by Ivy McAdams
“Let’s hope not,” Clara murmured.
“Why?” Bridget asked, the curiosity within her weighing heavier. Were they in danger?
“There’s some bad blood between us and the Croakers,” Mason said. “If they’d recognized me, they might come after us.”
Bridget’s chest tightened. “Do they know where you are?”
“No. On that front, we’re safe. But we may need to lie low for a bit.”
The idea of spending the next week or two hiding alone with him in the tent didn’t hurt her feelings in the slightest.
He must have had similar thoughts because he took her by the elbow and inched her toward the tent they'd shared the night before.
“That’s not anything you need to worry about now,” he murmured. “I’ve got you some biscuits. You hungry?”
Even though she would rather keep talking and listen to them tell her the possibility that the Croakers would return for her was scarce, her stomach was achingly empty.
She nodded. “I could eat.”
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and she was cloaked in the feeling of warmth and safety she always felt when he touched her.
“Mason,” Clara called out behind him. He paused without turning back. “Keep your ear to the ground.”
“Got it,” he said with a wave.
Bridget wanted to look back, to gauge how serious Clara was, but she trusted Mason. If he wasn’t worried, then she could be calm too. Especially with the way his fingers rubbed into her shoulder and the sweet smell that encircled him. Leather and one so utterly male that she pulled in a deeper breath to appreciate it. Underneath lingered the yeasty smell of biscuits.
They stepped into the tent, and footsteps outside told her the others were leaving. Or at least she hoped they were because Mason's hands were already sliding up her sides and chest, tickling her neck as he pulled her in and kissed her like he hadn't seen her in days.
Her arms wound around his shoulders, hands stroking his neck and weaving in his hair. He dropped his package of biscuits as his hands dug deep into her sides, her back, her rear, pressing into it to lock their hips together. She could feel the hard evidence of his arousal lodged against her thigh, and the anticipation pulled a soft moan from her lips.
He covered her sounds with his mouth, drinking her in and teasing her all at once. When his hips moved against hers, she dropped her hands to his shirt, pulling it free even faster than the night before. Then her fingers were at his pants, working them open as her pulse quickened.
She needed him. She needed him to erase any fear that Oscar could come back for her, to bring her back to the blissful calm and contentment she’d had the night before. Back when it was only him and her, and the rest of the world had vanished.
Her fingers dipped into the opening of his pants and wrapped around his erect flesh. His body tensed, and his quick draw of breath against her lips was like music to her ears.
Then he swept her into the air and laid her down on the mat. She helped him pull her skirts away, drawing them up and opening herself before him. This time when he fit himself between her legs, it was with an urgency she felt deep inside her.
Once he’d sunk deep into her, she wrapped her legs around him, and her body locked up, wanting to just hold him there for an eternity. Where no others were there to interfere, and she could stare up into his loving green eyes, knowing she was safe and satisfied for the rest of her life.
Then he began to move, and she relented her hold.
Nothing perfect could last forever.
But the hard length of him opening her up felt amazing, and his hips meeting hers as they moved was even better.
It didn’t take long for his intense strokes to stoke her fire to the breaking point, and she wrapped tighter around him as her release took her. She rode out the wave of succulent energy that shot through her limbs and clenched around him. He groaned under his breath as his body hardened and gave a final buck in response.
Her eyes clenched as the fire and excitement eased from her muscles, and she clung to his slick shoulders. He shuddered as he relaxed against her.
They stretched out side by side on the mat, and she pressed her cheek to his chest and closed her eyes. She felt much safer cradled in his arms and too sated and exhausted to worry about anything else.
* * *
“Mason,” a man outside the tent called.
Bridget’s eyes flew open, staring at the top of the tent. Mason stirred next to her. They’d dozed off after their earlier bout of passion, and the morning sun had moved to beat down on the tent from overhead.
“Mason,” the man hissed near the tent opening.
Bridget gasped, even though the voice sounded familiar. She scrambled to cover herself properly and put a hand on Mason’s chest, but he was already shifting to get up. He put his clothes back together and staggered out into the afternoon sunlight. Bridget crept toward the tent flap, peering out the crack as he joined his friend a few paces off.
It was the serious one with the black hat. Clay. He put a hand on Mason’s shoulder.
"I was out on the south side just earlier, hunting. Saw a couple of rough lookin' men out on the prowl, skirting around the near side of Emerald Falls."
Mason’s face tightened with a frown.
“They weren’t coming this way,” Clay continued, “but that’s mighty close.”
“Yes.” Mason nodded as he rubbed his fingers across his chin. “Much too close. I was almost sure they’d get the hell out of here. What’s he after anyway, besides his stubborn pride? Damn asshole.”
Mason's face was contorted with frustration and rage that startled her. He looked ready to go hunting men.
What she really wanted to know was if he believed Oscar would find them.
She grimaced, a sour feeling filling her stomach.
If Oscar stumbled upon the campsite, Mason and his friends would all be in trouble. But Mason more than any of them.
She didn’t understand Oscar’s possessive nature at all, as it was obvious he didn’t care for her. But she’d seen similar acts in the yard at school growing up, boys fighting over toys just to be the winner. A ball or slingshot they had to have, not because they wanted to use it, but because it made them feel better.
It was how she’d always seen Oscar. He didn’t want to know her. He only wanted to win.
Unfortunately, he played dirty, and his challengers ended up dead.
The thought of Mason meeting Oscar face to face made her want to vomit. Her teeth clenched, and she swallowed a grating knot in her throat. An even worse fate than having to return to Oscar at that point would be him hurting Mason, or worse.
“Let’s keep a close eye on him,” Mason said. “If he gets any closer, we might have to run him off.”
Bridget clenched her fists. Running him off was not an option. He was as headstrong as a bull. Their options were thin.
Clay nodded. “I’ll keep an eye on things.”
Mason clapped his friend on the back. “Thanks for the heads up. I’ll grab some gun oil and keep things steady over here.”
The men disappeared further into the campsite.
Bridget took a step out of the tent and watched Mason’s tall, trim frame walk away with an ache in her heart.
She’d be forever grateful to him for plucking her out of her nightmare and saving her life, but it was her chance to return the favor.
Oscar being so close to them meant he was hunting, and he was not going to stop.
The only way to keep him away from their camp and Mason was for her to leave. She'd go back. She'd let Oscar take her back into his dirty clutches because even a miserable life was far better than allowing him to get to Mason.
She drew in a long breath and steeled her nerves, then slipped into the trees at the edge of the clearing beyond the tent.
It was her turn to keep Mason alive, and it was the least she could do for the man that she loved.
Chapter 12
> Bridget had no idea where she was going. She didn’t know which way she and Mason had ridden to get to his camp, or what direction anything was located in, but she did know the sun set in the west. It was as good a path as any.
The late afternoon rays burned her eyes as she headed into them. She let out a heavy, irritated sigh. She’d been walking for at least an hour. It’d given her a long time to think.
She didn’t question her decision to leave. She regretted having to make it, of course, as nothing would make her happier than staying with Mason. But when it came to safety and lives at stake, her happiness was a variable she couldn’t weigh in.
Perhaps living under Oscar's thumb for a month had changed her views on life for the worst. She'd lived in horrible conditions for so long, what was some more? She should have known Mason was too good to be true.
Or perhaps meeting him had changed her views for the better. The very idea of sacrificing her chance at freedom for someone else would have been a ridiculous notion just a week ago. She’d have bitten and clawed her way to that chance and never looked back.
Either way, putting Mason in harm’s way was out of the question. Not with a dirty murderer like Oscar. Her heart couldn’t stand the possibility.
So she trudged on, unsure of where to go or what to do.
When she’d gotten far enough away from the campsite, she began calling Oscar’s name. The first time made her shudder, her entire body screaming in protest. Drawing him nearer was the last thing she wanted, but just leaving camp wasn’t going to do her a bit of good if Oscar didn’t know.
She’d yelled for ten minutes before she gave up, carrying on in silence. An hour later, she was beginning to believe she was going in circles and not only would never find him but would be lost forever herself.
“Oscar?” she called out again, voice broken and strained from use.
Something rustled behind her, and she gasped. She spun and backpedaled a few steps away from the trees lining the trail.
“Oscar?” she whispered, hoping to high heavens it wasn’t a bear or a cougar. She should have brought a weapon of some sort.
A long dark outline of a person stepped through the thick foliage beyond the trees, nearing her, and her pulse quickened. What had she been thinking? She couldn’t go back. Not to Oscar. He was a vile, horrid creature, and she couldn’t handle it again. She’d rather him kill her than go back to camp with him.
She bit her lip, tears stinging her eyes, and clutched her hands between her knees.
But she had to. For Mason.
She closed her eyes and focused on his handsome face, the smile that made her weak in the knees.
For her Mason.
The pain in her stomach hardened, and her eyes fluttered open.
“Mason?” She gaped at him as the beautiful man in the white hat stepped out of the trees.
His brow was pinched, dipped low, in as much confusion as she’d seen on him that morning.
“Bridget? What’s going on?”
Her breath was lodged in her throat, lungs locked down. Her eyes darted back and forth along the trail. They were alone. For now.
“It’s not safe out here,” she whispered, her hands shaking as he reached for them. She snatched them back, stepping away. “You can’t be out here.”
He frowned, gaze moving under his hat, but it was quick to return to her. “I know. What are you doing out here?”
“No, you don’t understand, Mason,” she coughed. Why didn’t he get it? “Oscar. He kills people. In cold blood. The last man he found talking to me. He killed him.”
Mason’s frown deepened, and he grasped her wrists to keep them from waving about. “I know, angel. You told me. He’s a horrible man.”
“Mason,” she pleaded, tears choking her words. “Go away! Before he finds you.”
A glimmer of hurt crossed his eyes, but his frown remained hard and unmoving. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll protect you.”
“I’m not worried about me, Mason. I can’t lose you.”
His eyes softened, and he pressed a palm to her cheek. "Angel, I'm not going anywhere."
She let out a long breath and leaned into his hand, pulled in by his deep eyes and insistent words.
She hadn’t even heard anyone else approach before the gun went off.
Her body leapt with a scream, twisting and falling with Mason, his strong arms wrapped around her. She hit the dirt with a jolt that knocked the air from her lungs. She struggled in Mason’s hold, eyes wide and staring at the trees in front of her where Oscar and Jonas appeared.
The sly smirk on Oscar’s face made her ill.
She scrambled to sit up, gasping for air and pulling on Mason’s sleeve.
He didn’t move.
Her heart stopped as she stared down at him. He lay at her side, eyes closed and unmoving. Her breath quaked, choking her, and her fingers dug into his shirt.
The laugh above her made her head snap up.
Oscar stooped down a few yards away to pick up Mason’s white hat.
“Not a bad shot,” he said with a wide, sickening grin as he waved the hat, the brim splattered with blood.
It took everything Bridget had not to vomit, her entire body clenching tight and tears springing to her eyes.
No! Not her Mason.
Her fingers dug into his shirt like talons, nearly pulling him off the ground as she leaned over him, choking out a sob that wracked her body.
He still smelled good. His body was still warm. She wanted to rub her face on him and soak up every little bit that was left of him.
“Let’s go, girl,” Oscar snapped, throwing the hat to the ground. “You’ve caused enough problems.”
Jonas stood behind him, silent with his gaze in the dirt.
Bridget couldn’t bear to set eyes on them. Mason was her only focus.
Her hands moved up his chest and shoulders as she lowered her face to his shirt. His chest was warm on her skin, and she tried to breathe him in, but the sobs moved her shoulders and collapsed her lungs. Her body shook, and her fingers dug in harder.
His chest moved, a soft hiss from somewhere. Did his shoulder jerk under her hand?
She froze, forehead pressed against his chest and breath halted. She remained as still as a rabbit on the trail.
Then she heard it.
His heartbeat.
She closed her eyes, fighting the rush of a new set of tears as utter relief flew through her.
“Bridget, now!” Oscar barked.
She ignored his sharp voice, finding a new solace in touching Mason’s live body.
He hadn’t lost any color in his face. There was no pool of blood beneath him that she could see. Thank the heavens.
Her hands slid down his chest again to clutch his shirt. A few of her fingers were sticky and slick with blood, but she couldn’t see the injury.
“I’ll find help for you,” she breathed against him. “Please hold on. Don’t leave me. I love you.”
Then she got to her feet, covering her face with a wail that shook her bones. If there was ever a time to play possum, she’d found it. She stepped over Mason’s body and walked to Oscar, tears flowing and body shaking.
He grabbed her arm.
“What the hell was you thinking running off like that anyhow?” he growled. “You got what you deserved. You best be happy I ain’t put a bullet in you yet.”
She continued to cover her face and cry as he led her away, giving a final peek over her shoulder as they marched into the trees. Mason lay in the middle of the trail, unmoving except for the subtle rise and fall of his chest. The sight filled her with such a renewed hope that she nearly couldn't contain it.
Just survive, she repeated in her head. Survive and I will come back for you.
Farther down the trail, two horses waited. Oscar mounted up and squeezed her in front of him. Highly uncomfortable and the very touch of his body against hers was revolting, but she didn’t complain. They needed to ride. The farther away they
got before Mason woke up the better.
All she had to do was play nice until they were a safe distance away. Once Oscar was no longer concerned with Mason, she could let out her claws. The great thing about accepting one’s fate was no longer being concerned with consequences. Once they got back to camp, she was going to punch that asshole in the face.
Chapter 13
“We lost an entire day because of you,” Oscar growled. “What the hell were you thinking?”
The temporary camp sat along the next rise. Linda and Squirrel stood in front of the tents, watching their return.
Bridget perched on the front of Oscar’s saddle with her fists clenched at her sides. She hadn’t relaxed much since they’d left, and it’d taken all her willpower not to slap the mouth off of his face.
He’d berated her the entire trip back. Once the camp came in sight, she couldn’t wait to get down and face him.
“Ethan was expecting us back today. A long time ago. What’s he gonna think when we just don’t show up?”
Bridget rolled her eyes. Who cared what Ethan thought?
From what she’d heard and what little she’d seen of the outlaw gang leader, he was as ruthless as Oscar. Maybe even worse. That was a good enough reason to be worried. Though it sure would be fun to watch Oscar get in trouble. Slapped around and punished.
She didn’t intend to make it that far, however. No matter the circumstances, she wouldn’t return to the main camp. Even if she had to take up Oscar’s gun herself, she would not spend the rest of her life at his side.
Oscar pushed her in the shoulder, growing more and more irritated by her refusal to speak. “Listen here, woman. When I speak to you, I expect to be answered. You go off for one day and let some man break you?”
The annoyed buzz in her blood vibrated to a new level, heat rising to her skin as she clenched her teeth and lashed out at Oscar.
She really should have waited until they’d stopped.
Instead of properly connecting her hand to his head, she swung wildly and nearly toppled from the horse. Oscar grabbed the back of her dress with a growl and dropped her to the ground.