had to swallow down this numbness that held me fast in its grip. When I opened my eyes, I assessed the area. There’d been a struggle, and The Kid was dragged south.

  My mother’s eyes were wide and unseeing, and I couldn’t stop screaming. The same large, dirty hands that’d hurt her reached under the bed and dragged me out. Wrenching my arm so hard it went numb. I kicked and clawed and never stopped screaming. I just wanted to wake her up. She had to wake up. She couldn’t let them take me. Why was she letting them take me?

  I stumbled as I began to jog, nearly falling before I managed to get my feet beneath me. Another gunshot rang out behind me. Jesse called my name. He would catch up, he was fast, he always caught up to me. My feet pounded harder against the ground. Dark shapes in the distance caught my attention. It didn’t matter that my lungs felt like they were going to burst. All that mattered was The Kid.

  I promised him that nothing bad would happen while he was in my care.

  I promised.

  Another man was dragging The Kid towards a wagon, a knife flush against The Kid’s throat. Something inside of me snapped seeing him like that. With a flick of my finger, the safety was off of the M9. I slowed my running to a jog.

  “Stop right there, you sick son of a bitch!” I shouted, the words raw and deadly.

  “You come any closer and I’ll kill him,” the man said. He pressed the blade of the knife harder against The Kid’s throat. The Kid’s bo
dy tensed, and he hissed in fear, fat tears wobbling in the corners of his eyes. I leveled the M9 at the man. Jesse reached us a moment later, panting, skidding to a stop beside me.

  “Get,” I growled, teeth bared as I shook with a rage I didn’t know I was capable of. “Your dirty.” I took another step, watching as the man’s eyes widened. “Fucking hands.” I adjusted the sight of the M9 right between his eyes, hand steady for the first time. “Off of my Kid.”

  “You wouldn’t da—"

  His words cut off when I squeezed the trigger. The world exploded around me. His arm fell slack before he slumped to the ground. The Kid rushed forward, slamming into me and burying his head against my stomach, wrapping frantic arms around me. I buried my trembling fingers in his hair, the M9 dropping to the dust. Whatever strength I’d gathered to chase The Kid down evaporated as soon as he was in my arms.

  “Kid, I—"

  But I fell to my knees before I could warn him. My trembling hands ran over his face and his neck, checking for wounds that weren’t there.

  “Did he hurt you?” I asked, my voice a garbled mess. He shook his head, and my bottom lip quivered. I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes, but it didn’t stop the tears. The weight of this night slammed down on me with full force. I clutched my stomach, as if that would plug the flood of bitter memories that’d haunted me my entire life. I understood now. I understood why my mother didn’t fight harder that night, why she’d endured the worst kind of violence.

  Love. She loved me enough that even the thin prospect of my safety made her sacrifice everything. For me. The same way I would have tonight for The Kid. My sorrow carried me away, and I crumpled. I mourned for the mother I’d lost, and the woman I could have been.

  Jesse’s arms were around me before I could rake in another ragged breath, lifting me onto feet that wouldn’t support my weight anymore. His fingers tangled in my hair as he pressed my cheek to his chest, the steady thump of his heart a soothing rhythm. My body shuddered with wracking sobs, and I clenched his shirt in my quaking fists. I couldn’t hold myself upright, but that didn’t matter to Jesse. He held me tight until my tears slowed and my breathing normalized. His callused hands were soft against my face, wiping away the wetness.