The Innocent and the Outlaw (Outlaws of the Wild West)

by Harper St. George

  He shrugged. “There’s more to life than binoculars edged in gold. My brother needed me. I had to help him.”

  She studied him closely, trying her best to see what lurked behind those words. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask more, to find out all there was to know about him, but she knew that he wouldn’t answer. The situation they found themselves in wouldn’t allow him to answer. Why was she so willing to forget that with him? She looked away from his mesmerizing face and drew in a breath. “I suppose that includes stealing people who don’t belong to you.”

  Instead of letting it drop, he touched her chin, his fingertips making her pulse race as he tilted her face back to him. His eyes were heavy and intense as they pierced hers. “I want you to understand that I never wanted to take you. I promise that when this is over I’ll take you back home if that’s where you want to go. In the meantime, I’ll keep you safe.”

  * * *

  As if fate was giving him a chance to prove true to his words, a bullet ricocheted off the boulder beside them, spraying them with bits of rock. The explosion of the gunshot seemed to fill the entire valley below them. Before she could react, he grabbed her and rolled with her in his arms, his larger body taking the brunt of the fall before coming to rest on top of her, his arms cradled around her head as another shot tried to find its way into their sanctuary.

  Waiting just long enough to make sure that a third shot wouldn’t attempt to find them, he rose up to his knees, just to sprawl back down on her as another bullet attempted and failed to find them. “Goddammit!”

  Her eyes stared up into his when he rose to his elbows above her to double-check that she was fine. “Are you hit?” she asked.

  “No.” He should have been watching for the bastard tracking them, not letting his captivating charge distract him. If he didn’t get his head on straight he wouldn’t get them out of this alive, much less return her home. “You’re not hurt?”

  “No.”

  Now that the shooting had stopped, he moved to his knees, his body continuing to shield hers as he leaned forward to take a peek through the narrow gap between the boulders. The view was obscured, but he could just make out the shadow of a man just below the tree line, his body partially hidden by a ridge of rock nearer the bottom of the slope. Hunter wouldn’t be able to get a clear shot, but neither would he. The rocks would protect them as long as they stayed low.

  Moving back into his original position over her, he opened his mouth to reassure her, but the words hung in his throat. Beautiful wasn’t the word that would’ve come to mind when he’d first seen her. That word was reserved for the debutantes with their practiced smiles and perfect coiffures. Arresting had been more appropriate for her. She was pretty, but there was something about her that made you look twice just to make sure the glint you saw in her eye hadn’t been imagined. She was real in a way that no other woman had been for him.

  Looking at her disheveled hair and her wide, blue eyes as she lay beneath him, he couldn’t help but imagine how it might be if she was lying beneath him for an entirely different reason. They were in the middle of a shoot-out and he still wanted her. Apparently his depravity knew no bounds.

  Wrenching his gaze away from her, he nodded to the bedroll and moved off of her. “Stay down and move back to the bedroll. That’ll keep you far enough away from the possible range of gunfire.”

  “Is it Ship? Please don’t hurt him if it is.”

  “I can’t get a good look, but he’ll poke his head out soon enough.” He didn’t wait for her to obey him before reaching for the binoculars and pulling them from their case. Moving as close to the entrance of the cavern as he could without exposing himself, he held them up and waited. He didn’t need to wait long. The man was obviously impatient to complete a task that had already taken more time than he wanted, so he popped up above the ridge to take another shot. Hunter didn’t even flinch, knowing the bullet wouldn’t find him. The shooter had pushed his hat back on his forehead to aim his shot, revealing a face that Hunter was sure he’d never seen before. Greasy brown hair streaked with gray and a grizzled face that could have belonged to any one of the men who might want him dead.

  “I don’t recognize him.” Shifting on his knees, he looked back at her over his shoulder and reached out a hand. “Come take a look. Do you know all of Campbell’s men?”

  She nodded. “There are a few who shift in and out of his gang, like O’Brien, but most of them have been riding with him for years.”

  He made sure to keep himself between her and the outside of the cavern when she joined him and passed the binoculars to her. “He’s there, just at that ridge.” His hand automatically went to rest at the small of her back and he had to force himself to not breathe her in, no matter that she still inexplicably smelled like flowers. They stayed like that for a few minutes waiting for their adversary to make another move. When he finally rose up, this time to get a better look without taking a shot, she lowered the lenses and passed them back.

  “I’m not sure.”

  This was getting out of hand. They’d had her for less than twenty-four hours and already she’d been shot at by two different men. When Cas and Zane arrived later they’d have to have a serious discussion about what to do with her. “Move back to the bedroll.”

  He brought the binoculars back up just in time to see the muzzle of the gun glinting in the afternoon sun and ducked instinctively just as the next shot fired, the blast echoing against the rock of the mountain. Dropping the binoculars, he pulled one of the guns from the holster he’d shed earlier and propped against the boulder. Then he moved forward as far as he could without exposing his shoulder to the shooter and took aim at the spot the man would appear when he tried to shoot again. Over the next several minutes Hunter got off a few shots, but none of the bullets found the narrow swath of the faded blue shirt his target would occasionally reveal and gouged craters in the rock the coward hid behind, instead. He forced a deep, slow breath, counting the beats of his heart as he waited for the man to show himself again. He was rewarded a short while later when the barrel of the revolver came over the edge of the rock followed quickly by a flash of blue. Hunter fired and the barrel disappeared behind the rock only to come back up a moment later. He’d missed.

  A bead of sweat rolled down his neck as he took advantage of the break and opened the chamber on his Colt to reload. He’d been in shoot-outs before and knew that patience was the only way to win, but he’d never had to worry about an innocent’s safety before. It gnawed at him that he was the reason she was in danger.

  Another shot fired, the dust from where the bullet grazed the rock spraying over his shoulder as he finished loading the gun. “You okay?” He spared a glance in her direction to see her nodding, her wide-eyed gaze fastened to the shooter’s hiding place. Smothering a curse, he took aim and waited for the son of a bitch to reappear.

  Six shots later he sat back on his heels, cursing again as he reloaded. He had bullets left, but at this rate they’d run out before Cas and Zane got to them. Movement from behind him caught his eyes, but he didn’t bother to look at her and just yelled back, “Stay down!”

  He pushed in two more bullets before a shot rang out, so close that it left his ears ringing, too close to have been from the man trying to kill them. As he pulled his Colt up to fire at whoever had shot, his gaze landed on the girl holding his spare gun.

  Chapter Eight

  Emmy was on her knees near the boulders with the gun pointed toward the shooter, its muzzle still smoking from the shot. Automatically, Hunter’s gaze followed the line of fire and saw bushes rustling and flashes of movement as the man made his way on foot down the mountain and to his horse. The heavy brush at the bottom gave the man natural cover so Hunter couldn’t get a clear shot, so he grabbed the binoculars and watched him make his way to his horse. By the time he reached it, he was out of revolver ran
ge, making Hunter wish he’d had his rifle. As the man awkwardly pulled himself up with one arm, Hunter could tell that he was seriously injured. A bright stain of red marred the blue on his right shoulder as he rode off, hunched over the reins.

  Dropping the binoculars, he looked back at her. “Shit! You got him.”

  “I hope I didn’t kill him.” Her face was pale and her hands had started to shake as she watched the rider retreat.

  “No. No, you didn’t, it was only his shoulder,” he hurried to reassure her. “He won’t be aiming a gun anytime soon, but he’ll be okay.”

  She looked at him then, finally taking her eyes from the retreating horse once she was assured that he spoke the truth.

  “That was an expert shot,” he said.

  “Of course it was. I’m an excellent shot.”

  The arrogant yet somehow innocent grin she supplied with that remark was enough to make him stare. She was beautiful when she smiled like that, her eyes shining with confidence. He found himself smiling in return just because she was so damned enticing with that smile, but caught himself as he remembered their roles.

  “But how? Last night you didn’t even come close when you shot at us.”

  She shrugged, the apples of her cheeks turning a light shade of pink. “I’m better when the targets aren’t moving and there aren’t animals involved. Last night I didn’t want to hit the horses.”

  He couldn’t help it; he laughed then, practically doubling over as the hilarity of her statement hit him. She’d rather not shoot their horses—animals he’d gathered she didn’t particularly care for—than save herself from being kidnapped. Her brow furrowed, but then she laughed, too. The tension of the moment needed an outlet. The light sound of her laugh was just husky enough to rake pleasantly across his senses while something warm tugged deep in his gut. It was beyond appealing.

  The moment their eyes met, they both realized the exact same thing: she was his hostage and she was holding a loaded gun. Before she could move, he lunged and knocked her backward, one hand moving to cup the back of her head and cushion her fall while the other grabbed her wrist, holding it pinned to the ground above her head.

  The laughter was gone and just inches separated his face from hers, his lips from hers. She didn’t struggle and she let go of the gun so that it dropped to lay on the ground. Of its own volition, his hand inched up from her wrist until they were palm to palm, surprising himself when his fingers laced with hers. She squeezed him back and he was dropping down to her as if she held some magic that was pulling him in and he didn’t even think about resisting. All he wanted was to finally claim her as his.

  Her gasp filled the air between them just before his mouth touched hers. Despite his need, it was a gentle touch, slow and soft, giving her the chance to pull away the moment she didn’t want it. Except that she did want it. Soft lips parted beneath his and desire immediately tightened deep in his groin as his heart beat a fast rhythm against his rib cage.

  * * *

  Excitement pulsed through her veins like a power that couldn’t be contained. The fear that had only compounded with each bullet fired, followed by the exhilaration of firing the shot that had saved them, had combined to form this heady mix of energy she didn’t know how to control. She didn’t want to control it.

  With his warm palm pressed to hers, his hand at the back of her head and his large body covering hers, imprisoning her between his powerful thighs, she briefly realized that she should have felt very much at his mercy, his prisoner, but what she felt was quite the opposite. She felt protected and wanted. A small gasp escaped her when his tongue brushed against her bottom lip and she craved more. Her free hand went to his chest, palm reveling in the hard muscle as she moved on to his shoulder and then the dark blond hair at the back of his head, where her fingers clenched in the short, thick waves to pull him closer.

  His soft growl of pleasure made a spark of pleasure shoot through her belly and she touched him back, stroking the tip of her tongue against his full bottom lip. Immediately he deepened the kiss, tightening his own fingers in her hair as he chased her tongue with his, moving in and out in a sensuous rhythm. A new and strange need began to pulse within her, warmth unfurling in her belly and moving downward to pulse between her thighs. She wanted to be closer to him, to feel the hardness of his body against the softness of hers.

  He must have sensed what she wanted, because he lowered himself so that his elbow was no longer supporting him and his weight fell softly on her. She almost groaned with how good he felt on top of her. He was hard everywhere: his chest and stomach, his unforgiving thighs entrapping hers, the unmistakable shaft of steel pressed against her belly. For the first time in her life she wanted to explore that part of a man. The strange urge gave her a moment of pause, until she let the excitement overtake her again, forcing herself to lock her reticence away and to just let him make her feel.

  Letting go of his hair, she curled her hand around his impossibly wide shoulder and held him close. It was his turn to groan when he pulled his lips from hers and buried his face in her neck. His breath on the sensitive area sent goose bumps prickling across her skin, but then it was followed by the wet heat of his mouth and she gasped aloud at the unexpected bolt of pleasure that shot through her middle, pushing her hips up into his. He groaned again and pressed his pelvis into her. This time her lips parted on a soft moan she tried to contain by biting down on her bottom lip. His mouth moved down her neck, his tongue coming out to stroke her just before his lips closed over the spot, sucking lightly. Finally, he reached the coarse wool of her dress and she actually sighed with disappointment when he stopped, his forehead coming to rest briefly on her shoulder as he took a deep, shuddering breath and raised up to look down at her.

  She knew that she must look a mess if the heavy breaths she was trying hard to get under control were any indication. His brow was furrowed, drawing his eyebrows together in a way that made him seem bewildered, and she couldn’t help but smile at how the look transformed him from hardened outlaw to ardent lover. It didn’t seem to matter that they shouldn’t have been kissing at all or that their hands were still locked together and she wasn’t behaving like a proper hostage at all. It had happened and neither of them seemed to quite know how it had come about.

  When he smiled back, a tentative grin that revealed far more of his uncertainty than he probably intended, she had to resist the urge to trace the curve of his shapely bottom lip as desire shot through her core. Everything about that desire was wrong.

  “That shouldn’t have happened.” The words were automatic and not at all what she meant even though she knew they were true.

  “No. It shouldn’t.” Releasing her hand, he brought his to rest gently on her jawline and the curve of her neck. His fingertips rested there for a second, stroking back and forth before he roused himself and slipped off of her. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

  She opened her mouth instinctively to tell him that it was fine, that she had wanted it. Her body still throbbed with how “fine” it had been, but bit lightly on her tongue to stop the words. He was still the outlaw who had kidnapped her. Instead of saying anything, she pushed herself up and pulled her knees to her chest. She had to get away. The locket rested heavily between her breasts, reminding her of the plan she had made.

  He pushed his hand through his hair and let out a deep breath. A tiny flutter of pleasure winged its way through her at the tangible evidence of how she affected him, but that wasn’t the only evidence, she reminded herself, and discreetly glanced to the bulge still obvious in his breeches. It shouldn’t matter and, really, it didn’t matter, but it was something she could take with her and relive later.

  When she didn’t absolve him of his guilt, he nodded and retrieved the gun she had used to return it to his holster lying near the saddlebags. “I’m glad you know how to shoot. It was good that Campbell taught y
ou.” After he was finished he gave her a quick glance and flashed a grin. “Care for a drink? I sure as hell need one.”

  The flask! She faintly remembered seeing it at some point when she was on his horse and realized that it would be the best way to get the powders into him. “Yes, please.”

  Lips still tingling from his kiss, she watched his impressively wide shoulders as he dug through the saddlebags with more than a little regret. It really was unfortunate that she hadn’t met him under different circumstances. That kiss had been...unbelievable. But it was stupid to pursue that line of thought. She had to get away—and not just to get back to her sisters. If the past hours had taught her anything, it was that she wasn’t safe with Ship anymore. Money or not, she had to get herself and the girls away from his chaos. She shuddered to think what might have happened if someone like Ship’s men had kidnapped her, or worse, her sisters.

  Taking a deep pull on the flask, he handed it to her and watched as she nodded her thanks and took a small taste of the whiskey. It burned going down, warming her from the inside out as if she’d needed it after that kiss had heated her blood. She had only just begun to worry about how to get the powders into his drink, when he turned to pick up the binoculars, bringing them to his eyes to look in the direction the shooter had ridden. She couldn’t resist admiring the view he presented, wide chest, narrow waist and the tantalizing way his breeches pulled tight over the curve of his backside.

  Shaking her head, she fumbled with the locket, pulling it out of her bodice and carefully pressing the catch to open it. How much should she add? One quick glance to make sure he hadn’t moved and she emptied the entire powdery contents into the whiskey, just managing to stow the locket back in her dress before he turned around. Swirling it, she made a show of bringing the flask to her lips again, making sure to keep her lips closed as she pretended to drink before handing it back to him, stifling her pang of regret. “No sign of anyone?”