While Murphy writhed on the ground, Mari quickly confiscated her captor’s gun and knife, then scooped up her clothes and hurried to the bank of the pond. Ignoring his curses and moans, she knelt and doused her burning hand into the water and whooshed it around, hoping to wash the cactus spines from her skin. With her good hand, she scooped up water and brought it to her mouth to drink. Once she’d quenched her thirst, she straightened and studied her hand. Though she’d managed to dislodge a fair number of needles, at least half of them remained embedded in her skin.
She found the pain reassuring. If her hand hurt this badly, Finn Murphy wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon. Of course, Clay Burrows could show up at any moment, so she dared not waste too much time before getting out of here.
Still, the water looked inviting and she was already nearly naked. A few minutes delay surely wouldn’t hurt. Mari glanced over her shoulder at the thrashing man on the ground and decided to risk it. She raided his saddlebags for a clean shirt with which to dry herself, then waded into the pond. The water soothed her, refreshed her, and the normal act of cleansing her body allowed her to relax. She emerged rejuvenated from the pond.
“You bitch,” Murphy gasped. “You goddamn bitch.”
Mari turned away from him, and calmly dried herself, then dressed. He continued to spit even more vile invectives, but she ignored both him and the twinge of guilt she felt for causing him such pain. Considering what he’d intended for her, he deserved her fury, not her sympathy. Still, it went against her nature to cause any living being pain—even a being as villainous as Finn Murphy.
Once she managed to button her gown, Mari turned her attention to finding her missing shoes. A search of Murphy’s saddle proved fruitless. Either Burrows had them or they’d discarded them somewhere along the trail. Mari slipped her feet into Murphy’s boots. They were big on her, but they’d do.
More than ready to continue her escape, she glanced at the two horses and made a swift decision to take them both. While she seriously doubted he physically could manage to follow her anytime soon, she’d rather be safe than sorry. Working one-handed, she adjusted his stirrups to fit her.
Hearing a stirring behind her, she glanced toward Murphy and saw him attempt to rise onto his knees. Groaning, he slumped back onto the ground.
“I imagine Mr. Burrows will arrive soon to help you,” she told him matter-of-factly.
“You bitch.” Murphy glared at her through pain-racked eyes. “You’ll pay. I swear I’ll make you pay for what you’ve done to me.”
His threat was the spark that set fire to Mari’s fury. “What I’ve done to you?” she snapped, stepping toward him, her hands braced on her hips. “You’ve got some nerve, Finn Murphy! You’re the one who kidnapped me off the street. You’re the one who intended rape. You brought this all on yourself.”
It was as if he hadn’t heard a word she said. “One way or another, I’ll make you pay,” he vowed. “Whatever I do is gonna hurt you far, far worse than this hurts me now.”
He certainly sounded like he meant it. Did she want to have that threat hanging over her future? No, not at all.
But eliminating the threat meant eliminating Murphy. Mari raised the gun, leveled it at her attacker. Could she do it? Could she shoot the man now, in cold blood, with her life not immediately at risk?
Yes. Yes, she could pull the trigger. She could end the threat, end his life, with a bullet through the heart. Right here, right now.
Anger churned inside her as Mari stared down the barrel of Finn Murphy’s gun.
“You’re not gonna do it,” he said, his tone filled with scorn.
For a long moment, Mari’s finger twitched against the trigger, then slowly, she lowered the gun to her side. “No, I’m not. That would make me no better than you.”
Slipping her foot into a stirrup, Mari swung up onto his horse. She wrapped the sorrel’s reins around her right wrist, then took up the black’s reins in her left hand and gave him one last look. “I guess I’ll just have to hope somebody else manages to give you what you deserve.”
He spit more curses at her as Mari gave the horse a kick and calmly rode out, following the trail they’d made coming in.
Once away from the villain’s sight, she indulged in a groan of pain. Her hand burned. Her bottom, already sore from hours on horseback, ached with every bounce upon the saddle. Her nose was sunburned, her lips dry and cracked. The borrowed boots rubbed blisters on her feet. As if that wasn’t enough, she was now a target for retribution from a silver-haired, gray-eyed, black-hearted villain.
Luke Garrett had plenty to answer for.
Maybe she would shoot someone in cold blood, after all.
CHAPTER NINE
LUKE EYED THE SPOT on the trail where one of the three horses veered off. Not Mari, he noted with disappointment, but not surprise. The smaller mount remained with the biggest horse. This wasn’t sign of an escape, but a separation. He followed the trail of the single horse a few feet, then surveyed the landscape.
The high ground. Odds were Murphy sent Burrows to the high ground to watch for Luke. That meant a couple of things. One, Burrows must have seen him coming by now, and two, their destination likely was close.
So, how should he approach? They knew he was coming. No sense trying to sneak in. He might as well ride in bold as brass, guns not blazing but at the ready. Murphy wanted him there for a reason.
Spurring his horse, he followed Mari’s trail, energized by the knowledge that the confrontation was undoubtedly near at hand. Knowing he’d need cool, calm control during the showdown, Luke allowed himself a few minutes to give his rage toward Murphy free rein and get it out of his system.
Fury, hatred, a fierce need for vengeance—all roared through him like a springtime tornado. This time, finally, he’d make Finn Murphy pay. For Janna and the girls. For the finest Texas Ranger who ever wore the badge, his friend Harvey Rowan. For Luke’s stepfather, Brian Callahan. For Rory. For the countless innocent people Murphy had wronged, robbed or murdered.
And now, for Mari McBride.
He prayed that this time he wouldn’t be too late.
So caught up was he with the intensity of his loathing, when he first spied the figure up ahead of him on the trail, he thought the virulence of his emotions must have caused him to hallucinate. That couldn’t be Mari McBride perched atop a boulder, arms folded and foot tapping impatiently against the rock.
“It’s about darn time you got here,” the apparition snapped as he approached.
“Mari?”
“You and I need to have a discussion regarding the duties of a bodyguard. I must tell you, Luke Garrett, so far your job performance is less than stellar.”
Mari. Relief rolled over Luke like a wave. She looked tired and worn and torn and tangled—more beautiful than any woman he’d ever seen.
He swung from his horse, grabbed her around the waist and lifted her off the rock. He twirled her around, once, twice. “Dammit, woman. I was worried about you.”
“As well you should have been. I was in serious dang—”
Luke stopped her words with a kiss. He didn’t plan it, he just did it. He swooped down and took her mouth in a happy-to-see-you, don’t-say-that-word-and-remind-me friendly smack. Only, somewhere along the way, the kiss changed to something else. Something different.
Something more.
She tasted of blackberries and felt fragile as blown glass in his arms. A great, aching tenderness welled up inside Luke, and his mouth softened on hers. So sweet. Innocence and a warmth that called to the coldness that dwelled in his soul.
When she responded to him, answering the gentle tug of his teeth against her bottom lip with a low, throaty groan, he knew a fierce rush of pleasure. His lips drifted across her face, and his tongue traced the delicate whorls of her ear. She shivered when he nibbled at her lobe, then nipped his way down her neck. Her breathless sigh had him spreading his legs and pulling her even closer. He covered her mouth with his onc
e again, only this time, his kiss was hungry.
Luke feasted on her lips, invaded her with his tongue. Plundered the sweet, delicious mouth over and over and over again. He simply couldn’t get enough. Urgency rose within him and threatened his control. He wanted—no, he needed his hands on her. He needed her hands on him. He needed…well, hell.
He needed to make sure they were safe.
He lifted his head, took a step back. She stared up at him, her eyes wide and filled with shock.
Luke thought he should probably apologize. For the kidnapping, not the kiss. Be damned if he’d apologize for kissing her. Instead, he asked, “Did they hurt you, honey?”
Tears flooded her eyes. “Yes.”
No. God, no.
“Not bad, though,” she added, her bottom lip trembling. “I was so scared. He was going to hurt me really bad, and I was so afraid.”
“Ah, Mari.” He wrapped her in a comforting hug and held her against him. “Where is Murphy?”
“Thataway.” Her head buried against his chest, she waved her left hand. “About a twenty-minute ride.”
“What about the other man?”
“Burrows? He’s probably helping Murphy by now. He came riding through here awhile back. He was watching for you. That’s how I knew you’d be along sometime soon.”
“Helping Murphy do what?”
“Pull needles out of his…um, well, he’s hurt. I hurt him. I…oh, Luke. It was awful.”
The story that poured out of her during the next few minutes angered Luke, amazed him and filled him with admiration. The male in him couldn’t help but feel a twinge of horror at Murphy’s fate. One good thing, he needn’t keep an eye out for Murphy and Burrows tonight. No way could the bastard ride a horse, and he’d undoubtedly keep his henchman close by to help.
It impressed Luke that Mari had had the temerity to attack Murphy.
He’d known from the first that the woman had spunk, but to see it put into action…well… “I wish my sister had your guts.”
She burrowed her head even closer and spoke into his shirt. “I wasn’t brave. I was scared of being a willow.”
Luke didn’t understand that, but the way she said it made him smile. Her shoulders shook as she continued to weep against his chest. Luke patted her back and spoke soft, soothing words into her ear, and wished he could do more to comfort her.
Ordinarily, he didn’t like dealing with a woman’s tears, because too often they were used to manipulate a man. These tears were different. These tears were being wrenched from the heart of a strong woman, and that gave them power to bring a man like Luke to his knees.
“Hush, now, Mari,” he murmured. “You’re all right now. Everything’s fine.”
“No it’s not,” she insisted. “We’re out in the middle of nowhere and I don’t want to get back on a horse because my bottom is killing me and I’m hungry and I’m going to have nightmares about the way Murphy looked naked and my hand hurts from cactus spines!”
Luke took them in order. “I know this country and there’s a nice spot to camp nearby—a different place from the one Murphy took you to. I have some jerky in my saddlebag and as soon as we’re settled, I’ll hunt us up some meat for our supper. Now, I’m afraid I can’t stop your nightmares, but I will promise to be close if you need me in the night. As far as your hand goes, let’s see what I can do to make it better.”
Gently cradling her right hand in his, Luke turned her palm up and winced. Blood smeared her hand from innumerable pinpricks. Luke counted half-a-dozen substantial thornlike spines still embedded in her skin. “My poor, brave little warrior.”
“Don’t touch it,” Mari said, a pout in both her voice and expression. Remnants of her tears clung to her thick, curling lashes. “It hurts too much to touch. I got most of them out, but those…it hurts.”
“They have to come out or they’ll fester. I’ll be gentle, honey.” Then he brought her hand up to his mouth and clamping a cactus thorn between his teeth, gently and carefully tugged it free. He turned his head, spat out the spine, then repeated the action five more times. Then, his eyes fixed on hers, Luke used the slightest brush of his tongue to test every inch of skin on the inside of her hand. “Did I miss any?” he asked, his voice husky and low.
Eyes wide, Mari shook her head.
“Good.” Luke again brought her hand to his mouth, only this time, instead of barely touching her, he licked at all the tiny pinpricks on her palm, then sucked at the wounds, staring deeply into her eyes as he did so.
Mari’s eyelids grew heavy and she shuddered. Luke drew her entire index finger into his mouth, rubbed it with his tongue, and sucked, then repeated the action with her other fingers and lastly, her thumb.
“What are you doing?” she breathed.
When finally he released her, he winked and said, “Kissing it and making it better. Did it work?”
She swallowed hard, blinked twice and nodded.
“Good.” Luke fought his instincts to take his ministrations to other parts of her body that might benefit from his attentions. Still, he couldn’t help but ask. “Anyplace else need kissin’?”
She wet her lips, then once again, nodded. Her movement slow and graceful, she brought up her left hand and offered it up to him.
Luke arched a brow and glanced at the hand. He didn’t see any cactus spines, nor any scrapes or cuts or bruises. Her hand looked…virginal. The look in her eyes, however, was pure temptation, and Luke surrendered to it. He licked and nipped and nibbled and sucked until they both were breathing hard. When she finally drew her hand away from him and took a step back, Luke had to shove his own hands in his pockets to keep from reaching for her again.
Mari cleared her throat. “Maybe I’m not too sore to ride, after all. Maybe we should ride on to Trickling Springs.”
“No.” Luke rocked back on his heels and tried to ignore the ache in his loins. “It’s too late. We couldn’t get even halfway before dark, and tonight’s a new moon. It wouldn’t be safe for you to travel.”
She hesitated a long moment before asking, “Will I be safe staying with you?”
Luke went still. “Do you want to be?”
The seconds dragged by like hours until she answered. “Yes. I guess I do.”
Damn.
“It’s been a traumatic day, and my emotions are in flux. I’m probably not thinking straight.”
Personally, Luke was fine with the direction her thoughts were taking. More than fine, in fact. He knew from experience that a brush with death sometimes left a person with the desire to reaffirm life. At the moment, he could think of nothing he’d like better than helping Mari McBride celebrate being alive.
However, because she had basically said no by saying yes, and because he refused to allow his pecker to make decisions for him, Luke had but one course of action to take. “So,” he said, stepping away. “How about that jerky?”
THE AROMA of roasted rabbit lingered on the air like a song as the sun sank toward the treetops that hugged the banks of the Pedernales River. Mari sipped cool, sweet water from a tin cup and watched the western sky explode in a pallet of vermillion, rose and gold. With her hunger assuaged, her thirst quenched, and her body enjoying a reprieve from the saddle, she expected to be able to relax. Instead, she hummed with tension that simply wouldn’t stop.
Her nerves were a jumble. She jumped at every rustle in the bushes and startled at every crackle of the campfire. By rights, she should be drooping from exhaustion, ready to lie upon the bedroll spread out beside the fire and lose herself in the oblivion of sleep. Instead, she felt jittery as a cat on ice.
“Pretty sunset tonight,” Luke observed, coming up to stand beside her. “Seems I spend so much time in town, I forget to look up and enjoy the show.”
“It’s been my parents’ habit to watch the sunset together every evening,” Mari said wistfully. “A year after Papa married Jenny, he added a widow’s walk atop Willow Hill so they could have a better view of the sky. It’s
their private time, and the children aren’t allowed to interrupt.”
“Bet the McBride Menaces hated that.”
She smiled wistfully. “My sisters and I used to climb the neighbor’s cottonwood tree and spy on them. Sometimes we’d catch them sparking, but mostly they’d sit in their chairs holding hands and talking. Sometimes, they didn’t even talk. Yet, every time they come back downstairs, they always seem more…I don’t know…more connected.” After a moment’s pause, she added, “I don’t recall them watching the sunset together once since the Spring Palace fire.”
“Losing a loved one is always tough.”
The edgy element of Mari’s mood sharpened into temper at his observation. “And shame on our loved ones for getting themselves lost. I swear, when I get hold of Kat, I’m gonna wring her neck.”
“That would be a more believable threat were you not working so hard to prove she’s not already dead.”
“I’ve already proved that.” Mari glanced up at Luke. “With all the excitement, I didn’t tell you what I learned in Trickling Springs. They were there, Luke. The night of the fire. A woman at the chocolate shop remembered them.”
Surprise widened his eyes. “You’re not serious.”
“Oh, yes I am. She definitely remembers them. She remembered Kat’s necklace, and she described Rory and Kat right down to her love of butterscotch taffy. It proves that my sister and your brother didn’t die in that fire.”
He thought about that a moment, then said softly, “I’ll be damned.”
“They’re the ones who need to worry about damnation,” Mari snapped. “Their selfish elopement has caused serious harm.”
Luke rubbed the back of his neck as she continued, “Kat needlessly subjected our family to devastating grief. Finding her alive will not erase that. Nor will it bring back months of sunsets for my parents to share or the days Billy went without cracking a single smile or the weeks Emma spent in bed with the covers pulled over her head, laid low by the loss of her sister just as she was beginning to heal from the death of her husband. Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled clear to my bones that Kat is alive. Nevertheless, that doesn’t change the fact that because she ran off with your brother, I had to use a cactus for a baseball bat to defend my virtue.”
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