Marshals' Most Wanted

by Marshals' Most Wanted (lit)

  “Brother, I say as soon as we’re done with business, we come back for a real tour of the Bar-K,” Tarik ’pathed.

  Stev met his bond-brother’s gaze and knew his own was just as hungry. It wasn’t unusual for them to share a woman. On the contrary, it was expected. Just as they would be expected to eventually share a bondmate.

  On Geminus, the human settlers had taken on the genetic traits of the majority of the mammals on the planet. Unlike most human worlds, where the sexes where roughly evenly split, males outnumbered females on Geminus two to one. Instead of forcing the males to fight for the few females available, nature added another quirk to the equation—only the semen of two compatible males combined could impregnate one female. But only the right female, the one whose body chemistry reacted to the pheromones of a bonded pair of males.

  That wasn’t the case here, of course. Neither Stev nor Tarik scented anything unusual about Hope. What they did notice was a sexy, beautiful, desirable woman whom they wouldn’t mind getting to know a lot more intimately.

  “You’re on,” Stev said.

  He sat cross-legged on the sleeping bag Hope assigned him. “Now,” he ’pathed, “while Hope’s gone for her bath, how about you check in with control.”

  “Already done.” Tarik shared what he saw on his screen. Stev closed his eyes to better visualize it. “It was faint, but the satellite caught traces indicating there’s a good chance the Blackjack is still hidden in that series of canyons we’re supposed to tour in the morning. We should be able to get a better bead on it as we get closer.”

  “Any sign of the Rogan Gang in Terminal City?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Nothing like a firm ‘maybe’ to hinge an operation on.”

  Tarik shrugged. “You said it yourself, the crooks get all the good tech. That said, while it’s possible to get around the best face-recognition program, you can’t beat good, old-fashioned visual confirmation. The team stationed in the hotel think they’ve spotted Spencer around and about. This time, instead of a hostess, she’s posing as one of the players.”

  Stev thought of the woman who stopped Orin Rogan from blasting him with the disruptor cannon. Not as any favor to him, he was certain. She’d likely done it because killing a marshal would bring a world of hurt down on the gang and effectively end any bid for clemency if—when—they were captured.

  “What about Hope?”

  “I’ve got my wristcomp wired to silently alert me if we get anywhere close to the Blackjack. As soon as I pick anything up, I’ll ’path you, and we’ll get her out of there.”

  “Okay. If it comes down to it, we can probably convince her we’ve had a relapse or something and have to get back to the ranch.”

  “And then?”

  Stev stretched out on top of his sleeping bag and stacked his arms behind his head. “Then, Rik my brother, we swoop in, save the day, arrest the bad guys—

  “—do the paperwork—”

  “—do the farging paperwork, and take ourselves a much needed vacation at a getaway on a quiet, out-of-the-way planet.”

  Tarik grinned and started shucking out of his boots and pants, readying for bed. “Like Jokers Wild?”

  “Now you’re talking.”

  Chapter 4

  A sensation somewhat like his eardrums popping under pressure yanked Stev out of a sound sleep. Disoriented, he noted his cock was a hard rod tucked tight against his belly under his shorts. He reached to adjust himself, surprised when his hand came away sticky and wet. He’d come in his sleep? He hadn’t done that since…His nostrils flared. What was that scent? That delicious, mouth-watering, gotta-have-it scent?

  A whimper and the rustle of fabric nearby made him sit up in one motion. The fire had burned down to coals, but the dull glow of it painted Hope’s skin in tones of scarlet and gold. A lot of skin. As if transported there from his dreams, she lay atop her own sleeping bag, naked of all but her glorious golden curls. One hand was thrust between her thighs, wrist working as she stroked herself. The other tugged at her breast, fingers pinching one turgid nipple. As he watched, she arched her back, breasts quivering, thighs shaking, toes curling deep into the sleeping bag. A sheen of sweat glistened on her cheeks, and she let out a moan of pure frustration.

  Stev found he was panting, sucking in deep gusts of air as she writhed in passionate despair mere feet away. The last of the sleep clearing from his mind, he inhaled deeply. The scent of aroused woman and Hope’s unique aroma grew stronger—as did something else. His blood quickened and his cock throbbed. Hope was in zusha. His eyes shot to Tarik. His bond-brother slept, but his chest rose and fell with fast, uneven breaths. Without waking, Tarik restlessly shoved the top of his sleeping bag aside and rolled to his back. The insistent flesh straining against his shorts proved his cock was just as hard as Stev’s.

  Hope moaned again, galvanizing Stev.

  “Rik!” Stev fumbled from his sleeping bag, tearing the zipper when it balked. He crouched beside his bond-brother and roughly shook his shoulder. “Rik!”

  Tarik startled awake, his eyes cloudy with arousal. “Stev?”

  “It’s Hope. She’s…she’s in zusha.”

  Tarik leaned up on one elbow, and they both stared at her. Oblivious to them, Hope futilely worked her fingers between her thighs, trying to drive herself to an orgasm that stayed just out of reach.

  Like all young adults on Geminus, Stev and Tarik learned about zusha, but they’d never seen a woman in the throes of it. The bond-heat was an intimacy shared only between bonded males and their female. Only they could give her relief.

  And apparently, unexpectedly, impossibly, Hope was mate to their bond.

  Far from Geminus, far from the seclusion of a mating bower and all the little luxuries she deserved, far even from so much as a bed and four walls, Stev and Tarik had found their mate.

  And she had no idea what was happening to her.

  * * * *

  Hope felt herself lifted by strong arms and pulled back against a broad male chest. She didn’t protest when her legs were spread and her thighs draped over muscled legs, the wiry hairs on them tickling the thin skin on the back of her knees. Someone grasped her hand and stilled her fingers where they danced and rubbed the frustrated nub of her clit.

  “No,” she gasped, tossing her head in protest.

  “Shhh,” someone whispered in her ear. Two broad hands caught her breasts, covering them in cool comfort when she hadn’t even realized how they burned.

  She allowed her hand to be eased away and was immediately rewarded when masculine lips replaced her fingers and a hard tongue twirled around her aching clit. Her hands tangled in lightly curling hair to grasp the man’s head as he sucked and teased her, bringing her the closest she’d been to ecstasy all night. She didn’t wonder how hands could be kneading and caressing her breasts as one man pressed sucking kisses along her neck and behind her jaw, while another lay between her wantonly spread legs, his magical mouth and tongue lashing her ever closer to release, to relief.

  All she could think was, Finally.

  Her hands clenched, pulling his face closer until she felt his nose and chin against her and the hot puffs of his ragged breaths.

  “Oh, God, don’t stop,” she moaned, hips twitching involuntarily. She heard harsh words muttered in an unfamiliar language, and a hand cupped her chin and urged her face to the side. Lips covered hers in a devouring kiss, and a tongue shoved roughly into her mouth. She suckled it, loving it. Without warning, fingers thrust into her cunt. Pleasure flamed her senses, washing over her like liquid fire. Hope gave a broken cry as the walls of her inner passage convulsed around the invading fingers. It seemed to go on forever, but her unseen lovers didn’t let up. Talented tongues and hands stroked her mouth and belly and mound, prolonging her pleasure until the waves slowed and ebbed.

  Hope exhaled a long breath of satisfaction, loosening her panicked grip on silky hair to weakly caress a rough hewn jaw. Then, completely enervated by her long de
layed release, she sank into the strong arms that hugged her close and let the darkness take her.

  * * * *

  Stev pressed his face into Hope’s belly and fought for control.

  “We won’t have long,” he ’pathed. “Then she’ll wake up and it’ll start all over again.”

  Tarik gently brushed Hope’s sweat-tangled hair away from her face. Lost in the comfort of slumber, she looked very young. “Are you sure? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a non-Geminus female going into zusha. How can we tell what will happen with Hope?”

  “What else can we do?” Stev leaned back and straightened Hope’s legs to a more comfortable position, his hand lingering on her slender calf. “If she reacts like a Geminus bondmate, at least we’ll know what to expect, know how to help her.”

  “We should get her back to her ranch.”

  Stev frowned. “That won’t do us any good tonight. Besides, what will happen then? It’s not like she won’t still need us. And you think her family will just accept that the only people who can help her are us?”

  Tarik looked around at the shadows concealing the rugged terrain and hardy bushes bordering their campsite. “Not exactly the treatment a woman in zusha deserves.”

  “Of course not.” Stev scrubbed a tired hand over his face but couldn’t bring himself to stop caressing Hope’s leg with wondering fingers. He knew Tarik felt the same way, this instant connection with a woman they’d just met. It wasn’t supposed to happen, but it had. “She deserves the best we can give her. It’s just our misfortune this is the best we can give her, at least right now. Do you disagree?”

  Tarik heaved a sigh. “No.” Then, “And the job?”

  Stev cursed softly. Putting together the pieces about the Rogan Gang’s next move and tracking them to Jokers Wild had taken months of planning and thousands of man-hours. Other teams were in place, ready to do their part. Tarik and Stev only needed to definitively locate the gang’s ship, disable it, and call in the hand-to-hand guys. “You’re certain we’ll get some warning when we get close to the Blackjack?”

  “Well, I was certain when I thought Hope was just our guide. But now…”

  “Rik?”

  His bond-brother grimaced. “I’ll check my coding in the morning, see if I can tighten it up enough to get more lead-time.”

  “All right. And if you can’t, we’ll abort and tell them to send in another team. Or something. I don’t know.” Stev dropped his chin on his chest and closed his eyes. Hope’s delicious, zusha-laced fragrance made his head spin. Or maybe it was the loss of blood to the greedy organ below his waist, which was rock hard and put out that it as yet remained unsatisfied. “We’ll see in the morning.”

  Hope stirred but subsided when Tarik spoke soothingly into her ear. “Won’t be long,” he ’pathed. “I can feel her skin heating up again already.”

  “Enough of this, then. We’d better do what we can now.”

  Tarik rolled to his feet, easily juggling Hope’s lax body until she was draped in the cradle of his arms. Stev quickly zippered a couple of the sleeping bags together, leaving the third as a covering. While Tarik settled Hope on the new bedroll, he stoked up the fire and placed more logs nearby to ensure they wouldn’t have to go looking through the night.

  Stev pulled off his shorts and shirt and lay down beside Hope. Tarik filled a bowl with warm water from the kettle near the fire. Handing it and a cloth to his bond-brother, Tarik stripped off the last of his own clothes and stretched out on Hope’s other side.

  “Rik.” When their gazes met, Stev gave him a slow smile. “At least we’ve found our bondmate.”

  Tarik’s answering grin was every bit as full of delighted wonder.

  * * * *

  Rogan ended the com before Shirrah had a chance to.

  Lips twisting in irritation, she sank into an elegant sprawl on the sim-horsehair couch. The scratchy material pricked the backs of her thighs and shoulders, adding to her annoyance. Rogan was being reckless. Instead of heeding her previous warning about spotting the two marshals from Farrah’s, he was determined to go ahead with the job. Shirrah was almost certain, now she knew to watch for them, that there were more agents around and about town. Added to the tournament’s already formidable security, it was enough to make Shirrah want to write off the job and go for something easier. But not Rogan. As if regretting his decision to leave the two marshals alive the last time they’d met, his only response to her concerns had been to tell her to watch her ass and do her job.

  A discreet knock drew Shirrah from contemplating her reservations. Sighing, she stood up and walked to the door. Turning the painted porcelain handle, she opened it wide.

  The older man on the other side swallowed convulsively when he saw what she wore. Eyes roved slowly from her spike-tipped heels over the old-fashioned white stockings covering her sleek calves and thighs. Ribbons secured the stockings to the bottom of the frilly white corset that molded her waist cruelly thin and mounded her breasts over the bodice, where his gaze stopped.

  “Uh,” he mumbled. “Drinks, you said…”

  “I thought we could have them here. Much more private, don’t you think?”

  He swallowed again but didn’t move. Men were so easy.

  Giving him a sharp toothed, predatory smile, she hooked her fingers into his lapel and pulled him into the room. “Come on in, sheriff. Let me show you to the couch.”

  Shirrah closed the door and sent him trundling on his way with a controlled slap on one fleshy buttock. “And by the way,” she said, her voice cool. “Take off your clothes.”

  Chapter 5

  Hope awoke to the wonderful sensation of a damp cloth trailing over her burning cheeks. The cloth left, and she heard the tinkling sound of water splashing in a dish. Then it was back, tracing a damp trail down her neck and over her collarbones. She felt warm, surrounded, and safe. Masculine fingers twined with hers and held her arm up for the attentions of the newly dampened cloth. More fingers tangled with her other hand, and her left arm was treated to the same service. Water droplets plinked, and the cloth began to minister to her breasts. Hope sucked in a surprised breath as the friction shot a tingling spray of delight over her skin, settling in her nipples.

  “Hush now, Hope,” someone whispered. “Let us take care of you.”

  Awareness swam to the top of her fuzzy mind. Us? More than one person cared for her? Was she ill?

  The cloth continued its journey from her breasts and down her belly, where it swirled around her navel in soothing strokes to her hipbones on either side. Hope opened heavy eyelids and stared up at the pinpoints of stars and the fullness of the lowering moon. A body shifted on the pallet beside her. The now familiar sound of water trickling into a bowl heralded the return of the cloth. Hands holding hers, a third holding the cloth. Naked, unmistakably male, bodies bracketing hers. The distinct feel of hard ground under her back, cushioned by a sleeping bag. An alarmed glance proved her suspicions: Stev and Tarik, her clients, were tucked against her intimately close, touching her, bathing her.

  Hope snapped her hands free and scrambled up, her attempt to flee hampered by a strange lethargy that forced her back to her knees. Not exactly weakness, it was unlike anything she’d ever felt before. Unable to stand, she crawled and crabbed away from the two men until she hunkered down at the bottom of the makeshift mattress and faced them.

  Disturbed by the unexpected flurry of motion, the hobbled horses, dark shadows in the moonlight, shuffled uneasily. Stev and Tarik, fully aroused, watched her with glittering eyes.

  Hope snatched up the sleeping bag left untidily folded beside the pallet and threw it over her shoulders like a cloak, holding it closed at her throat with whitened knuckles. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “Helping you,” Stev said quietly, calmly.

  “Helping me?” Hope asked in disbelief. She tucked her feet under the skirt of the bag. “By stripping me naked in my sleep and…and doing something to me? Why didn�
��t I wake up? Did you drug me?”

  Apparently unbothered by their nakedness or their raging hard-ons—or the fact they were in such a state in front of each other—Stev and Tarik shared a glance.

  “We didn’t do anything to you on purpose,” Stev said.

  “Oh, so you accidentally took all my clothes off and touched me.” Hope held on to her anger, knowing if she didn’t, fear would take over. She was far from home and possible rescue, alone, naked, with two men who were virtual strangers. She tried to take mental stock of her body. It didn’t feel like she’d had sex.

  Without warning, her pussy clenched. A wave of lust seemed to roll over her before subsiding into a teasing warmth between her legs and at the crests of her breasts. The sleeping bag’s lining rasped against her abruptly sensitive skin, more like steel wool than soft flannel. It was an act of pure will to resist throwing it off to expose herself to the chilly night air. Her belly twisted into a desperate knot. Hope moaned and hunched over.

  In the space from one breath to the next, Stev and Tarik were beside her, hands on her elbows, supporting her.

  “Hope, shalla. What you’re feeling is called zusha,” Stev said. “It’s a mating heat.”

  “Mating heat?” Hope laughed shakily in disbelief. “I’m human, you moron. Humans don’t go into heat. You must have given me some kind of drug to make me feel like this. And when we get back to the ranch—”

  “We didn’t give you anything,” Tarik insisted. “On Geminus, zusha begins when a woman meets her biological matches, the men who will be her mates. It’s triggered when a bonded pair sense their mate and start producing pheromones to attract her.”

  “What—” Hope paused to wet her lips, unbearably aware of Stev and Tarik’s nudity. Lean and hard with well-defined muscles, their handsome faces stark with a blend of concern and passion, they were enough to make any woman pant. “Oh, I can’t think. What are you saying?”