by Delta James
Mandy laughed. “He needs his own woman to cook and care for him.”
“If he can find someone half as wonderful as you, he’ll be a lucky man. By the way, Gus said thanks for the burrito and reminded me you’re a good girl.”
She laughed in the deep husky way that John loved. “Not always, but I married a man who knows how to handle me when I’m not.”
John’s cock responded to her teasing. “Yes, you did.” He closed the door to his office to ensure no one could overhear him. “And you have the perfect ass for his loving discipline.”
“Sure you can’t come home for a couple of hours?”
“Don’t you tempt me, little girl. You know there’s nothing I’d like better than to crawl into bed with you and take up residence between your pretty legs.”
Mandy giggled again. “I love you. Be safe.”
“I will; I’m going to be in the office. Love you, too.” John hung up. Mandy was right. His buddy Mac needed a woman who was as perfect a match for him as Mandy was for him. Problem was, as far as John could tell, that woman was Willa, and they had allowed her business and Mac’s promotion to come between them.
***
Willa woke and stretched as the sun crept over the horizon. Her bed wasn’t as comfortable as the one at home, but it wasn’t half bad. She lay still and listened. She could hear nothing out of the ordinary. Certainly, all the horses were quiet, an indication nothing was amiss. Willa pulled on her clothes and boots and stepped outside.
As he saw her, Gator nickered to her and let her know it was morning, she was up, and it was time for breakfast. She laughed and walked over to her corral.
“And good morning to you, too.”
She took his head in her hands and kissed his muzzle. Normally, Gator loved to snuggle, but not at meal times. He was a very serious and focused boy when it came to food.
“All right, I hear you.”
She let him go and went to fix the horses’ breakfast. Once she had them settled and eating, she grabbed a couple of buckets and began the task of filling their water trough then walked to the edge of her camp where she had an excellent view of the rest of the canyon. It appeared the stallion and his herd had also had a good evening.
Some of the mustangs were up and grazing, others were still snoozing, and the stallion kept watch over them all as he, too, foraged. He looked up to see her, but as she was not close enough to be a threat to his mares and foals, he merely tossed his head in a vague warning to keep her distance and then continued to graze.
Willa smiled and returned to her camp. She stoked the embers of her fire and went into her tent to retrieve her food supplies. Once she’d returned to the campfire, she set out the ingredients for a hearty omelet. Never a coffee drinker, Willa had brought nothing but bottles of water to drink.
Hunkered down over her cast-iron skillet, she heard a twig snap behind her. Slowly and quietly, she reached for the knife with which she had prepared her ingredients.
“That’s far enough, Ms. Reynolds. How fortunate for me you are once again stealing mustangs.”
Willa froze, recognizing Simon Eastwick’s voice. Although he had yet to be tried or convicted, Willa didn’t doubt for a moment he’d killed his wife, Evie. The area around the Apache Trail was lightly populated, and the horse community even smaller. While she and Evie hadn’t been close friends, they’d been friendly, and Willa had always wondered why a nice woman like Evie stayed married to a prick like Simon.
Simon was a real estate developer who did some of his business in Scottsdale but also had projects in Phoenix, Chandler, and Mesa. He lived in the affluent city of Scottsdale, while Willa lived outside the city limits of Mesa, which was less than a half an hour away.
She stood up slowly and turned to confront him.
“To say I’m surprised to see you, Eastwick, would be putting it mildly.”
“I hadn’t expected to see you, either, but I have a cold camp not far from here and saw your fire last night. I didn’t know this canyon was here. Good hiding place.”
“Not for the likes of you. There’s no air-conditioning, no servants, and no police to lock your sorry ass up for killing Evie.”
“That’s a bit judgmental, don’t you think?” Simon drawled. “After all, I haven’t even been tried yet, much less convicted.”
Willa looked past him to his riding horse and the packhorse he had with him.
“Doesn’t look like you’re planning to wait around to see how that plays out…”
“Your omelet is done. Be a good girl and get it out of the pan before it burns.”
Willa pulled the skillet off the fire and then slid the omelet onto the plate.
“Now put the plate down, very gently use your foot to slide it toward me, and then move away from it and have a seat on that rock. Be sure to put the fork on the plate.”
She did as he asked, making no sudden moves. It had occurred to Willa that, as he was on the run, he wasn’t going to want any witnesses…at least not any that he left alive. She watched as Simon retrieved the plate and set it on the folding table she’d brought with her. He began to eat with one hand while keeping the gun trained on her with the other.
“Oh, don’t worry, Willa—do you mind if I call you Willa? Doesn’t matter, I’m going to anyway.” He chuckled at his own perceived cleverness. “I’m not going to kill you. You know this country like the back of your hand. And while I could cross the border by continuing to head south, I’m sure you can find a safer way for me to do that…”
“Safer how? Wilderness is wilderness. It’s all about the same.”
“Yes, but you know places like this and ways we can minimize the chances of my being caught. Besides, you’re rather good at this whole camping thing, and you’re not a bad cook.”
“I’m a trained chef, you ass. And why would I take you to Mexico? You’re not going to want to leave me alive, so either you kill me here or you kill me there.”
“Could be. Although I think you’d fetch a fair price south of the border. You’re a bit older than they like and not a virgin, but you have a nice, tight little figure under those jeans and T-shirt. I might even make use of you on our journey together. It’s been a while since I’ve had a decent blow job or been able to fuck a nice cunt. Do you have a nice cunt, Willa?”
“I’ve never had any complaints. But again, why would I cooperate? I can’t see any way this ends well for me.”
“That’s not necessarily true. Depending on your abilities and if you make my trip easy, I might be persuaded to let you go once we’re in Mexico. But even if I’m not planning that…isn’t it better to stay alive for now, go along, and then try to escape when you have better odds?” Simon smirked. “What? Didn’t you think I’d know that’s what you were planning? We need to leave. Start breaking down your camp and getting your horses ready. Keep in mind, I can do this on my own. You are merely a convenience, so I won’t hesitate to kill you, too.”
“So, you’re admitting you killed Evie?”
“Sure. Why not? She didn’t have a nice cunt anymore and threatened to take at least 50 percent of all we had if I divorced her. I couldn’t let her do that.”
Willa moved forward to put out the fire.
“On second thought,” Simon said lasciviously. “Why don’t you take off your T-shirt and bra. I’d like to see those titties while you’re working.”
He’d been right. Willa had come to the conclusion her best play was to do as he asked—go along and then look for the right opening. Like Simon, she would have no compunction about killing if the need arose. She merely needed to wait for the best moment to strike.
Willa stepped away from the fire and slowly, tantalizingly removed her clothing. If she could keep him more focused more on her tits than everything else, he might give her that opening sooner rather than later.
Willa liked her figure. She’d never resembled a model, but she was tall, and her curves were in all the right places and seemed to attract more than e
nough attention. As she removed her T-shirt and then her bra, she could swear Simon had to keep from licking his lips. Willa steeled herself. She would do whatever she needed to ensure she came out of this alive and that Simon paid for killing Evie.
Chapter 7
Mac had made good time this morning. Once Roscoe knew he could ride, the big horse settled down and was an excellent mount. He followed his GPS to what appeared to be a mesa of sorts. Although with the water cascading down the side, he figured it had to be some kind of change in geography. What was confusing was the GPS indicated the spot he wanted was dead ahead—not on top of the land above the cliff, but inside it.
He rode toward the coordinates. As they’d been making good time, Mac let Roscoe go up to the pool at the base of the cliff to drink. He was a bit surprised that the roar and spray from the waterfall didn’t seem to bother the gelding at all. The horse was very nonchalant in his approach.
Mac sat quietly as Roscoe drank his fill. He, too, had been a bit dry mouthed so had opened a bottle of the water he’d brought with him and drained it. Roscoe stood quietly waiting for Mac to decide what to do.
Mac looked at the ground. He was no tracker, but he could see various tracks from wild animals and then a fresher set of hoofprints. He reached down and unsecured the rifle. It was still resting in the scabbard but could be easily and quickly pulled if needed.
He followed the tracks as they moved along the lakeshore then stopped Roscoe as he started up the hard pack that would turn into rock. The tracks seemed to skirt the edge of the cliff heading toward the rapidly moving water itself. Mac stepped down off the gelding and tied his reins to a nearby bush.
Withdrawing the rifle, Mac climbed the trail and realized it ran behind the waterfall. Cautiously, he proceeded, all of his senses on high alert. It was difficult to hear anything over the rushing water cascading off the cliff above. He hugged the wall and ensured his weapon stayed dry.
About a third of the way behind the falling water, the cliff opened up. At first, Mac thought it was a cave but then saw the light at the other end. A tunnel. Now he understood the readings he’d received on the GPS.
He crept slowly along the wall…his rifle at the ready. As he drew closer to the light, Mac could hear and sense movement beyond the tunnel’s exit. He ducked down and tried to make himself as small as possible. As he emerged, he could hear a man speaking to someone who, from the conversation, was a hostage and was female. It wasn’t until she spoke that Mac knew Eastwick had Willa.
Eastwick admitted to killing his wife. Mac would be able to testify to that, but his testimony would be far harder to refute if Willa was also able to testify that Eastwick had confessed to her. Eastwick confessing to Willa directly meant she would be able to testify, putting the proverbial nail in Eastwick’s coffin.
Eastwick was dangerous, so Mac assumed he was armed. He glanced around the edge of the cliff to see Eastwick ogling the woman he’d made strip from the waist up. The fugitive stared at her openly, appearing distracted by the sight of Willa—after all, she was beautiful and half naked. Eastwick’s rifle was pointed directly at the woman.
Willa caught sight of him but gave no hint she had done so. Mac nodded toward his right/her left. Eastwick was right-handed. If startled, Eastwick would most likely twist around to his left, giving Willa a good chance to dive to relative safety. He gave her one more nod and held up his hand, showing three fingers; he folded one, and then two.
As he dropped the third, she dove to her left, and Mac bellowed, “Drop the gun, Eastwick! Federal marshal! You’re under arrest!”
As predicted, Eastwick swung around to his left and fired. The bullet slammed into his left shoulder, causing him to drop his rifle.
Eastwick made a run for his horse, managing to jump into the saddle and spurring his mount forward, coming straight at Mac. Before he could react, the fugitive galloped past him, kicking him in his wounded shoulder and sending a flare of agony through it. Mac hit the ground, rolling out of the way.
Before Mac could recover, grab his gun, and take aim, Eastwick had disappeared into the tunnel.
“Shit!” Mac turned to see Willa scrambling to her feet and heading towards him.
“Oh my God! Are you all right? Are you hurt? What a stupid question. Of course you’re not all right. You’re hurt. You’ve been shot. Here, let me help you over to my camp chair, and I’ll see what I can do for that wound.”
She’d grabbed her shirt as she ran toward him, but instead of putting it on, she wadded it up and pressed it hard into his wound, causing him to wince.
“I’m sorry. I know that’s gotta hurt, but I want to slow or stop that blood.”
Mac was impressed by her calm demeanor. As much pain as he was in, it was still all he could to resist reaching out to tuck her hair behind her ear, or to pull her close and murmur that as long as they were together, everything would be all right.
“Are you all right?” he managed to ask.
“Me? Absolutely. A little grittier than normal, and certainly a lot less dressed than I would like to be, but I’m fine.”
Willa led him to the camp chair and helped him to sit. She hurried into her tent and came out with first aid supplies, several bottles of water, and one of tequila. After putting it all down next to him, she walked past and picked up her bra, keeping her back turned as she put it on.
Mac’s cock twitched at the thought that he’d rather she tended him as she was and realized that was no way to think of a lady. But he was no gentleman, and she had a spectacular rack. He grimaced as she put on a T-shirt she’d also brought out with her.
“Okay, let’s see what we’ve got.”
She pulled her makeshift bandage away from his shoulder and helped him out of his shirt then took the bottled water and poured it into the wound to clean it. The procedure hurt less than he thought as the water was so cold. Next, she wadded the T-shirt up and pressed an unbloodied side against his injury.
She pieced his shirt together before pronouncing, “Hmm. This isn’t good. It looks like it entered here, but I don’t see an exit wound. Most of your shirt is intact, but they’d better check for threads when they dig that bullet out.”
She opened the first aid kit and dug out some sterile gauze and bandaging then removed the T-shirt he had been holding in place and again drenched the area with water.
She held up the bottle of tequila. “I’m afraid this is going to hurt.”
Before he could react, she doused the open wound with the tequila causing Mac to cry out. She quickly pressed the bandaging against his shoulder and used the elastic bandage to put it in place and keep the pressure on.
Mac had to admit she’d done a fine job. The wound was still bleeding, but not at a rate where he’d be in danger of losing too much blood before he could be transported to a hospital. She’d been as cool as a cucumber up until now, but, as the immediate crisis faded, her calm façade crumbled, her hands trembling.
He needed her to hold it together for a little while longer. He smiled.
“The next time we have tequila together, let’s have it with nachos—my treat.”
***
Willa looked at him incredulously. She was falling apart, and he was making jokes? And then she, too, smiled. That was just like Mac—he’d made the joke to relax and reassure her.
“Hey, if you don’t like the way I serve my tequila, next time don’t come to my party.”
“We’ll have to discuss your choice of party guests at some time in the future.”
“He wasn’t a…”
Mac placed his free hand on hers. “I know. Are you all right?” he asked in a very tender tone.
“No, but I’m a whole lot better than I was before you crashed my party and broke it up. Thank you for that.”
“Not a problem. And you didn’t need to put your bra on. I liked the view a whole lot better before you did that.”
She started to say something scathing or pithy but realized he was just reassuring her
she was safe.
“I don’t normally hang out half naked with men, but thanks.”
Willa was trying to follow his lead and lighten the mood. What was it about some people that, even in the most inappropriate situations, you found them sexually alluring? Mac certainly filled that bill. Not only was he incredibly attractive, but her mind and body remembered all too well what it was like to be with him.
“I was going to talk with you later.” He stood up and grimaced.
“I think we probably better get you out into the open and either call for a medical airlift if you have a sat phone, or head to someplace where we can transport you to a hospital. How’d you find us?”
No sooner had the words left her mouth than she could hear a horse trotting through the tunnel. Willa reached down and brought his rifle up, ready to fire. She smiled and then laughed when she saw it was a riderless Roscoe. She whistled, and the big buckskin broke into a lope headed straight to them.
“Hello, sweet boy,” she said, stroking his face and kissing him between the eyes when he reached her and lowered his head. “Did that bad guy think he could run you off? He doesn’t know you, does he?”
“How’d he know to come in here?”
“Probably saw you come in, followed, and then heard us and smelled the other horses. He’s a good boy, aren’t you, Roscoe?”
Standing up was an effort on Mac’s part. He came over to run his hand down Roscoe’s sleek neck. “You weren’t going to leave me afoot out here in the desert. I owe you one, big guy. That’s a nifty trick to teach them.”
Willa smiled. “It’s come in handy a time or two. Why don’t you sit down? Let Roscoe have a drink while I saddle Gator. Then we’ll get you mounted and to someone who knows what they’re doing to take care of that wound.”
Mac watched her walk away leading Roscoe. She’d always had a decidedly feminine way of moving, a long, smooth stride like that of a predatory big cat, but still something that said all woman. He remembered with great fondness the feel of those legs wrapped around him when he had her on her back.