Caleb could only imagine the thoughts crossing her mind at what else to do to attract Dutch’s attention other than falling on his lap. He sighed heavily, disappointed and angry with himself for not being more help. Can’t push a wagon in front of the horse once the wheel’s broke.
He shook his head out of frustration. Megan needed him, not the love, comfort, or pleasure he could provide. Strength. Protection. Guts and Glory. That and more was what she needed. Right now, he only had an ungodly supply of doubts.
He had fought the excruciating aches and pains tooth and nail to shift himself to his seated position on the floor, leaning his back against the sofa. Late last night, the fever set in. He was burning up, his body constantly beaded with perspiration. Earlier, the pain had taken its toil when he attempted to join her on the sofa. And the burst of strength he called upon for that small repositioning left him drained, gasping for air as he finally gave up and sunk back to the floor. Though he didn’t let on to Megan the extent of his internal injuries, he was convinced at least one more reserve of adrenaline remained. After that, he just didn’t know.
“Now, that’s a fine pickle.” He kept his tone serious to capture her undivided attention. She looked down at him, puzzled. “Should I be more offended when he’s tearing your clothes off with his eyes, or because he’s lost interest? Ouch,” he softly feigned distress when she lightly punched his arm.
“You’re horrible. I don’t know why I love you.”
He glanced up at her through his good eye. He heard the amusement in her tone, but it was the sudden fluttering of her long lashes that let him know she didn’t realize what she was saying until after she said it.
Smiling, he winked at her with the bad eye since it was practically closed anyway, extending little effort. “I suggest you refrain from talk like that, or I’ll have to disclose my unholy side.” The thought alone was enough to send his cock into a jerking frenzy under the blanket. No safe time to preen or primp, her hair hadn’t been combed in days or her dress changed, yet her eyes sparked, and her skin glowed with a silky radiance. She was absolutely beautiful. As his gaze lingered on the delicacy of her oval face, he struggled to ignore the sexual awareness heating his blood, escalating his blood pressure. This was not the time, nor the place. Well, maybe the place, but definitely not the time.
She had the most endearing smile on her lips and a delightfully pink blush across her cheeks. The remnants of her bruise were a faint blue and yellow, but still noticeable, as was the lusty glimmer in her hazel eyes. Oh, yeah, there were carnal thoughts on her mind, too.
“If you can manage to keep your hands off me, best if we sit tight for the time being.” He deliberately spoke in a soft, seductive tone, meant to titillate her the way she had been taunting him ever since yesterday, when she stripped his clothes off from the waist up. Rico complained he didn’t want to stare at Caleb’s naked chest all damned day. Megan told him he wouldn’t need to if they would have kept their hands to themselves. Dutch glared at him viciously every time he walked in the house. Pablo gave her questioning glances. While the others did the only manly thing one does in the situation—turned up their noses and went about their business.
Megan nursed the bumps, bruises and gashes on his arms, chest and back, along with the knot on his head. She wiped him down with a cool, damp rag, nice and slow. So painstakingly slow, it drove him insane. She slid that rag over every inch of his upper body while her fingertips brushed along his skin. He would watch as her eyes darkened with need and her skin pinked with arousal. Her breath caught as his nipples hardened whenever she raked them with her fingernails. By the time she was done, his erection was aching worse than his ribs, throbbing for relief. She would lick her lips and stare hungrily as it jerked underneath the blanket under her intense gaze.
And last night, the little vixen had to have been horny as hell. Everyone else was asleep except the guy on watch duty. About ready to pass out himself from sensory overload, he felt her hand slip under the blanket, cup his cock and squeeze. His entire body tightened as a bolt of heat shot from his cock up to his spine, down to his toes. Good, Lord, he almost came right then and there. As if she didn’t know what she was doing, she smiled sweetly, stood up, and went to bed. If he didn’t know any better, he would have sworn he heard her moan as she masturbated herself to sleep. It was probably wishful thinking on his part. Because if it were true, with the way the others were walking around with hard-ons of their own, there would have been hell to pay if they heard.
“Don’t want to fight them all again.” Smirking, he cast her a telling sidelong glance
Megan raised both her brows amusedly and hid her grin behind her hand. Her cheeks flushed a bright red, and he knew she got the message.
“Let him come to us,” he advised, returning to the pressing issue at hand as his gaze lowered to the two little buds pressing proudly against her bodice. He was about to tell her what he was going to do to her after they got out of this as his eyes lifted and noticed she nodded in agreement.
Her head suddenly jerked up, and they both turned around when Emma came out of the bedroom, calling for her.
* * * *
“Whadda ya want, kid?” Rico asked, placing his cards face down in front of him.
Megan immediately stood, her eyes wide with alarm by the menacing tone in his voice.
“I hafta go,” Emma stated simply.
“Go where?” Chewy’s expression evoked ridicule from the other men.
“Jackass, she hasta take a piss,” Dutch muttered.
“I’ll take her.” Megan rushed across the room, pulse racing out of control.
Before she reached Emma, Pablo jumped in front of her and grabbed Emma by the arm. “I take her.”
“The chamber pot is in the closet. It’s no trouble.” Her eyes darted from Emma to Pablo.
“It’s startin’ to stink like piss round here. I takin’ her to the shitter outside.”
Megan felt her heart sink. “No,” she practically shouted, not caring her outburst drew glares from the other men. “I’ll take her. I promise we won’t try to run. You can even walk with us, if you prefer.”
He pushed past Megan, taking Emma with him as she squirmed in his restrictive grasp.
“Pablo, come right back. Don’t try nuttin’ funny.” Rico picked up his cards and returned his attention to the poker game.
Pablo chuckled while the door closed behind him and Emma.
Megan stared at the door, her body going numb.
* * * *
“Judging from them saddles, I know who they are,” Devin said gruffly, peering through the hole in the barn wall as he studied the house for signs of Megan and the girls.
“What they want?” Rising Sun asked, crouched beside him.
“They ain’t here to wish me happy birthday.”
“You and me get them.” Rising Sun held up his rifle, the dark shadow in his eyes instantly recognizable.
Devin gave a single nod. “We need a plan—” He stopped talking when movement on the porch caught the corner of his eye. “Shit,” he muttered. “The bastard has Emma.”
They watched as Pablo and Emma walked toward the outhouse.
As soon as Emma slipped inside the small structure, Devin sprinted toward the window in the back of the barn. “Stay here. I’ll be back.”
* * * *
“I’m ready to go inside now.” Emma looked up at the grungy man with wiry whiskers as she stepped out of the outhouse.
Pablo rubbed his jaw, grinning. “You and I go for little walk, eh?” He nodded toward the pecan trees.
“Megan is waiting for me. I’d rather not.” Despairingly, she looked at the ranch house.
Emma drew back slightly as his large hand reached out and brushed her hair from her shoulder. “Your mama will not mind if you and me have some fun.”
“It’s too late to play outside.”
“The game I got in mind we play anytime.” He grabbed her by the arm and she tried to p
ull her arm back. His grip tightened. “It’ll be our little secret.”
“I don’t want to go with you,” Emma spat, refusing to move.
She squealed as he swung his arm under her, freeing her feet from the ground. He tucked her under his arm, and she opened her mouth to scream for Megan. Nothing came out as he clamped his free hand over her mouth. He hurried behind the trees.
* * * *
Sprinting, Devin didn’t pause to think. There was only time to react. Leaping through the air, fingers twisted around the well-worn handle of his large bowie knife. In the same instant he landed on Pablo, he shouted a warning, “Emma, turn away.
With his full weight, he brought Pablo face-down in the earth. As they landed, Pablo lost his hold on Emma. She scurried behind a tree.
Within half a second, Devin’s fingernails tore into the man’s face as he pulled his head back, the knife slicing his throat from ear to ear, so deep and vicious, his head was almost completely severed.
Before jumping to his feet, he swiped the blade clean on the dead man’s shirt and returned it to the sheath at his waist. He spun around anxiously and looked for Emma.
“Emma,” he choked with untapped emotions. His voice was rough and his breath came fast as he went to her.
Going to his knees, he yanked her into his embrace and breathed a heavy sigh of relief. His heart pounded in his chest. He closed his eyes, and for the first time in his life, he felt them start to well with tears.
“Devin,” she said feebly, drawing her small arms around his neck. She clung to him, and he felt her tiny body yield to the strong, heartfelt emotions abandoned long ago. Every nerve, every fiber shook her tiny frame. The pain, torment, and disenchantment, unbefitting one so young, washed away as the tears flowed in a never-ending stream.
He held for long, powerfully moving minutes as he listed to her tears, felt his own streaming down his face unchecked.
“You’re safe now,” he finally assured her.
“Don’t go. Don’t leave me. Everyone leaves me. My ma, my brother, Pawpaw. Please, Devin, don’t leave me. I’m scared.”
With utmost care, his hands clasped around her face. At last, his searching eyes saw the real Emma, a frightened eight-year-old child, for the first time. As though he looked in a mirror, big, silver eyes looked up at him, frightened of being loved, loving, being abandoned, and of just plain living.
She reminded him of a boy at the age of ten.
Devin swallowed tightly. The lump was lower. He swallowed hard again, but it wouldn’t go away.
He pressed her hard into his embrace, unconscious of whether he was hurting her or not, only aware of the need to hold her close, keep her safe, free from all harm. “Dear, sweet Emma,” he said soothingly, rocking her gently. “I know you’re afraid, but you’re safe now. Can you be brave for me while I help Shelby? I won’t be far.”
“No, Devin,” she cried. He didn’t want to let her go.
“Listen to me, Emma. Shelby and Megan need me.” He stood, picking her up with him. “I’ll be back for you. I promise.”
Sniffling, Emma nodded. He saw her upper lip stiffen, knew she was trying to be brave as she fought back the tears. His brave little girl, the little sister who shared more than eye color.
“You can help me by telling me how many men there are.”
She looked like she wanted to glance over her shoulder at the man lying a few feet away in a pool of blood, as if she needed to make sure it wasn’t necessary to count him as one of the bad guys any longer. “Four. Megan shot one of them, but he didn’t die.”
Damn peashooter, Devin thought to himself. He knew he should have left her with a real gun. One that could do some damage. He had intended to teach Caleb how to use a firearm, but never seemed to get around to it.
“Are Megan and Shelby okay?”
She nodded. “They hurt Caleb real bad.”
Frowning at the many implications Caleb’s presence connoted, he lowered her to the ground. He turned and allowed one emphatic curse word before facing Emma once more.
Taking a risk, he whistled for Deuce. Trained to follow his master’s path, he was not worried Deuce would be spotted. His one concern was the men holding Megan and Shelby captive were familiar with his whistle. The element of surprise would be lost.
“Deuce will be here in a moment, Emma. If I’m not back in an hour, I want you to ride into town. Do you understand?”
“Okay.” Her voice was soft as she put up a brave front, wiping the tears from her chubby pink cheeks.
A few moments later, Deuce appeared.
Emma was settled in the saddle as she listened intently to his final instructions.
“No matter what you hear, you stay put. After one hour, he’ll take you into town.” He patted Deuce, and the horse acknowledged with a whiny nod. “I said that for Deuce’s sake. Makes him feel important. Between you and I, I’ll be back.”
They exchanged a smile.
He turned on his heels.
His total demeanor changed.
No longer Devin the comforter, protector. Devin the big brother, or even Devin the lover, he was now the Devil’s Spawn. A distance traversed into a realm beyond human comprehension. It beat in his heart and flowed in his blood, the need and taste for revenge that only spilt blood could satisfy.
He raced over the large hill behind the house, through the open field well beyond the garden, past the bunkhouse, and around the small hill. In a matter of minutes, he reached the barn.
* * * *
Inside the house, Megan’s hand dropped to Caleb’s shoulder instantly at the faint noise ringing in the distance outside. Her fingers dug into his shoulder as she fell into a trance.
“What is it, Megan?” Caleb looked up at her.
“Did you hear that?” Rico was the first to speak.
“I didn’t hear nothin’,” Chewy muttered before taking the last gulp of whiskey in the bottle.
“Sounded like a bird.” Big Lou shrugged his shoulders.
“That ain’t no fuckin’ bird.” Rico jumped out of his seat and ran to the kitchen window, gun drawn. “That’s Spawn.”
The other men all stood, pulling their weapons. Two rushed to the parlor window, and Dutch joined Rico at the kitchen window. “You sure it’s him?”
“I’d know that call anywhere. That damn friggin’ horse is out there, too.”
“I don’t see nothin’.” Chewy squinted his eyes as he cautiously peered out the window.
“Slippery bastard,” Rico grumbled heatedly. He’s like a fucking injun. It’s when you don’t see him you needs to be worried.”
“Grab the girl.” Dutch gestured toward Chewy.
“Which one?”
“You idiot,” he spat. “That one.” He gestured with the pistol toward Megan.
Gripped with fear, she couldn’t protest, let alone breathe. Her only awareness was of Devin. He was there. Somewhere outside, he was there.
Chewy yanked her off the sofa by the wrist.
“Leave her alone,” Caleb shouted as he started to rise to his feet.
The heel of Chewy’s boot landed flush on the side of his face. Caleb fell to the floor with a grunt.
* * * *
Rising Sun examined Devin as his big body squeezed through the window, then straightened to his full height. Though he looked like he fought a war, there wasn’t a drop of blood on him or any sign of exertion.
“Little girl okay?”
Devin replied with a single nod as he hunkered on his heels close to where Rising Sun was crouched, watching and listening.
“There are four,” he said with brutal authority as he peered through the crack between the wall panels. “No time for war paint, friend, but there will be a battle.”
Rising Sun smiled knowingly. Crazy Buffalo Hunter was the type of man he wanted on his side, rather than against him. With death darkening the man’s gaze, Rising Sun was assured of victory. And he was used to winning.
“They know I
am here.” Devin cast a sidelong glance. “You will be their surprise.”
“Me no let you down,” he replied with certainty.
As Devin explained their attack, the men inside were apparently devising a plan of their own.
“Spawn,” Rico hollered from the kitchen window. “I know you’re out there. We got your whole family—ma, sister, and your brother.”
Rising Sun stared at him questioningly. In the years he had know the man referred to as Devin by his white-skinned peers, he heard of no brother.
Devin shrugged his shoulders. His expression was just as perplexed.
“Let ‘em go. It’s between you and me. They ain’t got nothing to do with it.” Devin knew his words were futile. It wasn’t the way his sort functioned. Everything was fair game. War was war, and people used every means necessary to win. With one exception, Devin knew where to draw the line. Women and children. That was the solitary difference that distinguished him from the men inside.
“You took from us. We take from you.”
“Only yella bellies use females to get what they want. If you want me that bad, I’ll meet ya’ll front and center. Only let ‘em go.”
“Nothin’ doing, Spawn. I make the rules.”
“How do I know they’re still alive?” He hoped if they appeared on the porch, maybe, just maybe, they could get away.
The front door swung open. Devin’s heart sped up as Chewy appeared in the open doorway, one arm wrapped around Megan’s waist. He dismissed the gun pointed at her head, and an incredibly ferocious fury took over his senses as he glared at the bruise on her cheek. Someone did that to her, and all were about to suffer the consequences.
“Here’s your ma. Too purty to be any kin of yours.” Chewy took a couple of steps forward onto the porch. “Shame for all this to go to waste.” His hand slid up her waist slowly.
If Megan still dressed for him, it wouldn’t take long for Chewy to realize she wore nothing underneath her blouse. Her breasts were small, round, and perfectly taut, beneath her garments when she moved. Only when aroused did her hard nipples immodestly strain against the fabric. But they could easily be felt if his hand was allowed to continue upward.
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