The Girl with the Golden Gun

by Ann Major

  She thought about Hart’s call, but she hated the idea of Shanghai talking to the man.

  “I wish it wasn’t so dark here,” she said. “I remember your mother used to have flowers beneath every window.”

  His smile gentled his tanned face as he leaned across the cab. She lifted her mouth, expecting his kiss, but to her surprise his lips teasingly grazed the tip of her nose instead. Then he got out and went around to her side of the truck. Lifting her out, he swung her into his strong arms.

  “Put me down.” She kicked her feet in the air. “I can walk on my own.”

  “Be still, darlin’. I’m going to carry you over the threshold. You’re my bride, remember.”

  “This isn’t a real marriage.” She only said that because deep down, she was so afraid.

  “Says who? I said my vows. I heard you say yours.”

  “But—”

  “Didn’t you mean them?”

  “I did.”

  “So did I.”

  She stared up into his eyes, wanting to believe him so much it hurt. But her father hadn’t loved her. Not really. And she’d chased Shanghai for so long, it would be a while before she could feel sure of his love.

  “We’ll take it one day at a time,” he whispered. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll fall madly in love with me all over again.”

  “Or vice versa,” she murmured, casting a shy glance at him.

  Not that he was looking at her. As he stared at the house, his face gave her no clue as to his feelings. Swiftly he carried her across the grass and up the stairs. When he reached the door, he stood before it a long moment. Turning and scanning the fringe of trees, he signaled Gus and the two agents who’d stepped out of the trees for a brief moment.

  As if he were satisfied, Shanghai glanced at her again. “Well?”

  “What?” She hesitated. “What are you waiting for?”

  “Turn the knob, darlin’. My hands are full. You weigh more than a feather or two.”

  “Oh.”

  She blushed, and he laughed. Then she turned the knob and he nudged the door wider with his shoulder before stalking inside. The carpets weren’t down yet, so his boots rang on the glossy hardwood floors.

  “It’s wonderful,” she said. “I can’t believe all you’ve done—”

  “It’s small. But big enough for the three of us when we’re here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We’ll have to spend a lot of time at my ranch, too. The Buckaroo Ranch. I told you about my place.”

  She smiled. “A time or two.” He always swelled with pride when he mentioned it.

  She felt giddy that he was talking as if they had a future beyond Tavio Morales and his threats.

  “Did I tell you I’ve retired from bull riding?” Shanghai murmured almost offhandedly as he set her down.

  “No! You certainly did not! Really? When?”

  Her heart raced eagerly. She was that thrilled. The thought of him being trampled or gored had always been a constant terror.

  “I don’t want to risk my neck if I have you to come home to. I’m going to settle down and raise rough stock.”

  “Just like that? It’s the middle of the season. You were doing so well. What about all that prize money?”

  “With Tavio’s bunch hell-bent on kidnapping you, I don’t think I’d be much good on a bull. I’d get gored for sure. Hank bled out in ten seconds while I held him in my arms. I didn’t used to care much about dyin’. All of a sudden I do.”

  “But you said you weren’t going to retire any—”

  “Later on I may get some sort of job in the administrative side of rodeoing. I don’t know what I’ll do for sure.”

  Clearly he would make his own decisions about his future. He left her, and while he bolted the door and checked every window, pulling the shades down after a final wave to her bodyguard and agents, she ran about, examining the three bedrooms.

  “I know they’re small,” he said, following her into the second bedroom that contained an antique bed with a beautiful quilt on top it. She opened the closet and was startled to find it filled with her clothes. The next one contained his.

  When she whirled, he pulled her into his arms.

  “Small closets, I know. At least by Kemble standards.”

  “My last name is Knight now. Are you going to throw the Kemble name up at me for the rest of our lives?”

  He ignored her question. “But we’ll add on—a big master bedroom and bath with walk-in closets bigger than this bedroom. We’ll turn the garage into a den and build a new garage. I think it’ll be suitable for a Kemble princess.”

  “I don’t need big! I could be happy in this house…just with you.”

  “Could you? Is it really good enough?”

  He seemed so human, so vulnerable, and suddenly so anxious to please her. Didn’t he know that all she cared about was being with him?

  She felt his hand drift across her bare back and shivered involuntarily. Suddenly she wasn’t the least little bit interested in closet space or impressive additions.

  Placing a hand in the center of his wide chest, she said, “Remember what I said about no sex…that I’m not going to be easy…” Even as she said it, she caught the teasing note in her light tone.

  “You think marryin’ was easy for me, darlin’? Retirin’? Givin’ up bull riding, which up until now has been my passion?”

  “Not to mention the buckle bunnies.”

  “And then marryin’ a Kemble? In the Kemble chapel?” His expression was tender. “Darlin’, I did it all just for you.” He was watching her face, his low voice filled with soft urgency.

  Against his white dress shirt, his skin looked even darker.

  “I didn’t ask you to, now did—”

  “I won’t ask you to do anything you don’t want to do, either,” he murmured, tugging her closer. “Morales or not, this is our honeymoon, you know.”

  “We’re not going on a…”

  “Who says we have to travel to honeymoon? This is better in a way. We won’t have to wear ourselves out on the road. The refrigerator is stocked with every delicacy. Strawberries, salmon, boiled shrimp, crunchy vegetables. Even caviar.”

  Sensing that she wasn’t hungry for food, especially not raw munchies, his big hands caressed the small of her back for several seconds before one of them drifted lower to cup her bottom and pull her snugly against him.

  “I know I should tell you to stop,” she whispered.

  “Then why don’t you—Mrs. Knight?” His husky voice rang in fierce possession. Then his lips found hers, and his tongue moved inside her parted lips to mate with hers.

  Mrs. Knight. She rather liked the sound of it this time around.

  Mrs. Shanghai Knight.

  Instead of pushing him away, her arms circled his neck, and she arched herself closer. Feeling his male bulge against her pelvis through her dress, she squeezed her eyes shut, and let her feelings take over.

  The moment she wriggled against him, his rough, expert hands were all over her. She heard a zipper, felt hooks being unfastened. Her hands raced down the front of his dress shirt, undoing each button. Next creamy white fabric swished down her naked skin and pooled at her feet. In seconds she was standing before him naked, shivering a little in the air-conditioning.

  They stared at each other for a long moment. He was gorgeous. Hunky. Incredible. But then she knew that already.

  “Cold?” he murmured, leaning his dark head toward her breasts.

  “Not for long, I’ll bet.”

  He laughed as he lowered his black head. Then his warm mouth and tongue were teasing and sucking and rasping across her sensitive nipples until she was so excited and nervy, she wasn’t cold at all. Soon at every light tweak of his tongue and every molten breath, she felt lightning bolts of sensation flash through her—in the pit of her stomach, in between her trembling legs. Within seconds she was hotter than he was, burning up, dying for more. And still he lapped at her satiny sk
in with soft, luscious strokes, kissing his way all over her body.

  Her eyes snapped open. “This isn’t supposed to happen.”

  He laughed conceitedly and then nibbled an earlobe. “You knew it would.” He plucked the earlobe with his teeth. “’Cause it always does.”

  When liquid warmth enveloped her, she sighed. “I hate being so predictable.”

  “’Cause you’re so sexy.”

  “You planned this.”

  He kissed her lips lightly, but it was a kiss she felt everywhere.

  “Who me? Be honest—you want this just as much as I do. All day long I could see it in your eyes.”

  Fleetingly she thought of Hart. She should tell Shanghai.

  No. Not when she could barely breathe. Was it so wrong to want to savor being like this with her new husband? Oh, how she preferred this tender, loving side of him to the dark jealousy that could consume him when he thought about Tavio wanting to kidnap her.

  “More kisses, please,” she whispered.

  “There’s iced champagne in the kitchen, too,” Shanghai said. “Do you want anything else? Strawberries?”

  “Only if you do. I’m okay with kisses.”

  “I’m better than okay,” he murmured. Licking behind her ear, he pushed her gently against the wall and cradled her close to his body.

  Then he lifted her a little, and his hips rubbed against hers so expertly his penis was soon lodged between her damp thighs and poised at the tight, damp opening. At the slightest pressure, he’d be deep inside her.

  Where she wanted him.

  With a smile, he slid up and down against her sensitive tender wetness, not entering her more than a centimeter. Pausing there, he would then pull out and make her gasp. Then he’d do it again, each teasing stroke sending shock waves of erotic heat through out her nervous system. When she was totally limp and yet dying for more, he stopped, his penis lodged at the entrance, his triumphant gaze locked with hers. With almost no effort, he brought her to the edge of something so momentous she could barely breathe.

  “Your call, darlin’. You said no sex. And I’m willing to abide by your rule.”

  “Bastard,” she moaned playfully on a ragged gasp. “You did this on purpose.”

  He chuckled. “Guilty as charged. But then you tempted me.”

  “That part was easy.”

  “I feel as deliciously tortured as you do, my love.”

  “Then if I’m nice, I’ll put you out of your misery, won’t I?” On a shudder, she seized his wide, bare shoulders and pressed her pelvis closer, wiggling against the tip, her purpose clear as he pushed into her.

  She let out a breath when he filled her completely. Her hands clasped his neck. She laid her cheek against his warmly furred chest. With his hands he ground her hips against his, and she felt him swell inside her.

  The wonder of being with him like this was too great to trust. She must hold back something of herself. Then he began to thrust. Lifting her hips to his, hugging him, kissing him, clinging to him, she went wild—and held back nothing.

  “Easy,” he murmured huskily.

  But she couldn’t stop the explosion that washed her with heat and love.

  So much love.

  Her climax made her convulse and cry out and cling. Afterward, as she held on to him and fought to regain her breath still again, he tried to wait, but he had no more control than she. Plunging inside her a final time, his passion shook him. Clutching her closer, his powerful body was racked with spasms that went on and on. He held her tightly, their bodies joined, and pushed himself even harder against her welcoming softness.

  “God, oh God, you feel good.”

  Finally he carried her to the bed. They collapsed onto the mattress and lay still, but after only after no more than a few minutes’ rest, he made love to her again, only more slowly and more tenderly, lingering over every kiss and every touch.

  Later when they were sated and in his bed with the quilt pulled up to their chests, drinking champagne and eating strawberries, she sighed as she nibbled the luscious red tip of a berry. “And I so wanted to play hard to get.”

  He chuckled. “I like the real you better.” He plopped a berry into his mouth whole.

  “You do?”

  “Yeah. You always chased me. Maybe I ran, but I think I got hooked on it.” He clinked his flute against hers. “I wish I’d let you catch me a long time ago. I should have followed you back to the Golden Spurs after Vegas.”

  “You really think so?”

  “I know so. We’ve wasted a lot of time.” He stroked her hair. “Bull riders aren’t known for their brains, darlin’.”

  “What are they known for?”

  “I think you know.”

  She set her champagne glass down. “Why don’t you show me again.”

  “Any time, darlin’.”

  Instead of kissing her or pulling her close, he got out of bed, went to the closet and tugged on a pair of jeans. He turned all the lights in the house out. When he went to each window and raised the shade and looked outside, she felt renewed pressure to tell him about Hart’s call.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Just checking.”

  “Come back to bed.”

  “I don’t see your bodyguard.”

  She ignored the faint prickle of alarm she felt. “It’s too dark probably. Come back to bed.”

  When he returned, he shrugged out of his jeans and held her close for a long time. “You know I never thought I’d have anything like this…anybody like you…I mean. Growing up, after my mother left, I felt like nothin’. I felt worthless.”

  “I love you.”

  “That means everything to me darlin’. I think…I think I feel like I’ve finally got a real home to come home to.”

  He began to kiss her then, and she returned his kisses, wondering if maybe tonight really might be the beginning of forever.

  Mia awoke sometime before dawn to the faint creaking of a floor board inside the house. Listening, she tensed a little. All old house made noises didn’t they? Another board creaked, near the kitchen, and then another. Outside the birds had begun to twitter.

  Her head lay pillowed across Shanghai’s broad shoulder. His eyes were closed, his powerful arms wrapping her. Her thoughts grew hazy as she savored Shanghai’s warmth. He was still asleep. Would she wake up like this for many mornings in the future? For the rest of her life?

  She would. He’d been just as insecure and afraid as she was. That’s why he’d run from her in the past.

  Sitting up a little, she leaned away from him and studied his thickly curling black lashes. If he’d been a girl, he would have been a beauty, too. Not that there was anything feminine about him—other than those lashes, which she, as a redhead, who had to use mascara, could only envy.

  The poor darling. Fondly she stroked the black lock of hair that sometimes tumbled across his brow. He’d been such an enthusiastic lover, as if now that he’d finally found what he needed to make his life whole he couldn’t get enough of her.

  When she inched away from him to her side of the bed, he didn’t stir. Nor did he move when she stood up and dressed hurriedly, slipping into the first pair of jeans and T-shirt she found in her closet.

  Sleepily, thinking to make him coffee and drink it with him in bed as the sun came up, she padded softly into the kitchen.

  One step through the doorway, and a hard hand that reeked of crack-laced cigarettes closed over her mouth. Her stomach turned over. A golden barrel flashed. Then Tavio jammed his gun against her temple.

  “If you make a sound, Angelita, your husband will come, and I’ll kill him.”

  When she shuddered, his grip loosened, and in the dim morning light, she looked at him.

  Tavio’s carved face was paler and thinner, more haggard than she remembered. His black hair was shaggy and unkempt, his eyes bloodshot with exhaustion.

  “I watch the house for hours. I know he is making love to you. I imagine
you in a sexy nightgown, and I want to kill him with my bare hands.”

  “What do you want?”

  He ground himself against her hips.

  “Then take me. Just me. Take me anywhere. I’ll go with you. Just leave him…Don’t hurt him.”

  She thought of Shanghai sleeping so trustingly in the next room. He’d been so passionate and tender and protective.

  “Please…don’t hurt him.”

  “You love him that much?” Tavio’s hand moved down to her throat, stroking her satin-smooth skin with a reverence that chilled her. “You betray me—for him.”

  “No. I always wanted my freedom. You knew that.”

  “I have to kill him.”

  “Why? Just take me. I’ll do whatever you want.”

  “You’ll sleep with me? You’ll come back to Mexico. You’ll give up your precious freedom for him?”

  She nodded.

  “You give this man everything I want. You love him. You give him your heart and your body. In my country women’s bodies are cheap. You will always think of him. Not of me. He has to die. Then you will belong to me.”

  Frantic, she shook her head wildly.

  “I watch you and him for days. I see him leave the rose in the barn. I see you kiss him. I nearly kill him then…I hate him so much.”

  “Tavio, escúcheme.” Listen to me. “I grew up with him. I always loved him…since I was a little girl. He saved my life twice. I was practically a baby the first time. My father hated him, but that only made me love him more. He rejected me always, but I loved him anyway. If you kill him, do you think that will change what has always been in my heart? We have a child. If you kill him, you’d better kill me, too, because I will hate you as I’ve never hated anybody before. I will want only one thing—revenge.”

  “Brave words.” He paused, his tired face set in harsh lines. “Anyway, I have to kill him. Otherwise, he will come after you.”

  “Not if he thinks I want to go with you. He is half mad with jealousy over you already.”

  “He is?” Tavio grinned.

  “If he thought I cared for you…even a little bit, it would be worse for him than dying.”

  His grin broadened. “And you will make him think this?”