The Surrender of Lacy Morgan

by Suzanne Ferrell

  “She’s something special, isn’t she? All that smooth, creamy golden skin?” He continued to knead her ass cheeks, moving her so she was pressed against his body, her backside naked. “Worth her weight in gold, don’t you think?”

  “She tell you why I want her back?” Devil stared at her ass then licked his lips.

  Lacy cringed inwardly but fought to keep her face impassive.

  “Besides wanting to fuck her crazy?”

  “Yeah, more’n that.”

  “Said she took something of yours that pissed you off worse than a bronc with a burr under his saddle.” He slid his fingers down between her thighs, sending a shiver of a different kind through her. “Said I’d find out when we got here.”

  “Bitch stole my gold and money. And I mean to get it back.”

  Quinn paused with his hand between her thighs, as if the information was new to him. “Seems we have a problem then. I ain’t handing her over without some compensation, and you can’t get me the money until we get this little slut to tell us where she hid it.”

  God, she hated being talked about like a piece of meat, but they had to keep Devil interested and distracted until Dakota returned.

  “Give her to me and I’ll beat it out of her.”

  Devil motioned to Harris.

  The short, nervous henchman moved two steps before Devil stared down the barrel of Quinn’s Colt. “Don’t think so, hombre. No one touches my woman until I’m paid.”

  The sound of four guns being drawn and the click of a rifle being aimed filled the room.

  * * * * *

  In the darkening night, Dakota eased in behind the second lookout. The first had been dispatched with ease and hardly a sound.

  It was crucial he render this outlaw useless as quickly as possible and get back to Quinn and Lacy.

  “Clancy, you awake?” The man called across the abyss separating the two canyon rims.

  No answer came.

  None would.

  Dakota took another step closer, careful not to snap a twig.

  Because of his early childhood tracking with his mountain man father, he’d always been the quietest of Cap’s boys. In fact, Cap had asked him to teach the others, especially Ian, how to move about as silent as deer in the forest.

  “Stealth in a lawman is even more important than in an outlaw,” Cap said when the others balked at having one of their own be their teacher.

  “Clancy?” the watchman called louder.

  Just as Dakota reached for him, the man bolted upright and turned, which brought them face-to-face.

  “What the hell…” The man tried to lower his rifle.

  Dakota elbowed upward, knocking it out of his hand before he could get off a shot. The movement forced the man off balance and forward, landing right on top of Dakota.

  Air rushed out of his lungs, but years spent wrestling his brothers had taught him how to react and he sucked a breath back in. He grabbed the man by his shoulders and shoved, at the same time twisting his lower half to throw off his weight.

  The pair came up into a crouch facing each other.

  The outlaw reached down his leg and came up drawing a wicked-looking knife and a grin on his face. “Want to dance, breed?”

  Dakota slid his Arkansas toothpick from the sheath tied to his thigh, a slow smile turning up the corners of his lips.

  * * * * *

  Below, in the darkness, a lone rider picked his way through the maze that was the valley entrance, the faint sound of spurs jangling against the sides of his mount’s flesh.

  * * * * *

  Lacy’s heart jumped into her throat and she leaned farther into Quinn’s side.

  “You’re dead, mister,” Devil said with one of his evil grins. “No way you can outshoot all my men, no matter how fast you shoot.”

  “Maybe, maybe not, but I promise you one thing…”

  “What’s that?”

  “No matter what else happens, you won’t be leaving this table breathing.”

  Understanding dawned on Devil and the grin slowly slid from his face. He swallowed twice. For the first time since she’d known him, the man was afraid—very afraid. Despite the danger, Lacy wanted to shout with glee, but remained calmly glued to Quinn’s side instead.

  “Put down your guns,” Devil ordered his men.

  “But, B-boss, we can t-take him,” Harris whined.

  “I said put ’em down. Now!” Devil’s voice boomed.

  It took a moment, as if each henchman weighed his odds against Quinn and the possibility of losing Devil as a leader before they slowly lowered their weapons.

  Once everyone was disarmed, Quinn laid his gun on the table beside him and Devil relaxed back in his chair.

  “So, my little woman stole your gold and money. Why would she do that?”

  “It was blood money from the Cheyenne Bank robbery,” Lacy said, staring at Devil.

  “Wasn’t no blood money. A stupid marshal who should’ve been put out of his misery years ago got in the way. Had to shoot ’im and a couple others,” Devil said, the cocky grin teasing the corners of his lips once more. “As for the money, I’ve searched this valley from top to bottom and can’t figure out where she hid that loot.”

  Quinn slid his hand from between Lacy’s thighs and up her ass to her waist, gently moving her in front of him.

  “Perhaps you just didn’t use the right persuasion.” Quinn pulled her back onto his lap, facing Devil. “Loosen up, darlin’,” he ordered.

  Lacy knew what was coming next. God, she hoped she could do this. She had to do it. They needed to even the odds, and the only way to do that was by distracting everyone in this room from what was happening outside and give the whiskey time to work.

  Swallowing her fear, she reached up and untied the ribbon holding her curls piled on her head. She shook them out then leaned back against Quinn.

  It was time for her torture.

  Quinn smoothed her hair off her neck and slid his tongue up the long column to her ear while keeping his eye on Devil and the others.

  Damn, he hated exposing her passion to this scum. It was something special, something he didn’t want to share with anyone but Dakota.

  He’d tried to come up with another plan, but she’d insisted on going through with this one. Her need to punish Devil matched his own. They were here now and had no choice. All he could do was protect her until they had Devil and the gold secured.

  “Relax and trust me, darlin’,” he whispered against her ear for only her to hear. “Close your eyes and pretend we’re alone.”

  He gripped her hips and pulled her back against the bulge of his hard, throbbing cock.

  A soft moan escaped her.

  Devil slammed back his whiskey and poured another. “Make her show us those tits o’ hers.”

  “Yeah, make ’er show ’em!” one outlaw called from the far corner, the others hooting and slapping the table.

  “You heard the man. Show off those tits,” Quinn said loud enough for every one to hear.

  She stiffened beneath his hands. For a moment he thought she’d refuse.

  Dammit, he didn’t want to force her. The point was to make Devil jealous and yet so enthralled that he didn’t notice any of his men dropping behind him.

  He pulled her earlobe between his teeth and gently bit down, whispering, “Do it for me, Lacy.”

  Slowly she raised her hands and worked the laces of her camisole until the material hung open, suspended only by the tips of her nipples. Golden skin, from the mounds of her breasts down to her flat stomach and the waist of her split skirt, exposed for everyone in the room to see.

  And he hated every minute of it.

  “Show them,” he said, swallowing the bile that rose in his throat at the leering looks from the men—all but one, who’d slumped onto the far table.

  Lacy reached up and slipped the shirt off her breasts.

  “Hot damn!” swore one of the poker players.

  “Fuck me, look how
tight they is,” said the other.

  “Just like I remembered ’em. High and tight.” Devil emptied his glass again and leaned back in his chair. Legs sprawled wide, he slid his hand down to rub the bulge in his pants openly.

  The man disgusted Quinn. He was glad he’d ordered Lacy to keep her eyes closed. With any luck she wouldn’t have to see how her actions raised her stepfather’s lust fever.

  “Cup your tits, darlin’. Show them how you like to be teased.”

  As she obeyed, cupping her breasts and pinching the nipples, he fought the urge to draw his pistol and end Devil’s life right then and there.

  At the poker table, another man slumped sideways, as did the fat whore at the bar. With any luck the others would go down long before Lacy had to follow through with pleasuring herself in front of them.

  A few more minutes and it should be just him, Lacy and Devil still conscious in the room.

  What the hell was taking Dakota so long?

  With her eyes closed and her body pressed tightly against Quinn’s, Lacy could almost close out everything and everyone inside the tavern. She imagined herself seated like this facing the mirror in the hotel back in Goldwater, listening for Quinn’s sensual commands.

  “When you do this, you’ll be pleasing me.”

  “Just like I remembered ’em. High and tight.”

  Devil’s voice intruded on her imaginings, forcing her to remember why she was here and who was in the room with her. Her skin crawled and her stomach threatened to rebel.

  ”Cup your tits, darlin’. Show them how you like to be teased.”

  Quinn’s quiet command soothed her.

  She wasn’t alone with Devil. Quinn’s heat warmed her back and thighs. His arousal showed his pleasure in her actions.

  She could do this. She knew without a doubt she could do anything this man asked of her because she knew the honor in his heart and the love for him in her own.

  Slowly she slid her hands up her ribs, then cupped her breasts. Visualizing the intensity of Quinn’s blue gaze as he’d watched her in the mirror, she let her fingers glide to her nipples. Pinching and rolling them like a lover’s touch, she arched her back and moaned.

  As she continued to knead and tease her breasts, he slid his hands over her thighs, spreading them farther. Cool air caressed her pussy as he pressed her open, her skirt falling to the sides. He’d exposed her to everyone, but the heat of his fingers so near her sexual core sent waves of desire coursing through her.

  Then he stroked her, claiming her as his.

  His. She wanted to scream it to the room, to the mountaintops. She was his, to use and pleasure at his will.

  Quinn skimmed his fingers lightly over her folds. “Like that, don’t you, darlin’?”

  “Yes,” she moaned.

  “Yeah, she’s a moaner. Heard her do that the night Santos got in her britches.” Devil cackled, and she could imagine him stroking his cock outside the barn where Santos had seduced her. Her stomach roiled again in rebellion against Devil getting pleasure then or now.

  Quinn stroked and rubbed her for several moments, relaxing her once more and eliciting more whimpers of pleasure. Her need built like kindling in a fire. Just as she was going to explode, he rested his fingers against the throbbing nub at the top of her sex.

  “Do you want more?”

  God, yes. She wanted to beg him to make her come, relieve some of the tension.

  “Yes, please.” She wiggled her hips to try to get more of that delicious contact, but she knew he wouldn’t allow it.

  “Then tell me where you hid the money.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You won’t get what you need unless you do, darlin’.” His finger teased the edges of her pussy. Stimulating, but not delivering the touch she wanted.

  She turned her head and opened her eyes to stare into his hot blue gaze. “I can’t.”

  “Give her to me. My whip’ll get it out of her.”

  “Tell me what I need to know, darlin’, and I’ll let you come.” Quinn promised, never breaking the link in their gazes.

  “I hid it the last place Devil would look.”

  “Hell, that’s what she kept saying back in the fall. You’re gonna have to drill her with your cock, Halliday. That’s what Santos found out. Your little bitch there will do anything for a big one stuffed up her. Ain’t that right, girl?” Devil leaned closer and she could smell his fetid breath mixed with whiskey.

  And she knew what he was about to say.

  And with those words Quinn would let him take her.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Quinn watched the bartender slump down the wall and the last of the card players join his friends out cold on their table.

  Good. That left Devil and his short henchman to deal with, the two who hadn’t partaken of the drugged whiskey.

  “Lacy told me your man tricked her into helping hold the horses outside the bank during the raid,” Quinn said, using his hands to ease the stiffness that had returned to Lacy. Panic filled her eyes, and something else…sadness? What the hell was going on with her?

  “Oh, he got her to do more than just that. While he was driving his meat into her, she agreed to write a letter for him.”

  Letter?

  This time Quinn looked from Lacy to the outlaw and back again. “What letter?”

  “It wasn’t what you think.” She swallowed hard and tears rimmed her beautiful green eyes.

  “She didn’t tell you that part, did she?” Devil cackled and sat back in his chair, looking quite smug.

  “Please understand.” And the fear on her face echoed her words. She’d kept something from him. Something he’d needed to know before they’d headed into this snake pit.

  Shit. Despite what they’d shared, despite the words back on that cliff, she still didn’t trust him. He had a feeling the thing she left out would change everything.

  All he could do was play out the hand dealt him.

  “Tell me about the letter.”

  Devil swallowed another mouthful of whiskey before bragging. “Santos got her to write a letter to that marshal telling him we were planning on hitting the Cheyenne Bank.”

  Anger buzzed in Quinn’s ears. Devil had to be lying. He couldn’t have misjudged the woman’s innocence. He watched Lacy’s face for some sign the man was lying.

  Shame and sorrow filled it.

  “You did this?” he asked, wanting to hear her deny the man’s claim.

  “I’m so sorry.” She swallowed hard but didn’t deny her involvement in Cap’s murder.

  “Told him when, but not how many of us there was. Led him right into the trap.” Devil barked another laugh. “She was so happy to do whatever Santos wanted, she finally agreed to go on the raid with us. Couldn’t wait to go, in fact.”

  “Please, it wasn’t like that.” Lacy laid her hand on his, her words too late to calm the rage soaring though him.

  He pulled his hand away, turning to face the outlaw leader. “You’re right. She can’t be trusted to tell me where she hid the money. She’s yours to do with what you want.”

  Devil grabbed Lacy by the arm and hauled her to her feet toward the tavern door, snatching a lantern on his way out.

  She knew where he was taking her, had feared it for months, but it didn’t matter anymore. She’d lost the trust she’d seen in Quinn’s face these past days. Nothing would save her now.

  She’d known this would happen.

  She’d prayed she’d be wrong.

  Darkness clouded Lacy’s vision. Fear and despair battled inside her. The ache in her chest that had started with Devil’s announcement spread until she thought her ribs would explode from the pain.

  But she deserved her punishment. She’d written the letter and a man had died. She just prayed that in the end, Quinn would still take Devil to face his retribution.

  Devil nodded to his henchman as he dragged her out into the night. “Harris, get my whip.”

  Quinn sat stunned, watching D
evil drag Lacy to the tavern door, fear and acceptance on her face.

  She’d lied. She’d hidden her part in Cap’s murder, even after she knew who he was. Her betrayal tore at his soul. How could he have misread her so thoroughly?

  Had he?

  “Always trust your gut, boy. It will save your life more often than not.” Cap’s words rang in his ears.

  His gut told him Lacy had been duped.

  “Promise me one thing… No matter what happens, no matter what you hear in that valley, you’ll make Devil pay for all the things he’s done.”

  She’d known this would happen.

  That’s what she’d meant up on the mountainside when she’d insisted they carry through with this plan.

  She’d known the truth would come out. She’d known he’d hand her over to Devil. Had been willing to put herself at risk, just so he and Dakota could bring the leader to justice. Was that the action of a woman who’d help plan a murder? His gut told him there was more to the story.

  “Harris, get my whip.”

  Devil’s words struck him like a cold slap. If he didn’t stop it, Devil would punish her hard, and this time, she might not survive.

  With a quick look around to be sure everyone was still out cold from the herb-laced whiskey, he hurled himself from his chair to the door, his gun already in his hand. He took one step onto the porch and froze.

  The cold steel of a gun barrel pressed into the side of his neck. “I don’t think you should interfere with my boss,” the owner of the gun said, only the slightest accent in his words. “Toss your gun on the ground.”

  “You must be Santos.”

  “Ah, I see mi puta has told you about me.”

  Quinn knew enough Spanish to know puta was the same as slut. The anger inside him shot up another notch. He might’ve used the word in trying to distract Devil, but no one was going to call Lacy the name while he could prevent it.

  Obeying Devil’s second-in-command, he tossed his gun a few feet away on the ground, but close enough to get to if the chance arose. “Lacy told me how you used her.”

  “She was a good fuck, even for a virgin. She thought I loved her.” The bastard laughed. “Thought we’d get that marshal who’d been tracking the gang to arrest her stepdaddy and leave together.”