The Outlaw (Montana Men Book 3) (11 page)

FINN

The sight of Caroline pinned beneath Meecham was something I'd never forget. Terror gripped my heart when his pale skin shone brightly at a flash of lightning. What also showed brightly was his cock, sticking out from the darkness of his pants. I sprinted toward them, my feet unsteady on the slippery ground. Stevens must have seen it, too, for his pace matched mine. All at once, Meecham froze, then slumped onto Caroline.

I slid on my knees across the waterlogged ground to reach her as she struggled to pull herself from beneath the bastard's limp body. It was only when I had her in my arms, could feel her deep breaths moving my arms was I reassured. I felt a hard object against my ribs, looked down and saw she clutched a rock in a tight grip. Slowly, I worked the object from her hold, met Stevens' eyes over her head and handed it to him.

Stevens nodded once, but said nothing.

Meecham hadn't hurt her. He
was
going to rape her. There was no question. If we'd been just a few moments later, he would have succeeded. The bastard's cock had been out, Caroline's dress up and tangled around her thighs. Scooping her up, I stood, her size and weight so slight, even with her clothes sodden.

"I'm getting her out of this rain."

I didn't give Stevens a chance to respond. It wasn’t necessary. We'd come for Caroline. Meecham didn't matter. Besides, he was dead. Caroline had killed him. Between one heartbeat and the next, she'd killed a man.

The door to the shack stood open, the lamp lit. There were puddles on the floor, meaning they'd been inside first. The coffee pot was on the floor along with speckles of blood.

Caroline had said she wasn't hurt. I didn't see any blood on her, but the rain could have washed it away. I placed her so she sat on the edge of the bed and I knelt before her. In the light, I was able to finally get a good look at her.

"You're sure you're not hurt? There's blood on the floor." I slid my hands over her face, the back of her head, her neck, over her shoulders. I ran them over her entire body as she sat there, quietly letting me. I picked up the quilt from the floor and started to wrap it around her.

She held up a hand. "No. Not that." Her eyes widened as she stared at it. "Meecham touched it."

I dropped it back to the floor. Tomorrow I would burn it. I'd burn the whole shack down if she wanted.

Gripping the sheet, I ripped it from beneath the mattress and wrapped it around Caroline, using a corner to wipe her face, to dry her sodden hair.

Stevens came in, his boots heavy on the wood floor. He pulled the chair from beneath the table, turned it and sat. Water dripped onto the floor beneath him.

"Why did you go off with him, Caroline?" I asked.

Her blue eyes flared. "I didn't go off with him! I was leaving you."

My heart sank.

Tears filled her eyes, ran over and down her cheeks.

"You wanted Meecham."

She moved to stand, but I held her down easily enough. "Of course I didn't want Meecham. He's...he's awful. I...couldn't stay with you anymore."

"Why? Was it so bad? Did I hurt you? I never hit you."

Her eyes were so distraught, they all but pleaded with me. "You were perfect. So perfect." Her small hand came up to run over my cheek.

"You killed someone."

I turned to look at Stevens, who sat there, slumped down in the chair, watching Caroline as he spoke.

From the look on Caroline's face, I knew right then that she had.

"How--"

"You said so outside." Stevens angled his head in the direction of the creek. Even with the door closed, the rushing water was loud. The rain had tapered off slightly, fortunately.

"Start at the beginning, Caroline." I took her hand from my cheek, held it.

She looked at our joined hands.

"I
killed
Meecham. It was an accident. My father. I
murdered
my father."

What? She murdered her father? Surely it was self-defense. She'd used the words killed and murdered as if they had two different meanings.

"How?" Stevens asked.

Caroline's eyes flicked to mine, then back to our hands. "Laudanum."

Hell. The letter from Mrs. Bidwell made sense now. It all made sense. "She matched you with Meecham, Sr. knowing he was an abusive asshole and sent you the laudanum to kill him. She knew what you did to your father."

"She was giving me my freedom," she replied.

"At what price?" I asked, my voice rising. "She expected you to be at the old man's mercy for what, three, four days? He would have fucked you. Hurt you. Used you. You would have been scarred - most definitely emotionally, possibly even physically. For what?"

I stood then, pacing the small space.

"You're not a woman so you wouldn't understand."

Running my hand over my hair, I spun to face her. She seemed so small, so defenseless sitting there. Yet she was a murderer. "You should be well aware of that by now," I grumbled. "Fine. Tell me what I don't understand."

She glanced at Stevens, then at me. Held my gaze. "Women don't have choices. No escape from a miserable existence. My father was awful. Cruel. Evil. I would have done anything to be free of him. I did. Mrs. Bidwell knew that and knew that a day or two with Meecham, Sr. was a price I'd be willing to pay. I would have endured, but I'd have been free. Wealthy and free to do with my life as I wished."

I didn't want to understand, but I did. A woman was at the mercy of the man in her life. She would be truly free as a widow with means. Mrs. Bidwell had all but handed that to her.

"Are you going to arrest me?" she asked Stevens, her chin high.

God, I loved her. In that moment I knew I'd love her the rest of my life. She'd, murdered the man who'd destroyed her childhood and she was willing to face the consequences. Hell, men killed much more gruesomely over a simple card game. If a man punched me, I punched back. The rules of the west were different. Scores were settled the old fashioned way without much intervention from the law.

Caroline thought that I cared she'd murdered the man who'd beat her for years? "Jesus, Caroline, he's not going to arrest you. Probably give you a medal for taking an asshole off the streets. Your father
beat
you. It was self-defense."

Tears continued to stream down her face as she spoke. Instead of defending herself, she was telling us why she should go to jail. Why she was guilty of murder. She was too honorable by half.

"Yes, but I planned it. The whole thing."

"It may have been pre-meditated, but it was self-defense," I repeated.

"Did the police question you?" Stevens asked.

She nodded, using the back of her hand to wipe away her tears. "Yes. They knew him to be a drunk and ruled it an accident."

"That was your intention, correct?"

I stood and just listened as Stevens tried to assuage her guilt. That's what it was. Guilt. She felt guilty for her bad deed.

"Yes. No one would marry me, for my father kept me sheltered. No one wanted to be shackled with a woman who had a miserable father. Who'd want to marry into that? Besides, if the father was a drunk, the daughter would bear drunks."

She was so cynical, so cruel to herself.

"You think that's what our children will be like?" I asked her. "That little girl with the blond hair--the one we made the other night?"

Stevens shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"No, but--"

"You left because you thought what, that you weren't good enough for me?"

She stood then, but had to tilt her head back to look at me. "You're too good for me."

I laughed sardonically. "Too good for you."

"Do you have any idea the kind of stunts he's pulled?" Stevens asked, trying for brevity.

"I'm a murderer, Finn," she said emphatically.

"An outlaw," I added. "When we married, you thought I was an outlaw. Yet you still wanted me."

I shook my head. "I didn't. Not then."

"You did ten minutes later when I took your maidenhead and made you come."

Color came back to her cheeks with that. Good.

"Are you going to arrest Caroline?" I asked the question of Stevens but didn't look away from Caroline.

"If the man was as bad as you said, then good riddance. Self-defense. The police in Minneapolis said the same."

"Why would you want me?" she asked, still unsure after all this talk.

"Because I love you, woman!" I shouted, my voice loud now that the rain had stopped. The storm had passed, but the roaring creek wouldn't abate at least until tomorrow.

Stevens stood. "My job is done here. I'm heading home."

"You don't want to stay here?" I asked him.

Shaking his head, he replied, "Not with you two. Help me with Meecham's body and I'll be out of your way." Stevens went out into the darkness.

Good. I wanted my friend gone as much as he wanted to go home and climb back in his warm, dry bed. I needed to prove to Caroline my devotion and that she belonged with me, murderer or not. "Stay here, Caroline. We're not done."

I turned to the door, but Stevens reappeared. "He's gone."

A moment of panic seized my lungs. "Gone? I thought you said he was dead!" He might come after Caroline, try to hurt her again.

"He was dead all right. The creek came up at least six more feet. Washed him away. I'll take some men and search down stream for the body after sunup."

I turned to the window but could see nothing but pitch-blackness. "Then it's over."

"It's over."

CAROLINE

I was so relieved that Meecham was well and truly dead that I slumped down onto the bed. My hands started to shake as my mind conjured up images of him atop me. I could feel his weight, so heavy that he pushed the air from my lungs. His hands, for such a big man, had been small and skittish. His voice nasally and bitter. He was everything Finn was not. Dark to light. Cruel to kind.

"Caroline."

I looked up at Finn's voice. It was in the lower octave I recognized as when he was angry or disappointed, but his expression did not match the tone. The door was closed again, Stevens gone. We were alone.

"Stand so I can get you out of your wet clothes."

I did, meekly. He quickly worked the buttons down my dress, stripped me bare.

"You've been a bad girl."

"I know. I murdered a man. No. I murdered two men. I will leave in the morning."

Slowly, he pulled the belt from his pants. "Didn't you hear me say I love you?" He took a step toward me.

"Yes," I replied softly.

"Do you think I care that you murdered your father?"

"Yes," I repeated. He had to. He was too good to let something so bad come between us.

"I care that you had to resort to something like that to save yourself. It. Was. Self. Defense." The last he punctuated clearly as he grabbed my hands, slipped my wrists through the loop he'd made in his belt, pulled it tight. "I'm glad he's dead and I'm glad you did it. You took control of your life, of his actions and put him down like a rabid dog."

"Truly?" He really didn't mind that I was so cold blooded. "Why are you tying my wrists?"

He didn't answer my question. "Get on the bed. Hands and knees."

When I did as he bid, he asked, "Do you plan on killing me?"

I looked over my shoulder at him. He was stripping, dropping the sodden garments on the floor, his eyes devouring my body. I shivered at the heat I saw there. "Of course not." The idea was nonsensical. When he took hold of the tail of the belt and wrapped it around the metal wrung of the headboard, I asked, "What...what are you doing?"

"Keeping you from leaving. Tying you to the bed is as good of a way as any until I can get you to listen to me. Believe me."

I tugged at the restraint, but it would not give. The fit about my wrists was snug and I could not escape.

"Meecham touched you."

I closed my eyes remembering the feel. "Yes."

"Where?" Finn hadn't touched me except for wrapping my wrists.

"My...my legs."

"That's it?" His hands went to my calves first, slowly and gently caressing the skin.

I nodded.

"I'm going to erase Meecham's touch, Caroline. This place, this shack, for all it is, is special to me. To us."

"Yes," I panted, agreeing with him. His hands had moved higher, over my knees and up and down the inside of my thighs, however he did not get near to where I wanted him to touch me most. My pussy.

"I will be the only man you know. I'm going to fill your mind up so full of us, together, that you'll forget that bastard forever."

He skimmed over my bottom, my hips and around my waist and over my belly.

"Do you love me, Caro?"