"Oh God." Caroline swallowed hard.
All right. What to do? She had to sneak up on whoever it was and see if he was keeping Logan prisoner. She absolutely, positively wouldn't think that those gunshots meant anything uglier than.. .well.. .that man's laughter.
Keeping the pistol at the ready, she made her way toward the sound. Perspiration trickled down her back as she heard that horrible cackle. All right, that was a good sign. He wouldn't be laughing like that if someone wasn't around to hear him. Would he?
Maybe there were two gunmen. Maybe they were laughing at each other. Over Logan's... "No!" she shouted in a whisper.
Caroline continued toward the sound, moving quietly, but not silently. Tomorrow before she and Logan resumed their journey, she'd make him take five minutes and show her how to walk like a ghost. That was a skill she could use. One she needed, by God.
Oh, God. Please, God. Let him be all right.
Moving forward, her foot slid on loose gravel and she swayed, losing her balance, making way too much noise. She reached out and grabbed at the thorny branches of a bush, saving herself from a fall at the sacrifice of her skin. She clenched her teeth against an expression of pain as the spikes gouged deep into her hand and stood silently for a moment, hoping—praying—that her mishap had gone undetected.
For a full minute she waited, holding her breath. Then when she heard the stranger begin speaking, she moved steadily forward. "Just take a look at the Preacher there if you doubt that I know how to make you talk. I'm famous in the canyon for my knife work," cackled the voice. "Stubborn fool wanted to take the secret of Shotgun Reese's stash to his grave. Well, it didn't happen, did it? Lookee here."
Close now, Caroline stopped when he quit talking. She saw a flare of light and heard the crackle of burning brush. Then the man continued, "I aim to win this fight, boy. I want that gold. You might as well tell me before I hurt you like the Preacher here. I'll be happy to slit your throat nice and quick like. That's a sacrifice for me, I might add. I do enjoy my knife. So, talk. Where is she?"
She? Did he mean me? Surely not. Though she hadn't seen his face, judging from the sound of his voice she'd never met the man. What could he possibly want with her?
"Whatever you think Caroline knows, you're flat-out wrong," Logan said.
Logan! A tidal wave of relief washed over Caroline as she listened to his strong voice continue, "Ben Whitaker never mentioned the goddamned treasure to her. She doesn't know squat."
Her sight of the men was blocked by the same crag of rock that hid her. The rocks also deflected the voices, making it impossible to know which man was standing where. She did, however, smell blood and the fact frightened her half to death.
"Doesn't matter. Whitaker told the Preacher the location of Shotgun's stash in exchange for a promise to guard over the woman. He knew she'd be coming after her boy once the Plunketts snatched him."
"Which they did in order to use the boy to threaten Whitaker?"
"Yep. Just like I'm gonna do with your lady. Now, where is she?"
"Go to hell."
The stranger cackled his evil laugh. "Now, that was a mistake."
Only because she was listening hard did Caroline hear Logan's quick intake of breath.
"That feel good? It's just a warm-up. Although, since I've already tested my skills tonight, I'm already pretty warm. Maybe I'll skip straight to your pecker. Ever thought what it would feel like to bleed out from your pecker?"
"Fuck you."
"'Fraid that'd be difficult to do, though, since you won't have a pecker. Last chance. Where is she?"
Dear Jesus. Please help me. Caroline drew a deep, bracing breath, then stepped forward, the pistol leveled at the villain's heart. Logan was seated, his hands bound behind him, his legs tied at the ankles. The stranger knelt beside him.
She hadn't expected this. How had he gotten the jump on Logan? He was young, younger than Logan, but lanky and slim, not broad and muscular like her husband. Even as the stranger noted her arrival, she snapped in a tone filled with bravado, "She's right here, you thug. Drop the knife."
The stranger moved like lightning and had his knife at Logan's throat even as she prepared to pull the trigger. "You drop the gun, bitch, and I'll let him live."
"You cut him again and you are dead." Inside, Caroline quavered with fear and nervousness, but she used the lessons she'd learned from living with Ben and Suzanne to keep those feelings off her face.
Tension hung in the air thick enough to taste. In the flickering firelight, Logan's eyes snapped with frustrated anger. The man dragged the knife, and Logan's blood beaded against the silver blade. Caroline gritted her teeth as the outlaw said, "Last warning."
He laughed and the sound sent shivers up her spine. In the dim light, his eyes took on a maniacal glow and they telegraphed his intent. Caroline's finger tightened on the trigger just as Logan let out a yell and threw himself toward the man and knocked him over.
They rolled and grunted and bucked, but Logan's ability to battle was limited by the ropes around his wrists and ankles. Caroline's throat went tight. She took a step closer as the men rolled again. This time, the stranger ended up on top and as he rose up and lifted his arm, the knife flashed in the firelight.
Caroline pulled the trigger. Once. Twice. Three times.
The stranger slumped on top of Logan, who cursed and bucked the body off. "Goddammit, Caroline!" he hollered.
"Are you hit?"
"No! I'm fine. What the hell were you thinking?"
"Excuse me. I need to be sick." She turned away and that was when she saw the body lying on the ground. "Oh God."
She stumbled around a rock and fell to her hands and knees. Her stomach heaved and she vomited until she was empty.
A hand touched her back and she jumped. "Caroline," Logan said.
He's all right. Thank you, God. Logan is all right. I'm all right.
No. I'm not all right. I just killed a man.
Oh my God. She gave her head a shake, hoping to clear it. "You're loose, Logan. How did you get loose?"
"Fellow left a knife lying around. C'mon, let's go back to our camp."
"He's dead, isn't he? I killed him. I killed a man."
"Somebody other than me. Imagine that."
Somewhere deep inside, she appreciated his attempt at humor, but she couldn't summon so much as a smile. She felt shaky and sick and afraid. She'd killed a man.
Logan put his hands at her waist and lifted her onto her feet. "Let's go back, honey. I can use a dip in the creek."
Caroline went along with him blindly as reality settled in. Halfway to their campsite she started to shake violently. She stumbled and he caught her to keep her from falling. In her mind's eye she relived the moment she pulled the trigger and her head began to spin. "I need to sit down."
Instead, he lifted her into his arms and carried her like a child back to their campfire. When the tears started, he held her, rocked her and murmured comforting words against her ears until she slipped into sleep.
Logan hated to leave her, but he needed to go bury that poor man the killer had called the Preacher. Besides, he had a powerful anger riding his blood that simply wouldn't stop.
He carried the camp spade and a blanket back to the scene and went to work digging a single grave between a cholla cactus and a flowering agave. Since Caroline had been the one to shoot the bastard, he didn't feel obligated to bury him. In fact, in this instance if he had been the one to pull the trigger, he'd probably make an exception to his rule. He couldn't think of anyone he'd rather see picked clean by the buzzards than this sorry snake.
Rage pulsed through Logan's veins as he methodically turned the hard dirt. Rage at the killer, rage at the circumstances, rage at himself. He had a lot of rage at his own missteps in this fiasco. He deserved to have his throat slit for letting that son of a bitch get the better of him.
He deserved to have his nuts cut off for putting Caroline in the position to kill.
Come to think of
it, he was a tad bit furious with her, too.
When she'd stepped into the firelight, he'd about had a heart attack. The one positive he'd held on to during the debacle was the knowledge that she was stuck away somewhere safe. Seeing her reveal herself had struck fear into his bones unlike any he'd known before.
He'd have to think about that later.
Now he just wanted to get this damned job done. One positive result of his fury was the energy he had to put into his digging. The desert ground was hard and dry, but it couldn't withstand his temper.
He'd dug half the grave before the rolling boil of his rage lessened to a simmer and he was able to think straight once again. He spent a few moments considering the information he'd learned from the killer.
First, he'd confirmed that the Plunketts had Will. Logan had been ninety-five percent certain of it, but it was nice to know for sure. Second, he'd learned that Whitaker expected Caroline to come look for her son, and that he believed strongly that she needed protection. Logan's gaze drifted to the bag of gold promised to the Preacher in payment for such protection. He might have to reconsider his opinion of Whitaker. He'd given away a fortune in gold to protect Caroline. Not exactly the behavior one might expect from an outlaw.
Finally, he thought about his own plans in relation to tonight's events. Had anything changed? Should he reconsider how he intended to take Caroline into Black Shadow Canyon? One piece of information he dearly wished he'd gotten from the killer was just how he'd known what this Preacher fellow was up to. Was the whole Geronimo's Treasure search common knowledge in the canyon? God, he hoped not. Caroline would be a target for every man out there.
Shoot, she was already a target for every man. Her beauty assured that. What the hell had he been thinking letting her come along?
Logan stripped off his shirt and medallion, then sank his shovel into the dirt and repeated a litany of curses until a new thought occurred. Maybe tonight's troubles would have given her second thoughts. Maybe she'd be so upset over having taken a life, she'd be willing to return to Van Horn and wait for him and Will.
He struck rock and the jar on the spade rattled his hand and shook some sense into him. Caroline, leave without her son? The lioness give up? When hell froze over, perhaps.
No, if anything, once the shock cleared from her mind, she might consider continuing her killing ways by plugging a bullet into him. He couldn't argue that he didn't deserve it.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd made such a stupid, green mistake as to let the bastard get the drop on him. The fact was that he'd let himself get distracted by playing Peeping Tom at his wife. Lust had clouded his mind like a dust storm, and he hadn't had a single clear thought until the bastard's bullet kicked up the dirt at his feet.
Hell, he'd load Caroline's gun for her if she wanted to shoot him.
Judging the grave to be deep enough, Logan approached the mutilated body and wrapped it in the blanket. "God have mercy on your soul, Preacher," he said as he covered the corpse's face. "I thank you for trying to help my wife. Wish I had been around to be of help to you."
He tugged the body into the grave, then began the process of filling it with dirt. Once that was done, he piled stones atop the dirt, stood at the head of the grave and said the Lord's Prayer.
He grabbed up his shirt and medallion, then took a circuitous route back to camp, keeping a sharp eye out for the presence of any other intruders. He returned to find that Caroline continued to slumber. With any luck, she'd sleep straight through the night.
Feeling gritty, grimy and sore, Logan grabbed a bar of soap and a towel from his supplies, stripped off the rest of his clothes and waded waist-deep into the cold spring water. He soaped himself, scrubbing hard to wash off the blood—both his own and that of others—then submerged his entire body beneath the water. The cuts and scrapes from the fight burned like fire and he gritted his teeth against the pain.
Pushing out of the water, he gave his head a shake and set droplets of water flying. The movement pulled at the cut across his throat and he winced. He felt the dribble of liquid down his neck and touched it, hoping it was water. Thick. Warm. Sticky. Hell.
He'd have to get Caroline to sew it up for him in the morning. The idea pissed him off. Reminded him how stupid he'd been. How reckless Caroline had been. He tossed her sleeping form a fulminating look.
They couldn't let it happen again. He needed to keep his mind out of his pants and she absolutely had to follow his instructions. To the letter! It had worked out all right tonight, but they could not count on being lucky like this again. Not with his luck.
Logan waded out of the stream, both physical pain and mental ire heating his temper once again. Naked and dripping, he reached for the towel he'd left draped across a bush and wiped himself dry.
He slung the damp towel around his neck and put pressure against the cut hoping to stop the bleeding. It was then that he noticed that Caroline was awake, sitting up and watching him.
Absently, she licked her lips.
Blood rushed immediately to his crotch, dammit. Hell, no sense keeping pressure on the cut—no blood in my neck left to lose.
The fact that he was so painfully aroused, so quickly, made him furious. He lashed out at her saying, "Goddammit, Caroline."
She blinked. Her gaze lifted to his eyes. "What?"
"What?" he repeated. He wrapped the towel around his hips, shielding himself from what looked to be a hungry gaze. The fact that he did it when what he really wanted was to march over to her and bury himself in her charms only flamed the fires of his anger hotter. "You ask me what?"
"Urn...yes."
"You can't look at me like that!"
"Like what?"
"Like I'm cream and you're a thirsty kitten."
"Oh. Did I do that?"
"You damned sure did!"
"I'm sorry. I was asleep. I woke up and there you were. All... naked."
"For God's sake, Caroline."
She smiled sheepishly, then said, "You're all scarred and bloody. A warrior. You make me feel safe."
"Safe? Christ, Caroline. I almost got you killed tonight."
"No, you almost got yourself killed, which I admit does stir my temper. You need to be more careful with yourself."
"Careful with myself?" The tucked-in towel slipped a bit as he brought his hands up, held on to his head and repeated a frustrated, "Careful with myself! This from the woman who left a perfectly safe hiding spot after promising me she wouldn't?"
"You can't hold that against me, Logan. I also promised I would watch your back. After hearing three gunshots, I determined I had no other choice."
"I didn't ask you to watch my back!"
"Nevertheless, I promised I would."
He turned away and started pacing back and forth. Frustration had him slapping a towel-clad thigh as he attempted to rein in his temper. He'd damned sure better get hold of himself, or else...
Or else he'd be taking hold of her.
"Grrrr," he growled. Then he stopped, braced his hands on his hips and said, "Look, we need to talk."
A smile briefly flirted with her lips. "You say that to me rather often, do you realize that? I don't want to talk, Logan. Come here."
"No."
"Why not?"
"It's not safe."
She sat up straighter and her eyes went round. "Are you worried about another intruder?"
Hell, he hadn't meant to scare her. "No, we're okay. I checked things out before I took my bath."
"So, why aren't we safe?"
"You're safe. I'm not!"
"I don't understand."
"Yes, you do. You damned sure do. You're dangerous, woman!"
"Because I killed a man tonight?"
"No, because you make me want to forget everything I'm supposed to be doing and thinking. That's what got me into trouble earlier tonight and I'd have to be a cotton-headed fool to let it happen again."
"I want to forget, too, Logan. It's been a really awful..
." her voice cracked slightly as she added ".. .horrible night. Please come here and help me forget."
"No."
Caroline's reply was to stare at him for a long moment, then rise gracefully to her feet. She took hold of the hem of her gown and whipped it over her head.
In the end, Logan was simply a man. He didn't have the fortitude or the desire to withstand a woman—this woman—bent on seduction.
To hell with it. Yet, even as he closed the distance between them, his anger at himself and at her simmered on his nerves. As a result, when he grabbed her hand and yanked her into his arms, the gentleness he'd shown her before was missing.
He buried his fingers in her hair and yanked her head back. His heartbeat raced as he ravaged her throat. His mind fogged as he savaged her mouth. The need to take her pounded through him like a drug.
Caroline didn't appear to mind his harsh treatment. She met his rough kiss with a wildness of her own. When his hands gripped her hips and kneaded the soft, supple flesh, her hands streaked up and down his back. Her nails scraping. Her fists pounding. Her voice demanding more even as it whimpered.
Their lips fused in a desperate kiss, their tongues battling, their teeth scraping. The heat of his desire burned through any restraint, any self-control. He stumbled forward, backing her against a hard, rough wall of rock. She lifted her legs, wrapped them around him. He tore his mouth free of hers, hoisted her higher and fastened it on her breast.
He suckled her greedily, feasted on her sweet flesh, and hot, electric lust pumped through his blood like a drug. Through his own haze, Logan heard the desperate, wild sounds she made. Madness had hold of him. He had no gentle caress to give her, no soft words. Yet, judging by every fevered response, Caroline didn't need that. Didn't want that.
Her hands grasped and grabbed, her fingernails bit into his skin. She cried out in pleasure as his tongue and teeth scraped roughly over her. Her legs gripped his waist like a vise.
He spun away from the rock wall and strode toward the bedrolls. She nipped at his jaw, pressed a sweet, gentle kiss against the cut on his throat, then sank her teeth into the spot where neck and shoulder met. The flash of dark, erotic pain made everything inside him go tight.
The Loner Page 19