California Caress (25 page)

“Almost there, sweet thing.”

The man’s voice from over her shoulder made Hope stiffen. She hadn’t been able to get a good look at him at the river, and since then she hadn’t dared to try. Still, there was something in his tone that struck a familiar chord within her. Something in his condescending manner made her think the man hadn’t stumbled upon her by accident.

“Where’s ‘there’?” she asked suddenly, her accent thickening as her tongue tripped over the question.

The man chuckled, and the mirthless sound curled up her spine. “You’ll see soon enough.”

The rain started to fall faster, causing the man to kick the horse to a quicker pace. Hope was forced to grip the slippery saddle horn with both knees and dig her knees deep in the horse’s side to keep her from sliding off. Rain trickled down her cheeks in cool rivulets, slipping down her throat and pooling in the hollow between her breasts. She shivered, lowering her head to the moist air that whipped her cheeks as she leaned closer to the horse’s back.

Her backside brushed against the man’s thigh, and she immediately sat forward again. The quiver of revulsion that coursed through her was as tangible as the rain soaking through her clothes.

In the distance, the shape of a small, deserted way station could be distinguished from the shadows. She squinted in that direction, her spirits momentarily soaring at the thought of a clean floor and a warm fire.

No lights glowed in the shack’s windows. The darkness of the structure made it appear more than a little foreboding. It seemed to rise up out of the night from nowhere.

The man guided the horse beneath the dilapidated lean-to propped against the side wall. Close up, the shack appeared to be in an even greater state of disrepair.

At the man’s nudge, Hope dismounted. Her feet slipped in the mud, and she had to quickly grab for the saddle horn to avoid falling into the mulch. All thoughts of running for freedom were swiftly cast aside as the man dropped with a thump at her side.

As at the river, the barrel of his gun was pressed hard against her waist. It was a sure means of squelching any further thoughts of escape.

The man wrapped his hand around her upper arm and she found herself being dragged toward the decrepit way station. A bolt of lightning streaked across the clouded sky, illuminating the ground below. In the brief, flickering light, Hope glanced back and gained her first true glance of her captor.

“You!” swallowing hard, she tried to keep the scream that lodged in her throat from spilling over her lips. A breathless gasp escaped her, as the door was thrown open wide and she was brusquely shoved into the shack’s stuffy interior.

Reluctantly, Drake reined the horse in and guided it to the river’s edge. Though he would rather have pushed on, the stallion’s sides were starting to heave and a fine lather was coating the silky flesh beneath his knees. If he didn’t stop now, he wouldn’t have a mount to ride.

Swinging off the saddle, he looped the reins over the powerful neck. The mustang dipped his nose in the cool, flowing water and, kneeling on the bank, Drake did the same.

Twice, he plunged his head into the icy depths. The flesh on his neck prickled with the water’s chill as he came up gasping. Trickles of moisture poured down his chest and back. The wetness mixed with the sweat coating his body to turn the trail dust embedded inside his clothes to an itchy paste.

Swiping the dripping hair from his brow, he glanced up at the sky. Dawn was still hours away, and until the sun broke free of the midnight sky, he would have to keep stopping to make sure he was still following the same tracks. He’d wasted precious time doing that, but it couldn’t be helped. The sooner he found Hope, the better. He wouldn’t wait until daylight and risk Tubbs hurting her—or worse—before he could reach her.

The thought of Tubbs’ greasy hands anywhere on Hope’s body sent a bolt of rage shooting through Drake’s blood. He’d rip the man to shreds with his bare hands if he found the bastard had so much as bruised Hope’s little finger. As it was, he thought he’d have a hard time not killing Tubbs for having taken her in the first place.

He grabbed the hat he’d carelessly tossed aside and crammed it on his still-wet head. Tubbs! How the hell had the bastard found them? Drake had purposely avoided taking a ship from San Francisco, knowing that to be the first place Tubbs would look. And he hadn’t wired ahead to Boston, suspecting that Tubbs would have hired no-good thugs like himself to watch the depots and trading posts.

So how had he found them? And why had he taken Hope!?

With a ragged curse, he grabbed the reins and pulled the horse’s nose from the water. In one lithe motion he’d swung into the saddle and kicked the horse on. The clouds in the sky were darkening, and the first drops of rain splattered the top of his hat and his bare forearms. Soon, it would be coming down in sheets, washing away the tracks. If that happened, he’d never find Hope.

Swallowing past a sudden lump in his throat, he spurred the horse on. The tired stallion grunted in protest. Drake felt a momentary pang of guilt. He’d never ridden a horse so hard. But then, he’d never had a reason to charge through the night as though demons were biting at his heels. He hoped to God he never would again.

“So you remember me, do you?” Tyrone Tubbs asked sarcastically, as another bolt of lightning shot through the sky. “I was wondering how long it would take.”

Hope chafed the flesh prickling on her forearms. “Did you think I’d forget someone who tried to steal my gold?”

Although she couldn’t see his face, she could feel his anger. “Steal!? Funny, the way I remember it, you were just itching to give those little nuggets to the first man who’d lead you to Drake Frazier. Standing in my shoes, you owe me big for making me look like a fool in front of my friends.”

Hope stared incredulously into the darkness. She winced when the gun barrel jabbed her ribs. “Is that what this is all about? You followed us to God knows where and kidnapped me just because you think I made a fool out of you? Don’t you think that’s a bit extreme?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, sweet thing,” he snarled. “If I’d wanted to get back at you that bad, I could have done it in Thirsty Gulch. Lord knows, I had plenty of opportunity.”

She shivered as his tone took on a whole new, sinister air. “I don’t understand. Why else would you—”

“Definitely not for you. Tempting though you seem to think you are, you’re just an added bonus. Frazier’s the one I’m after, and you’re the one who’s going to get him here for me. This time, I’m not leaving anything to chance.”

Hope could have laughed at the irony of it all. Could anything be farther from the truth? Lord, it would be more likely that the gunslinger would get down on his hands and knees and thank his lucky stars she was gone, out of his hair for good.

“You think Drake’s going to come for me?” she scoffed. “Think again, Tinks, Tudd, or whatever the hell your name is. He won’t come. He has better things to do with his time than traipse all over the countryside looking for me.”

“Wanna bet?”

A shuffle of footsteps told Hope he had neared her side. Her gaze flickered between her abductor and the door. The sky chose that moment to deliver another lightning bolt. The indecision in her eyes was painfully obvious in the flickering, white-yellow light.

Again, the pistol was shoved into her wet side. “I wouldn’t try it, sweet thing. My patience with you is already wearing thin. If you’re smart, you won’t push me.”

Lifting her chin high, she dismissed the threat. “What do you want with Frazier, Tinks? Did he make a fool out of you, too? Seems to be a popular pastime these days.”

She gasped as his fingers bit into her upper arm and she was brought up hard against his wet chest. The urge to yank away was strong, but she squashed it, as a rumble of thunder echoed in the distance. Rain sliced at the windowpane. His breath fanned her face and Hope tried not to gag on the rancid stench.

“I told you not to push me. You’d better start listening to what I say, woman, or you’re going to find yourself in the corner, trussed up like a chicken with a gag stuffed down your throat. How does
that
thought appeal to you?”

Hope’s blood ran cold. She didn’t doubt he possessed the audacity to make good on the threat. That she would allow him to do so without a fight, however, was questionable.

He didn’t wait for an answer as he reached in front of her and grabbed something off the table to her left. The gritty sound of a match being struck was followed by a sudden flare of light. She blinked quickly to adjust her eyes to the unexpected brightness.

“There,” he said, as he set the globeless lamp back in place atop the rickety table, “now I’ll see it if you try to pull anything stupid.”

He ran the tip of his finger down the smooth line of her jaw, and it took every ounce of willpower she possessed not to turn her head and sink her teeth into his flesh. Instead, she pulled back, straining away from the repugnant touch as far as she dared.

“What do you want with Frazier?” she asked again, her tone dry, her glare angry and dark.

“What do you think I want with him, sweet thing?”

“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be asking you.”

Her head snapped back under the force of his slap. With a startled cry, she covered her stinging cheek and glared at him angrily. She bit down hard on her lower lip to keep a furious retort at bar. The taste of blood on her tongue increased her fury.

“What are you doing?” she demanded when he crossed to the saddlebag dropped carelessly in the corner.

She watched him crouch, his hands rifling through the worn leather pouch before emerging with a strong piece of rope and a rag. A smug smile of satisfaction spread over his thin lips as he straightened and turned back toward her. Her heart skipped a beat with every step that brought him closer. Swallowing hard, his gaze flickered between the contemptible strip of rope and the sinister glint in those fathomless, coal-black eyes.

“I told you I wouldn’t take any more of your flak,” he sneered. Grabbing her wrist, he wrapped the cord tightly around her tender flesh. She flinched, but steadfastly refused to cry out. “I’m not like your lover, sweet thing. When I say I’m going to do something, I
do
it. Maybe next time you’ll listen when I tell you to watch your tongue.” His beady gaze met hers. “If there is a next time.”

His fingers felt cold and clammy as they brushed against her skin. The pungent smell of his sweat gave a new meaning to the word repulsive. Trying to ignore the churning in her stomach, Hope waited until he dipped his head to secure the rope in a knot at the base of her thumbs, then made her move.

With dexterity, Hope pulled her knee up and slammed it painfully into Tubbs’s groin. A whoosh of air rushed from his lungs as he instinctively doubled over.

Again, her knee ascended. This time it crashed into his jaw. He was propelled backward, collapsing onto the dust-strewn floor with a resounding
thud
.

Hope wasted no time in bolting for the door. As she ran, she pried free the rope and let it drop to the floor. Throwing open the door, she dashed into the cold, wet night. She could hear him following, but his pursuit was slow.

Her feet squished in the mud as she rounded the corner of the shack, skidding to a stop in front of the dappled gray. She had just pulled free the reins and thrown them over the horse’s neck when her captor came bounding around the corner. In his haste to catch her, she noticed, he’d left his gun behind.

Hope vaulted atop the gray’s back, wincing as pain jolted through her shoulder. A hand closed around her ankle as she grabbed the rain-slick leather in her trembling fingers.

Looking down, she was captured by his sinister glare. His thin lips curled back in an ominous smile that made a shiver of dread ripple over her shoulders.

“Let me go!” she tried to jerk her leg free, but his brutal grasp held firm.

“Nice try, sweet thing,” he groused, “but you aren’t going anywhere.”

“The hell I’m not!” she pulled her hand back and delivered a resounding blow to his temple.

He staggered backward, but his fingers stayed painfully molded to her ankle. It was all Hope could do to keep her seat. The horse snorted nervously, sidestepping the man at its side. One lethal hoof pounded the dirt.

In a last-ditch attempt at freedom, she grabbed the leather crop from behind the saddle and brought it down across his leering face. The man grunted as he fell back. This time he was successful in bringing her down with him.

Hope toppled from the horse’s back and landed on her side in the mud, the riding crop still tightly clutched in her hand. The pain that exploded in her shoulder made her world go treacherously dark. Groaning, she willed her surroundings to stop their nauseating spinning. Desperately, she tried to scramble to her feet, but the mud made the ground too slippery. With his weight pinning her legs to the ground, getting up proved an insurmountable task.

She raised the switch to strike again. He knocked it from her hand. The crop splattered into a puddle, too far away for any hope of getting it back again.