Burnt Road: Dante

by Neal, Toby

  Melody looked down at her hiking boots. She was grateful that Dante had retrieved the one she’d lost. “These won’t work?”

  “The treads are very thick on hiking boots. They could be dangerous for horseback riding. It is better to have smoother soles and a good heel so they don’t catch in the stirrups.” Dante stepped into the tack room and Melody followed. Saddles and bridles lined the walls and dust covered trunks sat on the floor under the tack. Dante flipped one open. He pulled out a pair of canary yellow cowboy boots.

  Melody grinned at the sight of them. She could get into this cowgirl “thang.” She’d never ridden before, but Melody liked the smell in the barn: musty hay, earthy horse and sweet grain accented with pure Dante as he passed by her, grabbing a pair of chaps hanging on the wall.

  Dante’s scent was intoxicating. Even though she was sore, Melody wanted him again, and not just for the physical pleasure. He’d saved her, cherished her, and made her feel special and admired.

  Melody was leaning on him too hard, trusting him too much.

  It was dangerous.

  She must be very careful to not lose herself in this man. They were on their way to Idaho, a place she’d never been, to live with his family. Melody shivered as Dante held out the chaps.

  “These are adjustable.” His eyes roved down her body. “I think they will look very nice on you.”

  He stepped closer and leaned down for a kiss, and his stubble burned her already tender skin. The tiny, rough pain sent a shiver of desire through her. Melody meant to push him back, to stop the kiss, but his hands were in her hair and his scent was in her nose and she was lost to him again, in his power.

  Dante broke the kiss, his breath shallow. “You are sore. I must stop.” He rested his forehead against hers, his breath warm and sweet.

  Melody nodded and stepped back, creating space between them even as her hands itched to dip under his shirt and caress his abs.

  She needed to be careful and stay in control.

  Dante handed her the worn, tan leather chaps with chocolate brown fringe. She put them around her hips and tightened the belt so that they hung just to her ankle. Dante dropped to his knees in front of her and a thrill went up Melody’s spine; she loved him on his knees. And that hat! He was so sexy it should be illegal.

  Dante strapped her into the chaps, his hands on her inner thighs as he buckled them into place.

  He stood up. “You look amazing.”

  “Thanks. I like them.” The chaps made Melody feel brave and wild, like she was playing a part in a romantic western movie. She pulled on the yellow boots and Dante found her a hat; it was cream-colored, and fit her perfectly.

  “Let’s check the rest of these trunks,” Melody suggested. “There might be something useful.”

  The first one Melody opened held grooming equipment and some treats. She grabbed the bag of peppermints and moved on to the next trunk.

  She flipped it open, discovering a shotgun in a leather holster. She took an involuntary step back. The gun was a reminder of death and destruction. But if she was going to survive this movie, Melody needed to face the danger and master it. She squatted and reached out, running her hand along the soft leather holster that looked like it attached to a saddle.

  She felt for her ring with her thumb to twirl it, a habit she’d had for almost a decade. The naked skin of her finger reminded her that she’d lost something important; she needed to be careful not to lose more.

  “Teach me to shoot.” She looked up at Dante. “I need to know how to protect myself.”

  Dante frowned. “I think you do a very good job protecting yourself.”

  Melody smiled, the assurance in his voice comforting. “I still want to learn to shoot. I think it’s important.”

  Dante nodded, a stiff jerk of his chin. He picked up the shotgun and found some ammunition. “We will practice away from the horses. I do not want to spook them.”

  * * *

  Dante led Melody to a large open field behind the cabins. They could still see the horses but the distance was far enough that the shotgun would probably just sound like a car backfiring, rather than the deadly explosion of bullet from barrel.

  Melody pulled her hat low, shielding her eyes from the sun, and concentrated on the shotgun in Dante’s hands; it had a glossy wooden stock and double barrels.

  Dante cracked the gun open and loaded two shells.

  “We should really have ear protection.” Dante looked at her, his eyes soft, almost the same rich color as the hillsides around them.

  “I don’t think we have a choice.”

  The gun loaded, Dante stood with his legs hip distance apart and brought the gun up to his shoulder, facing a boulder he’d set a can on. “You look down the barrel like this and get the sight in place.” He pointed at a little knob on the barrels. “Line this up between these two points.” He moved his finger up to point out two triangles near the top of the gun. “And then you squeeze the trigger.” Dante didn’t pull it; instead, he lowered the gun and handed it over to Melody.

  She inhaled deeply and took the gun from him.

  It was not as heavy as Melody expected. She’d assumed it would be a weight almost impossible to carry, but maybe that was the guilt of using it. Maybe just holding it wasn’t so hard.

  Melody raised the shotgun and Dante stepped up behind her, helping her place the butt into her shoulder, securing it so that it held steady there. Her left hand cupped the wooden stock, and her right pointer finger curled around the trigger. She lined up the sights on the can.

  Dante stayed behind her to hold her in place, but she shrugged, rolling her shoulders back, asking for space.

  Dante stepped away, and she was alone with the weapon.

  Melody aimed, her focus intense and her mind steadying as she concentrated on this simple, yet vital, skill.

  She needed to learn this to protect herself.

  “Squeeze gently. Keep your knees slightly bent and your body supple.”

  Melody did as Dante directed, her finger pulling back the trigger millimeter by millimeter until the gun seemed to explode. She jerked back, and Dante caught her.

  Melody didn’t hit the can, but she did chip off a chunk of the boulder.

  Her heart hammered as adrenaline surged in her veins and her ears rang. A horse whinnied and Melody looked over to the pasture. A glossy black horse with a long flowing mane and a white star in the center of its forehead was running toward the fence, apparently attracted to the sound. Melody turned to Dante. “That’s the horse I want to ride!” The gelding looked just like Black Beauty, and she’d loved that movie when she was a kid.

  “As you wish.”

  Melody smiled at Dante’s reference to The Princess Bride.

  “Thank you, farm boy,” Melody played along. Dante laughed, but her chest tightened. The Princess Bride was a film about true love conquering all, even death. As she turned back to the target, Melody worried she was giving Dante the wrong impression. This wasn’t true love. That only existed in fairy tales.

  * * *

  They set off on horseback and Melody let her hips move with the motion of the animal as she got used to the feel of riding.

  “Weight in your heels, head up. That’s it,” Dante instructed. Melody had named the black horse Beauty and Dante had helped her tack him up, then attached a lead line so she wouldn’t have to control the horse herself.

  “Are you ready to try trotting?” Dante asked when they reached the main road.

  “Okay.” How hard could it be?

  Dante made kissing sounds, urging Sweetie into a trot, and Beauty sped to keep pace. Melody bounced hard and grabbed for the pommel as her teeth clattered. “Ouch!” Melody yelped.

  Dante looked over his shoulder. His seat was totally steady, his long legs easy against the horse’s side.

  How the crap was he doing that?

  “You have to move your hips with the horse. Let the motion guide you. Find the rhythm.”

 
; Melody was too busy trying to keep her feet in the stirrups and her body in the saddle.

  Find the rhythm, my ass.

  “It is easier to sit with a canter. We should go faster.”

  “Faster?”

  Dante made that kissing sound again. The horses sped up, and Melody let out a squeak as Beauty’s motion changed. But Dante was right; at the faster gait it was a smoother ride. She began to find the motion, her hips moving and releasing. It was a simple back-and-forth; her butt rocked forward into the saddle as the horse stepped out and when his hooves hit the ground, she rocked back.

  It was actually kind of fun.

  Dante made another kissing sound and the horses sped up even more, their hooves pounding on the hard ground, dust rising up behind them. Melody leaned forward into the wind, her weight in her heels, her body rolling with each stride.

  She let go of the pommel and released a whoop as the speed blew away her thoughts and fears. “This is so much fun!”

  Dante laughed, the sound whipping past her.

  They were heroes in a romantic western, riding into the sunset, except that it was daytime.

  Dante slowed when they reached the turnoff into the housing project. The puppies, in a bag attached to Dante’s saddle, popped their heads up. Melody laughed. They looked a little woozy, their heads bobbing. “I don’t think the puppies are loving this.”

  “They are survivors. I’m sure they understand it’s of great importance that we move quickly.”

  “Sure they do.” Melody laughed again.

  Dante looked over his shoulder, his eyes questioning. “What’s so funny?”

  “You. You’re funny.” He frowned, but she persisted. “I like that about you. Remember, I laugh when I’m happy.”

  “So I make you happy?” Dante’s eyebrows rose, his expression hopeful.

  Melody nodded. He did make her happy.

  Dante grinned. “You make me happy, too.” He returned his attention to the road ahead and Melody felt a stab of guilt. She had not committed herself to Dante. She needed to be honest with him and explain that great sex, even a ton of it, didn’t mean that they were going to end up together. He’d never had a relationship before, and didn’t understand that Melody wasn’t into commitment. She needed to be clearer with him that her independence was the most important thing to her. She’d fought hard for it, and couldn’t let it go: not even for a beautiful man with a heart of pure freaking gold.

  The floodwaters had receded and the housing project was littered with debris. A refrigerator, washed out from one of the houses, leaned against a fence. Further down the road they spotted a washing machine tilted on its side, the door open and the interior filled with dirty water.

  The destruction of the flood was more than Melody had realized. How would they ever find her ring? It was impossible. It was foolish to even try.

  Dante dismounted in front of the model home. It looked different: shabbier, destroyed. In Melody’s memory it was large and intimidating.

  Goose bumps rose over her body. Why had she wanted to come back here?

  “I’ll go look inside. You can wait here,” Dante offered, seeing her expression. He was really becoming sensitive to her feelings and needs. “Unless you want to come in.”

  “No. I want to stay outside.” Melody’s voice was tight as fear spiraled in her stomach. She felt Snake’s touch again, that imprint on her ass, that hard smack. Melody’s finger caressed the butt of the shotgun, holstered to her saddle, reassuring herself that she was safe as Dante entered the house.

  Beauty snorted and shook his head, and Melody gripped the pommel again. Sweetie’s ears pricked toward the desert.

  Melody saw the rock she’d pulled herself up onto off in the distance. There were no floodwaters around it now, just mud. She’d been so lucky to survive.

  This wasn’t a western. She needed to quit fantasizing that they were in a movie.

  She’d brought Dante back here to look for a trinket, and Dante had come because he’d do anything for her. Melody looked down at her naked hand. She knew she wouldn’t do the same for him.

  She was selfish and better off alone. Melody had never been a good girlfriend. She didn’t even know how to be one, and she didn’t want to learn. This had been a mistake. Coming back to this place was foolish, and by sleeping with an innocent like Dante, Melody had made promises she didn’t intend to keep.

  She had not realized how passionate their lovemaking would be. Dante could go all night and then some. If Melody didn’t stop him, he might consume her.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Dante

  Dante wrinkled his nose at the smell of the abandoned model home. Mildewing carpet, wet from the flood, was littered with discarded, filthy food containers. The overturned furniture he’d seen days before had been righted, though.

  Someone had come through the house, probably looting.

  Dante had only glanced around on his previous visit to verify that Melody was no longer there. Now he lifted off the couch cushions, checking in the cracks. On his hands and knees, he peered under the couch and coffee table.

  Yes, that was a tooth embedded in the carpet. He also saw a good bit of blood from the struggle Melody had told him about, when the men were fighting over who got to rape her first.

  He shuddered at the thought.

  Still on his hands and knees, Dante spotted the red and green wires running into the back of the TV. They would have copper cores. He could make Melody a new ring from the wire.

  Dante got up. Using his Buck knife, he cut a section of cording from the back of the TV. He peeled the plastic off of three separate strands and quickly braided the copper wire.

  He sat down on the couch and focused on bending the wire into a small, intricate knot that would serve as a centerpiece for the ring.

  Absorbed in his task, a harsh voice behind him was the first indication Dante had that he wasn’t alone.

  “Hey, pretty boy. I was sleeping in the back room and didn’t hear you come in.”

  Damn his tendency to hyperfocus on a task! It made him deaf to the things around him. Dante leaped to his feet, stuffing the ring into his jeans pocket and whirling to face the threat, his knife raised.

  “Mine’s bigger than yours.” A shirtless, rangy bald man advanced into the room. He was holding a .357 Magnum and wearing worn black leather pants and a gap-toothed grin.

  That Magnum could blow a hole the size of a fist through a man.

  This guy looked like a biker skinhead. But if so, where were the bikes?

  They must have been around back, or in the closed garage. Dante should have checked that the house was clear before beginning his project.

  He had to warn Melody.

  Dante slowly raised his hands. “I just needed a little bit of wire.” He pointed to the cut lengths on the coffee table. “The house looked abandoned; I didn’t know it was your place.”

  “Well, now you do. This is Snake’s place. Snake! Come here and see the pretty boy I caught us.”

  “You calling me, Bent?” Snake came shambling in from another room off the hall while Bent leaned casually on the wall, his weapon aimed at Dante. “Well, now. Lookit what we got here!”

  Bent gestured with the weapon. “Take off your hat, pretty boy.”

  Dante slowly reached up and removed his hat. His long hair, bundled up into the crown, fell around his shoulders.

  “See now, if I squint my eyes, he looks almost as good as a woman, Snake,” Bent’s voice was terrifyingly matter-of-fact. “I think I can make that work. Turn around, boy.”

  Being called pretty boy had never felt this dangerous before. Dante’s heart thundered in his ears as his schoolyard bullying memories swamped him. He kept his hands up and turned around slowly, feeling the men’s gazes on his body like hot pokers.

  Dante kept his hair long because he hated the sensation of cutting it. Anything but Melody’s hands in his curls had always made him shudder, and the sound of scissors snipping
was the worst.

  Now he wished he had shorn it off entirely.

  “Oh, even I can make this one work, Bent, and I’m not even as ‘bent’ as you.” Snake chuckled, a sound that rasped Dante’s nerves as he planned his next move.

  Dante’s grip tightened on his hat. He dropped into a crouch and threw it, Frisbee-style, at Bent’s gun hand as he dove behind the couch.

  The .357 thundered, louder than the rifle still tied uselessly to Melody’s saddle.

  “Run, Melody!” Dante screamed with all the volume he could muster. “Run, and don’t look back!” He scrambled to his feet and bolted for the door.

  Bent cursed as he leaped into Dante’s way, grabbing him. Snake dashed across the living room to the front door.

  Snake was going after Melody.

  “Run!” Dante screamed again, fighting to get away.

  Bent backhanded him with the gun and darkness fell over Dante like a thick black curtain.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Melody

  The booming sound of gunfire made Melody jerk in the saddle. Sweetie and Beauty shifted, their hooves scraping on the muddy cement. A muffled yell, Dante’s voice, came from inside the house. “Run, Melody! Run, and don’t look back!”

  A figure appeared in the window. Melody’s breath stopped and her heartbeat thundered in her head as she recognized Snake. His nose was bandaged, and his tongue snuck out, wetting his lips as he stared at her.

  Melody yanked on the reins, pulling Beauty around. Sweetie followed them as the horses were still connected. She drove her heels into Beauty’s sides and he took off like a bullet, galloping down the road, legs flying.

  They needed to get away!

  Melody reached the main road and didn’t slow down. The horses turned back toward the dude ranch, heading home. Melody wasn’t in control; her legs flopped around, kicking Beauty and knocking into Sweetie, as she clung to the pommel.

  The horse’s hooves pounded on the pavement, loud and jolting.

  Melody heard the harsh whine of a motorcycle engine and looked over her shoulder. Terror seared her gut. Snake was following, gaining on her with his bike!