Rafe's Redemption (36 page)

With one hard yank, he tore the shirt open. He grunted his approval and placed the gun on the table.

“That’s better.” His hot breath washed over her as pulled her to him.

She concentrated on the gun…just out…of reach. If she could get Simon to back up one step—

“Maggie! I’m back.” Rafe’s voice echoed through the room.

Simon jerked away from her and grabbed the gun in one smooth motion.

“Rafe, no!” She lunged for the door.

Simon pushed her away. His face filled with fury.

She dug her fingers into his arm and pulled with all her strength. “Run, Rafe. Run!”

“Shut up.” Simon’s fist caught her off guard. Pain exploded in her head as the sharp blow landed her across the room.

The rough stone wall knocked the air from her lungs.

She crumpled to the floor and tried to catch her breath.

Lights danced behind her eyes, dizziness overwhelmed.

The coppery taste of blood seeped into her mouth as she swept her hand across her lips.

She had to get up. Rafe needed her.

Clawing the wall, she climbed to her knees.

“Stay down.” Simon gave a vicious kick to her ribs.

“I’ll be back for you.”

Maggie groaned and curled into a ball, trying to protect her stomach. Waves of nausea threatened as she dropped her head to the cool stone floor.

She had to get up.

****

Rafe dropped Moses’ reins and yanked his pistol from the holster. Maggie’s screams made his stomach crawl into his throat. Moses whickered and another horse answered. Rafe glanced into the barn. A large saddled black stood in the dim room.

Someone was in the cabin with her.

Dread slithered down his spine. Christ, please don’t let it be Simon.

Sweat poured down his face and slicked his hands.

He had to get to her, but he’d already lost his greatest advantage, the element of surprise. Could he sneak through the tunnel without making any noise?

The door opened. Too late. Whoever was there was going to die.

Rafe took aim. Maybe this would be easier than he’d thought.

“Hello, brother.” Simon stepped to the doorway. He kept his gun arm curled inside as he leaned casually against the frame, calling the greeting as if they were friends instead of fatal enemies. “Nice little place you have here.” He nodded inside. “I especially like your woman.”

Blood roared in Rafe’s ears as he cocked his gun.

“Get out here and settle this like a man.” He had to get Simon away from Maggie before he—what if he already had?

Simon shook his head. “Drop your gun first. Then we’ll talk.”

Damn it. If he didn’t have a weapon, he didn’t stand a chance.

“Do it,” Simon yelled, “or I’ll kill her right now.” He motioned with his gun, and then smiled, the same madness Shane had shown, flickering in his eyes. “You know I will.”

He would. Rafe tossed his pistol in front of him.

“There. Now come here. This is between you and me.

Leave her out of it.”

Simon grinned as he stepped outside and slammed the door. “Don’t think I can do that. She’s mighty sweet.

Warm and willing.”

“Shut up, you bastard.”

“Better look in the mirror. A nd what’s this I hear about you making your own little bastard?” Rafe clenched his fists and forced himself to think. He couldn’t let Simon provoke him. Maggie needed him alive. “What do you want?”

“Come on, now. I’ve waited years to kill you.” He grinned. “Don’t take away my pleasure by pretending you don’t know.”

Rafe’s pulse hammered against his ribs. He had to stay calm. Wolf waited in the trees. A t Rafe’s command, he would attack, but at this angle Simon would have a clear shot at the dog. Wait for an opening. Don’t let him bait you.

“It doesn’t have to be like this, Simon.”

“It wouldn’t be like this if you hadn’t killed Shane. He didn’t deserve what you did to him.” Simon stepped toward Rafe, his face twisted in anger. “Nobody but you gave a damn about some rebel whore.” The veins stood out on his forehead as he spoke. “But you just couldn’t let it be.” The words gritted between his teeth.

“He was a rapist.” Rafe regretted the words as soon as they were out.

Hatred filled Simon’s eyes. “He was my brother!” The words exploded from his mouth, then a cold, eerie calm settle around him. “See, your trouble is you just don’t know when a woman’s really wanting it. That reb whore probably wanted Shane. A nd your woman…” A cold fear settled in Rafe’s gut. “Well, at first she acted like she didn’t want me.” Simon adjusted his groin. “But it wasn’t long until she begged me to fuck her. Why, right now she’s on the bed waiting for more.”

Rage boiled through him, his heart pounding so loud surely Simon could hear it.

It would be the last thing the bastard ever heard.

Rafe didn’t need a gun. He would tear Simon apart with his bare hands. Hurtling across the space that separated them, he tackled Simon to the ground. Two shots went wide as they wrestled for the pistol.

Wolf loped from the underbrush, growling and circling the men.

“Get back, Wolf!”

Simon rolled to his feet and pulled back the hammer, but Rafe plowed into him, knocking them both to the wet ground. The gun flew from Simon’s hand and landed with a plop in the mud.

“I’m gonna kill you.” Rafe didn’t recognize his own voice. Fury, hatred overtook him. He hit Simon again and again, pouring all the anger he felt into the punches.

“You son of a bitch. You’re dead. Nobody hurts her.

Nobody!”

Straddling Simon’s chest, Rafe slid his hands around the man’s throat. He wanted to watch the life drain from his stepbrother’s evil blue eyes. He wanted Simon to pay slowly for what he’d done to Maggie.

A nd this time when his stepbrother was dead, Rafe wouldn’t feel one ounce of remorse.

****

Two gunshots sounded outside, and Maggie’s heart jumped into her throat, threatening to cut off her air.

Rafe. Oh, God. Rafe! She clamored to her knees, clawing the rock wall to get to her feet.

Fear raced through her as she stumbled to the window and looked out. She nearly collapsed in relief.

The men tumbled on ground, fighting. There was still time.

Her face throbbed and her ribs ached from the beating, but she hobbled toward the larder. Her body trembled as she heaved against the crate that hid the tunnel.

Hurry. Hurry. Rafe needs you.

She dropped to her knees and crawled through the dark passage until she found the ladder. There was no time to light the candle. A s soon as she reached the ledge and moved the board, the sun would light the cavern.

Sweat ran down her back, but she shivered as she climbed. Dread filled her body. It took an eternity to reach the top. Kneeling on the ledge, she reached for the board covering the hole. What if she made too much noise? She held her breath and tried to hear the men.

Silence surrounded her. What if it was too late? She said a prayer and scooted one piece of rough wood aside.

Bright sunlight flooded down onto the guns. Thank God, Rafe kept them loaded and ready. She grabbed the rifle and poked her head through the opening.

The men fought on the ground, rolling in the snow and mud. Painful sounds of flesh pounding flesh met her ears. Cursing each other they kicked and punched, each trying to obtain the advantage.

Nausea threatened as she slid the rifle free and climbed out of the tunnel. She flattened herself on her stomach, wincing in pain. The damp earth soaked through her torn shirt as she balanced the gun on a fallen log. She squinted at the site on the end of the barrel.

Damn! Her battered eye blurred her vision. Taking aim again, she tried to steady the gun on Simon.

Panic swept over her. What if she missed Simon and shot Rafe? They were so close, too close. A lways in motion. First one would gain control, then the other.

Hitting a still target was one thing. Rafe could walk right into the bullet meant for Simon.

But did she have a choice?

She blinked several times, but her vision didn’t clear, and her hands wouldn’t quit shaking. The pain streaking through her body made it near impossible to hold the rifle.

Taking a deep, painful breath, she gripped with all her strength and stared down the barrel.

The men clawed at the ground each trying to reach a pistol that lay nearby. Rafe was on his back when Simon came at him. One vicious kick sent the evil man staggering.

Maggie’s heart pounded as Rafe crawled toward the gun. He almost had it…

Simon dragged him backward. He punched Rafe’s face repeatedly, then grabbed the weapon.

No! Maggie gripped her rifle. Rafe didn’t move. Was he unconscious?

“This ends now,” Simon snarled. “I’m finished playing.”

He wiped blood from his lip and stood over Rafe.

Maggie heard the click as he pulled back the hammer.

He was going to kill Rafe.

She squinted and took aim. Tightened her finger on the trigger. Snap! Part of the board gave way beneath her leg.

Simon whirled and pointed the gun at her.

“No, Maggie!” Rafe sprang from the ground and tackled Simon to his knees.

Sliding his knife free, Rafe plunged the blade between Simon’s ribs, twisting the knife as the man fell backward.

Maggie couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see past all the blood. Was Rafe hurt? So much blood. She slouched to the ground as black dots danced before her eyes.

Rafe climbed off Simon’s body and reeled toward the hill. Maggie! Christ, he couldn’t see her. She had to be safe. Had to. Nothing else mattered. Nothing. Just her and the baby.

“Maggie!” He tore across the yard. “Maggie, answer me!”

Holy Christ! Why didn’t she answer? Had Simon fired a shot? Was she wounded?

Rafe scrambled up the hill, his boots sliding over the icy slope. Clawing, stretching, searching. Damn it. He needed something to grab on to. Digging through the snow, he found a single root sticking out of the rocks. He used it as a toe-hold and slithered over the edge on his belly.

Maggie lie sprawled, half in, half out of the tunnel’s entrance. Lifeless, like a broken porcelain doll. Her dark hair fanned over the wet ground, her pale hand still clutching the rifle. Rafe crawled beside her, tears rolling down his face. A nger and guilt sliced at his heart. Was she dead?

“Maggie?” He gathered her into his arms and shuddered with relief. She was still warm, still breathing.

“Rafe,” she groaned. “I hurt.”

“Where, sweetheart?” He cradled her between his legs. “A re you shot?” His hands skated her body.

“Not that.” Her face twisted in pain. “My stomach,” she choked. “The baby. I’m think I’m losing the baby.

Simon kicked me.”

Rafe felt all the blood drain from his face. She couldn’t lose their baby.

“No, sweetheart. The baby will be fine.” He plucked her off the ground and slid down the snowy hill on his ass, clutching Maggie to his chest. She trembled in his arms.

“But what if…?” Her voice was tiny, scared.

“You won’t,” he promised, but dread crawled up his spine.

A minute later, he crashed though the cabin door.

The bed seemed a mile away, and Maggie whimpered in pain with each hurried step he took.

“A ll right, sweetheart. We’re here.” Spreading her onto the mattress, he grabbed the kitchen knife and cut away her torn, wet clothes.

“Rafe?” Her eyes opened, tears seeping out the sides.

“I’m so cold.”

“I know.” He yanked the blankets over her. “In just a minute, you’ll feel better.”

“No.” She shook her head, a low moan escaping. “It’s too late.”

Fear spiraled through him at her hopeless words.

“Don’t say that, Maggie. You’re going to be fine. The baby, too.” He squeezed her hand. “You just have to rest.

I’ll get you cleaned up, and you can sleep. Everything will be fine.” If he said it enough, it would be true.

Racing to the fireplace, he poured some warm water into a bowl.

What had Simon done to her? Kicked her? Hit her, no doubt. But what else?

Thick bile climbed up Rafe’s throat as he remembered the man’s vulgar claim.

It’s my fault, all my fault. He had promised to take care of her, but failed. What kind of useless man couldn’t protect his family?

When he got back to the bed, her eyes were closed.

Carefully he wiped the mud and dirt from her bruised face. One eye had already turned black, and Simon’s fist was easy to see on her cheekbone.

“Oh! I hurt,” she cried, her back arching off the mattress. “It’s the baby.”

“Where?” He laid the rag aside and hovered over the bed. “Show me where the pain is.”

“Here.” Her hand moved over her stomach. “Every time I take a deep breath.” Her eyes widened with fear.

“Is it the baby?”

He hated to cause her more pain, but he had to know. Moving the blanket he skimmed his hands over her stomach. Bruises covered her body, standing out bold against her pale skin. The one below her ribs, a mottled purple mark the shape of a boot, hurt just to look at.

“Is this where it hurts?” He placed his palm on her ribs.

She winced and cried out in pain. “Yes.”