Sam’s Creed (11 page)

“They will never know.”

“You can’t hide from Shadow.”

Another flicker of his lids. Reputations really did come in handy. “And for sure you’ll never get Tracker off your ass.”

“Tejala will take care of the Hell’s Eight.”

“Tejala’s days are numbered.”

The bartender’s body was two feet ahead and to the right. Sam just needed a distraction and he could make a dive for it and get the knife. The man in the doorway didn’t take his eyes off him. No help there.

“Yours are too short even to count.”

That was looking to be the truth. Sam balanced his weight on his toes, the bullet wound from the other day burning, and watched the stranger’s eyes. He knew the exact moment the man made the decision to shoot. Sam dove for the knife. A gunshot exploded in a flash of fire. A burning pain seared along his thigh. Damn it! Not again. Then there was another shot. And another. The report sounded familiar. The snarl definitely was. Kell.

Yanking the knife free of the bartender’s shoulder Sam came up into a crouch and in one smooth motion sent the weapon spinning toward its target. But it wasn’t an outlaw in the doorway. Instead, there was Bella with a gun in her hand.

“Shit!” The knife flew from his fingertips. The blade buried in the doorjamb beside Isabella’s head.

Jumping to his feet, Sam swore again. “I told you to stay put!”

Kell snarled around the throat of the man he had pinned to the floor just as Sam heard the scuff of a boot. The bartender.

An elbow to the face dropped the man again. Sam finished the job by breaking his neck. A quick look back showed Isabella still standing in the doorway, staring at his knife quivering in the doorjamb as if she couldn’t figure how it got there. She had the gun pointing straight at him.

From outside, he could hear the voices of curious townsfolk.

“Time to go.”

He got to his feet. Isabella still didn’t blink. He took a step to the left, out of the line of fire. Bella turned with him. The gun traveled with her. “Bella?”

She didn’t blink, move or give any other indication she heard him. He heard a shout. They didn’t have much time.

He crossed the distance between them, snapping his fingers as he got to Kell. “Leave off.”

The dog moved back, still snarling. Sam squatted down briefly to check the pulse on the man Bella had shot, though the pool of blood left little doubt he was dead.

“Is he dead?”

“Deader than mutton.”

She looked at him then, her eyes wide with shock. “He was going to kill you.”

Sam was close enough now to take the gun out of her hand. He did carefully, uncocking it, being careful of the hair trigger. “That he was.”

“I couldn’t let him kill you.”

“For that I’m grateful, duchess.”

He pulled her away from the doorway and looked out onto the street. The good citizens of this hellhole were gathering their courage. “Bella, I need you to get on Breeze, ride over to the mercantile and get your horses.”

“I already brought them over.”

She was full of hidden surprises, and still feeling the repercussions of killing a man. Not good. He needed her sharp. “I can’t afford for you to fall apart on me right now, all right?”

Her brows snapped down in a frown. “I do not fall apart.”

From what he could see, she was a hairsbreadth from it. “Good.” He checked the revolver, put two more bullets in the chamber and handed it back to her. “What I need you to do right now is to tuck yourself in behind the door and keep that gun trained outside. If anybody approaches, shoot.”

She moved to the side of the door and glanced over at him, her eyes wide, her hands shaking. “What if they are friendly?”

“Trust me. Anybody with any sense isn’t going to be coming over here on the back end of a gunfight.”

Her frown increased. “They could be nice but stupid.”

That they could. “We’ll just have to take that chance.”

She bit her lip, her gaze dropping to his leg. “You are bleeding.”

“Just got grazed.” Blood soaked the underside of the tear ripped into the thick cotton of his pants. While it burned like fire, it didn’t interfere with the use of his leg. “I’m fine.”

She didn’t look convinced, but she nodded. When he was sure she wasn’t going to drop into hysterics, he headed to the back room to retrieve his shotgun. The prostitute lay where he’d left her, a discarded bundle with no more use to anybody. Likely she’d be taken out to the canyon and her body dumped for the coyotes to dispose of. He couldn’t see the residents of this town breaking a sweat to bury a worn-out whore. He shook his head. A sad ending to a sad life. He turned his head away.

“Sam?” Bella called.

“Yeah?” he called back, heading to the door.

“You found the woman, yes?”

The lightness of her voice, the melodic flow of her accent were completely out of place in this harsh place of depravity.

“Yes.”

“It is your friend’s sister?”

He turned to look at the body again. “No.”

But if it had been, he would have taken her body with him, danger or not, out of respect for Desi. Taken her home to her family. At the very least buried her properly with the blessing of a padre.

“You will bring her anyway,
sí?
”

Another woman would have objected to even being in the saloon, let alone accepted the company of a prostitute, but Isabella had a way of ignoring right and wrong and focusing on what she wanted. And from that sweet-as-pie command, she did not want a woman left behind in this place. She had good instincts.

“Anybody ever tell you you’re a bossy little thing?” he called.

“I merely point out what is the right thing.”

Yeah, she did. “What’s it look like out there?”

“People gather their courage.”

In other words, not good. He didn’t have time to mess with a dead body. Images from the past flashed through his head. His mother dead and bloody, the Mexican army all around in the countryside, no time to do anything more than whisper he loved her and drag her to where his father lay. He’d gone back years later. The house had been abandoned and falling down, his parents’ bodies had been nowhere to be found, probably carried off by wild animals, the remains disposed of with nature’s sense of efficiency. Under the floorboard in the bedroom he’d found his mother’s bible and the stash of love letters she’d kept. The ones in which his father talked of the future he was going to build for them in the republic. The ones in which his father spun the dreams his mother had grabbed hold of with all her heart, believing in the man she loved, believing they’d have a life together, that moving to the republic was a start of something fine.

Sam hadn’t had any bodies to bury, so he’d buried those letters instead, along with his dreams of family and love. A man that chose to live out here had no right spinning dreams for a woman. Dreams like that just got a woman killed.

“Sam?” Isabella called again when he didn’t immediately respond. “You will bring her?”

He tucked the blankets around the corpse. Betty might not have had someone to stand up for her in her last years, but he’d be damned if she’d be short a proper burial now that she’d passed on.

“Yeah. I’ll bring her.”

I
sabella stood across the fresh grave from Sam and studied his very controlled, very ungiving expression. He was a puzzle. His reputation portrayed him as the scariest member of Hell’s Eight, cold-blooded and ruthless, able to kill with a smile. Yet he’d taken the time to carry out of town the body of a woman that others would consider garbage, losing precious time and putting himself at risk to give a stranger a decent burial. And he had done it with all the respect he would have shown a member of his own family. But yet, she shook her head at the illogic, she should see him as unredeemable.

Sam tossed the last shovelful of dirt on the grave and headed back to where Breeze stood. Not one muscle in his face moved to show he was upset, but ever since he’d walked out of the cantina carrying Betty’s body, Bella had wanted to wrap her arms around him and hug him tightly. The urge was not going away either. It just kept getting stronger. And she did not know why. She just knew there was an emotion in his eyes she wanted to ease.

The wind blew across the plains, whipping down out of the hills in a mournful wail. Sam lifted his head, following its path with his eyes, giving her a full view of his profile—the sharp blade of his nose, the square, slightly jutting thrust of his jaw. His lips parted as he took a breath.

His gaze swept over to her, to the grave and then back to the shovel he was securing to the back of Breeze’s saddle as if nothing had happened, but it was too late. She had seen the hunger in his eyes, and in a flash of insight she knew what the emotion was that she often saw haunting Sam’s gaze.

Loneliness. He was lonely, this man who could care about a woman that life had discarded. Maybe too much so. Drumming her fingers on her arms, she considered the matter. Something about this woman’s plight had touched him. She wished she knew what it was. She had a feeling it was the key to understanding all the pieces of the puzzle that made up Sam MacGregor.

Sam came back to the grave. She waited for him to speak but he just stood there, his expression like stone, a legacy of pain in his eyes, until she could stand it no more.

“Will you say the prayer?”

Anger compressed the edges of his mouth the way it always did when she mentioned prayer. Or hope.

“I don’t pray.”

In this case what he wanted did not matter. A woman was dead. She had just been buried. “The proper words must be said.”

He took off his hat. “Then maybe you’d better say them.”

She shrugged. “I do not know the words in English.”

“I don’t expect Betty will mind.”

No, she did not suppose Sally would. Isabella made the sign of the cross and bowed her head. At first, the words wouldn’t come. Instead, there came the memories of how Betty had looked as Sam had laid her out by the grave, her body wasted by disease, her flesh ravaged by sores, as if the abuse she had suffered over the years were injustices that couldn’t be kept hidden.

That was her future. When Tejala caught her, that would be her life, one long, endless scream until it ended in some dirty room. Likely the man who found her body would not be decent like Sam. Likely her body would be tossed to the pigs for disposal. Likely no one would whisper the words of passing. She blinked and took a deep breath. She would not let it come to that.

She found her voice, found the prayer and whispered it loud enough so Sam could hear. He said he did not pray, but if it was important to him to give Betty a proper burial, then the ritual would be important and maybe the words would give him comfort. When she was done, she crossed herself again. Sam put his hat on and turned back to Breeze. She stayed by the grave a moment longer, holding her hair back, needing to say more. She said it in English, just in case Betty’s spirit lingered.

“I am sorry, Betty, that we did not find you sooner. I am sorry that your life ended as it did, that you passed without knowing that someone had come for you.” She glanced to where Sam stood beside the horse, checking the pack, tall and strong as if none of this affected him. As if he was apart from it all. She did not believe it.

She let the wind take her hair, crossing her arms over her chest. “Because, he did, you know. Sam might be looking for this woman named Ari, but he would not have left you behind. He would have taken you with him. He would have kept you safe.”

Like he had her.

“He would have done it simply because he is a good man who believes in doing the right thing.” Picking up a handful of the freshly turned dirt, she let it rain down from her fist, symbolically sealing the grave in a final gesture before whispering, “There are not so many of them anymore, so please, do not haunt his dreams.” She bit her lip, her gaze drawn to him by the pain he would not share. “I think he has enough ghosts.”

Two hours later Sam was still stewing in that melancholy way that worked on her nerves. Bella was used to his silence, used to his empty smiles, had grown attached to his real ones, but she did not think she could ever get used to this. He rode only eight feet ahead, but it was as though he was alone in the world, living in a dark place where no one could touch him. She did not like seeing him that way. It was not right, and she was not going to tolerate it.

Slumping in the saddle she called, “Sam?”

He shifted sideways, looking at her over his shoulder, his beautiful mouth set in a straight line. “Yeah?”

Even his “Yeah” was flat. “How much farther?”

“Why?”

She hunched her shoulders a little more. “I was just wondering.”

Breeze came to a stop. In some ways Sam was very easy.

“You’re tired?”

“I am sorry. I am not used to riding so much.”

He eyed her suspiciously. “This wouldn’t be an excuse to get your arms around me, would it?”

She pasted a smile on her face and straightened her spine. “You see right through my ways.” She waved him on. “We may go.”

He didn’t move. His hat was set too low to see his eyes but she bet he was frowning. She tugged her own hat over her face. All the advantages should not be his.

“Are you really tired?”

“I will be fine.”

Still he didn’t move. She urged Sweet Pea forward. Sam leaned over and caught the reins.

“I can’t take you up in front of me.”

“I understand.”

His eyes glittered at her from under the brim of his hat. “It wouldn’t be safe.”

“I do not argue.”

Kneeing his horse over, he sighed and held out his hand. “You can ride behind me and rest against my back.” Motioning with his fingers, he ordered, “Hand me the reins.”

She placed the strip of leather in his hand. “Thank you.”

Kicking his foot free of the near stirrup, he shrugged. “We’ve been riding hard.”

It was a long way to the ground and her muscles let her know they were not happy to be put to work supporting her once she got there. Sam had her arm immediately, steadying her.

“Careful.”

She turned, abandoning the horse for his thigh. The horse had more give, his thigh more appeal. She held on tightly.

The saddle creaked. His arm came around her back, catching under her armpit, knocking her hat off her head. “Step into the stirrup.”

The order whispered down her spine. How could he make such a simple practical thing sound so exotic? She did as he asked, having to lean back, finding his strength there to support her, help her.

He lifted. “Swing your leg over.”

She did, settling behind Sam. Her skirt bunched up, barely covering her knees. Even with the pants Sam had made for her she was embarrassed. Her mother would be horrified. She wrapped her arms around his lean waist and snuggled up against his back. She didn’t care. This was Sam, and for now, he was her reality.

“Comfortable?”

She nodded, breathing deeply of his scent. Man tinged with sweaty horse and the lingering fragrance of tobacco. “Yes.”

“Good.”

With a cluck of his tongue he put the horses in motion. It was a surprisingly sensual experience riding behind him. With every step the horse took, she rocked against his back, her nipples rubbing in an erotic rhythm. Pressure, then release. Pressure, then release. The edge of the saddle bit into the inside of her thighs heightening her awareness, and the ridge of the low back rubbed against her clit, bringing it to hunger. She moaned. Never would she make two hours like this.

“You all right back there?”

“I am fine.”

“Sounded like you were having a little bit of a problem.”

The irritant! He knew what she was feeling. And maybe he had been keeping his hand on her leg to heighten her awareness? Well, two could play that game. “I am just enjoying being close to you.”

He stiffened. She smiled. That was not the least of the honesty she intended to indulge in. His shirt was warm from the sun. Beneath the thin cotton, she could feel the heat of his skin waiting. The tingle in her fingers spread to her palms. He was a fine man and touching him was such a pleasure. “You must have many women wanting to touch you.”

“I think you’ve got things backwards. It’s a man that does the touching.”

“Not so much today,” she whispered against his back, feeling bold and daring, wanton even. “Today it is my wish to pleasure you.”

“Shit.” His hand came over hers. To stop her or encourage her?

Running her palms down the hard planes of his stomach, she found the buttons on the fly of his pants. “Do you not want me to pleasure you?”

“You’re a virgin.”

She laughed and kissed his spine. “This does not make me an
idiota,
Sam.”

“Never thought it did.”

Two buttons gave. She slipped her fingers in the opening, finding hot flesh and an intriguing line of hair that curled around her knuckles. She tugged. He jumped. This was going to be fun. “Then what did you think being a virgin meant?”

“Shy and hesitant.”

Another button gave. “And perhaps unschooled?”

His breath hissed through his teeth as she took advantage of the loosening of material to slide her hands downward until she hit the barrier of his cock. “Yes.”

“I am not hesitant, Sam.”

“So I noticed.”

The rough edge of his drawl excited her almost as much as the thought of pleasuring him did. “I am adjusting my shyness, but I will be always be unschooled…”

This time when she put her mouth to his back, she let him feel her teeth. His whole body stiffened. Her hand closed around the thick base of his cock, straining to hold him even as he strained to her touch. “Unless you teach me.”

“Hell, woman, you don’t play fair.”

She nipped his shoulder blade, feeling the shock go through him. “You would be disappointed if I did.”

He didn’t answer. She did not need him to. What she needed was for him to lift up so she could work his cock free. “Help me, Sam.”

With a curse, he yanked her hand away. She leaned back as he worked his cock free. Freedom did not come easily but when it did, she was there to catch its heavy weight. He groaned. She sighed and rested her cheek against his back as she ran her fingers up the solid length.

“I like very much how you feel in my hand, strong and hungry for the pleasure I will give you.”

His hand covered hers. Again she felt the battle his conscience waged with his desire. She sabotaged the effort with a light squeeze and a request she knew he could not resist. “Teach me to please you, Sam. Just this once.”

“It won’t mean anything.”

She nodded, knowing he felt the gesture. “I know.”

“It won’t be good for you.”

The extra warning made her smile. He had no idea what was good for her, just misguided images of what he wanted for her. “I would still like for you to show me what gives you pleasure.”

In her hand, his cock jerked. Against her cheek his ribs expanded. She drew a breath with him, enjoying the sweet summer air and this break in his defenses. This moment when he would let her in.

His “Like this” was gruff, his instruction matter of fact as he worked her hands up and down his shaft. She didn’t take offense. She could not expect a man she was tempting past what his honor dictated to smile. But she could expect his cooperation.

The rhythm he set was hard and fast. She frowned. Not at all what she expected. He always teased her first with light touches and easy strokes to bring her body to a desperate need. This was more like the end when there was nothing left of her control, nothing she could accept but the merciless drive to completion. His hips pushed up into her downward stroke. The muscles in his back tensed. His hands fell away, giving her back control. She took it with a whisper-light touch that had him shuddering. “I think you are rushing me, Sam.”

“What makes you say that?”

“This is not how you touch me.”

“Men don’t need sweet touches like women do. They like it fast and rough.”

She frowned, pondering the depth of truth in the statement. Sam never lied but he would shade the truth if it served his purpose. “I think you would like sweet from me.”

He needed sweet more than anyone she’d ever met. Deserved it. He was always caring for those around him, always doing the right thing. A man like that should be rewarded. Should be given the softness he wouldn’t ask for.

“I’d like to come without getting my ass shot off.”

Another word to add to her vocabulary. “There is trouble?”

“We are out in Tejala’s territory, out in the open with potentially a posse on our trail. There could be trouble at any time.”

The thought did not terrify her like it should. “But there is no sign of trouble now?”

“Not that I can tell but that means nothing. There could be an ambush set just over the next hill.”

“Or there could be nothing.”

He shook his head. “The ambush is more likely.”

She came to a conclusion. “You are trying to scare me.”

“I’m trying to get you to see sense.”

No, he was trying to distract her, trying to get her to rush this moment because…The why escaped her, but instinct told her despite his words to the contrary, Sam craved the sweetness he always so easily gave her. “I think I will give my gift my way.”

“Come hell or high water.”