Tracker’s Sin

by Sarah McCarty

  “We discussed it.”

  “Who is we?”

  “Tia, Sally Mae, Bella and I.”

  They were all in on this? Shit. The horrible feeling changed to a sinking one. “And?”

  “We’ve decided it’s a job best left for her husband, so we’re all keeping away and letting you handle it—”

  “I’m not really her husband. Not in her eyes.”

  “You can’t renege now.”

  “You have no idea what you’re asking.”

  “She’s my sister, Tracker. I know her better than you.”

  Not in this, she didn’t. “It’s impossible.”

  “If it was, you wouldn’t have married her.”

  “I was saving her a—her butt.”

  Desi folded her arms across her chest. “Are you trying to tell me you don’t care about her?”

  “I’m trying to tell you it doesn’t matter what I feel. In case it’s escaped your notice, I look a he—heck of a lot like the men who abused her.”

  Desi bit her lip. “Caine looks an awful lot like the men who held me hostage.”

  “I hardly think it’s the same.”

  “It has to be.”

  “Why? Because you want it to be?”

  “Yes.” Desi raked the wild mass of her hair off her face. The curls sprang right back, willy-nilly, to where they wanted to be. “Yes.”

  “Things don’t work that way, Desi. You know it.”

  “All I know is that I was just as scared and just as humiliated as Ari. I was terrified of every man I saw and all I wanted to do was run away and hide. Preferably in a place that had a bathtub, so I could sit there and scrub the filth and shame from me. But along came Caine. He scooped me up and plopped me down in his life.” She smiled wryly. “You know him. He just has a way of moving forward and taking everyone with him. He treated me like a wife. He had expectations of me as a wife, in and out of the bedroom. In some ways it was a godsend to have such a clear path laid out for me. I didn’t have to think. I just had to be the woman he saw me as. And when it was all said and done, it worked, because all along he’d been seeing me.”

  “I’m not Caine. And Ari isn’t you.”

  Her expression became even more stubborn. “But the circumstances are the same.”

  He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t walk in there and play husband to a woman who would cringe at the thought of his touch. Who would scream when he rolled over in bed and put his arm around her and pulled her close. “I’m her worst nightmare.”

  “You’re the only one who can do it. You’re the only one who can take away the horror and make it right.”

  “And how in hell am I supposed to do that? Terrify her into being a proper wife?”

  “I don’t know. I just know that she trusts you, and her healing started with you.”

  “And now my part is done.”

  Boone got to his feet, sensing his mistress’s tension. A low growl rumbled from his throat. As she dropped her hand to his head, the dog looked at Desi and then at Tracker. His face sagged, the wrinkles tumbling into a mournful expression, and he whined anxiously.

  “Are you telling me you don’t care for her, Tracker?”

  How did he answer that one? Whether he cared for her or not had no bearing on anything.

  “Well?”

  “She’s going to hate me.”

  “But she’ll get well.”

  At what cost?

  Desi pressed her point. “Don’t you want that?”

  Hell, yes. He wanted that more than anything. Shit. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a dirty fighter?”

  “Just Caine.”

  “Let me add my name to the list.”

  “Will you do it?”

  He slapped his hat against his thigh. Dust flew up. Desi waved her hand in front of her face and coughed.

  He was going to hell for worse things. At least something good would come out of this. He put his hand on the doorknob.

  Desi licked her lips. “Tracker?”

  “It’s too late to be nervous, Desi. You put Ari in my hands and there she’s going to stay. No interference.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to take a bath. Have someone send over hot water.”

  “A bath?”

  “Yes.” Among other things.

  “And after that?”

  He turned the knob, feeling that crash of doom descending. “I’m going to have dinner.”

  Heat and stale air surrounded him as soon as he stepped into the house.

  “Go away.”

  Ari’s voice sounded just as stale as the air. Tracker trailed the sound to the bedroom at the back of the house. In the dim light, he could see her seated in a hard-backed chair by the bed. She was fully dressed. Her hair was loose around her shoulders in a wanton tumble that made his fingers itch to sink into the silken mass. He loved her hair, loved the way it curled around his fingers in welcome. Loved the image of life it gave. Even now, when she sat as still as a statue, with her hands folded in her lap and her skirts in neat folds over her thighs, not even looking at him. But even in the dim light, he could see the pulse pounding in her throat.

  “Don’t I even get a welcome home?”

  The only indication she gave that she knew it was him was a small start. It beat the hell out of her running screaming from the room. “Hello, Tracker.”

  “Hello, yourself.”

  She looked at him. “Have you seen Miguel?”

  “Have you?”

  She shook her head and turned her face away. “They don’t bring him around me.”

  Interesting choice of words. “So you decided your best option was to sit with the curtains drawn, passing the time counting dust motes?”

  She didn’t have an answer for that. He could see why Desi had passed the job of dealing with Ari to him. It was eerie, talking to this woman who was so distant, so polite, so not there. “You did me proud, sweets.”

  “Thank you.” She picked at her skirt. “They took your pistol.”

  “Caine will give it back.”

  “I met him.”

  Tracker took another step into the room. “Did you meet Desi, too?”

  Her mouth thinned. “Yes.”

  “Good.” He didn’t ask about the others, remembering Desi’s explanation that they were giving Ari room.

  He was supposed to be playing the husband. He might as well play it all the way.

  Tossing his hat onto the corner of the four-poster, he sat on the end of the bed. He started tugging on his boots. “Desi looks just like you, doesn’t she?”

  “She’s older than me.”

  “Uh-huh.” He pretended to have a difficulty with the boot. “Come help me with this.”

  “No.” Still that same flat voice. Still that lack of emotion. He was getting an idea of what Desi meant when she said Ari wouldn’t talk.

  He put a bit of mean in his voice. “I wasn’t asking.” Ari didn’t move. He wondered how far she intended to take this resistance. How far he would have to go. “Now.”

  The pulse in her throat beat faster. He waited. Her hands clenched in her lap. Anger or fear? She stood, straightened her skirt and then walked over. There was no heat in her expression, though. So, not anger. Fear. He stuck out his leg. She stood unmoving, a ghost of her former vibrant self.

  He twirled his finger in a circle. “Just face away, straddle my leg and tug the boot off from the heel.”

  “I know what to do.”

  “Then how come you’re not doing it?”

  “Do you want me naked or clothed?”

  That was a declaration of war, throwing her past between them. A woman bent over to take off a man’s boot would be vulnerable in all kinds of ways to abuse. A man could make her feel ashamed in all kinds of ways. Tracker remembered what Desi had said about Caine’s expectations giving her guidance. He just didn’t have a clue as to what a decent woman would expect, let alone what Ari was thinking.

&nbs
p; “What do you think I’ll like better?”

  She started unbuttoning her blouse. Tracker didn’t say a word. He recognized a dare when one was thrown in his face. All there was to do was wait to see how far she meant to take this, and determine from there where he needed to go with it. The blouse slid off her shoulders. She had pretty shoulders. Nicely squared, slender with very elegant lines. The skirt was next. With the nonchalance of a whore, she let it drop. She stood there in her petticoats, watching him watch her. He didn’t try to hide his erection. It was a knee-jerk reaction to a pretty woman, but he didn’t feel desire. This was just…sad.

  The petticoats were next. They slid to the floor with the same lack of ceremony as the skirt. Tracker expected hesitation when Ari got to the bloomers. But they came off along with the camisole in the way of a woman who’d undressed for men many times. And he supposed she had. With no modesty and no care. His cock throbbed and his heart ached as she revealed her body. He’d dreamed of it many times, but never like this. He wanted to call a halt, but sometimes when it came to pain, a body just had to ride it out. And Ari had a lot of pain.

  He stuck out his foot. “You ready yet?”

  There was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. Good. Let her think about what he wanted from her, because it sure as shit wasn’t this. She turned, straddled his foot, giving him a clear view of her ass. It was even more of a work of art naked. A surprisingly full curve accentuated by creamy white skin. The crease between those sweet buttocks tempted him to trace it with his finger. When she bent over he got a peek at her pussy, lightly covered by blond hair. One thing was for sure, this wasn’t arousing her. Thank God.

  He jiggled his foot. “Well?”

  She grabbed the heel and tugged. Nothing happened.

  “You’ll have to do better than that. I don’t wear boots often, so when I do they tend to cling.”

  She put more force behind it. He could just catch a glimpse of the jiggle of her breasts. His cock didn’t care about the higher purpose, it just responded to the magic of those beauties in motion. The boot came off. She stood. A touch of red colored her breasts and cheeks. He held up his other foot. Without a word, she straddled that leg and repeated the procedure. When she was done, she picked up his boots and put them by the door. He wondered what man had taught her that. She came back and stood before him, still naked, the only indication of any feeling whatsoever being that slight blush, which could be put down to exertion.

  “Thank you.”

  Her gaze dropped to his groin. There was no hiding his erection. She licked her lips. Two steps forward and she was on her knees, and her hands were at the laces of his pants. Son of a bitch. She was pushing him. But which way was he supposed to jump? He waited. She lifted his cock free of the leather. A knock at the door saved his ass. Stroking his hand over her hair, he said, “Hold that thought.”

  Retying his pants, he tugged his shirt over his hips, hiding his erection. He left the bedroom and went to the front door and opened it. Outside two men stood, carrying a large brass tub between them. “Hey, Caden, Ace.”

  “Good to see you didn’t get your ass shot off,” Caden grunted.

  “For a horse.” Ace shook his head.

  “My horse,” Tracker corrected, standing back and letting them through.

  “Where do you want it?”

  There weren’t many options in the small house. The sitting room and kitchen were one room. The bedroom was too small. Besides, Ari was there, naked. “Over to the right there.”

  “Tia said to tell you she’s got water heating, but if you plan on doing this too often, you need to get your own firewood in.”

  “I’ll be sure to thank her.” Tia always grumbled about the work of the ranch, but the truth was, she thrived on the challenge of organizing the growing spread.

  “Ed said not to worry about it.” Caden laughed, a shock of brown hair falling over his forehead, giving him that look of trouble that women seemed to love. “Course, he only said that to get Tia going.”

  “Those two still fighting?”

  “Yup. Tia’s still playing hard to get.”

  “And Ed’s still enjoying the chase?”

  For six years Ed had been trying to get Tia to marry him.

  “Some things never change.” Ace grunted as he set down his side of the tub.

  Metal rattled against wood as Caden set down his end, then straightened. His blue eyes were serious. Not an unusual thing for Caden, but usually they were angry, too. He turned and left the house.

  Ace was Caden’s total opposite—blond-haired with a muscled leanness, and gray eyes that could go stone cold at the drop of a hat. A body could never tell when Ace was serious. Usually it came as a surprise. Rarely was it a pleasant one. Ace being serious meant someone was going to die. “Word is that Eastern dude is coming in on Friday’s stage.”

  That gave them a good six days to plan.

  “Good.”

  “Caden and I are going to ride out in a bit and make sure he gets to San Antonio safely. Don’t want him to have any mishaps before you and Caine have a chat with him.”

  “Does he know we know he’s coming?”

  “Not a clue. Caine and Sam have the last of those Comancheros hog-tied about ten miles out of town. They’ve turned out to be the real cooperative sort, Sam says. Sending all the right messages to their friend at all the right times.”

  “Tucker’s not with them?”

  Ace shook his head. “Word leaked to Sally Mae about that part of the plan. You know she doesn’t hold with violence.”

  Yet she was married to one of the most notorious men in the territory. That never failed to amaze Tracker. Somehow, the two of them made it work. Quaker and outlaw, white woman and Indian. Watching them together was like watching one of those fancy ballets. There was a beauty in their understanding of each other, a sensual rhythmic depth to their interactions, and an art to their negotiations. They did a lot of negotiating; Sally Mae’s notions didn’t fit in well with the reality of this country.

  Tracker thought of Ari, kneeling naked in the bedroom, terrified, fighting he didn’t even know what, in ways he didn’t understand. They couldn’t go on like that. They had to find a rhythm that worked for them. Without it, Ari wouldn’t heal.

  “And you know Tucker is bound by his promise,” Caden said, coming back in with a couple buckets of water.

  As Tracker was to Ari. I’ll keep you safe.

  “Yeah.” Tracker forced an easy smile he didn’t feel. “For a man of his nature, you wouldn’t think it would come easy to turn the other cheek.”

  Caden shook his head. “But he’s doing it, and with a smile, every day.”

  Ace went out and fetched a couple more buckets of cold water from just outside the door, then said, “That Sally Mae is one hell of an inspiration.”

  “True.” Caden dumped his buckets into the tub. “Got a backbone of steel and a heart of mush. A man will do a lot for a woman like that, and I’ve got to say, it’s good to see Tucker smile. For awhile I thought he’d forgotten how.”

  “He’s definitely easier to live with now. A lot less busted-up jaws around the place.”

  Ace emptied his buckets into the tub. “We’ll be back with the hot water in a minute.”

  “Do me a favor and leave them by the door.”

  Ace and Caden looked at the bedroom door and then at Tracker. Ace was the one who gave voice to the question in their eyes. “You doing right by her?”

  “What the hell are you going to do if I say no?”

  Ace smiled a totally infectious, completely deceptive smile and collected his buckets. “I’d likely have to take you out back and skin you alive.”

  Anyone not knowing Ace would think he was joking.

  Caden picked up the other two buckets. “And then I’d have to kick your ass.”

  “You haven’t been able to manage it yet.”

  “Might just be I haven’t had the proper inspiration.”

  That,
Tracker could believe. Caden was slow to anger and not much on fighting without purpose. But when he found one, the battle was to the death, no matter what he had to go through to achieve the goal. He wasn’t the forgiving sort.

  “Uh-huh.” Tracker motioned them out. “Have no fear, I’m treating her with all the respect she demands.”

  Which was apparently none. What the hell had happened to the woman who had demanded he kiss her with love?

  “Good. We’ll see you later then.”

  Ace stopped at the door. “Almost forgot. Tia wants to know if you’ll be eating at the house tonight.”

  Tracker glanced at the bedroom. “Tell her I’ll let her know in a bit.”

  “Will do.”

  The door closed quietly behind them. There was nothing to do but go back to the bedroom.

  She was where he’d left her, kneeling on the floor, head bowed, still naked, still emotionless. He’d rather see her in the middle of an episode.

  Tracker sat down in front of her on the bed. Ari immediately reached for the front of his pants. Hell, he was as bad as everyone else. Taking without asking. He caught her hands in his, brought them to his lips and kissed the backs.

  “Sweets?” She didn’t move. “Talk to me.”

  She shook her head and tugged her hands away. He let them go, seeing what she would do. She reached for his cock again and cupped him through his pants. His cock, uncaring of moral issues, perked up. Again, he stopped her.

  “Are you thinking of controlling me with sex?”

  That brought her gaze up.

  “I’ll take that look of surprise as a no.”

  He left her hand where it was, letting the pleasure trickle through him as he fought for words. The pleasure won. He grabbed her wrist, ending the game.

  A shudder went through her and he understood something. Desi was wrong. The way to go forward with Ari was not the way Caine had gone with Desi. Tracker didn’t know what was the right way, but that wasn’t it. He looked at Ari’s fingers, so pale compared to his. So elegant. She was a lady. And his for a time. The scars around her wrists were an abomination, but not a surprise. He knew she’d been bound, but looking at them hurt him, anyway. Way down deep inside, in a place he’d thought scarred over.