The Bond Unbroken

by Bond unbroken (NCP) (lit)

  * * * *

  Mitch pushed against the panel at the top of the stairs and stepped into the dimly lit room. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. "Ben, it's me, Mitch," he said quietly. If Ben were sleeping, he wouldn't wake him. He also knew that sneaking up on Ben Thompson, asleep or awake, could get him killed. When there was no response, he moved further into the room, his booted footsteps muffled by the carpet beneath his feet. "Ben?" Still no answer.

  A stare from Medusa couldn't have been more effective in turning him to stone than the breathtaking sight in the bathtub. He was forced to suck air into his lungs in a hiss, then he seemed to stop breathing altogether. At first, he thought maybe she'd drowned, which would have been a legitimate excuse for rushing over and pulling her nude body from the water, but the gentle rise and fall of her breasts proved that she'd fallen asleep in the tub.

  The gentlemanly thing to do would be to turn around, leave quietly, and forget what he had seen. Hell, it would take a saint to be able to do that, and Mitchell Cameron had never aimed for sainthood. He was a perfectly normal warm-blooded male, who was at this moment hotter than hell.

  Instead of retreating, he moved forward. Spying the glass beside the tub, he picked it up and downed the contents in one gulp, rationalizing as he did so that if she'd had so much to drink she'd fallen asleep in the tub, she could conceivably drown. He was doing the right thing by coming to her aid.

  She moaned softly, and what little reason remained vanished with the shockingly aroused sound. Mitch went down on one knee beside the tub and dipped his hand into the cool water. He couldn't resist if his life depended upon it, knowing full well that in this instance it might very well be the case. Her delicate pink nipples were pebble hard, whether from the cold or from the passionate dream she appeared to be having. His hand moved forward, as if by its own will, to touch one tempting bud with the tip of his wet finger. The action was rewarded by another passionate moan as she stirred and moved her full, firm breast into his eager palm.

  "I was so afraid you wouldn't come," she whispered, then reached up to cup the back of his head and pull his lips down to hers.

  As Matthew reached out to touch one sensitive nipple with the tip of his finger, it sent an electrical charge through her breast. It wasn't enough. She turned so that her entire breast was cupped in the warmth of his palm. Reaching up, she pulled his head down for the kiss she had been longing for. His tongue caressed the fullness of her lower lip before slipping past her lips to tease the tip of her tongue, and her body went up in flames. The kiss deepened. His teasing tongue began thrusting in an age old rhythm, and she gave herself fully to the sensation. The hand at her breast began to gently squeeze and kneed the sensitive mound, and she arched into it, needing more, until he held a breast in each palm.

  Katlin whimpered in protest when his lips left hers and began kissing his way down her throat and lower, until at last one painfully hard nipple felt the hot tip of his tongue scorch its coldness. They had been apart so long, her body was starving with a hunger only he could satisfy.

  "Oh, Matthew, I love you so," her mind whispered, knowing they were so in tune his heart and soul would hear.

  His hand went behind her to arch her back as his lips pulled the tip of her breast into his mouth to be suckled strongly while his tongue continued to tease until it became so exquisitely painful she groaned deep in her throat. She began to squirm, her body was so sensitized the cool water against her heated flesh almost felt like a caress in itself.

  The warmth of his hand as it moved through the cool water to gently massage her abdomen turned her cool flesh to fire. When his hand reached the soft curls at the junction between her thighs, she arched upward, parting her legs to give him free access to that which would always belong to only him. His heated palm cupped her, and she felt the heat radiate up into her womb which spasmed with need.

  "Please," she whimpered, unable to stand the teasing torment. She couldn't breathe. She was gasping for breath, and she knew she would surely die from the sensual torture.

  "Soon, darlin', very soon," he whispered in a voice gruff with passion.

  She felt his finger enter her gently, slowly, and she heard herself purring beneath his loving touch. She could feel herself tighten around his probing finger as she began to reach toward the ultimate sensation.

  Mitch felt as if he had just received a painful body blow to the gut, and his probing finger stilled. "Christ," he hissed beneath his breath. The most responsive woman he had ever touched was a virgin. He couldn't believe it. He didn't want to believe it. The maidenhead he had touched with the tip of his finger was very much intact, but wouldn't be much longer unless he could get control of his raging passions. There was no doubt in his mind that she was so far gone that he could take her and she wouldn't attempt to stop him. Hell, she would even welcome him, but would she remember afterward? She was obviously in a deep, alcohol induced, passionate dream. Thank God, he hadn't sunk so low that he could take advantage. Oh no, when he had her, and he would have her, consequences be damned, he wanted her sober, wide awake, and not dreaming of God only knows who.

  Clenching his teeth, he took a deep shuddering breath and battled for control. He looked into her beautiful, passion filled face and felt his heart constrict in his chest. He couldn't leave her like this. Carefully, he withdrew his finger from the hot, tight wetness of her womanhood and used his thumb to rub the sensitive bud at the entrance. She was so close, Mitch knew it wouldn't take much to carry her over the edge.

  Katlin could feel her body begin to tense and spasm beneath Matthew's coaxing touch. She felt herself rising, and she abandoned herself to the whirl of sensation until she returned to earth with a purr of contentment.

  He picked her up and carried her from the water in his arms. He gently dried her body then laid her upon the soft quilt she had spread upon the lush grass beside the pond.

  Mitch tucked the quilt around her shoulders and looked into the face of the beautiful, woman/child who had managed to totally bewitch him. Her delicate features were totally relaxed as she slept the sleep of an innocent, yet her lips were curved slightly in the smile of sexually satisfied woman. He leaned down to her, his lips barely touching hers as he whispered, "Sweet dreams, little witch." He kissed her softly before he turned and left the room the same way he had entered.

  As Mitch rounded the alley and came out onto the board sidewalk in front of the Bull's Head, he was calling himself all kinds of a fool. He honestly believed walking out of that room was one of the hardest things he'd ever done. Oh, he didn't doubt that tomorrow he'd be pleased with himself for doing the right thing, but right now, the knowledge did nothing to relieve his raging pent up sexual frustrations.

  "You're getting soft, Cameron," he muttered under his breath, the almost painful ache in his loins making a mockery of the statement.

  The sound of his boots against the boardwalk, the purposefulness of his strides, and the grim determination in his features caused more than one man to step quickly out of his way as he walked east on Texas Street. His destination was Fisher's Addition, or, as it was commonly known, The Devil's Addition. He paused briefly at the corner. Turning south would take him in the direction of Randi's place. Mitch headed north instead, figuring he'd best satisfy another appetite first, or he wouldn't have enough energy to last the night with a lusty wench like Randi. That is assuming Ben didn't already have her tied up for the night. If that was the case, one of the other girls would serve his purpose. He was too uncomfortable at this point to be choosy.

  Mitch barely had the Drover's Cottage in view when Ben's voice halted him mid-stride.

  "Figured you'd be passing this way sooner or later." Ben was leaning back in one of the wooded rockers on the front porch of the hotel, his feet propped up on the porch railing, an iced drink in his hand. Black Bart was beside him, gnawing on a steak bone from the dinner plate that had been put down for him.

  "And I figured you would be at Randi's," Mitch count
ered as he walked up the path to join Ben on the porch. He leaned back against a post and pulled out his cigarette makings.

  "Had other things on my mind," Ben responded as he reached down to scratch Bart behind the ears, not sure how to approach the subject of Katlin.

  "Oh?" Mitch asked with an arch of his right eyebrow. "Something you want to talk about?" He wasn't sure how to bring up the subject of Ben's so called niece without making him suspicious. He finished rolling his smoke then lit the lighter on the first try. Cupping the flame with his palm as he brought it to the tip of his cigarette. Noting the curious expression in Ben's eyes, Mitch tossed the lighter to Ben.

  "Handy little gadget. Katlin brought it with her." He proceeded to show Ben how it worked then put it back in his pocket.

  Both men knew they were playing cat and mouse with the subject uppermost in their minds. They were sizing each other up, unsure how the subject would affect their long standing friendship.

  Ben's lips curved in a half smile, and he gave an almost rueful laugh as he said, "Let's skip the shit and cut to the chase, so we can discuss your other problem."

  "My sentiments exactly." Mitch took a deep draw on his cigarette, pulling the acrid smoke into his lungs, then exhaled slowly, watching the white cloud form between them. It was somehow symbolic.

  Ben knew the Drover's Cottage was the best place to wait for Mitch. As was his habit when in town, Mitch always treated himself to a hearty meal before making his way to the south side of town. Of all the establishments that served food, the Drover's Cottage offered the best. And of all the soiled doves who plied their trade just outside the city limits, Randi's place supplied the cleanest and prettiest girls.

  He'd had plenty of time to think about what Katlin told him about her life. She'd been surprisingly open about her relationship with her father, or lack there of, and of how his grandson had tried to make up for the neglect. His grandson, the concept still sounded unbelievable. It hadn't taken Ben long to realize that beneath Katlin's tough, controlled exterior, she was vulnerable. Her father had left her with painful emotional scars, and, like his grandson, he would do everything in his power to protect her from further hurt.

  "I'll get right to the point, Mitch. Katlin hasn't had it easy. You and I have been friends for a long time, but hurt her in any way, and I'll forget the friendship ever existed."

  "Point taken. Though I don't see why you should think your niece and I would ever be in a position where I would be likely to hurt her." Ben's words had been much what he'd expected. He also knew the events of the past hour made a liar out of him. He was hedging. He knew it, and Ben knew it. What annoyed him was the realization that in the short time Katlin had spent with Ben, she had obviously confided more about her life than she had to him.

  Ben's laugh at his statement was not a pleasant one. "Don't try to bluff a gambler, Mitch, you'd lose. I saw the reaction you had to each other. I'm just warning you, as a friend, Katlin is not one of the women you use casually then walk away from without a backward glance."

  Mitch's response to Ben's last statement was a mere lifting of his left eyebrow before he took one last draw on his cigarette then flipped the butt away, watching the glowing tip arch into the darkness before it hit the ground.

  With a self mocking shake of his head, Ben admitted, "That's like the pot calling the kettle black, isn't it?"

  "That about sums it up," Mitch quipped back. "So, you can honestly accept her as your niece?"

  "By marriage, yes."

  "Not by blood."

  "If you're asking what my intentions are, all I can tell you is that I intend to see that she's protected. Don't forget, Mitch, I'm a married man," Ben responded.

  "I can't recall when that has stopped you in the past when you wanted a woman." Mitch knew his remark was a cheap shot, a shot that hit the intended target.

  Ben's eyes had hardened as he looked up at Mitch. "I can't deny it. Nor do I intend to make excuses for my actions." Was keeping his wife and son back home for their own safety merely an excuse for not settling down? Considering his reputation and the young fools with a death wish who were out to make a name for themselves as a fast gun by taking him down, Ben had convinced himself it was the safest course of action. Now, he wasn't so sure. He also wasn't hypocrite enough to claim he'd been living like a monk. Anyone who knew him, knew better.

  Although he'd never been a church going man, Ben supposed he believed there was a God. He just didn't give it much thought. Considering the life he lead, it was easier that way. Now, with Katlin's appearance, the strange circumstances behind it, and some of the things she'd said, he was forced to do a lot of thinking and rethinking about his life, about what he believed and didn't believe. Bottom line, Ben Thompson had the uneasy feeling a course of events had been set into motion, and all their lives were about to change.

  Ben's instincts had been to warn Mitch to stay away from Katlin, but Katlin believed Mitch was part of the reason she had been sent here. If he interfered, he would only complicate an already complicated situation. Besides, considering the heated, if reluctant, by play he'd witnessed, attempting to stand between them would be a waste of time. A sucker's bet he'd be sure to lose. That didn't mean he couldn't try to stack the deck in Katlin's favor.

  "I could use a drink. Want a refill?" Mitch asked, looking toward Ben's glass.

  Ben had been so lost in thought he'd almost forgotten Mitch was there. Looking down at his drink, he realized the ice had melted, watering down the contents until it was no longer appealing. He tossed what remained of the drink over the railing and onto the ground before he extended the glass toward Mitch. When Mitch took the glass, Ben reached down and retrieved Bart's plate.

  "How about some water for our friend here?" Ben asked with an easy smile that told Mitch their friendship was still on safe ground, at least for the time being.

  Mitch felt he needed the break in their conversation as much as he needed a drink and food. The spring-hinged screen door closed behind him with a decided snap as he entered the hotel and walked through the lobby to the restaurant.

  The moment he entered, he caught the eye of a waitress and favored her with one of his most charming smiles. The smile that rarely failed to get his requests met by the female it was bestowed upon. Betty, he believed her name to be, was clearly harried, overworked, and overly fond of the rich desserts served by the restaurant, hurried over to him.

  Mitch put Ben's glass on the plate and handed them to her as he said, "Betty, Mr. Thompson would like more of the same. I'll have my usual, and our fury friend would like a bowl of water. Have them put on my tab." He reached into his pocket, retrieved a silver dollar, and handed it to her with a grin. "For the extra trouble."

  "Thank you, Mitch," she replied with a girlish giggle as she dropped the coin into her apron pocket. "Mr. Thompson sure was mad when the boss wouldn't let the dog eat in the dining room with him. He ordered two complete steak dinners, with the biggest steaks we had, and said he'd rather eat on the porch with the dog because he was better behaved than most of the human inhabitants in Abilene."

  "From what I've seen, he was probably right," Mitch informed her with a chuckle. It sounded like something Ben would do for shock value. "I'll be out on the porch with Ben and the dog, if you can have someone bring the drinks out. And send out the evening special. I'll eat out there as well."

  "I'll take care of it."

  "I knew you would," Mitch said with a wink that had her blushing furiously.

  While Mitch was getting their drinks, Ben found himself comparing Mitch and Katlin's upbringing and was surprised to realize how similar they were. Katlin's mother died when Katlin was five years old, and she was raised by an indifferent father. Mitch was barely an infant when his mother was abducted by a Comanche renegade, leaving Mitch to be raised by his cynical, embittered father. At least Katlin had some love and affection from her Uncle Ben and Aunt Karen.

  It wasn't any wonder Mitch went through women like a drunk goe
s through whiskey bottles, to be tossed aside when he'd had his fill. With women, Mitch was smooth and charming, yet Ben didn't think he'd ever seen him show a female genuine warmth, affection, or trust, until Katlin. What never ceased to amaze Ben, the woman kept coming back for more.

  The snap of the closing screen door signaled Mitch's return. "Drinks will be out in a few minutes," he said as he walked over and seated himself in the rocker next to Ben's. Like Ben, he leaned back comfortably and propped his booted feet up on the porch railing, legs crossed at the ankles.

  "So, were you able to uncover any information for me?"

  "Sorry, Mitch," Ben answered with a rueful shake of his head. "If anyone knows why your father was murdered or who was responsible, they're not talking. I did hear about the price someone put on your head, but Katlin managed to get that information before we had a chance to talk."

  "Damn," Mitch muttered. " I had hoped with your reputation and connections you would be able to come up with something I couldn't." Mitch was feeling frustrated in more ways than one. He pulled the telegram from his pocket and handed it to Ben.

  Ben read the telegram and passed it back to Mitch. "They're after the fastest guns with the biggest reputations, Mitch. You know as well as I do those men are notoriously closed mouthed about who is paying them. Sort of an honor among thieves."

  "Any suggestions or ideas?" Mitch asked.

  "Just to watch your back and stay alert. Until we bring down the men with the money, you'll be fair game."

  "I'd already figured that out."

  At that moment, both men were thinking the same thing. As long as Mitch was a target, there was always the chance of Katlin being caught in the cross fire.

  "It's been a long day, Mitch. Lets sleep on it and go over everything we have in the morning," Ben suggested. "Maybe we can find something we've missed."