Breaking Bad: 14 Tales of Lawless Love

by Koko Brown

  “Right here is just fine,” he drawled, leaning his shoulder against the side of the white-washed building.

  “I’ll be out in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

  Within the hour, they made tracks, headed back to his spread. Margarita sat by his side babbling away. He wasn’t much company. Not because he lacked the skills to carry on a conversation but because he didn’t have any interest. Thankfully, his ranch lay only half a day’s ride from the town’s outer limits. So, he’d only have to put with her prying questions, disguised as catching up, for a couple more hours.

  Margarita Ruiz was a nice enough gal, a natural born healer and a decent roll in the grass. But she, like the other women he’d shaken the sheets with, were simply a means of release, a momentary diversion.

  With Lonnie, his brain wasn’t thinking short-term. Not even contemplating it. He couldn’t rightly explain it but it was almost like he’d been waiting for her to fall in his garden. And that all the other women, had only been a way to bide his the time.

  By sunset, his buckboard drove under the familiar mesquite archway marking the beginning of the mile-long driveway leading to the main house. On either side of the dirt road, his land stretched out before him in a sea of tall grass, a prevailing breeze bending the verdant blades to the south.

  Chāo shifted in his seat. He’d taken this road more times than he could remember but he didn’t recall it taking this long to get from start to end. Impatient to be home, he silently willed the horses to go faster. He couldn’t push them any harder or they’d be baked.

  When the roofline of his ranch came into her sight, Chāo sighed in relief. Gradually, relief faded into anxiety. He’d left at dawn to get help. Eight hours was a long time for a person’s fortunes to turn. Would he find her alive? Or still out of her head mumbling obscenities and lashing out? The cherry on his chin still smarted, reminding him of how she’d blindly punched him when the fever took.

  “I’m going to need a couple of things,” she said when he came around the wagon to help her down.

  “Anything,” he readily volunteered. The thought of losing the woman inside far more an inconvenience than being Margarita’s go-and-fetch it.

  “Grab some wood for the stove. Then I want you to heat some water. I need to boil rags and make a tea.”

  “Where are you going?” he asked as she walked in the opposite direction of the house.

  “Getting some arrowroot for my tea. I’ll see you inside.”

  Chāo hurried inside and went straight to his bedroom. Margarita’s to-do-list would have to wait until he checked on Lonnie. When he entered, Hector, one of his cow punches, uncurled himself from a chair by the fireplace. Kenzo also pushed to his feet then bounded over to greet him. Absently giving his dog an affectionate pat on the head, Chāo ambled over to the bed.

  “Any change?” Chāo ran the back of his hand against her sweating brow. Wrapped in a couple of blankets, she looked so small and helpless.

  “She still the same, jefe. Had to tuck her back in twice.”

  “Who is she?” Margarita stood in the doorway, a bushel of white-flowered plants clutched in each hand. “She living here?”

  Chāo shook his head. “Met her two days ago.”

  “And already fast friends?”

  “I won’t be questioned in my home, Rita. Are you going to help her or not?”

  Lips pursed, she sashayed over to the bed. “Did you fetch the kindling?”

  “I came in here first.”

  She shot him a queer look.

  He guessed he deserved it. The girl had him acting like his brains had turned to mush. Contrite, he pulled the plants from her hands. “I’ll go heat the water.”

  “Need a fire in here too.” She nodded at the cold fireplace. “Cabron! What have you been doing?”

  “Sitting on my hands.”

  “Looks like it.” She stripped off her jacket and hung it on the back of the rocking chair. “Now. If you want this woman to see the sunrise again, the two of you better hop to it.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  Chāo marched fretfully back and forth in front of his closed bedroom door. Getting on Margarita’s nerves with all his questions and general fussing, she’d kicked him out hours ago. He’d taken a brief nap but other than that, he’d been on his feet all through the night and into the early morning.

  What was it about this woman? Ever since laying eyes on her, he’d felt this tingling of recognition. Like he’d found something he’d misplaced and been looking for his entire life.

  What if she didn’t make it? He would never discover what made her laugh or screw up her face and cuss him out. Worst of all, he’d never enjoy her kisses, feel her arms around him, her legs open for him.

  Chāo ran his hand over his hair. The woman lay on her death bed, and all he could think about was seducing her.

  “I’m going loco.” Weary, he ambled over to the window and looked out.

  It didn’t take long for him to crave her. The desire almost instantaneous. How could he not be attracted to her? With hair as dark as midnight and skin a most exquisite shade like roasted chestnut, she was more beautiful than the sun and moon put together.

  “I’m leaving now.”

  Chāo whirled around.

  Bag in hand, Margarita stood by the bedroom door.

  “How is she? Don’t you think you ought to—”

  “I’ve done all I can do,” she said, cutting him off. “She’s in God’s hands now. I cleaned her bullet wound again and made a poultice from the arrowroot. You watched me so you should be able to properly change the dressing in a couple of days. The tea is simple. Steep the leaves in boiling water and administer when you see fit.”

  “You’re welcome to stay,” Chāo offered, overwhelmed by her instructions.

  “I need to get back to work.” She headed for the door.

  “Stay on a few more days,” he implored. “I’ll pay your wages for an entire month.”

  Margarita turned to face him. “That’s the cruelest thing any man’s proposed to me, Chāo Fèng.”

  Chāo jerked as if she’d hit him.

  “You know how I feel about you, C.H. You’re my heart…mi corazon. But asking me to stay under this roof with you and that woman who has you walking around here all cow eyed…that’s downright spiteful.”

  She tossed her bag in the back of the wagon and without his assistance climbed into the wagon.

  “You’re overreacting, Rita.”

  “Am I? Tell me she means nothing to you and I’ll stay.”

  For a beat she stared at him, waiting. It didn’t take too long for her haughty expression to crumble.

  “What has our world come to that you’d choose an up-to-no good red nigger over me.”

  Chāo caught the reigns before she did. “If you think that way of her, I can imagine what you’d think of me if I didn’t have land or money. Ever call me a yellow nigger behind my back, Margarita?”

  “Chāo I would never,” she huffed.

  “Take the horse and wagon to get you to Carson. Don’t come back.”

  He held out his hand and she snatched the reigns. Chāo watched her leave with a sense of relief. A moment ago, he’d felt guilty for his selfish request and even a twinge of remorse for hurting her feelings. Now nothing because he’d dodged a bullet.

  A wet nose brushed his hand, tugging his attention from the jostling wagon.

  “Come begging for my affection too?” He patted the collie’s head. Extremely needy, Kenzo whined and pressed closer, hoping for a love fest.

  “Come on,” Chāo said, stroking the dog’s neck, “Let’s go in, check on our patient.”

  Anticipation stirring his blood, Chāo entered his home. He ambled into the master bedroom, noting his surroundings. A dying fire burned in the hearth. Good as her word, Margarita stacked fresh linens on the bedside table along with a basin filled with fresh water and an antique porcelain tea bowl.

  Lonnie lay peaceful, snuggled benea
th the covers. Perspiration dotted her brown skin. Nothing compared to the buckets she’d sweated the night before which meant she’d turned a corner. Flooded with relief, he dampened a rag and draped it across her brow. Unsure of what to do next, loathe to bother her but not wanting to leave her side, he edged onto the bed.

  “My little robber,” he whispered. Not considering the consequences or the reasons behind it, he took her hand in his. Marveling at the rightness of it, he threaded their fingers, his thumb scribbling patterns over her darker skin.

  “Hey,” she croaked.

  Caught off guard, he slid from the bed. Instantly mourning the loss, he slid his hands in her dungarees.

  “Don’t go.”

  “Let me get you some water.”

  “I’m fine. Now sit,” she said, patting the sawdust mattress.

  She didn’t have to strong arm him. He slid in beside her. His thigh grazed her side, blood rushed to his cock, clouding his reason and he impetuously considered locking her away and keeping her for himself.

  “There was a woman.”

  Chāo nodded. “She’s gone.”

  “Good. You’re all I need to get better.” Smiling, she closed her eyes. “You can hold my hand again.”

  Chuckling, he captured her wiggling fingers. Margarita had been spot on he mused as he leaned against the headboard. Lonnie meant more to him than any woman had before, now or probably ever. No one should care for her but him because she was his.

  For the first time in her life, Lonnie found contentment. She especially liked sitting on the porch with Chāo. They talked of simple things or simply sat in silence enjoying each other’s company. And when she was up to it, he took her on a ride around his ranch. Mounted before him, he’d refused to let her ride her own horse. He didn’t have to twist her arm. Whenever he was near, she wanted to get closer, be one with him.

  How quickly her life had altered in a couple of weeks. Once scornful of love and permanent attachments, there he was suddenly and she was instantly smitten.

  Too bad she was her own worst enemy. Every time she contemplated building a life here with him, she talked herself out of it. She’d never truly loved or been loved. So far, her one and only desire was survival, her obsession gold. Why would she ever expect him to fall in love with a train robber?

  As soon as she could mount a horse on her own, she was leaving. Too bad that thought left her with a hollow ache in her chest. Hollow, as she’d been through her entire childhood.

  Still, she began planning her big escape. She gathered rations to see her through the next three weeks. It was enough to survive on until she reached San Francisco where she’d meet up with Ginger and deposit the spoils of her latest take. The widow and sole proprietress of the Green Room Saloon, kept her money safe. Half white and Paiute, she’d also done time at Fort Simcoe. Eight years her senior, Ginger had taken Lonnie under her wing and hadn’t relinquished it over the years. The true base of her operations, the other woman washed her illicit funds and kept an ear and one eye open for the U.S. Marshal’s.

  One Sunday afternoon near sunset, it all exploded in her face.

  “What’s this?”

  Lonnie was seated in a rocking chair on the veranda, playing tug of war with Kenzo. Chāo came around carrying a large valise. He pounded up the stairs and threw the bag at her feet. Like so many times before, she was stuck by how beautiful he was. His closely cropped hair, barely a half an inch in length, should’ve detracted from his good looks. It only added to it by drawing one’s attention to his almond-shaped eyes and chiseled cheekbones.

  “Are you stealing from me?” Lonnie glanced at the beaten up bag, she’d found in the barn.

  “I found food and other supplies in it.”

  “I’m a thief. That’s what we do.”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Why? Whatever I have is yours.”

  She knew it and she loathed him for his generosity because she did nothing to deserve it.

  “I’m leaving.”

  He looked like she’d struck him.

  A tense silence simmered between them. Gaze locked with his, she slowly stood.

  “I’ll light out of here in the morning.”

  Believing the matter settled, she turned to go inside. Strong fingers curled around her wrist and she sucked in a breath as heat blazed up her arm. In the next instance, he tugged her into him.

  “You’re not leaving me, you understand,” he growled.

  “The hell I’m not.” She pushed against him, he didn’t budge, not even an inch. Lonnie’s eyes widened. “Who are you and what have you done with Chāo?”

  His touch triggered her senses, but this change in stance, this immovable determination made her weak, tore at the shields she’d built around herself for so long. Desperate to sever the connection, she clawed at his fingers. Instead of letting her go, his arms slid around her waist, fitting their bodies together like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

  He dipped his head the faintest measure. “Just because I haven’t pounced on you,” he rasped, breath warm on her cheek. “Treated you with indifference or bullied you like some coward, doesn’t make me less of a man.”

  “Then what is this?” She bellyached, her pulse fluttering wildly.

  “You forced my hand.”

  The instant his mouth touched hers, Lonnie felt the fight drain out of her. Everything he’d said was true. His treating her with deference and kindness, like she’d been brought up to be some kind of lady and not trash to be discarded, had scared the bejesus out of her.

  Knees turning to sawdust, Lonnie melted into him. She’d placed him so beyond her reach, she’d only set herself up for this gnawing hunger.

  She only needed a taste, she thought desperately as he kissed her hot and hard. It didn’t have to lead to a lifetime of disappointment and trying to live up to come unattainable ideal. This could be all they had between them. And when it was done, she would ride right out of his life.

  Instantly her blood heated another degree. Her arms came around his neck and she put her all into matching his kisses.

  She felt like she was coming home! Like being in his arms, was the reason why she was alive and nothing else mattered. And she wanted more of it. Needed to be skin-to-skin, his body covering hers, his cock deep inside her.

  Whimpering with need, she arched into him, tugged at his shirt. “Take me inside,” she ordered. “Unless you want to take me here.”

  A feral growl escaped his lips as he hoisted her into his arms. Delighted, Lonnie wrapped her legs around his hips.

  He kissed her with a desperation. She in equal fervor did the same. He tore at her blouse. She ruined his Henley and left it in tatters somewhere between the porch and the bedroom. He clawed at her skirts, lifting them. With one arm around her waist, he lined up his erection. His grip loosened, and she slid downward, taking him in.

  Pleasure flooding her system, Lonnie clutched at his shoulders. Heat pooled between her thighs.

  “Couldn’t wait,” he groaned, his throat thick with hunger.

  Lonnie bit at his mouth in gratitude. “Don’t apologize. Fuck me.”

  Without missing a step, he sunk hilt-deep. Hands hard and hot on her thighs, he lifted her, gliding her up his thick shaft. She was so aroused, so ready for him there was only a slight discomfort then an intense, mind-altering pleasure. Insides fluttering, she clenched her thighs, opening her to even deeper penetration.

  His sawdust mattress scratched against her skin when he dropped them onto the bed. A burning caress that stoked her senses. Shameless in her desire, Lonnie tangled her limbs with his. Was this what she’d been searching for all her life? This feeling of completeness, finding home.

  “What I’ve always been looking for,” he panted, pumping into her hard and delicious.

  Me too, she silently acquiesced. Emotions, she prided herself on keeping in check, floated to the surface. Agonizing rapture wrapped around her, squeezing, building to a suffocating pressure.

&nbs
p; A desperate, hysterical cry slid from her lips. She’d never experienced pleasure this intense. Or had she? This was their first joining, but it felt more like a reunion, a homecoming.

  “Look at me when you come,” he demanded, his thrusts rough and insistent.

  She didn’t argue with him. She could hardly think. Every thought–save that of a looming orgasm–relegated to obscurity.

  He pushed her toward the stars. High, so, so high. And when she could go no higher, she broke apart into a thousand pieces.

  TWENTY-TWO

  “Hit me, Clarence.”

  “Might need to slow down, Rita. You’re beginning to look a little sloppy.”

  Margarita slammed her first against the bar top. “My coin pays your wages, you old coot. Now give me another shot.”

  Silently, the bartender set down the shot glass and picked up a bottle of her favorite sherry. He set the cordial in front of her, and she flicked him a dime, causing it to ricochet off the back bar and onto the floor.

  Shrugging, Margarita turned her attention to Puss’ reception area. It was already ten o’clock, she noticed, glancing at a grandfather clock in the corner. They’d been open officially open for three hours and only a spattering of customers had come through. She could count on one hand the number of girls upstairs and only two held court in the lobby. The rest lounged around in various stages of undress, eyes constantly drifting to the door.

  Not her. Of late, Margarita plied her time at the bar, Chāo’s rejection cutting deeper than expected. Of course, she serviced enough of the clientele to keep Puss off her back, but she didn’t over extend herself. She better snap out of this discontent soon she mused. Nursing a broken heart was eating into the small savings she set aside to buy a little hacienda back in Playa del Carmen.