Outlaw Heart

by Samantha James

  She got to her feet, her expression mutinous. "You can't expect me to sleep next to you!"

  He bowed mockingly. "Indeed I do."

  Her glare turned hotter. "I'd sooner bed down with a snake!"

  His laugh was a terrible sound. "Honey, you already have." His features turned grim when it appeared there might be another standoff. A tussle was something he preferred to avoid. He was sorely afraid it might escalate into something much, much more.

  Just when he was convinced that was his only recourse, she marched forward and obliged him. Throwing her blanket over her shoulders, she pointedly turned her back on him.

  But she shivered and shivered, so long and so hard Kane was sorely put not to wrap his arms around her and pull her close. It was a long time later before she finally stopped shivering. Her deep, even breathing told him she'd fallen asleep.

  With a sigh of resignation, Kane succumbed at last. Slipping his arm beneath her head, he rolled her gently against him, molding her snugly against his side, tucking her head into the hollow of his shoulder. God, she smelled so good, all warm and sleepy. And he wanted so badly to whisper his regrets.

  His breath stirred the baby-fine hair at her temple. She released a watery little sigh and burrowed even closer. Overcome by the compelling need to touch her, he let his knuckles graze the curve of her cheek.

  They came away wet with tears.

  His arms tightened. "Abby," he whispered raggedly. And then again: "Abby ..."

  His eyes squeezed shut. Holding her like this was sweet heaven. Sweet hell. It was better this way, he told himself, better that she was convinced he was a cold, unfeeling bastard.

  Only the price was far steeper than he'd imagined.

  It was up to him to protect her from Sam, and keep on protecting her until this wretched affair was over--

  But who the hell would protect her from him?

  Chapter 14

  The next day passed in a blur. Abby was so tired of riding she didn't care if she ever saw a horse again in her life. Her bottom felt bruised. Her head throbbed. Her entire body hurt. Worst of all was the empty ache in her heart.

  She prayed that they were nearing Sam's hideout. She prayed that Dillon was nearby—and safe. They had to be close . .. Please, God. Because the thought of spending another night with Stringer Sam terrified her as nothing else ever had.

  And then there was Kane. Since Sam had joined them, he had become a stranger, a frightening one at that. There was a razor-edged sharpness in him that he hadn't revealed until now. Or maybe she just hadn't wanted to see it. He had scared the living daylights out of her last night, and she was furious at him for doing that to her. Nor did she understand how he could be so deliberately nasty and callous . . . and then hold her the night through.

  She had a dim, fuzzy memory of strong arms enfolding her tightly against the sleek hardness of his shoulder, of soothing, stroking hands, of warm, comforting lips. She awoke once a long time later, dazed and disoriented. He nuzzled her forehead, the warm, musky scent she'd come to associate only with him swirling all around her, and whispered her name ... or had it only been wistful imaginings?

  Traveling with Sam and Kane was taking its toll on her nerves. She didn't like the way the two men eyed each other with wary caution. There was a seething undercurrent between them, a tension that existed far beneath the surface. It made her distinctly uneasy.

  Mid-afternoon they stopped atop a rocky bluff. Far below a sunken valley zigzagged across the land. On one side craggy, saw-toothed peaks reared into the skyline. The other was marked by a sheer fire-red wall of stone. The wind whistled and wailed, as lonely and desolate as the surrounding landscape.

  Abby slid from the saddle, her mouth dry and aching with thirst. She walked away on wobbly legs, needing to attend to her private needs. Kane's eyes dug like tiny needles into her back, but he made no move to follow her.

  Sam was gone when she made her way back. Kane sat atop a flat-topped boulder, long legs thrust out before him, his profile as stark and barren as the mountains. Her steps slowed as she approached, yet she made enough noise so as to alert him to her presence. He didn't glance around, as she thought—hoped?—he might. Feeling rather tentative and unsure, she lowered herself to the knobby surface—close, but not touching him.

  "Where is he?" she asked.

  "Checking to make sure there's no one around."

  "We're nearly there, aren't we?"

  He nodded. There was no need to say more.

  Several seconds passed before she spoke again, her voice very low. "Is he—" She hesitated. "—as bad as they say he is?"

  For a moment Kane said nothing. He turned, at last giving her his attention. Abby had the sensation she'd startled him with her question. Finally he gave a harsh laugh. "Believe me, you don't want to know."

  She bit her lip. "I've heard some of the things he's done. Robbing. Cheating. Stealing."

  Kane jerked his gaze away once again. Sam and his killing had always turned his stomach. But Sam was a master at eluding the law—and at the time, staying alive was the only thing that mattered.

  "I've also heard that he... that he kills for no reason... other than to kill." She shuddered, thinking of the length of rope coiled on his saddle horn. "That he likes to make people suffer. That he likes to hear people scream ..."

  Yes! he wanted to shout. It's true, all of it. He was suddenly furious with her for dragging up the past, for dragging out the memories he'd purposely shut away.

  He lunged to his feet, wheeling on her almost violently, hauling her upward by the arms. "Why do you want to know, Abby? Do you want to know if I did all those things?"

  Abby was half-afraid to breathe. She stared at the white lines etched beside his mouth, a telltale sign of his anger. Her breathing slowed to a trickle. "Did you?" she whispered, half-afraid to even speak.

  "I rode with his gang for a year, Abby." He took a perverse satisfaction in telling her. "What the hell do you think?" He couldn't tell her he'd only done what he had to do to stay alive. So-called decent folk like her didn't understand. Or maybe they just wouldn't.

  She turned her head aside. "I don't know what to think anymore." She squeezed her eyes shut, her voice stifled. "I'm just trying to figure out why someone would choose that kind of life—running from the law—why you chose that kind of life."

  Kane said nothing. He just stood there, his features a mask of ice. Her mind traveled fleetingly back to that night at the shack. It seemed impossible that this hard-featured man was the same one who had held her comfortingly, kissed away her tears ... made love to her with such melting passion.

  Her eyes opened, wide and mutely beseeching. "Why did you stay with him, Kane? And why did you ever join up with him in the first place?"

  He pushed her away, his gaze scraping over her. "I might ask you why all the questions all of a sudden? Why the concern? Did it finally dawn on you what kind of man I am?"

  Abby just stood there, shaking. Trembling. Never in her life had she been so miserable. Tears stung her eyes. She blinked them back. "I'm just trying to understand you. But you just won't let me close, will you? You won't let me see what's really inside you!"

  "You wouldn't like what's inside, Abby. Take my word for it."

  "Why don't you let me be the judge of that?"

  His jaw locked. "What the hell do you want from me, Abby? An admission of guilt? You want me to list my sins one by one? I couldn't, because there's too goddamned many. Besides, I don't know why the hell you'd want to know—why you'd even care."

  "I do care!" she cried. "Can't you see that?"

  "I told you before, Abby. You don't know what I am. You don't know who I am."

  "Oh, I know, Kane. I know more than you think. You want me to think the worst of you." She battled to keep the quaver from her voice. "Is it just me you won't let close? Or are you like this with everyone? Dammit, tell me!"

  His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. He was tempted—Lord, he really
was! It took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to drag her close, to pour out all the anger and hurt dammed up inside. But to tell her about Lorelei—about everything—would open up his soul to her, and that was something he just couldn't do. She would scorn him, shun him, treat him like the scum he was.

  And he couldn't stand to see the condemnation in her face.

  "Why the hell should I? You're no different than anyone else, Abby. You'll believe what you want to believe."

  Never had he been so cold, so utterly inflexible. It was as if she could see him throwing up walls and barriers, anything he could to shut her out.

  Something snapped inside Abby. She was furious that he would treat her so—and after she had given him what she had shared with no other man. Her body. Her heart...

  Pure rage fringed her vision. "I can't believe I ever let you touch me—I must have been out of my mind!" She was screaming, her voice thick with the threat of tears that lay just beneath the surface. "I hate the way you are! I hate your orders, your demands. I hate the way you keep trying to scare me! Do you hear me, Kane? I hate you!" She launched herself at him, hands raised wildly, fingers curved like talons.

  She never touched him. From out of nowhere an arm shot out, clamping about her waist and lifting her clear off her feet, hauling her back against a sweaty male chest. There was a burst of ribald laughter.

  "What's the matter, old man? Lost your touch with the ladies?"

  Sam! Abby went wild then, kicking, struggling, trying in vain to pry his forearms from beneath her breasts. Blindly she slammed her head back; it hurt but she felt his head snap. That vise-like arm around her waist tightened so that the breath was driven from her lungs in a soundless whoosh. She gasped, the world going black around the edges. Her body went limp. Her struggles ceased. The pressure eased and she hauled in a stinging lungful of air.

  "Let her go, Sam."

  Her feet dangling helplessly, Abby swallowed, her gaze riveted on Kane. All his attention was focused on Sam. His voice was as flat and emotionless as his eyes. His features might have been hewn of granite.

  Sam was undaunted. "Looks to me like the lady's a little too much for you."

  "I like a challenge as much as the next man," Kane stated flatly. "Now let her go."

  Abby's feet touched the ground, but Sam didn't release her. When she would have wrenched away, his other arm came around her as well. Hot breath rushed past her cheek. "But the question is ... you still got what it takes to break a skittish mare? It sure seems like the lady don't like you too well." He laughed, a sound that curdled Abby's blood. "Me, I like a woman all feisty and pepper-hot."

  Kane's eyes flickered. "She's mine," he said with deadly quiet. "I made that clear from the start."

  Sam made a sound of disgust. He gave her a none-too-gentle shove. Abby landed on her hands and knees in the dirt. Tiny stones ground into her hands but she paid no heed.

  Sam eyed her lustfully. 'Tell you what—" He sounded almost reasonable. "—I'll take the lady off your hands right now. You can have her back at midnight. It wouldn't be the first time we've shared a woman for the night." Abby pushed herself back on her haunches in time to see his leering gaze rake over her. "Why, the way she had her hands all over you last night had me hotter than a poker—and just about as hard, too. I'll keep her hands full, yes indeed."

  His hand cupped his groin. He added something so blatantly obscene Abby could never have repeated it—even in her own mind.

  Later she would wonder how a man could move so fast. There was a whirl of movement, a flash of light. The next thing she knew Kane stood behind Sam, his elbow locked around his neck. The flat of a gleaming knife lay drawn across Sam's whiskered throat. Sam stood frozen, his eyes bulging. He was as stunned as Abby.

  "You know I don't much care for your mouth," Kane said quietly, almost silkily. "Did I ever tell you that, Sam?"

  "You were never much for talking, Kane." Sam's voice came out a raspy whisper. "Hey, I was just having a little fun. The girl's all yours, I swear. I won't lay a hand on her. Hell, I won't even look at her!"

  Abby couldn't move. She recalled Kane's coldblooded efficiency the night he'd killed Jake. His expression was much the same. His eyes were thunderhead-gray, cold and merciless.

  "You don't have much of a reputation for keeping your word, Sam. Maybe I ought to just kill you now and be done with it."

  Sam swallowed—a mistake. A thin trickle of blood appeared on the razor-sharp edge of the knife.

  Abby made a faint, strangled sound.

  Kane's gaze flickered to Abby. She was back on her haunches, her face bloodless, the fright and horror she felt at his violence stark and vivid. Every muscle in his body was rigid with the effort it took not to kill Sam then and there. The urge was so overpowering he could almost taste it. Yet how could he with Abby not three feet away? She already thought he was an animal. She would hate him forever.

  Christ, who was he trying to fool? She hated him already...

  He ground his teeth in frustrated rage. Sam didn't deserve to live. Yet he couldn't kill him, not before Abby, not the way he deserved to die. But it wouldn't hurt the bastard to do a little sweating for once.

  "What do you say, Sam? A quick, neat slice would make it easy on both of us." Deliberately he paused. "On the other hand, you've made more than a few souls suffer on their way to the hereafter. Maybe it's time you got just a little taste of how they felt."

  Sam was pale. "Don't get hasty now, Kane. Remember that little job we agreed you'd take care of? If you kill me now, you'll never get paid that hefty little fee we agreed on."

  There was a long, drawn-out silence before Kane spoke, his tone lazy. "Double it and I might consider it."

  "I'll triple it. Cash on the spot, as soon as it's done!"

  A heartbeat went by. Then another and another. Kane slowly drew the knife away from Sam's throat. "You got yourself a deal, Sam." He retreated, alert for any threat the other man might pose. Sam stepped forward, his movements jerky.

  "Think I'll take a last look around before we head down into the valley." He spun around and walked away, but not before Kane glimpsed the venomous rage in his eyes. Kane's mouth thinned. Wonderful! he thought, crossing to Abby. I should have killed him. Now I'm going to have to watch my back twice as hard.

  He frowned as he reached her. She still appeared dazed. "Are you all right?" He extended a hand to help her up.

  She ignored it. She tipped back her head and regarded him with unblinking eyes. "That little job we agreed you'd take care of,' " she quoted. "What did he mean by that?"

  The concern was gone. His face wore that closed, forbidding expression she had come to recognize.

  "He didn't mean anything," he said curtly.

  "Don't lie to me," she whispered. A sick coil of dread was slowly strangling her insides. "He was talking about something. Someone. And don't try to tell me he wasn't."

  "Dammit, Abby--"

  "It's Dillon, isn't it? He was talking about Dillon." A numbing cold began to seep into her chest. She began to tremble. "What did he do? Ask you to kill Dillon?"

  "Abby, keep your voice down."

  "He did, didn't he? He wants you to kill my brother!"

  Kane went utterly still. He hated himself for putting that awful look on her face. He had no trouble reading her mind. She was calling herself every kind of fool for trusting him. He shoved his fingers through his hair. "Abby, you have to understand—"

  "Oh, I understand, only too well! He offered you money to kill my brother . . . My God, Kane, whose side are you on?"

  He pulled her to her feet, gripping her shoulders. "Abby," he began.

  With a jagged cry she tried to wrench away. "Don't touch me!"

  "Dammit, will you just listen . . ."

  He got no further. An ear-shattering explosion rent the air, followed by another, and then another like the echoing rumble of thunder.

  Gunfire.

  For a mind-splitting instant they stood paralyz
ed, staring into each other's faces. "Son of a bitch!"

  The expletive accompanied the none-too-gentle motion of Kane's hand on her shoulder. She toppled heavily forward behind the weight of Kane's body. Stunned, she lay face-down behind the granite-faced boulder.

  "Stay here!" he commanded in her ear. "And don't move until I get back!" He hunched down in a half-crouch and charged toward the sound of the bullets.

  Fear encircled her heart. Abby had only one thought. Sam had found Dillon ... or Dillon had found Sam!

  There were shouts and footsteps. Then the deadly staccato of gunfire came again. Sheer terror propelled her upright. She rushed forward, trailing Kane by a dozen steps. He disappeared around a jutting spur of rock. She followed blindly, only to be brought up short scant seconds later by the sight of two men scuffling, rolling wildly across the barren, dusty earth, one with hair as black as sin, the other with hair only a shade darker than her own--

  Dillon.

  She had no recollection of screaming his name aloud. It was the culmination of her worst nightmare. She realized sickly that the gunfire had ceased. There was a rifle poking from the saddle of a horse—Dillon's strawberry roan. Sam staggered upright; Dillon surged forward just as Sam whirled. His knee came up and connected with Dillon's chest. Abby gave a garbled scream as he hurtled to his back.

  Abby's skin was pure ice. She stood as if paralyzed. Horror stripped her mind of all thought. She could only watch and wait as Dillon struggled to his feet just as Sam ripped the rifle from its berth. His teeth pulled back in a feral grin, the rifle barrel swiveled slowly toward Dillon.

  It all seemed to happen in slow motion. Another figure had appeared—Kane, his Colt raised high, sighting down the barrel.. . Her mind screamed out a warning . . . Dear Lord!. . . They stood only a foot apart.. . Did he aim at Dillon or Sam .. . ?

  She sagged to her knees. The gun exploded. There was an answering shot—or was it only an echo? The very ground beneath her knees seemed to echo and vibrate. The acrid smell of smoke burned her throat and blurred her vision. When the haze cleared she saw Stringer Sam sprawled face-down in the dirt.