by Naomi West
“All right,” she said skeptically. “I’m gonna trust you.”
He gazed at her, wishing he could put what he was feeling into words. Wished he could tell her how close to impossible it had been to turn his back on her when she’d begged him not to leave that night. How jumbled things had become in his brain — the memory of his mother begging him to stay with her, making him promise. The knowledge that sooner or later, he hurt the people he loved.
Wished he could tell her about the faces of his dead brothers. How it cut through him like a white hot blade, the image of Deion falling. Of Mica using his last moments to help Pistol escape. How it chewed on him, to know that they were dead because of him. Because he should have recognized sooner that they were sitting in a trap. Because he never should have gone along with any of this in the first place.
Every relationship had power dynamics that were established within the first few minutes of an introduction. The question was always, were you gonna be the dog that put its paw on the other’s throat? Or the dog that rolled over and wiggled and pissed itself? He ought to have stood on Leonard Smith’s throat the first moment they met. Let someone take advantage of you once, and they’d do it again and again. Same with his mother. Why, when she’d begged him to stay, had he rolled over and pissed rather than showing his teeth?
And yet, as he grew older, it got more and more difficult to want to fight. Fighting was exhausting. It was such a surface-level interaction to have with somebody. He craved something deeper. A relationship that wasn’t about struggling for the upper hand, that wasn’t about taking advantage or exploiting weakness. A chance to know somebody, trust somebody. Be equals.
That was what scared him so much about Katrin. He wasn’t looking for a way to be right, with her. He wasn’t looking to be in control. He simply wanted to be around her, to feel her warmth, her gentleness. The hope she carried with her despite the awful things she’d faced.
But how the fuck could he tell her any of that?
“It really was amazing, what you did,” he said softly. “Never seen anyone ride like that.”
She knelt beside him. “Oh, please. That kind of stuff’s probably just a typical Tuesday night for you and your brothers.”
He ignored the stab of sadness at the phrase “your brothers.” “Still. You’re a natural.”
“Well. I’m just glad we’re both alive. For now.” She hesitated, then leaned forward and pecked him on the lips. And damn if he didn’t start getting hard. Adrenaline rush plus smokin’ hot woman? One boner, coming up.
“Mmm,” he murmured. He tried to shift closer, lifting his hips.
“Down boy.” She patted his knee gently, then grinned, her teeth flashing in the moonlight. “I’m gonna go get our new home set up.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Katrin crouched in the shallow cave. She opened the saddlebags and took out the flashlight. Turned it on. It flickered for a moment, but stayed lit. She took the saddlebags over to the cave. Swept the dark hollow with the flashlight beam, afraid she’d suddenly see the glinting eyes of a coyote or something. But the cave was empty.
She took out the blanket and spread it over the cave floor. Searched the supplies — a flint striker, matches, dehydrated meals, trail mix, a couple of canteens of water.
She looked up as Pistol limped to the cave entrance. “Hey. You should have stayed there. I would have come back to help you.”
“I’m fine,” he said gruffly.
She gazed at him tenderly as he supported himself on the cave doorway. She was still a little drunk on his praise for the way she’d handled the chase. “You’re not fine. I need to look at that shoulder.”
The grin was back. “You wanna play doctor with me?”
She cocked a brow. “I want you to lie back and let me look at that shoulder.”
“You’re no fun,” he grumbled, going to his knees and then stretching out awkwardly on the blanket.
She unzipped his jacket. She’d forgotten that he’d had no time to put his shirt back on. The poor guy was gonna freeze.
His muscular body sprawled before her, the ink especially beautiful in the gold glow of the flashlight. The bandages were bloody, but it wasn’t as bad as she’d feared. “You heal quickly,” she remarked. She met his gaze. “Good thing.” She brushed the backs of her fingers across his cheek, heart clenching a little when he closed his eyes and tilted his head slightly toward her hand. “Troublemaker.” Her voice was barely a whisper now.
His eyes opened, and the naked longing she saw in his gaze made her swallow hard. He was a gorgeous man. Infuriating, at times. But gorgeous.
“You’re good to me,” he whispered back. “I know I don’t always show how much I appreciate you, but … I do.”
Katrin searched for the words she needed. She could tell him now. Tell him he was going to be the father of her child. Find out whether or not she could count on him to be there for her, for the baby, if they made it out of this.
How do I spring that on him now? When our lives are in danger? When he needs to rest and heal? When I don’t even know if we’ll even survive tonight?
She glanced out over the desert. Had anyone followed them? If they had, surely, Katrin would have seen them somewhere out on that lonely road. She looked back at Pistol, whose expression had hardened. “It’s my fault,” he muttered.
“What is?”
“All of this. They’re dead,” he said coldly. “They’re dead, and it’s my fault.”
Katrin’s heart rate picked up. At first, she thought he meant their pursuers, and she wondered how he knew. But then she saw the anger in his expression give way to grief, and she realized that of course — he meant his fallen brothers. The men her father had killed.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “Sorry for your brothers. I know what they meant to you.”
“Deion…” His voice was gruff, but she could hear the emotion in it.
“I know.” She paused. “We have to stop my father. We have to make sure Deion and the others didn’t die for nothing.”
The flashlight flickered as she spoke, and her breath caught. That light wasn’t going to last much longer, but for now it illuminated the strong angles of Pistol’s face, turned his skin gold, set fire to his eyes.
“I’m going to kill him,” Pistol said, his voice calm, almost casual, on the surface, but with an underlying fierceness that sent a chill through her.
He means it. He absolutely means it.
She hesitated. What did she say to that? She thought he was entirely justified in wanting revenge, sure, but … this was still her father they were talking about. Her last remaining blood tie.
She placed a hand on her belly, closing her eyes briefly. Not her last. If they survived this, she’d have her own family. Even if it was just her and the baby. No Pistol.
She caught Pistol’s eye again uncertainly. “Maybe there’s another way?”
“There isn’t. That man’s a psychopath. He killed my brothers. He owes me his blood.”
“This isn’t the 1800s, Jax,” she said, surprising herself with the sharpness of her voice. “There won’t be pistols at dawn. There are legal channels…”
Pistol barked a laugh. “I’m not exactly on the right side of the law, Kat. I don’t think turning Leonard in to the police is gonna go well for me. ‘Why yes, officer, I was at the border to grab a massive shipment of cocaine and carry it back to town for distribution, but then these assholes startedshooting—”
“But we need to think—”
“The time for thinking things over is done. If we let him go, he’s gonna go on killing people. We’ve already waited too long, let him get completely out of control. I should have nipped this in the fuckin’ bud; I should never have gone along with his plan to have us married—”
“Well thanks,” she snapped, startled by her own vehemence. Why was she angry? Sheagreedwith him. They shouldn’t have gone along with her father’s crazy scheme. She’d likely been a fool
to ever let herself get this close to Pistol Wilson. And yet…
What if I don’t regret it? What if I can’t stop seeing the good in him? Can’t stop imagining the man he’ll be when we’re out from under my father’s thumb?
Pistol sighed. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“How did you mean it, then?”
“I just… If I’d put my foot down then. If the guys and I had driven him out of town, instead of showing our bellies like dogs…”
“Then I would have been driven out of town with him,” Katrin said coolly. “We’d never have gotten to know each other. And that’s not what I want.”
His eyes flickered sharply. “You’re saying you want to be here? In this mess?”
I want to be here with you.
She hadn’t realized how true it was until this moment. But she meant it. No matter how disastrous things were, she’d fallen for this man. This man who’d been broken as a child, but who had pieced himself back together as someone who was trying to do right, trying to protect those he cared about. He was wild, he was obnoxious, he was dangerous. But underneath that, there was beauty, there was hard-won wisdom. There was a man who might make a damn fine father, if he got his shit together.
“We’re heretogether, aren’t we? That ought to be something,” she replied. “So yes, I do see some good in this ‘mess.’”
He sighed and sank back. “Goddamn, Katrin.” There was no heat in the words. “When I saw you, all I could think was good Christ, I wanna go to bed with that girl.” He paused. “Sometimes I wish I’d just kept it at that.”
Katrin flinched. The words stung, enough to make her angry. Every time they started to open up to one another, he pulled back. It stopped here.
“God, Pistol. You really want to go on being that guy? That’s the kind of man you want to be?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Yes, maybe life would be simpler if I hadn’t been Leonard Smith’s daughter. If you’d just fucked me and gone on your way. But we’re here now, and I’m trying to tell you that I care about you, that I’mgladI’m here, and you’re acting like you miss being the guy who thinks women were just put on this earth for his amusement. That guy’s a sham. You know it, and I know it. So stop pretending.”
“It ain’t about women.”
“Itis about women.”
Pistol’s jaw tightened. “You wanna tell that bitch who raised me that her fucking kid wasn’t put on this earth for her amusement?” He shook his head, teeth gritted. “You want to pretend chicks are all these innocent fucking victims of big bad wolves like me? You didn’t know her. Fuck her. Seriously, fuck her.”
Katrin didn’t waver. “She was wrong, Jax. Wrong to treat you the way she did. But that’s not an excuse for the way you treat women.” Katrin’s temper rose. “What if you have adaughter someday? What do you want to teach her?”
“Well, I don’t have a daughter, do I? So it’s a moot point.”
“But if? You want her to grow up thinking she’s a piece of meat? That if she’s lucky enough, maybe a hot guy like you will spend one magical night with her?”
“Maybe I’ll respect her fucking adult decisions. Maybe I’ll trust her to know whether she wants a night of fun with no strings attached. Casual sex isn’t a crime, Katrin. I thought we’d been over this.”
Katrin tried to ignore the disappointment that flooded her at his answer. Maybe she’d been a fool to think this man could ever make a decent husband or father. “It’s not about the casual sex. It’s about — it’s about entitlement. Thinking you own the world because you’ve got a big bike and a big gun. I’ve seen a better side of you, Jax. A side that truly cares aboutpeople.”That cares aboutme.
He grimaced. “Your point?”
“You need to take a good hard look at your life. You’re mired in the past, licking old wounds. There might never be justice for the wrongs you’ve suffered. It’s time to move on.”
His eyebrows slanted downward. “Thanks for the lecture, sweetheart. But I don’t need your opinion on my life choices.”
Condescending prick.
“I’m trying to help.”
“Yeah? Well what about you? Jumping whenever Daddy says jump?” Katrin recoiled, stung. Pistol went on, “Why do you still defend him? Because you feel guilty about your mom?”
She rounded on him, furious. “You have no idea what my life’s been like since she died. No idea!”
“Yeah, well, what’d you tell me? Time to move on. Grow up, little girl. Get out of Daddy’s pocket and try living your own life.”
She leaned forward, stunned and nearly spitting with anger. “You are such a — such an—”
“Go on, say it. Let it out.”
“An asshole!” It felt good. Damn good, to say it.
“Yeah” He’d leaned forward too, eyes lit with something that didn’t quite look like anger.
“Tell me how much of an asshole I am.”
“The biggest fucking asshole. You’re a confusing, infuriating, crude—”
His lips were on hers, and she was ready, heat roaring up through her body, her spine arching, her breasts pressing against his body. She claimed his mouth with hers, then took his lower lip in her teeth, nipping sharply.
He gasped, and she placed a hand on his chest, pushing him back gently, mindful of his shoulder. She was about to show him exactly who owned who here. When he was on his back, she straddled his hips, crossing her arms in front of her and pulling off her T-shirt. She gazed down at him, her breath quickening, heat pooling deep within her. His eyes widened slightly. She reached behind her and unhooked her bra, freeing her breasts, and let it fall from her body. The cold was a bit of a shock, but she didn’t care. She’d be warm soon enough.
She urged him up so she could slip his open jacket off and then she tossed the garment aside. Her hair, still tangled from the motorcycle ride, swept over her bare shoulders as she leaned down to kiss Pistol. Her hardening nipples grazed his chest, sending shivers through her that had nothing to do with the chilly desert night.
The flashlight flickered again. Pistol’s tongue pressed into her mouth, eager, needy. She sucked hard on his tongue until he moaned, trying to squirm under her. She placed her hands on his pecs, her thumbs circling his nipples, tracing the circles of light brown hair around them. Her pussy was already clenching hard, desperate to feel his cock. She arched backward slowly, keeping her hands on his chest and then tossing her head back, rising onto her knees once more to unsnap her jeans.
Pistol fumbled, trying to help her tug her pants down around her thighs. She un-straddled him for a moment and stood to finish undressing. She gave him a show, toeing off her shoes and then bending to slide her jeans all the way to her ankles, then slipping out of them. She stood there in nothing but a pair of purple cotton panties. She grinned down at him wickedly as he drunk in the sight of her.
She pouted her lips and said, mock-kittenishly: “Should these come off?”
He nodded frantically.
Then she hooked her thumbs in her waistband and sent the panties the way of her jeans. She kicked them away and stepped toward Pistol, ignoring the rocks that bit into the bottoms of her feet.
She knelt on the blanket again. Pistol had already toed off his shoes and unsnapped his fly, but she brushed his hand away and finished tugging down his worn jeans. She breathed in the scent of his arousal, leaning down to mouth his gray boxer briefs. He inhaled, his thighs flexing, his head tipping back. The muscles in his neck bulged, creating cords as she breathed on the bulge in his underwear.
She undressed him slowly, pausing to caress nearly every inch of him. By the time he was naked, he was panting heavily, his cock thick and flushed, nearly touching his belly. She straddled his hips again, tossing her hair away from her face. She smiled down at him. “Gonna ride you harder than I rode that bike of yours.”
Okay, so she hadn’t had much experience with dirty talk. But it felt natural, to talk to him like this — t
o let this be playful, sexy, to offer herself to him and take what he offered in return.
He let out a strained laugh. “I’m not gonna last thirty seconds, you keep on like that, honey.”
“You’d better.” She bit her lower lip and smiled again. “Because I’m not gonna stop until I’ve had my fill.”
He groaned with what sounded like a combination of pleasure and agony as she took his cock in her fist. “Katrin…”
“Hmmm?” She feigned innocence, stroking his thick shaft slowly.
His head dipped back again, and she watched his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed. He tried to raise his hips, but she sat back on him, keeping him in place. She pumped him, and he reached up with his good arm and cupped his hand around her left breast, kneading it softly. Her breath hitched. He ran his thumb gently back and forth across her nipple, until she was dripping wet, until she couldn’t stand the anticipation anymore.