The Kid stared at me again, so I passed him the flask. Jesse’s eyes snapped to the motion, a protestation poised on his tongue.
“Just a sip, Kid. To keep you warm,” I said. Jesse didn’t say anything as his brother tipped it back and spluttered a moment later. He handed the flask back, red-faced, and wrapped himself in his bedding, asleep in moments.
The quiet magnified my loneliness. Seeing the two of them together reminded me how alone I’d always been. My mind wandered back to that alleyway. His hands were hard, but his mouth hadn’t been. He’d tried several times to kiss me, to get me to want him back. The truth was, I didn’t kiss him because I did want him back. Too much. I stood, crossing to sit next to him on the opposite side of the fire. He didn’t ask, but his eyebrows rose high enough to imply his question.
I handed him the flask and he took it, fingers brushing against mine. He passed it back after a moment, his eyes fixed on my face. Why was this so hard all of a sudden? The silence between us grew into a thunderous roar, thick with implications from the day. It was smothering the breath from me, until I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Why’d you do it?” I asked, turning to meet his gaze head-on. “Why did you lie for me back there?”
He blinked, slowly, as if he didn’t understand. “Because it was the right thing to do,” he said, matter-of-fact. That was it. No other explanation. He expected nothing. He gained nothing. He said it with a certainty I’d never felt before. I chuckled, a breathy sound. Jesse was an honest-to-God upstanding guy, maybe the only one I’d ever met.
“You have no idea what you’ve done,” I said, handing the flask to him again. “That lie saved my life. Now, I owe you a life debt.” He took the flask but otherwise seemed ambivalent to everything I’d said.
“You gave me a new canteen; let’s call it even,” he said, taking a sip of whiskey.
“A life debt isn't something settled by a new canteen, farm boy,” I said, watching as he began to roll his sleeves up his muscled forearms. I didn’t avert my eyes this time, watching as the movements made his muscles flex beneath the fabric.
“But I have another idea.” I bit my bottom lip to stop the wicked grin from giving my thoughts away. “I could guide you through the desert. I know it better than most and, like I said, I’m good at surviving.”
“Is there another option?” he asked, clearly not thrilled with the idea of traveling with me for any real length of time. Not that I could particularly blame him. He took another long pull of whiskey.
“We could finish what we started in that alleyway,” I said. He choked on the drink. He sputtered unattractively before I pulled the flask from his shaking hand. His eyes fell to the movement, watching as I screwed the cap back on.
“I thought you said I wasn’t your type,” he said, his voice gruff but his eyes suddenly bright in the darkness.
“You aren’t.” I leaned close enough that I could feel his breath hitch. My finger trailed up his denim-clad thigh, stopping just shy of where I’d felt his desire for me earlier. “But after a day like today, we could both use a good fuck.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “One night. Then we part ways in the morning and you never have to see me again.”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached out to brush a long strand of my hair behind my ear. His thumb traced a path down my jaw as he considered.
“One night?” he asked.
“I don’t do repeat performances,” I said with a noncommittal shrug.
“If I choose the guide option?” Jesse asked, the warmth from his body seeping into mine.
“Oh no. I never mix business and pleasure. One-time offer,” I said softly. Our mouths were close enough that his warm breath fogged against my skin. A shiver worked its way down my spine. His thumb brushed my bottom lip and his eyes darkened. Was he remembering how I’d refused him in the alleyway? He’d wanted me to kiss him then, to taste me. I brushed my lips against his softly, showing him in my own way that I wanted that too. His hand slid easily to the back of my head, and he pulled me closer.
“What’ll it be, farm boy?” I asked, my heart hammering against my ribs.
He didn’t answer. Instead, his eyes were hot on my mouth. He leaned toward me slowly, as if afraid I would get spooked if he moved too fast and brought his lips down on top of mine. He kissed me slow, his mouth firm, so there was nothing messy or awkward about it. I wasn’t prepared for just how good he tasted. A moan escaped my lips, and he drank it down. My hands buried in his sandy hair as I’d imagined earlier that day. It was thick and surprisingly soft. He pulled back to look at me, his eyes tracing every detail. My fingers tangled in his hair, breath coming sharp in the cold air, cheeks flushed. I had no idea what he was searching for in my expression.
Whatever he found there made him kiss me again.
Chapter Four - Jesse
Rational thoughts about our journey flew away. All I could feel was the heat from her skin and her breath on my neck. I wanted to kiss her again, so I did. Her lips were softer than I imagined. I tipped her chin up, deepening the kiss and tasting the whiskey on her tongue. She balled a hand in the fabric of my shirt.
It would be easy to lose myself in her for tonight. I’d never had a one-night stand before. Back home, if I found a girl I liked, things happened on repeat. Over the years, I’d been with a few. Like the girl from the dairy in the next town who came to the market every other week. Then there was Clara, the girl I was meant to marry. They were both probably dead now.
With Clara, it was sweet kisses and unspoken promises.
With Bonnie, it was fire and chaos.
Where her hands trailed, heat followed. I moved on top of her, gripping her hip hard. There was something about her curves I found absolutely irresistible. I pulled my mouth away from hers, flicking my tongue across her jawline, then to the sweet spot beneath her ear. Bonnie’s back arched, pressing her breasts into my chest. My mouth traveled down her shoulder and across the swell of her chest. Eventually my teeth nipped one of her collarbones, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from Bonnie.
I didn’t know if the temporary satisfaction of fucking her was worth our safety. We had a long way to go to New Mexico, and I didn’t think I could handle another two months wandering aimlessly through the wilderness. If I accepted her offer to be our guide, at least we would survive.
Life was meant for living, and Bonnie made me feel alive.
Bonnie yanked my head back to hers, her hands trailing beneath the edge of my shirt, tugging at the fabric. I rolled on top of her, hooking one of her legs around my waist and showing her exactly what I wanted.
Her eyes blazed up at me. The heady glaze in them reminded me of the alleyway. My breath caught in my throat at the memory. She’d looked at me with the same expression moments before she put a gun to my head. She might have killed me if Harry hadn’t appeared. She admitted that she was a criminal. She might kill me now. I couldn’t trust her.
As much as I wanted to explore every inch of her body, I knew I couldn’t.
My movements stilled, and I shifted back onto my knees, our heavy breaths no longer mingling. I stared at her for what felt like an eternity. Then, I stood, watching confusion flash across her face. I righted my shirt, tucking it into the top of my pants.
“You should get some sleep. We’ve got a long way to go... guide.” I couldn’t help the satisfied smirk that crossed my face. I’d show her what it was like being left hot and bothered. I also couldn’t stand there staring at her, because if I did, I’d finish what we’d started and get myself into trouble all over again.
For the first time since I met her, Bonnie was speechless. It looked good on her.
I wandered out into the desert, just far enough that I no longer felt the heat of her body or the fire. The cold air soothed my blazing skin; I willed my heart to slow. The temptation was still there. I let out a long, low breath, forcing the desire back. This was a business transaction. She didn’t want me, not really. I knew what she want
ed. She wanted to forget the trouble that followed behind her. I was just a distraction. I couldn’t let her get past my defenses. I needed to be more careful going forward.
Exhaustion weighed heavily on my shoulders as my excitement abated. I closed my eyes, an image of her handling that man back at the stable in Vegas flashing through my mind. It had been nothing less than impressive. She’d managed to size him up in seconds and dispatch him without another thought. Had she decided within moments how she was going to take advantage of me in that alley?
I had respect for her, for how she conducted herself. Seeing people that could jump into action without hesitation was new for me. In Montana, people often paused before jumping into potential danger. It was part of why I never fit in. I often found myself longing for foolish adventures and dangerous places.
Maybe the differences between us weren’t so vast.
I finally had the chance to reflect on this crazy day, especially that man in the bar. Sixgun. Who was he, and why was Bonnie running from him? What kind of danger did that put all of us in? I would have never turned her over to him, but that didn’t stop me from wanting to know more about the things she’d done.
The fire had faded to embers by the time I returned to camp. Bonnie, thankfully, was asleep. At some point, Harry shifted to her side, resting his head on her stomach like a pillow. I settled across from them, adding another branch to the fire and stoking it for a while. Only when my eyelids grew heavy did I settle down, using rolled-up clothes as a cushion beneath my head.
Though my body was exhausted, my mind wasn’t quite ready to settle. I thought of home, of Mom and Pop, of our simple life.
On snowy nights, Pop sat with Harry at the piano, correcting him when he hit a wrong note. Mom rocked in her creaky chair next to them, eyes closed as she hummed along, never stopping even when the notes weren’t right. I sat by the fire, drawing places in my sketchbook that I wanted to see when I left Montana. Anywhere had to be better, right?
I craved the routine of my mundane, Montana life.
My eyes snapped open at the sound of Harry’s whimper from the other side of the fire. I frowned, knowing this trip wasn’t easy for him either. Had he spent more time doing hard labor on the farm, he might have been able to adjust to this easier. The first few nights on the road, he would wake up begging for Mom. I wasn’t good at comforting him. I wasn’t good with him at all, really.
Bonnie ran her fingers through his hair. The whimpering lessened, and eventually Harry settled back down.
I could never find the words to tell him what I’d found when I went back to that night.
The two-story house was reduced to a pile of ash. I approached it, imagining what it had looked like before. I passed through the smoldering foyer into the living room, seeing the framework of the piano slouching against the wall. I stepped cautiously through the soot, until I saw a charred boot in what used to be the kitchen. My knees went weak as the acrid stench of death consumed me. My parents wouldn’t have wanted him to know.
Crackling from the remnants of the fire brought me back, reminding me we weren’t in Montana anymore, and our lives had completely changed.
Exhaustion eventually sent me into a light sleep.
It wasn’t long after the first twinge of daylight that a sharp boot made contact with my ribs. I swore, eyes snapping open to find Bonnie standing over me.
“Mornin’, sunshine. We’ve got a long way to go,” she said. She gave me a wide smile, her eyes full of amusement at my pain.
Without a word, I sat up and rolled my neck to one side and then the other to get rid of the ache from sleeping on the hard ground. As I stood, I felt her eyes on me again.
“What?”
“You gonna tell me where we’re headed?” she asked.
“Well, Harry and I—”
“The Kid,” he said.
“What?” I asked.
“Call me ‘The Kid,’” he repeated.
“That’s stupid,” I said. The color drained from his face, and I was pretty sure he was about to cry.
“Jesus, fine. ‘The Kid.’” I threw my hands in the air, still feeling Bonnie’s gaze on me. “Roswell, New Mexico.”
Bonnie tossed a roll of paper and a pencil to me. “Can you mark it?”
Silently, I unrolled the paper, finding a map of the southeastern part of the country. I found Vegas, then ran my finger across what I assumed was our current path. I scanned the map, finding New Mexico, then Roswell, I put a thick ‘x’ on the page.
“What’s in Roswell?”
“Family,” I said as I handed her things back to her. That was all she needed to know. I had a feeling it didn’t matter where we were going, as long as it put plenty of miles between us and Vegas. I crossed to my horse, making quick work of his blanket. My brother hovered near my elbow. I ignored him as I hauled the saddle up onto my horse’s back.
“Can I help?” Harry asked.
Roswell felt like a million miles away as I remembered my mother’s desperation from that night.
”Jesse!” Mom’s voice was barely more than a hysterical whisper. She shoved me toward the door, thrusting the bag at me. She gripped my arm so hard it hurt. “Go to Roswell, New Mexico. To the military base. Look for your uncle. Michael Kincaid.”
“Uncle? I don’t have an—”
“Go!” Then she slammed the door in my face. We ran into the woods, the crashing of our footsteps muffled by the blaze behind us. Then I heard it. Mom’s screams. The crack of gunfire. Then silence, except for the fire that tore my world apart and our harried footsteps as we fled into the night.
My parents had secrets. What else did they neglect to tell me before the world crashed down around us?
“Jesse!” Harry grabbed my arm, shaking me from the memory.
“Jesus, what?” I asked, running a hand through my hair.
“I wanted to help with the saddle,” he said, frowning.
“Kid, why don’t you handle the bedrolls for me?” Bonnie asked. She stared at me curiously as my brother stomped away.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing,” Bonnie said.
Shortly after, we set out at a brisk pace to extend the distance between ourselves and Vegas.
“What about ‘Horse?’” Harry asked a while later. The sun was getting high, and sweat beaded on my brow. There was sand in every crevice of my body.
“No,” Bonnie said.
“Pony?”
“No,” she said.
After a pause, Harry offered, “Mustang?”
I couldn’t help the chuckle that came from my lips at Bonnie’s annoyed expression.
“No,” she repeated, glaring at me.
“Maple?”
“No, damnit. You can’t name a horse after a tree, Kid.” Their arguing didn’t help much, but at least I was entertained at my brother pestering her instead of me for once. If she would just agree to a name, maybe he would shut up.
“Well, why not?”
I opened my mouth, preparing to tell him to stuff it, but Bonnie cut me off.
“You can’t just pick a name outta thin air. Names have power. You shouldn’t give one lightly. Take me, for example,” she said, sitting up straighter in her saddle. I gazed over at her again, watching her roll up her sleeves. It was the first time I’d truly looked at her that day. Bonnie no longer wore the short shorts and revealing shirt she had in Vegas. Instead, she wore jeans and a button-up that didn’t show her cleavage. It was such a jarring contrast, I wondered how I didn’t notice sooner.
“What d’ya mean? Didn’t your mom name you?”
“If she did, I don’t remember. I don’t even remember her. Not really,” Bonnie said.
“Well, then how’d you get the name Bonnie?” Harry asked.
“Why don’t you give it a break?” My tone warned him he was pushing too hard. We had a long way to ride today, and I couldn’t have our guide exhausted before the sun was high in the sky. I was grateful he was in better
spirits, but he needed to shove it. Harry looked up at me, blinked twice, and then turned back to Bonnie.
“It’s a long story. Probably not the best for a ten-year-old to hear.” Her hands gripped her reins tighter. There was something else there. Not that it was long or a troubling story. She didn’t want to talk about it because it brought her discomfort. Did it have anything to do with the wanted posters?
“I like stories. Please, Bonnie?”
I’d admit, I was curious, but I wouldn’t be asking any questions. I’d leave that to Harry.
Bonnie turned to look at us, her eyes meeting mine and then shifting to my brother. They were full of reluctant affection.
“Alright, fine. I’m not good at telling stories, though. So don’t blame me if it’s awful,” she said.
“That’s okay. I’ve already heard all of Jesse’s stories. He’s really bad at it,” my brother said.
“Hey!” I chastised.
Bonnie met my gaze, and once again, I found amusement on her face. I could also see dark spots beneath her eyes and the way that her shoulders slumped forward when she didn’t think I was watching. Her exhaustion was clear as day. Did she get any sleep last night?
“I was named after Bonnie Parker, the most famous female outlaw who ever lived,” she said. That was when Harry snorted and burst into laughter.
“Jesse was too!” he said between breaths. Bonnie met my eyes again.
“What?” she asked.
“His name is Jesse James, the most famous outlaw in the old west!” Harry said, obviously excited at being able to reveal that my parents had, in fact, named me after a murderous outlaw.
A smile played across Bonnie’s soft lips. I had to stop looking at her. Well, her lips, really, because they brought back memories of kissing her last night, which then made me imagine her soft curves beneath my hands. I cleared my throat, shifting uncomfortably in my saddle. Harry’s fit of laughter eventually subsided.
"I was a lot younger than you when my mom was murdered. The guy who raised me said I wouldn’t speak for weeks after he found me. I don’t really remember much, but he said all I did was cry myself sick every night.” The sun glared down at us.
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