Tracker’s Sin (15 page)

“But you need your—”

Shadow grunted and reached for the spoon. “Tia would have our heads if a woman in our presence went hungry.”

“Tia?”

“The woman who raised us after our family was massacred.” He took a bite of his own tortil a, chewing fast.

Tracker hesitated only long enough to order her to eat, before taking a bite of his.

“Are we in a hurry?”

The two men exchanged a look that clearly said they were. “We need to get to Hel ’s Eight.”

“What aren’t you tel ing me?”

It was Tracker who answered. “Antonio and his compadres are on their way to Esperanza. Our paths could cross at Drunk Hole.”

The blood left her face in a wash of cold. She wanted to snatch Miguel from the ground and jump on the horse and gal op. “What are we

going to do?” Not for an instant did she believe Tracker didn’t have a plan.

“We’re going to ride like hel for the next day and a half,” he told her.

“And what happens then?”

“We hope like hel we get through before the
Comancheros.
”

Two days of hard riding. How did one accomplish that with a baby? She looked at the cradleboard. Indian babies did it al the time, so it

had to be possible, but Miguel wasn’t used to being confined. What if he cried at the wrong time? What if…?

Tracker touched her arm, drawing her gaze. “I told you I’d keep you both safe.”

She had no doubt he’d keep her as safe as he could. But there was only so much two men could do against many. And against

Comancheros…
Just the name struck unreasoning terror in her heart. It always had. She couldn’t remember meeting Antonio or any other
Comancheros,

but stories about the atrocities they’d committed abounded. They were horrible men, terrifying in their lack of conscience, vicious in their treatment of

those who crossed their path. Tracker had known they were coming, and he’d stil held to his promise.

His hand slid over her shoulder to curve around her neck. She wished he’d pul her close. He didn’t, but his thumb tipped her chin up.

“Don’t worry.”

She licked her lips. “That’s why you kidnapped me, isn’t it? That’s why you couldn’t wait for the wedding. You ran out of time.”

“Yes.”

“You could have told me.”

He shook his head, his long hair sliding over his shoulders. She curled her fingers, remembering how it had felt in her hands. “Tel ing

would mean explaining. And there were things you didn’t need to hear.”

“Like the truth about Josefina and Vincente?”

His thumb brushed her lips. “Yeah. I would have spared you that.”

“I wouldn’t have believed you, even if you’d tried.”

His fingers moved gently back and forth on the back of her neck. “I know that, too.”

She hated the pity in his voice, hated being pitiful. At the same time, she wanted to crawl into his arms and let him shelter her from the

world. He was a nice man, but right now she needed him to be the tough hombre who could take on ten men in a bar and make them al back down.

She held in a moan.
Comancheros.

“Thank you.”

“I didn’t go back on my promise to marry you.”

She shook her head. That’s what he was worried about? “It was just circumstances that forced your hand. I understand.”

He shook his head in turn. “Among my father’s people, a public statement of marriage is the same as fact.”

It took her a second to remember what he’d said in the cantina.

“You said that to save me.”

“I knew what I was doing.”

“Did you?”

“Yes. Don’t worry. I’l get you safely to Hel ’s Eight.”

“And when we get there? What then? Do you real y consider us married? Do we stay married? Do we divorce?”
Do I run from the chaos

of my life?

Nothing Tracker felt showed on his face. “That wil depend on you.”

“I don’t understand.”

He reached into his vest pocket and pul ed out a folded piece of paper. After the briefest hesitation, he handed it to her. She turned it

over. Worn from handling, frayed at the edges and torn in a couple places, it didn’t look like much. “What’s this?”

He shrugged. “The answer to your questions.”

She read Desi’s letter over and over during the next nine hours. Memorizing every word over every brutal mile, until she wasn’t sure what

was fact, what was fiction, what was real and what was a nightmare. She read it until she couldn’t focus anymore. Ari put the letter in her pocket and

concentrated on staying on the horse while the miles passed. She rode until she couldn’t even think, and stil Tracker didn’t cal a halt.

She understood why; she just wasn’t sure she was strong enough to make it through.

“Just a little longer, sweets.”

Tracker had been feeding her that line for the last two hours. And she’d been feeding him the same line back. “Al right.”

Needing something to do besides dwel on her misery, she studied the brothers. If not for the scar on Tracker’s face, it real y would be

hard to tel them apart. Both men had the same mannerisms, the same bold, handsome features cut into those compel ing lines. The same hooded eyes

that made her think of hot nights and soft sheets. She glanced down. The same strong thighs. They were twins.

She touched the pocket where she’d tucked the letter. And so was she.

A glance at Miguel revealed that he was stil content in his cradleboard, tied to Tracker’s saddle. She offered up a silent prayer of thanks

that he was oblivious to the tension pressing down upon her. The letter crinkled under her touch. She had a twin.

She tried the pronouncement again. No sense of recognition lifted the darkness of her past. No sense of loss weighed down her

awareness of the present.

Her horse stumbled. Grabbing the horn, she righted herself. She wished she’d thought to ask Tracker more questions. Were they exact

twins, like Tracker and Shadow? Did they share the same tastes, the same likes and dislikes?

Do you remember the game we used to play at the summer house?

No, she didn’t. No matter how she tried, Ari didn’t remember a thing. It was so scary to read about her relationship on paper, to have

someone love her so much. Someone she couldn’t even remember. She reached for the letter. Someone who told her that the rest of their family was

dead, but that she was waiting. Tel ing Ari that they searched for her, would not give up. That she’d planted daisies. What kind of person planted daisies,

for heaven’s sake?

The paper crumpled in her grip. Not for the first time, she wondered if the reason her memory was gone was because what lurked behind

that black curtain was too horrible to be borne.

“You hold that much tighter and there won’t be anything left to read,” Shadow said, moving his horse closer.

Her muscles tensed. She didn’t like having him so near. No matter that he was Tracker’s brother, there was something about the man that

made her want to run. It wasn’t that Shadow was any more wild than Tracker. Both men were as untamed as this land. For her, Tracker was safe, but

Shadow reminded her of something else, someone else. Especial y when he tilted his head as he was right now, so the shadows hugged his face.

She steered her horse away. “Thank you.”

Shadow fol owed. “He meant what he said earlier.”

“Who?”

“Tracker.”

She held her ground. “What did he say?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

Al right, she wouldn’t. “I was trying to be polite and spare your feelings.”

“From what?”

“From the insult of having to be told what’s between Tracker and me is none of your business.”

To her surprise, that earned her a quirk of lips so similar to Tracker’s that her wariness faded.

“So there is some spunk in you.”

Apparently. “Excuse me?”

He went on as if she hadn’t raised her brows. “You’re going to need it.”

“Because your brother thinks I’m married to him?”

Shadow shook his head. “Because he’s Indian.”

“He doesn’t seem to have been raised Indian.”

“Doesn’t matter. The problem lies in the color of his skin.”

“It’s the same as yours.”

“Yup, but I’m not carrying on with a white woman.”

“We are not ‘carrying on’.” She didn’t know what they were doing, but it was more than that.

“In his eyes, you’re married.”

“As easy as it is to get married, I bet it’s twice as easy to get divorced.”

Shadow’s gaze narrowed and anger rol ed off him like a summer storm, hard, fast and furious. “You don’t know shit about my brother.”

“And you don’t know shit about me.” A press of her knees set her horse in a faster pace. Though she pul ed ahead, she could feel him

watching her. Why had she let so much distance get between them and Tracker?

Shadow’s big black came abreast. Her heart skipped a beat when he reached down and caught her horse’s bridle, pul ing her up short.

“My brother’s wil ing to die for you.”

She jerked on the reins; Shadow didn’t let go. “I didn’t ask it of him.”

Shadow glared at her. The glance he cast ahead said clearly that he didn’t want Tracker to hear their exchange. She braced herself. “But

if
Comancheros
came upon us right now, you’d be diving behind him and be damn grateful for the opportunity.”

Yes, she would. Anyone would. “Just say what you want to say.”

“He deserves better than to be used.”

“I’m not using him.”

“The hel you’re not. You’re clinging to him like a drowning victim thrown a lifeline.” Shadow caught her arm and leaned closer until his face

was just inches from hers. His voice, low and rough, scraped over her nerves. “If you hurt him, I’l come after you.”

Light shattered behind her eyes. Shadow’s face blurred out of focus until al that was left was that voice, those eyes. Cruel eyes. Hatefil ed eyes. Eyes that burned with lust. Blue eyes, brown eyes, green. The colors changed, but never the emotion within. The stench of mud fil ed her

nostrils. The sound of laughter, cruel and mocking, echoed around her. She was trapped. From afar she heard a male voice cal out. It blended into the

cacophony in her mind.

“Shit. Tracker, get back here!”

Tracker. Yes, I need Tracker. He won’t let them hurt me anymore. I’m safe with Tracker.
She screamed his name, but no one ever heard

her scream. No one ever came. She needed to go away to that quiet place where nothing could touch her. She could hide there. No one could hurt her

there. No one could make her feel there.

“What the hel did you do?”

“Who the hel says I had to do anything?”

The conversation went on around her, beyond the invisible wal s of her safe place, unable to touch her.

“Goddammit, Shadow. You know how fragile she is.”

Yes,
she thought as she floated behind her wal s. She felt very fragile right now. Like china balanced on the edge of a table, in that split

second before it took that tumble to the floor that rendered it worthless forever. Her lungs hurt. Her eyes burned. She stared at the sun, narrowing her eyes

until it was just a speck.

The speck grew larger and larger, white obliterating dark. Past destroying present. The laughter grew louder. There were hands

everywhere. Restraining her, hurting her. The demons had come for her. She couldn’t struggle. She couldn’t get away. She could never get away. No

matter how many times she ran, they found her, just as they’d promised. She would never be safe. Never be clean. She’d always be theirs.

A hand penetrated her sanctuary. She couldn’t let them take her. Not again. The scream started in her soul, raged through her being,

erupted from her mouth.

“Nooo!”

8

T
racker grabbed for Ari while shooting a glare at Shadow. “What the hel did you do?”

He missed. Ari’s bay tossed its head and wheeled around, responding as best it could to his jerks on the reins.

Shadow shook his head, waiting for his opportunity to grab the horse. “I told her if she hurt you I’d come after her.”

“Son of a bitch. What the hel were you thinking?” Tracker made another grab for Ari. Her horse crow-hopped to the left. Ari went to the

right. For a perilous moment Tracker thought she was going to fal , but at the last minute she found her balance and hauled herself back up, where she lay

slumped over the saddle horn while she caught her breath.

“I was watching your back.”

Tracker urged Buster closer. “I don’t need you to protect me.”

“I don’t need protection, either, but it doesn’t seem to stop you.” Shadow moved around to the front of Ari’s horse.

The bay tossed his head and hunched his back slightly. The muscles in his hindquarters bunched.

“Shit, her horse is going to buck.”

Shadow grabbed for the reins. “Easy…”

Tracker grabbed for Ari. “Easy…”

Neither the horse nor the woman listened. Miguel squal ed as his cradleboard bounced against the bay’s shoulder.
Shit.
Tracker had

forgotten about the baby being on that side of his mount.

“Hold on, I’ve got to turn around.”

“Better speed it up.”

Tracker wheeled Buster about as Ari’s horse reared. It wasn’t pretty, but he managed to snag his arm around her waist. Ducking her

flailing arms, he pul ed her onto his lap. She immediately went for his eyes, her breath coming in short pants, her expression wild. Tracker blocked her

next attempt, letting her go for the split second it took to wrap his arm across her chest, pinning her against him. His knee knocked the cradleboard this

time, and Miguel howled. Ari clawed at his arm.

Son of a bitch. He had to get them under control.

He tried reason. “Ari! It’s Tracker. I’ve got you. You’re safe.” There was no letup in her fight. “I’ve come to take you home, remember?”