Reckless River: Men of Mercy, Book 3

by Cross, Lindsay

  He stared her down and she fought the instinct to cringe. Yes, the lust and desire from earlier had been replaced by revulsion. “We were in the middle of your pathetic attempt to seduce information out of me using your scrawny little body.”

  His words pierced an arrow through her heart. The torments and teases from the local whores sprang up in her mind. Scrawny Sparrow, the virgin spinster. All because she hadn’t given it up by the age of twelve.

  Yes, she was used to being called scrawny—she’d always been the smallest and the skinniest in her adopted family. But that only meant she’d learned to scrap harder, and if he thought he could scare her away with those few words he had no idea just how scrappy she could get. Sparrow tapped a finger on her chin, as if contemplating what to do next. “My scrawny little body didn’t seem to disgust you so much before. Especially when you latched on to my titties like a baby calf sucking at her mama’s teat.”

  He dug his head down into the pillow, yanking and pulling against the rope. She didn’t bother telling him it was a useless endeavor, that old man Squirrel had taught her to tie a knot so sturdy that not even a bear could rip itself free. But there was no reason she couldn’t enjoy the show of those giant muscles flexing and straining.

  “Girl, any man would suck on a pair of boobs if you shoved them in his face.” He yanked again, so hard the iron bed frame bent forward.

  Sparrow smiled, because despite his words, that tent in his pants was rising again. She stayed right where she stood and shrugged out of the overshirt once more. He tracked her movements like a wild animal caught in a trap.

  “I’m sure curious to see that face of yours.” Sparrow ran to the bathroom, soaped a wash cloth, and returned. There was something about him that was familiar and she wanted to find out. Problem was, she had a feeling he might bite her if she got too close right now.

  Whatever Miss Kay had done to him—and she was sure the older woman had done something; that hadn’t been empty dislike in his eyes, but the black hatred that came of knowing a bad woman well—had been enough to set this man on fire. But regardless of that, regardless of whatever lay in his past, she would break him. And she would turn over whatever information he gave her to Miss Kay. Sparrow took a deep breath, stealing herself against any pity for him. It was either her or him, and she’d sure as shit choose herself any day of the week.

  “I’m gonna wash that pretty face. I want you to hold real still, you hear?”

  He snarled. Wounded animal? More like a rabid wolf. The direct approach definitely wouldn’t work. Maybe if she caressed him again, he’d calm down. Sparrow congratulated herself on the bright idea and tossed the washcloth to the floor. She approached him from the foot of the bed. His leg shot out with a sudden jerk, and she barely avoided being knocked down by his ferocious kick.

  Holy shit. The man was deadly. Everywhere.

  “Come close, I dare you.” Veins bulged is his neck and his eyes glowed with menace. He truly was a beast. A lump formed in Sparrow’s throat and she tried to swallow. Maybe the sexy, teasing man from before had all been the act. Maybe Miss Kay had simply set the beast free.

  If her plan had any chance of working, he would have to cooperate. Or at least not try and kill her with his feet. She realized she would have to tie his feet to the bed, too, but each of his tree-trunk legs was bigger than she was. Even if she threw her whole body on top of him to pin down his legs, she’d be just as likely to get knocked out as she would to succeed. She needed help.

  “Tell you what, I’ll give you a few minutes to calm down. You sit tight now, okay?” Sparrow blew him a quick kiss, confident her rope would hold him in place. She ran from the room to tune out his shouting and eased out of her back door.

  Sparrow headed straight out from her trailer into the woods, and then hooked a sharp right. She would know the path to Squirrel’s cabin with her eyes closed and walking backwards, but she needed to stay out of sight of the rest of the camp. Even if Miss Kay didn’t have eyes on her, Jimbo would. She could practically feel his creepy gaze crawling up her spine. He wouldn’t hesitate to strike if he sensed the least bit of weakness.

  Miss Kay’s threats were legitimate, and she would most certainly carry them out if tested, but deep down Sparrow knew the older woman loved her. She’d protected Sparrow on many occasions and given her the chance to succeed in her business like one of the blood family. For which all of her adopted brothers hated her.

  Too bad for them, Sparrow had flourished, learning to steal, cheat, and deal just like they did. She’d constructed her armor as the meanest and most accurate knife thrower in the state, and when tested, she’d backed it up on more than one occasion. But that didn’t mean she didn’t long for peace. She wanted to get her toe hold high up, above Jimbo’s reach, so she could garner the opportunity to take care of old Squirrel and herself.

  Sparrow approached the old cabin out in the woods, making as much noise as possible to alert Squirrel to her approach. He should be taking a nap right about now, but he’d been known, in his less sober moments, to fire off a few rounds at anyone who trespassed on his property. And just because the sun hadn’t set, didn’t mean the old man wasn’t wasted.

  “Squirrel, you up?” Sparrow hollered from the edge of the clearing, careful to stay tucked up close to a giant pine tree. Rough bark scratched her arm, but she ignored it. She would need the protection of the trunk if Squirrel was in one of his moods.

  “What you hidin’ out there in them woods for girl? Get your ass out here, you know I can’t see that good no more.” The familiar gravelly voice calmed Sparrow’s nerves, and she stepped clear from the tree line just as Squirrel emerged from the old shack, a bottle of homemade brew in his hand.

  “What you up to today?” Sparrow walked up onto the front porch, yanked the bottle from his hand, and took a swig. Sweet fire traced a burning trail down to her stomach, but she needed the liquid gold to help calm her nerves. She’d always had a steady hand, but having Jared tied up to her bed made her as nervous as a tom cat in a dog pen.

  Squirrel’s black eyes almost disappeared in his weathered face from the way he narrowed them at her. His grey beard hung low, almost to his belly, and his hair looked like it hadn’t been brushed in days. She would have to tread lightly, make sure he was on one of his lucid days. She couldn’t take the risk of him accidentally putting a bullet in her captive’s head because he’d gone into one of his spells.

  “You know good and well what I’ve been doing. Same thing I do every day. Now why don’t you tell me what you want? You know old Squirrel’ll help ya out.” Squirrel took the bottle from her and downed a couple of gulps, then wiped his mouth with his arm. He’d once told her that whiskey was like lifeblood to him, and he could get mighty rowdy if someone tried to take it away.

  Sparrow joined him on the front porch and ducked her head, her bravado gone now that she was with this man who had become her surrogate father. Squirrel knew everything about her. If she told him she needed help killing a man and hiding the body, he wouldn’t flinch. But telling him she needed help seducing a man? That was an entirely different story.

  “I came here because I need your help. But you can’t tell nobody.” She chanced a quick peek up. Squirrel stood with one arm braced on a beam of the twisted wood porch, staring out into the woods. His loose long sleeve shirt fell back, revealing a bony arm covered with scars. What she wouldn’t do to be able to give him a better life. He was the only father she’d ever known. And if she managed to make it to the top and start earning that cash steady, she’d make sure he never had to work another day in his life. Never had to go out hunting and trapping from dusk to dawn.

  “You done finally killed Jimbo?” Squirrel looked at her again, but the only emotion on his face was curiosity.

  “If only.”

  “You ain’t gone and stole from Miss Kay now have you?”

  “Nope.” I’ve got something even better. Her stomach fluttered like a thousand moths around a lantern a
t midnight.

  “Lookee here, I ain’t got all day. I got to be checking my traps soon, so you’d best go on and spit it out so I can fix whatever problem you done created.”

  “I got me a man tied up to my bed.” The words rushed from her lips, and she slapped a hand over her mouth, wishing she could push them back inside.

  Squirrel’s bushy brows shot straight up into his hairline and he gave a good long whistle. “Well, you shouldn’t have a problem with that. You’re pretty enough.”

  Sparrow resisted the urge to stomp her foot and instead took a deep breath and let the whole story spill out. She finished by telling him she had two days to get the information—or else. “So I figured I could use his body against him.”

  “Or I could let you use my Bowie knife. Peeling some skin will usually get a fella to talk right quick.”

  The thought sent bile rushing to her mouth. She couldn’t stand the thought of hurting someone like that. She could handle threatening, some mild violence, but she’d never drawn blood. “I’m telling you, he ain’t a normal man. Physical threats don’t scare him.”

  Squirrel took a step back, and a board creaked and then broke beneath his feet. Sparrow barely managed to snag his shirt to keep him from toppling into the yard. This old shack was scarcely held up by patched tin and rusted nails.

  “I got it now, you can let go.” Squirrel brushed off her hands and carefully eased around the newest hole in the porch. “Guess I gotta get some more wood.”

  “I got some under the trailer. I’ll bring it by for you later.” He shouldn’t have to live in this dump. She wanted something better for them both, and now she might have the means to get it. “Back to my idea.”

  Squirrel studied her from head to toe. ““Well, you ain’t got them curves most men like, but ya got perty eyes and hair.”

  Sparrow crossed her arms over her chest. “What? Do I need to be fat like old Bertha to get a man’s attention?”

  Squirrel took a step back and threw his hands up. “No, girl. You women sure know how to twist a man’s words.” He sighed. “All right, I’ll help you get fixed up, but the rest is up to you.”

  Sparrow nodded, not trusting her voice. “Listen, I need your help to hold him down while I get him tied up tight.”

  “Hold on, let me get something.” Squirrel ran back into the shack. When he re-emerged, his Bowie knife was strapped to his leg and there was a pistol at his hip. “Lead the way.”

  They made it back to Sparrow’s trailer in record time, easing around the perimeter of Crowe camp to avoid being seen. She led the way into her bedroom. As soon as she walked over the threshold the man’s gaze shot to hers, those midnight eyes darkened with fury. A predator’s grin stretched his full lips tight. “Couldn’t handle me on your own, little girl?”

  “He sure is a big’un,” Squirrel said.

  “That’s why I needed your help.” Sparrow completely ignored his remarks. Remember, it’s him or you.

  “Looks like you did a good job on the knot. You got some more rope ready?”

  “All the rope in the world isn’t it going to keep me tied to this bed, old man.” His fake smile disappeared altogether and he lunged hard against the rope. The bed frame groaned under his animalistic power, but it held. Barely.

  “Yeah, it’s on the floor.” She had to fight the instinct to turn tail and run from the room. He didn’t look mad—he looked furious. But all she had to do was keep it together. He’d wanted her. His body couldn’t deny it. She just had to figure out a way to rekindle that flame before he figured out a way to break free and strangle her.

  6

  Jared watched in growing shock as one of the ugliest, scrawniest old men he’d ever seen pulled out a giant pistol and a knife so long it stretched from his hipbone almost to his knee. Problem was, as comical as the old man looked holding those big old weapons, he held them with an easy familiarity. The same kind of ease with which Jared held his sniper rifle.

  Squirrel cocked the pistol and took aim at Jared’s head before approaching the bed. “Now, I want you to hold real still for my girl.”

  He placed the knife right between Jared’s legs and a cold sweat broke across Jared’s lip. If either of them so much as flinched, he’d lose his balls to that razor-sharp weapon.

  “That’s right, boy. You move and them family jewels will be the next thing hanging on my wall.”

  “You can threaten to cut off anything you want, but you and I both know I’m not gonna lie here and let her tie my feet to the bed.” Jared forced his heart rate to slow and focused on his enemy’s weakness. Weak wrist, probably brittle bones all over. If Jared managed to aim a kick just right, he could take out the old man out. Then he’d only have to contend with Sparrow.

  Not only had she left him with a raging hard-on, but she was obviously tied as tight as twine with Kay. Shit. He’d considered telling her the truth and possibly enlisting her help, but now that wasn’t going to happen.

  Sparrow fidgeted with the extra rope, staying a good two feet out of Jared’s reach. Smart girl. He was ready to take them both out any chance he got. “You get close to me and you know what will happen.”

  She paled. “Squirrel?”

  Squirrel removed the knife and sheathed it, watching Jared close all the while. “I reckon you’re right, young fella. I ain’t seen your kind around here in a long time. I don’t know who you are.” Squirrel leaned in until his face was only a few inches from Jared’s. “But I recognize you for what you are.”

  “Squirrel!”

  *

  Squirrel tossed the gun in the air, caught the nozzle, and slammed the butt of the pistol into the man’s temple before he could so much as flinch. Sparrow gasped and dropped the rope as his head lolled to the side, unconscious. Squirrel whistled, flipped the gun in the air once more, caught it by the butt, and tucked it into the back of his pants. Easy as pie.

  “What did you do?” Sparrow squealed. She’d never made that sound before in her life, but she hadn’t expected him to practically kill her hostage. How the hell was she supposed to seduce the man now?

  Squirrel slapped his hands over his ears. “Quiet down, girl, no need to yell. That fella woulda cut himself clean through to keep you from tying him down. I could see it in his eyes. You better hurry and get them feet tied up quick like, and make sure you pull them knots extra tight. You can only hold back a bear for so long.”

  “How am I supposed to seduce him if he’s unconscious?” Sparrow cried.

  “He ain’t going to be unconscious for long. Pass me some of that rope, I want to make sure you do it right.”

  Sparrow stared at him dumbfounded. She’d pictured this going a lot more smoothly. Squirrel gave an exasperated sigh and picked the rope up off the floor. He gave her a once over, and Sparrow resisted the urge to cross her arms over her chest.

  “I ain’t had me a woman in a while, and I might be an old fool, but you ain’t going to get nowhere dressed in them man’s clothes. You need something girly.”

  She yanked the rope out of his hands and tied it to the first bed post, her movements jerky. “And just where am I supposed to get something like that?”

  Squirrel took over, his old gnarled fingers tying the rope with a speed born of decades of experience. “I reckon I’ll have to go steal you some clothes.”

  Squirrel finished the knot securing the man’s second leg and placed his hands on her hips. “What the hell are you doing?” she asked, yanking back out of his grip.

  “What do you think? I got to figure out what size you need.” Still holding his hands the same width apart as her hips, Squirrel lifted them up to eye level. “I just got to go find you something about this size.”

  “Jesus Christ, what are you going to do? Walk up to every girl you see and ask if you can squeeze her hips?”

  Squirrel chuckled, “Not a bad idea, but no, we got to keep this secret.”

  “You can’t just walk up to somebody and ask them for clothes, you know.
They’ll guess something’s up.”

  Squirrel scratched his beard, his small frame putting him at eye level with Sparrow. “Hadn’t thought of that. Well what about Geraldine? She’s scrawny like you. I could steal something from her clothesline outback.”

  Sparrow flinched back in horror. Geraldine was the nastiest prostitute on Crowe Mountain. That girl would spread her legs for anybody and anything. “I ain’t going to wear nothing that whore has worn.”

  “Well, there ain’t no other whore here that’s as little as you. You want me to go get you something just as baggy as what you’re wearing right now? Aren’t you trying to seduce him?”

  Sparrow backed up until she hit the wall. She’d always thought her trailer was large and luxurious, but the room seemed to be growing smaller and smaller. Her heart thundered in her ears as her mind raced to search for any other solution. Anything.

  She came up with nothing.

  “If you’re having second thoughts, I can leave you my knife. You already know how to use it.” Squirrel pinned her to the wall with his steady gaze.

  Sparrow shook her head, the horrific thought of slicing into that man’s flesh making her stomach turn “No. I’ll do it.”

  Squirrel nodded. “Stay put, I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.” He cast his gaze at the man, still unconscious on the bed. “You might want to take his clothes off if you’re planning on using your women’s wiles. It’ll be easier if you do it while he’s out cold.”

  After he left, Sparrow turned to survey her captive. Dear Lord, his broad chest took up nearly the entire width of her bed. Curiosity urged her feet forward. She slid a finger beneath the hem of his shirt, lifting the cotton inch by glorious inch. So this was what washboard abs meant. There was not one single spare ounce of fat on him. She could trace the outline of each little square, counting a full eight pack. Ten if she was generous. And Christ if those muscles didn’t dive into a V and disappear into his black pants.

  She recognized the now familiar ache growing hot in her body. Sparrow moved as if under some spell, pushing his shirt higher and higher, then lifting it over his head and leaving it to dangle at his wrists. The stark line of camouflage face paint stopped just below his collar bone and smooth tan skin took over the rest of the way down. Reminded of her previous mission to see his face, she dove for the wash cloth. Careful not to touch the swelling bump on his temple, she washed the paint away. Then she removed his black beanie and took a step back to get a good look at him.