The Quick and the Undead: Volume 1 (Tombstone, Texas)

by Kimberly Raye

  The words were enough to spark some sense into her and she forced her lips to move. “No, no. I’m fine. Really.” She gathered her strength enough to step away and put a few inches of blessed distance between them.

  She became keenly aware of the noise coming from inside the saloon. The music and the raised voices. The crack of wood and the clink of glasses.

  “It sounds like things are getting pretty rowdy in there,” she blurted, eager to resist that damnable urge to feel his lips against her own. “You should go.”

  She should know better.

  She didn’t go for men like him.

  Strong. Overwhelming. Concerned.

  The truth echoed through her head and kept her from turning and walking away. He hardly knew her, yet there was no denying the genuine light in his eyes. Damned if she didn’t feel a sliver of heat sneak up her spine. Her mouth went dry and her stomach hollowed out.

  Where was that peach cobbler when she really needed it?

  His gaze narrowed as if he could see the push-pull inside of her. “You sure you’re okay? We can head over to Doc Walker’s office just up the street—”

  “No, no,” she insisted. “The chair missed me by a mile.” He didn’t seem convinced, so she added, “Really. I was just a little surprised. That’s all.”

  He regarded her a moment longer before his expression finally eased into a charming grin. “Sorry they startled you.” He motioned to the noise coming from the saloon. “I’m afraid a friendly game of cards can turn on a dime around here.”

  “But then that’s part of the appeal, right?” She arched an eyebrow. “People want a taste of the Wild West.”

  And she wanted a taste of him.

  Before she could stop herself, she licked her lips and his gaze snagged on the motion.

  “Yep,” he murmured, his voice even more husky. “They all want a taste, that’s for sure.”

  Of the Wild West, she reminded herself. Even though visions of something altogether different danced in her head. An image of the two of them, arms tangled, bodies pressed close, lips locked—

  “Hey, Sheriff!” a voice called from inside as the sound of breaking furniture grew louder. “Get your ass in here.” The pump of a shotgun punctuated the sentence. “You’d better settle these cowboys down before I do it for you.”

  She saw the flash of indecision on his face. Just a quick shift, but enough to let her know that he wasn’t any more anxious to walk away than she was.

  “You’d better go,” she said again, because that’s exactly what she needed him to do.

  Turn.

  Walk away.

  Please.

  As if he read the desperation that welled up inside her, he shrugged. “I’m afraid duty calls.” He tipped his hat and then, without another word, he disappeared inside.

  The doors swung closed, the noise level rose and Riley gave herself a great big shake.

  WTF?

  She was stronger than this. She shouldn’t be here lusting after the exact type of man she’d sworn off of. The type of man who’d made her life a living hell for an entire year, plus an extra three days.

  A hellacious three days.

  No way. No how. Not happening.

  She didn’t need a man like that. She didn’t need any man.

  Her nipples tingled as her hormones protested the thought. Hello? Don’t we get a say? We’d like a man. We’d like two. Maybe even three.

  She stiffened.

  Okay, so maybe she did need a man. Physically, that was. She was sexually frustrated. Deprived.

  Depraved.

  She stared at the swinging doors that led inside the saloon and a strange sense of longing swept through her. Her body tingled and her mouth went dry as sheer need vibrated through her.

  Nothing that a vibrator and a bowl of peach cobbler couldn’t fix, she told herself.

  One big, fat, over-sized bowl. Or two.

  “I’VE TOLD YOU time and time again, Seth, you can’t fire off that damn shotgun every time there’s a bar fight. Someone’s going to get killed.” Namely Boone, who’d gotten a head full of plaster when he’d walked back into the saloon just as Seth had fired a blast into the air.

  “Don’t you worry. I know how to handle a firearm. If I didn’t, you’d be limping right now instead of giving me lip. I’ve got to do something to keep order in here.”

  “It wasn’t a real fight,” Boone reminded him. “It’s just a show.”

  “I know that,” Seth said, though he didn’t look the least bit convinced. “I’m just trying to add to the atmosphere. What self-respecting saloon owner wouldn’t pull out ole Betsy, here, when things get a little rowdy?” He stroked the antique gun. “Folks love it.”

  “Maybe the folks who don’t get hit by flying sheetrock.”

  “A little dust. Nothing that won’t brush off.” To prove his point, Seth leaned over the bar and patted Boone’s coat. A cloud of white powder filled the air. “Besides, I talked to each and every one sitting at that table and they’re fine.” He indicated a nearby group of four, made up of two men and two women, who’d been at ground zero when the ceiling had exploded above them.

  The couples were now sipping sarsaparillas and listening to Maddie Reed belt out a chorus of My Darling Clementine.

  With blond hair, blue eyes, and a voice that could enchant a saloon full of guests, Maddie Reed seemed more angel than hellcat. Nothing at all like her alter ego, the thief who’d ridden hell for leather with the most notorious gang in Texas.

  Thankfully. The two couples were all but mesmerized by her sweet voice.

  “See,” Seth continued. “They’re all fine. I delivered a round of drinks myself and made sure everything was okay.”

  By making sure, he meant that he’d used his vampire charm to convince them that their anxiety was simply the excitement of experiencing their first real bar fight.

  Boone frowned. “Just keep the gun under the bar next time. Let Clay and me handle the firearms.”

  “I’ll do my best.” Seth winked. “You need to lighten up, Sheriff. You’ve got bigger things to worry about than me and ole Betsy. I hear we’re getting our very own topless tea room. Saw the flier myself.” He pulled a black and white printed page from under the bar and slid it across the scarred wood.

  “Belle’s just messing with Tag. She won’t go through with it,” Boone said with more confidence than he felt. Unfortunately, Belle had been known to go to extremes if it meant pissing off the mayor. “I’ll talk to her.”

  “Good luck with that.” Seth shook his head. “She listens about as well as she spells.” He pointed at the advertisement, which read MISS BELLE’S TOPLES TEA ROOM. “She forgot an s.”

  Boone winked and handed the flier back to the saloon owner. “Why don’t you enlighten her?”

  “Who? Me?” Seth shook his head. “I like my afterlife just fine, thank you very much.” Maddie’s song ended and a round of applause vibrated through the room.

  “Find a seat and relax. You look a little tense.” Seth motioned to a bar stool. “I’ve got work to do.” He grabbed a deck of cards from beneath the bar and headed for a small table set up in the corner.

  Tense?

  Damn straight.

  He could still feel her soft hands in his. Smell the intoxicating scent of strawberry shampoo and warm, succulent woman.

  Boone let his gaze travel around the room. It was a useless effort, because he knew she hadn’t followed him inside. He would have felt her.

  Felt her heat rolling up and down his spine.

  Felt her unspent sexual energy simmering just below the surface.

  She’d been on the wagon since her last disastrous relationship and so she was practically boiling over with lust.

  He�
�d gotten that much from staring deep into her eyes for those few brief moments. He’d seen the desire, the need, the wariness.

  Yes, she’d been burned to a crisp the first go-around and she wasn’t about to hop back into the frying pan. He couldn’t say that he blamed her, but it didn’t change the fact that her pent-up sexual energy drew him like a thief to a great big pile of gold.

  There was nothing special about her. So what if her nose crinkled when she smiled? Or her lips quivered when she looked at him a little too long? It wasn’t like he liked those things.

  He was a vampire, for fuck’s sake. An outlaw. He’d ridden hard back in the day, and he rode even harder now. He took what he wanted and fed when he felt the urge. He didn’t waste his time on things he liked.

  He didn’t have to like a woman to take her to bed.

  It was all about attraction. Chemistry.

  Energy.

  That’s what made him so uptight, had him thinking about following her back to the hotel.

  Not that he was doing any such thing. Hunger was a need easily satisfied.

  To prove his point, he turned. His gaze locked on a brunette and he watched her make her way across the sawdust floor. His nostrils flared. The faint scent of lavender conditioner sliced through the fog of beer and stale cigarette smoke. Her breaths came quickly, her lips parting ever so slightly as she drew air. Her small breasts bounced with each step. Even more, he felt the excitement rolling off her, the need.

  She was here with her friends for a bachelorette party. Her party. It was her last chance to sow some wild oats, to find herself whisked away by a tall, dark cowboy. Her last orgasm before she committed herself to the same old, same old with a guy named Dave. The right guy, or so she’d been telling herself. At least his bank account was right. But he didn’t turn her on the way she wanted him to.

  Not that a so-so love life was going to keep her from saying yes. She was walking down that aisle. But first she was going to have a little fun. A fantasy.

  With him.

  The truth was there in her bright blue gaze.

  She needed sex. Hot sex.

  And Boone needed the energy bubbling inside of her.

  Get your ass out of here and get a drink.

  That’s what his head told him. He had a bag of AB-sitting in the fridge back at the jail. A few sips would be more than enough to curb his sexual appetite.

  Maybe.

  But after his encounter with Riley, he didn’t think an entire bag would satisfy him tonight.

  He pushed to his feet and walked towards the brunette. Desire sparked in her gaze, and she licked her lips. A wave of doubt swept through her, and she stiffened. She damned herself for being so weak, for wanting something that her fiancé couldn’t give her. She should have been happy with Dave. He could provide everything she’d ever wanted.

  Except this.

  “What are you drinking?” Boone asked.

  “Margarita.” She licked her lips again, and her heartbeat kicked up a notch. “Heavy on the tequila.”

  The fast rhythm of it echoed in his head, and his gut tightened. He could see the faint pulse of blue at the base of her neck and a knife twisted inside him. He signaled Seth to bring her another and ordered a shot of Jack Daniels for himself.

  A few seconds later, Seth’s assistant barkeep, a human by the name of Roy, deposited a salt-rimmed glass in front of the brunette and a shot glass in front of Boone. The man poured two fingers of fiery liquid before setting the whiskey bottle aside and moving toward the other end of the bar in response to a loud call for two sarsaparillas.

  “Thanks,” she said as she took a tentative sip of her drink. “So, um, this is quite a place. Have you worked here long?”

  “Longer than you can imagine.”

  “It’s great. So authentic.” She took another sip. “When my maid of honor suggested it, I thought she was crazy. I had my heart set on having my bachelorette party in Vegas. But then I saw the brochure.” And you, her gaze added. “And I was sold.” She glanced around. “Everything looks so real.” She shifted her gaze back to his. “Especially you.” She took another sip.

  Her red lipstick left an imprint on the frosted mug. The sight stirred a rush of memories, and just like that, he was back in a similar saloon a long, long time ago. The floor wasn’t nearly as polished and there was no air conditioning blowing overhead. But the piano pounded out the same upbeat song, and laughter filled the air.

  Her laughter.

  She’d been the prettiest girl at the saloon, and he’d been so damned hungry after Ike had first turned him.

  Hungry and desperate to ignore the truth.

  To pretend that he was still a man.

  Just a man.

  He’d followed her upstairs, into her bed, between her legs, his only intention to shoot off a load and feel normal for a few blissful moments. But then the hunger had overwhelmed him and ejaculating had been the last thing on his mind. It had all been about sustenance.

  He’d given her orgasm after orgasm, and when her energy hadn’t been enough, he’d sunk his teeth deep and he’d drunk her blood. And drunk. And drunk.

  One minute she’d been staring up at him with passion-glazed eyes and the next, there’d been nothing. The life had been snuffed out of her. Drained.

  That had been his first kill as a vampire, and his last. Firing a gun in a kill or be killed situation was far different from taking the life of an innocent by sucking her dry. It had been a sobering lesson, one he’d never forgotten. While he now held the power of life and death in his hands, thanks to his newfound supernatural powers, he couldn’t always control those powers. They lived and breathed with a life all their own sometimes. In other words, no blood and sex at the same time.

  “What do you say?” The soft voice pushed into his thoughts and pulled him back to the present. To the smoke-filled saloon and the horny bachelorette sitting next to him. “Would you like to come back to my room?”

  Yes.

  The answer was there on the tip of his tongue. He needed her. To ease the pain inside his body, feed the hunger and satisfy him once and for all.

  Just sex.

  That’s all he ever took. All he usually needed, since he supplemented with the bagged stuff in between sexual encounters. But tonight felt different. He was worked up when he should have been satisfied. Starving when he should have been sated. Out of control when the one thing he prided himself on was complete and total self-discipline.

  His gaze hooked on the lipstick imprint on her glass again, and his chest tightened. “I’m afraid I’m pressed for time. I’ve got a few things to take care of before the hoedown.” Namely getting a grip, so that he didn’t do anything stupid. He slid several bills onto the counter and reached for the bottle of Jack Daniels. “But you have a nice night.” He winked, then turned and left her staring after him.

  Because while she was just what he needed at the moment, she wasn’t what he wanted.

  No light brown hair.

  No soft brown eyes.

  No Hello Kitty T-shirt.

  Christ, he didn’t even like baggy T-shirts. He liked females wearing as little as possible, showing off their curves, flaunting them. But this new woman . . . She covered up all the best parts. She was uptight. Controlled.

  Too much so for his tastes.

  He headed out into the humid Texas night, toward the jail that sat on the opposite side of the main square.

  Lanterns had been strung up across the area, illuminating a small platform where the band warmed up. There were tables of refreshments and a wild hog roasting on a spit nearby. A huge chalkboard had been set up near the stage, ready to post the names of everyone who dared to sign up for the quick draw contest being held at the end of the week. There were tubs filled with apples for
bobbing. Hay bales had been placed here and there for sitting. Several frantic employees raced back and forth, tending to last-minute details.

  Boone dodged a hay bale and headed for the jailhouse and the stash of blood sitting in the small fridge in the communications room.

  But, a full bag later, he didn’t feel any more sated than when he’d first encountered his new guest outside the saloon. He was still thinking about her. Still wanting her.

  “Where’s the mayor?” A frazzled human named Dora rushed up to him just as he was leaving the jail. She was one of a handful of employees who worked in the kitchen and helped with special events. “We start in less than an hour and I need him to sign off on some things before his welcome speech.”

  “I’ll find him,” he volunteered, eager for something to do besides the one thing he desperately wanted to do—head over to the hotel, throw his newest obsession over his shoulder, cart her up to his room and fuck the hell out of her.

  But he wasn’t doing that.

  No matter how fine an idea it suddenly seemed.

  Chapter Five

  “I’M AFRAID WE’RE all out of peach cobbler,” the waitress told Riley after she’d slid into a seat in the hotel dining room.

  “You’re kidding me, right?”

  The young woman shook her head. “Cook’s peach cobbler is one of our most popular dishes. If you don’t get in before the dinner rush, it’s usually gone.” She glanced at the commotion just beyond the large windows that overlooked the square. “The dining room filled up early tonight, what with the hoedown and all, so we’re all out.”

  Perfect. Just friggin’ perfect.

  “You want to hear what dinner specials we still have left? Or, if you want, you can fill up on the refreshments set up outside. There’s mincemeat pie and biscuits and roasted pig and—”

  “Ice cream,” she blurted. “What about ice cream?”

  “That’s not on the refreshment table.” The woman smiled. “But I think I can rustle you up a bowl in the kitchen. Vanilla or chocolate?”