Guns & Smoke

by Lauren Sevier

  I barely knew what it meant to be in love, only that the words had fought hard to tumble from my mouth last night. With his hands on my skin and my tears mirrored in his eyes, I’d nearly died keeping them to myself.

  Now, they didn’t matter.

  The sun dipped below the horizon as we made our way back into town, avoiding the worst parts since we were familiar with the gang territories here. The Kid swayed in Eagle’s saddle, refusing to admit he was tired because he didn’t want to give up his newfound responsibility. Without words, Jesse and I fell into our routine, finding a clean inn and tying the horses in front of it. Jesse helped The Kid out of the saddle and let him lean against him on weary feet as I finished tying the knots, patting Eagle’s neck affectionately.

  Clara watched, her brown eyes dark and calculating. An echo of the strategic glint I’d often seen in Jones’s gaze when he searched for weaknesses to exploit. I shook the thoughts away as soon as they entered my mind. Clara didn’t know me; of course she’d be cautious.

  As we bought the room for the night, I noticed the pool tables on the far side of the bar and the raucous laughter splitting the air. The woman behind the bar kept staring at my cheek, then glancing over to Jesse.

  We shuffled up to the room, and once there, The Kid tucked himself into the covers of one small bed and I ran my fingers through his hair until his breathing was deep and even. When I knew he was fast asleep, I turned dull eyes on Jesse and Clara, who were standing there awkwardly, staring at each other. I let out a weary sigh before turning to Jesse.

  “Get out.” His gaze snapped to mine, confused. “Clara and I need a few minutes. Wait outside,” I said with no room for objection. He swallowed hard, taking off his cowboy hat and ducking his head before the door clicked shut behind him. Pulling my pack off the floor and onto the bed, I turned to her, watching as her fingers twisted nervously in the fabric of her skirt.

  “Did they—"

  I couldn’t finish the words. Instead, I crossed to her and offered her what was left of my peppermint soap and some soft sleep clothes. She stared at the offered items, confused for a few minutes, her eyes regarding me suspiciously.

  “You must’ve been through a lot. If you need new clothes, we can get some in the morning, but this may be more comfortable to sleep in. You can shower if you want. If they...” I bit my lip and steeled my nerves. The memories of too-wide smiles and hard hands on my skin left a bitter taste in my mouth. “If they forced themselves on you, I have an herbal tea that will keep you from having a baby. Just let me know.”

  “Why are you being nice to me?” she asked, tone accusatory. My spine stiffened at the animosity in her voice. She crossed her arms over her chest as she waited for my answer.

  “You’re important to Jesse,” I said, because it was the only answer that didn’t remind me of how powerless I’d been last night. The encroaching darkness already set my nerves on edge. As if the men we killed would be able to materialize from the shadows in the corners of the room. She took a step forward, crowding me, her too-sweet smile turning feral in the dim light.

  “You care about him, don’t you?” she asked. I didn’t answer. I didn’t deny it either. Holding her stare for a few seconds too long. Until she could see clearly the answer in my eyes. “Let’s get one thing straight: Jesse is going to marry me. Whatever your past with him is, there are promises between us.”

  There are promises between us.

  Something Jesse and I never had. Promises. There were only deals, with time limits, and rules between us. Rules I’d broken. I smiled at her then, sarcastically, retreating behind the walls I thought had broken down for good. I turned my back on her with an incredulous shake of my head. Pulling out my shorts and a new top, cut low in a clingy black fabric, I changed quickly. A soft knock sounded on the door. Jesse, worried about what was taking so long. I don’t know how I knew it was him by the tentative sound alone, but I did.

  “You can come in,” I called. The door cracked open before he slipped inside. His blue eyes blazed at me as I studied my reflection in the small, clouded mirror in the room. The cut on my cheek was red and angry, blue-tinged bruises mottling my cheek surrounding it. I swore softly beneath my breath, digging all the way to the bottom of my bag, where a small tub I rarely used lay hidden. Unscrewing the cap, I patted some of the cosmetic onto my skin with the pad of my middle finger. Jesse watched my every move. I saw him from the corner of my eyes.

  “Your shirt is on your bed,” I told him, because his intense study was doing nothing to help my concentration. “Thanks for the loan.” Without another word I turned for the door.

  “Where are you going?” Jesse asked, following closely behind, reaching out to grasp my wrist gently. I shook his hand off, aware that Clara marked the motion with her too-strategic eyes.

  “To get into trouble,” I replied in a clipped tone.

  “Haven’t you had enough trouble lately?” he asked. I chuckled darkly, walking around him to the stairs, taking two of them at a time until I reached the landing. In two long strides, he was beside me as I walked into the bar. Leaning provocatively over the bar-top, I smiled disarmingly at the attractive woman serving drinks. Her curly hair bounced prettily around her face as she walked over. Jesse tried to catch my eye, but I ignored him.

  “Hey, sugar,” I said in a breathless voice, my smile widening at the pink flush on her cheeks. “You think you could spare a bottle of whiskey for me?” I bit the corner of my lip and reached out to wrap a finger around one of her curls before letting it go.

  “I’m not really supposed to—"

  “C’mon,” I said, my voice a little breathy. “Do you always do what you’re supposed to?” She giggled and snuck a bottle onto the bar-top before being called away by a man with a long beard on the other end.

  “Bonnie, listen—"

  Jesse’s deep canyon timbre held a note of serious intention I was wholly unprepared to deal with. It didn’t matter if he wanted to let me down easy, now that his sweetheart was back, or talk about the attack. Tonight, all I wanted to do was forget. I popped the cork out of the bottle with my teeth and turned it up for a few long seconds. The burn settled deep into my blood. I coughed, blinking back the water in my eyes. Reaching over the bar, I placed a glass down in front of Jesse.

  “Listen,” I said, focusing on the harsh lines of his face. “I didn’t come down here to talk. If you’re staying,” I poured some of the whiskey from my bottle, “have a drink. Otherwise, you can go back to Clara upstairs.”

  His hand wrapped around the glass, fingers clenched tight at the mention of Clara’s name.

  “It’s not what you think,” he said. I leveled him with a withering glare, then turned my attention to the room, eyes scanning the faces in the crowd. They caught on a man in a cowboy hat in the corner who lifted his glass to me. Jesse’s voice died beside me.

  “Fine. What kind of trouble are we getting into?” he asked, swallowing the whiskey down and holding his glass out for more. I raised an eyebrow at him, then poured. Leaning closer to him, I pointed with the bottle to the other side of the room, filled with people drinking and playing pool at the tables in the corner.

  “You wanna run a con?” I asked conspiratorially.

  “What do you have in mind?” Jesse asked, sipping the alcohol in his glass.

  “Well, first you need to learn to pick a mark,” I told him, scooting closer, the familiar heat from his body relaxing my muscles unconsciously. He chuckled against the rim of his glass; he’d been one of my marks not so long ago. His arm slipped around me as he leaned in closer.

  “It’s all about the details,” I said. I took another large swallow of the whiskey, letting it loosen my tense shoulders. “First, figure out what kind of mark you want. Tonight, we need someone with money to lose, a little gullible, not too shrewd. Then you find the details that fit that criteria.” Jesse hung rapt on my words, shifting closer the longer I talked.

  “Try it,” I challenged. He tur
ned to the room, his eyes scouring the faces of the patrons too obviously. I laughed then, until I felt moisture in the corners of my eyes. Jesse looked at me with confusion clouding his bright eyes.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Not like that. You can’t just openly stare at people like you stare at me. They’ll notice, and it’ll defeat the purpose.” I tipped the bottle up to my lips again.

  “You notice? When I stare at you?” he asked, his voice deeper than before. I cleared my throat, taking a large, bracing swallow of the whiskey.

  “Every time,” I said. He didn’t seem to have anything to say to that. Instead, he leaned forward, tightening his arm, slung along the back of my chair.

  “See those guys in the corner?” I asked, my voice strained. I tipped my head toward the group of four men.

  “They’re too drunk, spent too much money, and not cocky enough.” My eyes slid over the way the dark-skinned man rested his hand on the chest of another. “And I don’t think I’m the right kind of temptation anyway.”

  Jesse made a sound in the back of his throat, like he hadn’t recognized the smoldering heat between the men before I pointed it out. I took another long swig from the bottle and assessed the rest of the room.

  “Them,” I said, my voice low. His eyes followed mine until he saw the two men at the pool table in the corner. Eyes bright, a full bottle barely touched between them, with boots that looked new and expensive. “They have money to burn and have been smiling at a few girls who haven’t given them the time of day.”

  “What’s the play?” he asked, his voice hot in my ear.

  “You know how to play pool?” I asked, and he shook his head. “Good.” I grinned wide. “I do.”

  Shoving off of the barstool, I reached for Jesse’s hand, and he took it as I dragged him forward. He tugged me back before we could cross the room too far. Indecision flared in the bright blue of his eyes, a question on his mouth.

  “Just follow my lead, okay?” I asked. He let me drag him the rest of the way. As we got closer I let out a high-pitched giggle, stumbling into Jesse’s chest. His arm wrapped around me easily. I stared up at him, pouting.

  “Baby, please teach me how to play,” I said in an exaggerated whine. Jesse sighed, a long-suffering sound.

  “You’re too drunk,” he said, lying easily. The same way he’d lied to Sixgun all those weeks ago. I knew he would be good at this.

  “If you won’t teach me, maybe one of these other cowboys will,” I said, petulant and taking another swig of whiskey. It was an exaggerated gesture, made to look like I’d taken a much larger swig than I had. I hadn’t eaten anything today, after all, and I needed to keep my wits about me.

  “Fine,” he groaned, leading me forward with a hand tucked into the back pocket of my shorts. We racked the table, and I took the cue in my hands, holding it completely wrong. Jesse drank from his glass and stared into the corner, seemingly bored as I brought it too far back. I knocked one of the guy’s drinks off of the table, sending it crashing to the floor.

  “Hey!” our first mark said. I turned, off-balance, with an apology on my lips. “Watch what you’re doin’,”

  “Sorry, man, she’s had a bit too much,” Jesse said from over my shoulder, slinging his hands around my waist comfortably.

  “How can I make it up to you?” I asked, eyes wide. They stared at me, taking in the long expanse of leg accentuated by my shorts and the cleavage clearly visible in my tight shirt. I bit my lip innocuously. “We could play a round with you!” I jumped a little on the balls of my feet.

  “No, that’s not—"

  I turned in Jesse’s arms, shooting him a wicked grin before putting my hand down the front pocket of his jeans. I slid my hand down greedily, lingering in places that forced a cough from his throat, until I found his money. Jesse’s eyebrows raised, and that wasn’t all. I turned back to the men as Jesse shifted uncomfortably behind me. Offering them the four brass bits I’d stolen.

  “Is this enough for a friendly bet and to replace your drink?” I asked, my voice still in that high-pitched whine. They stared back at Jesse’s flushed face and chuckled, nodding in acceptance.

  We played for a while, the men giving me tips while watching me shimmy around the table, leaning provocatively in my shorts. I missed every time, pouting and teasing Jesse in between. He found any excuse to touch me, his fingertips running on the back of my neck or slinging an arm around my waist. When the game was finally over, the marks were drunker and more flirtatious than before. Making comments about their “pool sticks” and how I could grip them. I giggled mischievously, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand after bringing the bottle to it. Their gazes lingered there.

  “I’m havin’ so much fun. What about another round?” I asked, turning back to Jesse and putting my hand into his other front pocket. He was more prepared this time, until I ran my hand along the hard length of him through his jeans. My hand came back empty.

  “Sorry fellas,” I said, my eyes falling to the floor. “Looks like he’s outta money.” With a shrug, I turned from the table, pulling Jesse with me by our joined hands.

  “What are you doing?” he whispered in my ear.

  “Wait for it,” I said. A moment later, before we could get too far away, the men called out behind us.

  “We could bet something else!” the other mark said, unwilling to see me go.

  “Yeah? Like what?” I asked, feigning innocence. They spoke in low tones, and Jesse put his hand on my waist, almost in warning.

  “What about if we win, you come back to the room with us?” he said finally. Jesse’s hand gripped my waist tighter. I looked back at him, eyes flashing in warning not to ruin the hustle.

  “And if we win?” Jesse asked, his voice deep. They smacked a heavy purse onto the table, arrogant since they’d won the first round.

  “This enough?” one asked. I nodded slightly, a signal to Jesse. He accepted, shaking hands with the man before we racked the next game. I smiled wide, ready to spring the trap we’d laid. I took my pool cue and lined up the first shot, my finger placement perfect. Leaning deep over the table. Before I took the shot, Jesse pressed his hips against my ass, leaning over until his chest was flush against my back.

  “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said. The words were hot in my ear, his hand slid down the curve of my ass slowly, his fingers trailing along the skin at the edge of my shorts. I shivered, a breath shuddering from my chest as the memory of where those fingers had been last night nearly made me miss the first shot.

  I broke the formation of the pool balls with a clack, watching as several of mine rolled into the pockets at the sides. In a matter of four moves, I’d cleaned up the rest and won the game. The men stood in drunken shock as I leaned against the pool cue, studying my progress before taking a victorious gulp of the whiskey, languishing in the burn that settled in the pit of my stomach.

  “Beginner’s luck?” I asked, with a self-satisfied grin as Jesse retrieved the money from the table. He slid an arm around my waist, pulling me away before they could object too heavily.

  Stumbling into the other room together, I laughed more easily than I thought I’d be able to, the whiskey loosening my reactions. Jesse took the bottle from me, drinking deeply before handing it back. Something easy settled in his eyes as he stared down at me in expectation. I pressed my thighs together, remembering the way he’d run his hands all over me while we played. As if it were as natural as breathing. As if he didn’t have promises with another woman upstairs.

  The thought of Clara made me drink more, until I forgot her again. Until the only thing that mattered was the way Jesse looked at me as we lingered in the stairwell that led to the rooms.

  “I knew you’d be good at the hustle,” I said, a note of pride in my voice and only a slight slur in my words. “You lie surprisingly well for an honest farm boy.”

  He took the bottle back, grinning. The men from earlier complained loudly. I gripped Jesse’s forear
m and jerked my head up the stairs.

  “Let’s get outta here before we get into too much trouble,” I said. We shuffled up together, until we were almost back to the room. I wavered in the hallway, not wanting the night to end. It’d been fun. I hadn’t thought about the attack or Clara or the darkness that’d stalked us along the way. Only Jesse and the light in his eyes.

  Instead of moving closer, I leaned against the railing, enjoying the cool air on my flushed face. Jesse looked at me curiously, pressing his back against the wall opposite me. His eyes made me squirm, the heat in my belly flaring to life beneath the smooth confidence in his gaze. He knew what I looked like when I was lost in the throes of passion now. Look at me. I want to watch you. The memory of his words shuddered through me.

  “What if I’m no good at being an honest farm boy?” Jesse asked, the words a dark rumble between us. Lilting in that perfect deep canyon timbre that made my thighs quiver. His eyes roved over my body, liquid heat flooding through me as they lingered in places he’d touched and tasted. They traced down my neck, where he’d run his mouth in that alleyway in Vegas. Over my breasts that I’d pressed into his hands beneath the stars last night. Settling for a brief moment between my thighs. A shock of desire lanced through my entire body before those discerning eyes rested on my flushed face.

  There were a million reasons I could think of to walk away.

  Instead, the space between us disappeared as we collided. The bottle crashed to the floor, forgotten. His mouth was on mine, and I drowned in him. I cried into his mouth, and he dragged me closer. My fingers buried into his hair, his tongue slid against mine in a fury. Like a dance, we moved together, I pressed my body into his, and he slammed me against the wall in a rough push that forced every hard part of his body against every soft curve of mine.

  He tasted like whiskey and sin, and I couldn’t get enough.

  His mouth left mine to rasp his stubble and lead hot lips in a trail against the skin of my throat and collarbone, then lower to my exposed cleavage where his teeth scraped against my flesh. I moaned his name and a sound tore from the back of his throat I’d never heard before.