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

by Kimberly Raye

  “I know what you do. I want to know what you like.”

  You.

  It was there in her gaze, but she wasn’t about to say the word out loud. Not because she didn’t want him to know. No, she didn’t want to know. To admit the desire pulsing inside. The need. The weakness.

  She shrugged. “Obviously I like to travel. I left Santa Barbara three years ago and I haven’t been back since. What about you? What was your last job? What crime did you commit in the name of truth and justice?”

  “We took down a wagon train belonging to a man who’d made his fortune selling Mexican women and children into slavery.” He wasn’t sure why he told her.

  She was just playing along with the façade. Still, there was an underlying sincerity in her voice that slipped past the wall he’d erected so long ago and tugged at him.

  No woman had ever asked him about his past.

  No woman had ever cared. And for those few moments, with the music drifting around them and her heart pounding against his chest, it felt like she actually did.

  “The slaver had just picked up a full wagon in Matamoros. We followed him all the way across the state to his place in Lake Charles, Louisiana. He dropped off the shipment and left to go back for another. We ambushed him as he came over the river. That purchase was his last. Every slave on his property found freedom that night.”

  “Sounds noble.”

  “There’s nothing noble about profiting from the gun. But there was a certain sense of satisfaction that came with that particular job.” His last job before Ike had released him and walked out of his life forever.

  Or so he’d thought.

  Images of the nightmare played in his head and he wondered yet again if maybe, just maybe, his maker had finally returned.

  But if that was the case, the others would have felt him too.

  He knew that.

  At the same time, Ike was older and more powerful than any vampire Boone had ever met. His powers were extensive. Maybe he was reaching out to Boone and only Boone.

  “Reason it any way you like, but freeing someone from captivity is noble.” Her hands slid up his chest, her arms twined around his neck, and just like that, he forgot everything except the woman in his arms.

  “I SHOULDN’T BE doing this.” The admission trembled from Riley’s lips before she could stop herself. “You’re really not my type.”

  He wasn’t. She knew that. At the same time, when he’d told the story about the slaver, she couldn’t help but admire the man he’d described. An outlaw, yes, but one with a purpose. A hero.

  An act, she reminded herself. That’s all this was. All he was.

  Even if he felt like the real thing.

  “We’re just dancing, darlin’.” His hands splayed at the base of her spine, one urging her even closer while the other crept its way up, learning every bump and groove, until he reached her neck. “Just relax and enjoy the ride.”

  With a few deft movements of his fingers, he released the tight ponytail she wore, allowing her hair to spill down her back. His hand cradled the base of her scalp, massaging it, making her legs tremble.

  For the next few moments, she forgot all about her past and her vow to steer clear of Boone and any man like him.

  But deep down she knew there was no other like him. He was one of a kind and he was close, and she liked it.

  Why, oh, why hadn’t she raided that vending machine when she’d had the chance?

  The thought registered in her head and her stomach grumbled in response. “Sorry. I bypassed dinner and went straight for dessert. I guess I’m still hungry.”

  “I know the feeling.” He stared at her for several long moments, as if trying to decide something. Finally, he reached into his pocket. His warm fingers played at hers as he took her hand.

  “I have a room at the hotel.” He pressed an old-fashioned skeleton key into her palm. “Third floor. Second door. If you want to do something about it.”

  She stared down at the warm metal in her grasp and the large hand that still held hers. She noted the “T” branded into the fleshy area near his thumb and barely resisted the urge to run her fingertip over the thick scar.

  A convincing prosthetic, she reminded herself.

  If only it didn’t look so real. And feel so real.

  Just like him.

  “I, um—” She licked her lips and swallowed, eager to get a grip on her topsy-turvy emotions. She wanted him. She didn’t want to want him. But she wanted him. “I didn’t mean hungry as in hungry,” she blurted. “I was talking about food. Sustenance.”

  “Is that so?” His hand slid from hers, up her wrist, moving over her arm until he held her elbow. He leaned down, his lips so close to her ear that she felt the brush of skin. Electricity sizzled from the point of contact, setting off a series of fireworks as it traveled to her toes. “I might believe that if you didn’t want to kiss me so badly right now.”

  Amen.

  She fought down the shameless thought and steeled herself against the overwhelming chemistry that pulsed between them. “I do not want to kiss you.”

  Instead of taking the rejection like most men and storming off, he didn’t budge. Or frown. Instead, he seemed mildly amused. “And why is that?”

  “Because . . .” Her words trailed off as her brain tried to form a coherent sentence.

  Because . . . He was the exact type of man she’d sworn off of. Overbearing. Domineering. Bossy. Gentle.

  She became immediately aware of his hand on her arm, firm and possessive, yet oddly comforting at the same time.

  The seconds ticked by as her heart thundered in her ears. She rifled through a variety of reasons why she shouldn’t be here right now. And there wasn’t one damn good reason why she should be.

  Except that she wanted to be.

  “You still haven’t answered the question.” His deep, husky voice fed the ripple of excitement whispering through her.

  “I don’t want to kiss you because . . .” She swallowed and wished with all of her heart that he would stop staring at her like that. As if he wanted to eat her up. Or worse, take a nice, long, slow lick. “We don’t really know each other. I mean, I know your persona, but I don’t know you.”

  “That’s the point, darlin’. We could get to know each other better. You. Me.” The words stirred a dozen seductive images, all of them dangerous to her already shaky resolve. “For a little while, that is,” he added, chipping away at her resistance. “You’re just passing through, and I’m not looking for anything permanent. One night should be just enough to get acquainted.”

  No.

  That’s what she needed to tell him. What she would have told any and every man who dared to proposition her. The last thing she wanted was to get involved at this point in her life.

  But then, that was the beauty of his offer. He wasn’t asking her to get involved, to pledge her loyalty, to lose her sense of self so that he could feel superior.

  He was simply asking her to his hotel room for some down and dirty sex—something she desperately needed.

  One night.

  This night.

  “You want this,” he continued, his deep voice so sexy and mesmerizing. “You might not want to want it, but you want it.” His gaze darkened. “You want me.”

  “Says you.”

  “Says this.” His strong purposeful mouth claimed hers.

  His tongue swept her bottom lip, licking and nibbling, and before she could catch her breath, he went deeper. His tongue pushed inside and tangled with hers. All rational thought faded in a tsunami of hunger that washed over her, drenched every inch of her body and made her tremble from the sheer force of it.

  He tasted like sweet apple pie and decadent whiskey and something she couldn’t quite name. Somethin
g dark and dangerous and even more intoxicating than the hundred-proof moonshine he’d sipped earlier.

  Before she could stop herself, she melted against him. Her hands slid up his chest and her fingers caught the soft, dark hair at the nape of his neck.

  His arms closed around her. Strong hands pressed against the base of her spine, drawing her closer. She met him chest to chest, hip to hip, until she felt every incredible inch of him flush against her body—the hard planes of his chest, the solid muscles of his thighs, the growing erection beneath his zipper.

  Heat spread from her cheeks, creeping down her neck, her breasts. The slow burn traveled inch by tantalizing inch, until her nipples throbbed and wetness flooded her sex, and all because she was kissing him.

  Because he was kissing her.

  With his body surrounding her and his scent filling up her senses, she couldn’t see or think beyond what was right in front of her.

  He consumed her.

  And she liked it. She liked it way too much.

  The truth registered and she stiffened. Tearing her lips away, she stumbled backward.

  “I r-really need to go.”

  “The point is to come, darlin’.” His deep, sultry voice followed her as she turned and started for the hotel. “To come long and hard until there’s nothing left and it isn’t so damned impossible to think straight.”

  He was right.

  She needed to come in the worst way.

  Long and hard. Over and over.

  With him.

  While she’d managed to convince herself that she’d learned from the past, that she’d changed from being the weak, insecure woman eager for a big, strong man to whisk her away and solve all of her problems . . . she hadn’t.

  On the surface, she might be a smart, savvy, cautious woman who refused to depend on any man, but deep down, she was the same girl who’d spent her days taking care of her family and her nights yearning for someone to take care of her. A hero to step up and carry her away.

  That’s what she’d wanted.

  What she still wanted.

  She blew out a deep breath and tried to calm the thundering of her heart.

  So what if she wanted her very own knight? That didn’t mean she was going to leap into Boone’s arms and give herself over—mind, body and spirit—to him the way she’d done so long ago.

  While Boone Jarrett did look as wickedly sexy as the devil himself, he wasn’t asking for her soul. He merely wanted her body.

  For a little while.

  The sentiment echoed through her and in an instant she realized . . . this was it. The opportunity to burn off some of the lust eating her up from the inside out. With a rough, tough, strong, badass outlaw straight out of her most erotic dreams.

  She stared at the key he’d pressed into her hand, and the implication rushed through her brain. Not only was she dangerously attracted to him, but he was attracted to her in return. Enough to proposition her after just a few hours.

  The reality of what he’d done hit her and her body trembled. She wasn’t the kind of woman that had men falling head over heels.

  At least that’s what Phil had always told her.

  She was a little too curvy with a few too many pounds. Her hair was a little too flat. Her eyes were a plain, old brown. Her features were ordinary.

  In Scooby-Doo terms, she was Velma rather than the bodacious Daphne.

  And everyone knew that Fred had never gone gaga over Velma.

  That was why she’d ignored all the warning signs during that first disastrous relationship. The prickle of fear when Phil had stared at her a little too long. The anxiety she’d experienced when she’d found herself running late on her way home. The dread when he’d called for the twentieth time to check up on her.

  “That man is hooked on you, and not in a good way.”

  That’s what her friends had said. The few that she’d had at the time. She’d never been particularly outgoing. Never the life of the party. No, she’d been quiet. Focused. Naïve.

  Still, she’d had a handful of girlfriends and her younger sister Kara. Then Kara had gone away to college and Phil had pushed away the last of Riley’s friends. Just like that, he’d been the only person in her life.

  With the exception of Buddy, a lab/heeler mix she’d adopted when he’d been only a puppy.

  But there’d been no room for another man in her life, and so Phil had managed to get rid of Buddy, as well.

  An accident. That’s what he’d told her when she’d come home from work. Buddy had gotten loose and run into the street. A car had hit him and he’d died instantly. Phil hadn’t seen a thing, of course. He’d simply found the body once it was too late to save her beloved dog.

  Or so he’d said.

  But Buddy had been the most loving and well-behaved animal Riley had ever known. He wouldn’t have run off. She’d known it then. She’d felt it. And the tragedy had opened her eyes to Phil’s true nature.

  He hadn’t been her dream come true, after all. No, he’d become her worst nightmare.

  She’d packed her bags and walked out on him.

  And then he’d tried to kill her.

  She forced aside the rush of images of those last few days, when he’d come after her, dragged her into the walk-in closet in their bedroom and locked her there for three solid days.

  No food. No water. No salvation.

  Just his voice coaxing her to calm down, to think about how she was ruining a good thing, how she was blowing her one chance at happiness because no man could ever love her the way he did. She wasn’t pretty enough or thin enough or smart enough. She was lucky to have him and it was time she realized that and started being more appreciative. And if she couldn’t . . . well, he would show her.

  But then he’d slipped up and left her alone while he’d gone out to run an errand. In her desperation, she’d managed to kick the door hard enough to break the hinges. She’d escaped, and then she’d said goodbye to Santa Barbara, and hit the road. She’d been running ever since.

  Free, she reminded herself. She was free and in control and no man would ever manipulate her that way again.

  Even a man bold enough to kiss her in full view of God and a square full of tourists. A man who wanted her with an intensity that was palpable.

  Talk about a warning sign.

  That’s what she wanted to think.

  But she didn’t feel the same rush of apprehension that she’d felt with Phil. The same prickle of unease that she’d simply ignored because Phil had been so nice and so handsome and so commanding, and she’d wanted so much to find someone like that. No, what she felt now wasn’t the wishful thinking of a twenty-four year old girl eager to find her dream man.

  It was pure, raw, desperate passion, and a sliver of apprehension.

  Because he was another Phil waiting to happen?

  As much as her own insecurities tried to convince her of that, she knew that Boone Jarrett was nowhere near the same overbearing man who’d nearly destroyed her life.

  She remembered the way he’d rushed to her aid after she’d nearly been smacked by that flying chair, the concern in his gaze, the strong sure touch as he’d held her close. He might be a tad possessive, but in a good way. As if she were valuable treasure rather than simply a possession.

  She was no one’s possession.

  Never, ever again.

  She was stronger now. Wiser. She was the one in control, and she had no desire to find herself trapped in a relationship at this point in her life.

  Which made Boone’s proposition that much more appealing.

  He didn’t want a relationship. He wanted sex, and nothing but sex. And so did she.

  And for the first time in a long time, that didn’t seem like such a bad thing. Even
with a man like Boone.

  Especially with a man like Boone.

  She came to that conclusion over the next several hours as she spent the better part of the night tossing and turning, fighting her own desire. She tried to convince herself that she wasn’t attracted to his type.

  But she was.

  Especially since she’d been denying herself for the past three years.

  Fighting down a wave of nerves, she climbed out of bed, pulled on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, and headed up to the third floor of the hotel and the second doorway at the far end.

  Licking her suddenly dry lips, she took a deep, calming breath and slid the key into the lock.

  Chapter Six

  BOONE HAD BEEN expecting her.

  The chemistry between them had been too volatile—he’d known it was just a matter of time. He’d been somewhat surprised that she’d taken so long, however, a fact that only served to stir his admiration and make him want her in the worst way.

  Yep, he’d expected her to show up eventually, but no way did he expect the fierceness of his desire when she pushed open the door and stepped inside.

  His heart stalled and every nerve jumped to full awareness. It was all he could do to hold his ground and wait for her to come to him.

  She did, her steps quick. She wanted to act before she had time to think.

  She touched her lips to his and a wave of desire rumbled through him, more fierce than anything he’d ever experienced in his entire existence. Her lips were so anxious, so hungry, so damned different from those of any female he’d ever been with.

  He was always the aggressor.

  The one who made the first move, and the second, and the third.

  Not this time. She backed him up toward the bed and followed him down. Her tongue tangled with his and she slid her arms around his neck. Her small fingers splayed in his hair, tugging and pulling, as if trying to get closer. Heat shimmered down his spine and exploded in his groin.

  His gut clenched and his body throbbed. He fought with everything he had not to roll her over and slide his cock into her hot, tight body.