“Oh…Carly,” he murmured against her breasts as he pressed his open mouth to her flesh. He licked at her nipple through her corset—sending sparks of unexpected pleasure ricocheting through her body. “I want you…”
As soon as he said the words, she froze. What was she thinking? She couldn’t do this just for fun. She hopped off his lap. “What do you reckon, Sheriff? Are my services worth a dollar?”
The men in the cell jeered.
“Come on, Sheriff Poole. You have to admit I’m good.”
Jed scowled and his eyes flashed a warning.
Carly gave those boys a good view of her ass before she smoothed her skirts, whirled around and swept out of his office. They’d have a miserable night, dreaming about her ass. Served them all right.
* * * * *
Several minutes passed before Jed could close his mouth. Had that really just happened? He looked down at his crotch. Yup. His raging hard-on showed no inclination to go away. He couldn’t remember a time he’d wanted to fuck a lady so bad. Damn if that woman didn’t know just how to get him riled up.
He’d been dead serious about wanting her.
She knew how to pleasure a man. He wanted her so bad he would pay her whatever she asked. He’d pay his life savings if she would just toss up her skirts again and let him sink inside her.
Except he didn’t want to be another customer to her. She couldn’t convince him he was. It was obvious from her look of desire that she’d liked the idea of him saying he’d make her come. She’d shivered in his arms as she’d moved so seductively on his lap. She’d reacted when his thumb brushed over her wet clitoris. She’d moaned when he’d sucked her nipple into his mouth. Hell, she’d been moaning while she twisted and turned her pretty little self on top of him.
And damn did he like everything about her. The cut of the dress was outstanding. Red had always been his favorite color. Every time she’d swayed, he’d gotten a view of her rosy sex, glistening with need. He liked that the best.
He licked his lips. This wasn’t over. She’d enticed him to the edge. He wasn’t going to let her walk away next time.
He stood, adjusted his extremely tight britches and then headed for the door. He hit the handle just as shouts and the blast of gunfire rang out from the street. He yanked his six-shooter from his holster and ripped open the door. A gang of horseman ran wild through the streets, shooting into the air.
He glanced wildly up and down the boardwalk for Carly. She’d only just left and couldn’t have gotten far. Was she all right?
A flash of red, huddled behind a watering trough about a hundred feet away, caught his attention. His relief was immediate. Carly was safe.
“Keep your head down,” he yelled.
She ducked as the shooters turned their mounts and came back down the street, firing at the storefronts. A shower of glass crashed on the boardwalk. They stopped. Dust swirled around their mounts’ feet. There were four in all, rough and dirty, their lips curled in violent grins.
“Compliments of Vernon Crosby,” they shouted before riding on past him.
Jed ran out into the middle of the street and fired at the men. From the shouts of pain, it was obvious he hit at least one of them, but that didn’t slow the gang down; they kept on riding.
Movement to his left caught his attention. Carly emerged from her hiding place and ran toward the Lonesome. He was glad to see she didn’t appear hurt. Every window on the main street was broken and glass littered the boardwalk. No doubt the other residents had been awakened by the disturbance but were too scared to venture outside. It galled Jed that a man and his family had to cower in fear of their lives because of a bunch of no-accounts.
He sucked in his breath. It’d been a long night but daylight was still hours away. He returned to the jailhouse and took down a rifle.
“Who was it?” one of his prisoners asked.
“What can you tell me about Vernon Crosby?”
“He’s one ornery son of a bitch.”
“He seems to think he can scare the law.”
“That’d be his mistake.”
Jed scowled. “You got that right.”
“Although he ain’t been caught yet, now has he?” The man spoke with pride.
“Caught your sorry ass, didn’t I? Reckon your boss is next on the list.”
“Yeah, true enough, but the reason he ain’t caught yet is the same reason he’s the boss. Man is crazy and smart to boot.”
“We’ll see about that,” Jed answered before stalking outside.
He settled in his chair, the Winchester across his lap, and spent the rest of the night listening to the righteous snores of the men in the cell and keeping an eye on his town.
Chapter Four
When Carly arrived at the Lonesome, out of breath and panting, she saw her saloon hadn’t been spared the wrath of the Crosby gang. Her beautiful plate-glass window had been reduced to a thousand pieces. She’d spent a pretty penny on it—it’d come all the way from San Francisco.
She pushed through the swinging doors. Gladys and Blanche looked up. They were picking up shards of glass and putting them in a bucket.
“Is everybody all right?” Carly asked.
Judith stepped forward. “We’ve been better.”
“They usually leave us be.” Alvin shook his head. Carly was relieved the mirror hanging behind the bar, which he prized, was still intact.
“I don’t know why they decided to shoot up the town,” Carly said.
“I know why.” Judith planted her hands on ample hips. “It’s that new sheriff.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t be so friendly to him,” Blanche said.
Carly wondered. “I don’t think he’s the cause. He’s been in town less than twenty-four hours.”
“He’s got some of Vernon’s boys locked up.” Judith glanced at the others. “They’ll be back to free them.”
Carly bit her lip. Jed would have his hands full if they did.
“Where’s Ester?”
Judith nodded at the staircase. “She never came down.”
Carly mounted the stairs. Judith was probably right. Jed had stirred up a heap of trouble. Tonight was just a taste of what they all could expect.
She found Ester in her room huddled in the corner, clinging to her doll.
Carly knelt beside her. “Hey, sweetie, those men are gone.”
“Why did they shoot at us?” Ester trembled as she spoke.
“They’re mean, I guess.”
“Will they come back?”
Carly slumped down beside her. “If they do, Sheriff Poole will arrest them.”
“I like Sheriff Poole.”
With a sigh of resignation, Carly realized she did too.
* * * * *
Dawn spread, golden and dusty pink across the Eastern sky and the sleepy town began to come alive. The gang hadn’t returned, much to Jed’s relief.
He stood and stretched cramped muscles. His stomach grumbled. He’d plenty of time during the night to think about Carly’s visit. She’d been angry with him about the elixir but he sensed there was something else, something deeper that’d set her off.
He could never figure out women and so he’d keep a safe distance. She knew his weakness—his desire for her—and she’d be sure to use it against him when the notion struck her.
The owner of the mercantile, Mr. Finney, swept glass from the boardwalk, the clinking sound echoing down the walk as several others did the same thing. The livery man, Mr. Trumbull, hauled a handcart down the middle of the street. He saw Jed and nodded.
“Quite a ruckus last night.” The geezer put down the cart and brushed off his hands. “Reckon it was Vernon Crosby’s boys.”
“This happen often?”
“More than we’d like.” Trumbull pulled on his beard. “Think they’ll be back, Sheriff?”
“Can’t say.” It was false comfort. Jed was pretty sure they’d come for the prisoners. Next time more than a few windows might be shot up. Ne
xt time the citizens of Tucson could be caught in the crossfire.
Jed could think of only one way to keep the residents safe. They wouldn’t like him imposing a curfew but until the rest of the gang was behind bars, he’d no other choice.
Mr. Finney leaned on his broom. “Probably came to bust the rest of their gang out of jail.”
Jed nodded. “How many of those hombres are there?”
The mercantile owner shrugged. “Wouldn’t be surprised if there were a dozen more.”
“You’ll need help catching the rest of the gang before they come back to town.” Mr. Travis sauntered over from where he’d been standing on the boardwalk, obviously listening to the conversation. “They’re as slippery as sidewinders.”
“If you ask me, Crosby and his boys are too wily for one man,” Mr. Trumbull said.
Jed had thought about hiring a couple deputies. He couldn’t stand guard morning, noon and night.
“I reckon I’d better hire a couple of good men to back me up.” He turned to Travis, who’d been eager to help capture the outlaws.
“Not me.”
Mr. Finney interrupted. “My nephew’s new to town and is looking for steady work. He’ll need some teaching.”
“Betty Short has a strong boy,” Mr. Trumbull added. “He’s dependable.”
Mr. Finney agreed. “Both talk about becoming lawmen.”
“Send ’em over to the jailhouse as soon as possible.” Jed hiked his thumb in that direction.
“Will do,” Mr. Finney said.
Trumbull nodded. “I’ll let Betty know.”
“In the meantime, we should be ready for their return.” Jed’s examined the damage done by the gang. The window of every store on Main Street had been shot out.
Jed needed to know how many men he could count on in a fight. “You own a firearm, Finney?”
The mercantile owner paled. “I keep a shotgun behind the counter.”
“How about you, Mr. Trumbull?”
The old man straightened. “Of course I do.”
Mr. Finney’s grip tightened on the broom.
“You keep your missus and young’uns close to home until these men have been captured,” Jed told him.
“You can’t stop this trouble?”
Jed didn’t miss the fear in the man’s eyes. “I aim to, only we need to be prepared.”
“We’ll be ready,” Mr. Trumbull said.
“Good. Keep those weapons handy. No telling when the gang will be back. They may try to rob the livery to get fresh horses. A wagon even. They may need supplies. Until then I’m going to set a curfew.”
“Is that totally necessary? It’ll be bad for my business,” Mr. Finney said.
The man seemed to have grown some balls.
“What’s wrong with you,” the livery man scoffed. “You heard what the sheriff said. Crosby will be back and we can’t let him take over our town.”
“I’m only saying, if I have to close up early, I’ll lose some of my trade.”
“Just do as you’re told.” Mr. Trumbull cast Jed a look of approval. “I’m off to tell Betty about the offer for her boy.”
Jed nodded. “I’ll be at the jailhouse.”
Trumbull picked up the cart and continued down the street.
Mr. Finney sighed. “I don’t imagine a curfew will do any harm if it’s not too long. You will take care of the gang promptly?”
Jed hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “As prompt as they let me.”
He bid the mercantile owner good day.
Jed turned to Travis. “Can you stand guard over those outlaws in jail while I go and send a telegram?”
Travis raised a brow.
“I need to let the U.S. marshal over in Tombstone know what we’re up against. Maybe those boys are headed his way.”
Travis smirked. “Sure thing, Sheriff.”
Jed headed for the telegraph office. If what his gut was telling him was right, he would need additional men. This gang—could be a few or many—wouldn’t be easy to capture. If every time he made an arrest they shot up the town in retaliation, someone was bound to get hurt. No one was safe, not even the women down at the Lonesome.
After he sent off his telegram, he would head for the saloon. He’d let Carly know what they were up against so she wouldn’t take any unnecessary risks.
When he was satisfied she would do what he told her to, they’d unfinished
business to take care of.
* * * * *
Carly lay in her bed, alone. Sleep hadn’t come all night. The room already held the morning’s heat but that’s not what kept her awake.
She didn’t know what had gotten into her last night. She owed the sheriff a bit of pleasuring after he’d carried her upstairs and tucked her into bed.
Hadn’t she showed him how a saloon dolly takes care of a man? She’d not been surprised at how he’d responded; she was good at her trade. She’d taken care of business and walked away just as she should have. Her ass still burned from where Jed had grasped her, and her cunny ached to have him inside her.
She blamed the empty bottle of Dr. Baxter’s Eight-Day Elixir for overthinking the situation. The brew relieved her of the next morning blues like nothing else. Most of all, it kept her from caring too much. How could she get her hands on some more? None of the merchants in town sold it. She’d just have to wait until Dr. Baxter paid his next visit to Tucson.
She rose from her bed and went downstairs. Alvin was pounding nails into mesquite boards, covering up the hole where her prized plate-glass window had once been. Bright light filtered through the many cracks.
Carly sighed. A new window would cost money she didn’t have right now.
“Morning, Miss Carly.” Alvin spoke with a mouth full of halfpenny nails.
“Morning.” She picked up a chair and set it upright. A customer slept facedown on the table, cradling a pile of poker chips. She’d rouse him and send him home, but he seemed so peaceful, she didn’t have the heart.
She sat down and rubbed her eyes. What was she going to do about Sheriff Poole?
What bothered her was the niggling desire for a repeat performance. Normally she didn’t give two hoots about the customer after he’d paid his dollar.
Of course, he’d boasted big about how he could make a woman swoon at his very touch. What man didn’t brag about his abilities in bed?
What confounded her was how true that’d been. His caress had given her the chills. She sucked her lower lip, still tasting him. The man surely knew how to kiss. Jed had excited her in a way no man ever had and she couldn’t forget it.
The sheriff had gotten under her skin, telling Ester to get rid of all of Carly’s medicine. She’d been angry with him, barging into her place and barking orders at poor Ester.
She’d been justified in not giving him everything he wanted.
She needed her Dr. Baxter’s, she mused. A stiff drink of the elixir and she would be able to put the virile sheriff out of her thoughts and forget about those kisses. Next time he came waltzing through that door…
Who should push through the swinging doors but the sheriff? He looked like he hadn’t slept either. Stubble darkened his jaw and his eyes were bloodshot.
She grimaced. The two of them were a pair.
A brief nod of her head acknowledged his presence. A customer was a customer. Hopefully he’d learned his lesson.
She stood and turned to go to her room. She wasn’t running away—she just didn’t have the strength this morning to spar with him.
* * * * *
“Carly, wait.”
Jed was glad to see her. She’d stunned him with last night’s sex play. He wanted to see her lustful expression again.
She turned around, her eyes half closed.
He sauntered up to her and stopped a foot away, his arms dangling helplessly by his sides. One look at her and he was reminded of her cunt on his cock. He wanted so badly to take her in his arms.
“What are you after, She
riff?”
“I wondered if you were all right.”
“I’m fine but my window didn’t fare too well.” She pointed to where her barkeep was putting up boards. Alvin pounded the last nail and climbed down from a ladder.
“I noticed when I walked by.” He gazed into her brown eyes. “Anybody hurt by the flying glass?”
She shook her head. “No, but Alvin and my girls were skittish the rest of the night.”
Jed rubbed the back of his neck and frowned. “I’d hoped those hooligans missed you.”
“Last night was a first for the Lonesome. Most likely they didn’t care for the company I’ve been keeping.”
Jed smiled. She was full of sass and vinegar, a sure sign the gang had not frightened her.
“Of course, business was off for the rest of the night.”
The thought of Carly pleasuring another man made him ball his fists. He wasn’t normally a possessive man but he couldn’t deny he wanted her all to himself.
Alvin grunted as he hefted the ladder. He carried his burden out the back door.
“You look very pretty this morning.” Jed raked his gaze over her. It was no exaggeration. She’d piled her honey-colored hair on her head, exposing her neck. Yellow crystal earrings dangled from her dainty earlobes. She still wore the red dress—just as enticing this morning as it’d been last night.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “You think you can sweet-talk yourself into my good graces? Honeyed words won’t make me swoon, Sheriff.”
Jed gave up. She was in no mood for mending fences this morning.
“Suit yourself.” He pulled out a chair and sat down.
Carly heaved a sigh. “Water, isn’t that your drink?”
“A glass of water will be much appreciated.”
She sashayed behind the bar and retrieved a stone pitcher. He watched every move, remembering every curve of that body. Picking up a glass drying on a piece of sackcloth, she carried them to his table.
Annabelle Weston Page 5
