Catch Me (13 page)

His fingers tingled with conflicting urges to touch her again and cock one right across Linkers’s jaw. “Watch your tone when you talk about her,” he growled.

“Oh, so that’s the way of it, is it now?” Linkers’s teeth flashed white in the dark and his beady eyes glinted. “Mr. Masterson was wondering just what was taking you so long. I’m guessing I know right what to tell him now.”

Dean’s teeth ground together and a tendon at his ear twitched. But he didn’t exactly have a leg to stand on. Any sort of protestations would be filled with falsehoods. He’d allowed Maggie to get under his skin, and it had made him delay their journey to the point of ridiculous.

“That’s good to know,” Linkers continued. “Maggie Bullock always had a reputation for being a bit wild. But with her father as sheriff, not a man in town would risk it. Now, though.” He sucked a wet whistle in through his teeth. “I wonder if she’d let me take a turn.”

Dean’s hands flew. He caught Linkers by the throat and dragged him back into the concealment of the trees as silently as a wraith. The other man slammed into a tree trunk, clawing and grasping at the hand Dean wrapped around his windpipe. His eyes popped wide and his mouth gaped as he wheezed.

“You ever talk about her like that again,” Dean said, keeping his voice cool and modulated, “and I’ll kill you, leave your body for the coyotes and tell Masterson you ran off after a piece of tail. Do you understand?”

Linkers’s mouth moved, but no sound came out. He nodded.

Dean didn’t want to let go. A cold rage suffused him, turning his blood to icy sludge and wiping the edges of his vision black. His heartbeat thumped in his ears, his mouth suffused with a coppery tang. It wouldn’t take much. All he had to do was give in to the darkness descending over him and lean a little more of his weight into the other man. The flesh beneath his hand would crumple, and he’d only have to listen to the gasping for a moment more.

It also wouldn’t be the first time he’d killed another man in such a way. So much filthier than an honest shootout. And yet, in a way, surprisingly fulfilling.

Linkers’s face went red and his eyes fluttered.

Dean pulled his hand away, and Linkers fell to his knees, jamming his hands into the sandy soil to keep himself up. He coughed and choked great, gasping breaths.

Dean stepped back once. Twice. He flicked his wrist, trying to rid himself of the tingling prickle in his hand, as well as the righteous temptation that had rode him.

“What’s going on here?” Maggie stood between two trees, branches arching over her head like a protective canopy.

He shoved his hand behind his back. Stupid, stupid, like that would suddenly erase the man scrambling for breath at his feet. “Nothing.”

Her head lowered as she looked from him to Linkers. “Uh-huh. I can see that.”

Linkers coughed and spit at the tree. The wet blob clung to the tangled bark before dribbling down. “Nothing,” he echoed. “Just a misunderstanding among friends.” His glassy eyes turned up to Dean as he stuck a hand out.

Jesus Christ, even now he wanted nothing more than to kick him. Instead, he grasped the other man’s wrist and hauled him to his feet. He did nothing to help when Linkers swayed.

Linkers put a hand to his throat and rubbed. “Welp, I’m thinking I might need to be laying down for a minute.”

Dean leaned against a tree. “Don’t let me stop you.”

With another cough, Linkers stumbled away. Dean watched the man’s narrow back weave between the trees, avoiding the condemnation that must be blazing in Maggie’s eyes.

He shoved his dangerous hands in his pockets. He’d killed so many times with those hands, he wondered if they’d ever come clean. Maybe even the lawman job wouldn’t save him. Who’s to say he wouldn’t take the position and bend it toward evil things?

“Would you like to go for a walk?” Maggie’s voice was soft, more tentative than he’d ever heard from her, even when he’d had her bound and tied. It made him think of quiet nights in the deep hours before dawn, when a man and woman whispered secrets with their bare legs twisted together.

If he was headed down the road to hell, maybe he ought to have some fun along the way. A good dose of lasciviousness might serve him right.

She edged closer to him, making his fight-energized body tighten even further.

Her braid was coming loose, leaving dark strands to dance around her heart-shaped face. “I don’t think you need to be near him for a while.”

He dug the heels of his palms into his gritty eyes. “I don’t much need to be managed, either.”

She sidled close enough to trace a finger over his forearm, ruffling his hairs and sending a shiver up to his chest. Her chin dipped down, but she kept her gaze steady on his, looking up through the dark fan of her lashes. “Please, will you walk with me?”

The words jumped out of his mouth. “If you like, all right.”

She tipped her head back and laughed, but didn’t take her hand off his arm. “See? Now that’s managing.”

He shook his head, but tucked her arm around his as he moved away from the tree. She could work him like no woman he’d met before. Annie had never even tried. She’d only bowed her blond head and made him feel like a heel with her acceptance.

“We’ll walk.”

They did so in silence, roaming nearly a mile away from Andrew, Linkers and the camp. Dean enjoyed the quiet calm of prairie lands settling down for the night. An owl hooted as wind rustled through leaves and in the far-off distance a cow lowed. His mood wasn’t entirely calmed, but at least the rawness wore off, like a rock that had been in the river long enough to smooth the edges.

Maggie walked beside him, near enough that her breast occasionally brushed his arm. An accident, he was sure. He hoped. He wasn’t strong enough to resist her, not tonight, not when he’d been reminded how far down dark paths he’d already traveled. What difference would one more make, when the woman was so willing to be ruined? When she tempted him as nothing had in years?

He cleared his throat, searching for some innocent line of conversation to distract him from the possibilities playing out in his mind. How willing she’d be to lie beside the river and let him explore her body at leisure. How sweet she must taste. How tightly her sheath would cling to his cock.

“We’ll be back in Fresh Springs in two days, won’t we?” She looked away, into the stand of trees beside them as she spoke.

Not quite as innocent a subject as he’d hoped for, but it would certainly kill lust. “Two hard days, but yes.”

“And then Masterson will have me on trial in less than a week.” Her fingers dug into his arm through his shirt. He laid his hand over hers and stroked, but she didn’t seem to notice. “If I’m lucky, that is.”

“Why do you say that?”

Her mouth tipped up on one side. It wasn’t much of a smile. “Otherwise I’ll languish in the Fresh Springs jail, a ten-day wonder. Everyone will come gawk at the sheriff’s daughter who robbed a bank. Can you imagine the humiliation?”

“It won’t be pleasant, that’s certain.” He stopped walking and turned her face toward his, cupping her jaw, compelled to make her look at him. He stroked the tender skin at the edge of her mouth. So many things he could say, none of which would solve her problems. More than that, he was the one taking her to jail. But it was the right thing to do. Even if he passed up his chance at the job he so desperately needed, Masterson would just send someone else after her. She’d always be hunted. And he couldn’t protect her.

Her head tilted and she searched his face. “No recriminations? No ‘it’s what you deserve’?”

His hand drifted down to her throat. Her skin was so fragile, like tatted lace. He shook his head. “No. Not this time.”

Time spun out like molasses, thick and slow. She stepped away, and for a moment he thought he’d have to let her go. She’d shown no sign over the past few days of wanting anything else from him. Maybe the pleasure he’d given her under the juniper trees had been sufficient. If he burned for her with every waking and sleeping breath, that was no one’s problem but his.

But then her hands rose to her shirt and slipped her buttons free. The shirt slid down her arms and she flicked it away. Though she still wore her chemise, it was thin enough that her slight curves were all but bare to him. Shoulders back and chin up, she stood quietly, as eternal as Eve in the garden. “You won’t turn me away this time, will you?”

His body rose to the challenge that glinted in her dark eyes. “No. I won’t.” She was his weakness in a way he didn’t want to look at.

She unbound her hair and shook it over her shoulders in a cascading wave of silk. “Good. Because I’d likely have to shoot you dead if you did.”

Maggie wanted to spread her arms and spin with pure joy when he laughed. His smile shone white in the dark, a beacon she’d always fly to. As long as she could, at least. That she’d been able to crack his dour mood sent triumph ripping through her.

“Jesus woman, the mouth on you,” he said with a laugh and a shake of his head. He stripped off his shirt, and she wanted to lick and stroke the broad plane of his chest. “I wouldn’t be much use to you if you killed me.”

He left his rough wool pants on, framing his lean hips. His gun belt hung even lower. Shadowy Vs of muscle below his waist pointed down to the prize she so badly wanted. She licked her tongue across her parched lips. “So maybe I’ll have to use you, and
then
kill you.”

He tossed his shirt over a flat altar-shaped rock next to the river and stepped toward her. His body language screamed menace, but that beautiful smile still graced his mouth. She’d love to see that smile every day, if only for the satisfaction of making it appear. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Who’s the better shot?”

“We’ve already had this talk, remember?” He held out a hand. “Come here.”

She chewed on her bottom lip. Her body sang with readiness, from the heavy tumbling feeling low in her stomach to her swollen, sensitive breasts brushing against her chemise. But at the same time, her mind tumbled into a free fall of doubts. “Are you sure?”

His broad shoulders, which looked just right for grabbing onto, lifted and dropped with a shrug. “Probably not. But right now, I want you more than I want air to breathe.”

Her heart, the traitorous thing, fluttered and thumped against her breastbone. Even if he was the man she most wanted in the world, he was also the last man she could allow herself to fall in love with. Eventually he’d get them back to Fresh Springs, where he’d hand her over to Masterson and then steal her father’s job. They had here and now, in the moonlight beside a babbling river. Anything else would be a castle in the clouds.

She placed her hand into his, and ignored the tiny tremble that shook her fingers. He wrapped her hand tight and yanked her off balance and into his arms. “Just remember,” she said, scoring her nails through his thick hair. “When you have regrets, I don’t want to hear about them.”

He wrapped himself around her, one hand smoothing down her back until he came to the bottom edge of her bloomers. He tucked his head into the curve of her neck. Gooseflesh washed out from a particularly sensitive spot behind her ear. “You’ve the most cutting way of speaking.”

She explored the thick, gradual curve of his back. The band of his pants stopped her quest, and she dallied in a shallow divot at the base of his spine. “You don’t seem particularly intimidated to me.”

He cupped her buttocks and pulled sharply, pressing her closer than she would have thought possible. But it still wasn’t near enough. His hardness cut into her belly. She sucked in a breath through gritted teeth, tempted to toss him to the ground and strip him bare before having her way with him. Dean wasn’t exactly the type to give up control, though.

She loved the way he bent over her. It had been a long time since she’d been the protected rather than the protector. He hovered over her neck, tracing a near-touch path up to her mouth. She thought for a moment he’d kiss her, but then he dug under her waistband, coming back up with the hem of her chemise. He pulled it up over her head and tossed it away, leaving her bare from the waist up, just as he was. When he took her back in his arms, they were skin to skin and she nearly crawled out of her body wanting to get closer to him. Her sensitive nipples brushed over his chest hair. She wound her fingers through his hair and tugged his face down to hers.

“Kiss me. Now.”

His mouth dazzled into sunshine in the middle of the dark night. “Gladly.”

It wasn’t just a kiss. It was a release all in its own. As he moved over her, she let her eyes close and her neck melt into relaxation. He supported her, one hand entangled at the back of her head, his other arm locked around her waist. She let herself go, enjoying the play and sweep of his lips over hers.

But it simply wasn’t in Maggie to be the recipient forever. She kissed him back, touching her tongue to the hard mouth that had driven her crazy for the past weeks. He loosed a quiet moan and cinched her near. Any closer and they’d be one.

And they would be, if Maggie had anything to say about it.

She pulled back enough that cool air rushed between their sweat-dampened flesh and reached between them to attack his belt buckle. But she became fumble thumbed in her rush, and somehow tangled it up. “Damn it,” she muttered, her lips only a fraction from his.

His laugh rumbled through her, tingling through the nipples that brushed him. “How flattering.”

She flicked her hand out and conquered. The buckle slid free this time, leaving the placket of his trousers unguarded. “Don’t worry. It has nothing to do with you.”

He cupped her face and drew back. A cold chill washed over her. “Doesn’t it?”

How quickly he returned to the serious version of himself. But no matter how much she loved to pester him, something in the pale shadows of his eyes said that perhaps this wasn’t the best time. She licked her lips. She could still taste the slightly salty tang of him. “Before I answer that, let me ask you something first.”

He combed his fingers through her hair, drawing a sweaty strand from where it clung to her jaw. “Fair enough.”

She slipped free the first brass button on his pants. “What, exactly, does it matter? You, or another man, would you care?”

His fingers dug into her shoulder with sudden force. She winced. “A man doesn’t like to think he’s being used like a…like a damned handkerchief.”

“I suppose not.” She clenched the rough-spun material of his pants and shook off the hazing lust that had clouded her. “No, Dean. I couldn’t tell you why, but no one else will do.”

It was the gospel truth, too. Fear of prison might be driving her to speed up the process and take what she could, but it didn’t drive her choice. It wasn’t like she could exchange him for Andrew; his brother didn’t rouse in her dark longings and visions of scandalous behavior. She didn’t wake in the middle of the night from dreams of Andrew touching her all over and breaking open her soul. Just Dean. Only Dean.

“Good.” He smoothed his hands down over both sides of her neck, to her shoulders, and on down to her hands. The hard bulge under her hands twitched in an intimidating show. “That’s good.”

She ought to pull away. No good girl put their hands over a man’s member, or went walking in the dark with him with the express hope that maybe they’d end up in such a position.

Good thing she wasn’t a good girl anymore. She’d shed that skin when she’d robbed the bank. If not then, when she’d embraced the lust Dean made her feel.

Boldness became a goal all in itself. She cinched her fingers around him and grinned as she stroked him through his pants. “Good, indeed.”

He groaned another soft noise and shut his eyes as he directed his face toward the heavens. She loved the little moans and grunts she could wring from him. Hoping for another, she delved into his pants with one hand as she released his last buttons with the other. She found surprisingly silky skin stretched over a throbbing hardness. Somehow, in some way, that was because of her. Because of what she was doing.

A strange shakiness kept her explorations tentative forays. She wanted—no, she needed—to be bolder. Sucking in a deep breath, she stared up into his eyes as she wrapped her hand around him. His lips parted as his chest lifted in a gasp.

“Wait. Wait just a minute, hellcat, or this’ll be over before we even get going.” He pried her hands away to loop them around his neck.

A weightless tumble twisted her stomach. She found herself hitched against his front as he pulled her legs over his hips. Kisses along the curve of his shoulder and the straight line of his collarbone discovered delicious skin under her tongue. She giggled—she couldn’t help it. An airy brightness filled her, despite the darkness of both the night and her future. Here and now they could do as they pleased.

He walked her back to the edge of the river and, cradling the back of her head, laid her down on the flat rock. It still grasped the desert’s long-held sun, warming her back even as Dean’s furnace-level heat warmed her front.

“Are you laughing at me?” he growled, but there was none of the usual cloud of menace about him.

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“No one else here.” He stroked her waist, her stomach. Rimmed her bellybutton. Softly caressed the curves of her ribs. She sucked in a deep, deep breath, but it did nothing to ease the shaky feeling overwhelming her.

She gripped his thick forearm, the hairs crisp under her palm. By no means did she want him to stop his lazy exploration, but she felt so out of control, and held onto him as if he were the only thing keeping her anchored. He eased onto her body, his strong thighs spreading hers. The strength of him pushed away all her fears.

He arched over her and breathed into her ear. It tickled, but in a way that made anticipation ratchet higher. “What’s so funny?”

“Haven’t you ever laughed from simple pleasure?”

Lazy figure eights over the valley of her cleavage tingled out to her nipples. “No. Can’t say I ever have. Or at least it’s been so long, I can’t remember.”

The loneliness in his voice caught at her twisted emotions. But before she could say anything, he kissed her, a deep meeting of mouths that stripped her last thoughts.

Giving over to his domination proved easy. Arching up from the boulder, she pressed bare shoulders against the rough surface. The rasp made her whimper. He caught her noise and gave it back in a roughened, growling purr.