by Gem Sivad
Naomi decided this might be her best opportunity. She didn't ask herself why her thoughts were centered on the man leaving, instead of the two remaining bounty hunters.
She backed out of her hiding spot, brushed the cobwebs from her dress, and hurried out the alley door. The third bounty hunter was just easing across the street, walking toward the livery stable when she reached his side.
"Excuse me.” He walked in front of her, not acknowledging her call to him. Naomi knew that he heard. They were the only two people on the street. She clenched her teeth and hurried forward, placing a detaining hand upon his arm.
As soon as she touched him, she knew it was a mistake. Muscles rippled beneath her fingers. The arm itself felt as hard as an oak tree limb.
Nervously she looked up at him. “Excuse me, sir, I'd like to speak with you if you have the time this evening.” Naomi was tall for a woman and was accustomed to standing shoulder to shoulder, and sometimes above, most men. Charlie Wolf was half a head taller than she and twice as wide.
As she looked him over, she was uncomfortably aware that he did the same, appraising her body in an intimate fashion. She flushed, remembering his mouth on the other woman's bosom. “If you have the time,” she repeated in a whisper, confused under his stare and no longer sure what she was speaking about.
His fierce eyes stared down at her. “I don't."
Caught in his gaze, Naomi couldn't remember the question. “Don't what?” she stuttered.
He stopped walking and carefully appraised the figure she presented. She forced herself to remain calm beneath his inspection. Her dress was stained with Patrick's blood, and her dress was torn in several places. She couldn't remember how that had happened.
When I rolled under the porch, I felt the material give. The thought made her nauseous and jolted her from her malaise. She needed to obtain this man's help.
Evidently the two words he'd spoken to her ended the conversation in his mind, because he shrugged her hand off and walked away.
She had been staring speechlessly at the fresh scratches on his face. He frightened her. Maybe I should let the territory law enforcement rescue the girls. Then she remembered the Flat Rock sheriff's refusal to help and straightened her spine and hurried after him, once again touching his arm.
The man grabbed her arm before she could escape, striding purposefully toward the barn entrance.
Dragging her behind him, he stopped for a minute, took a pull from the bottle, and then handed it to her. When she said, “I have need of your services,” he snorted and said, “Yeah, likewise."
Naomi declined the bottle with a shake of her head, handing it back to him as she focused on her goal, “I need to hire you."
His main concern seemed to be in feeding her the spirits in the bottle. “You mind drinking after a half-breed?"
"I need to hire you,” she repeated doggedly, and shook the arm to get his attention, but the rock hard muscle was unmoving beneath her grip.
"I don't need the work right now.” He said it flatly, brooking no argument. But he stopped and waited as though curious.
Deadly stillness hovered around them, and Naomi shifted under his gaze. She felt like she was auditioning for a part. He studied her as she hurried to tell him the story. “A band of Comancheros attacked the school where I am a teacher. They killed the handyman and carried away my students."
"How many?” His indifferent attitude had changed. “How many riders were there?"
"I think there were at least twenty. I saw them coming toward the school, but I didn't realize...” Her words faltered as she was once again there. She shuddered and hugged her arms around her body, suddenly cold.
"Take a drink, you'll feel better.” He didn't wait for her to agree but handed her the bottle and asked, “How come they didn't kill or steal you?"
Automatically, Naomi said “No, thank you,” and handed the bottle back.
He tipped his head back, drinking deeply as he continued to look her over. She ignored the too familiar glance, her gaze locked on the muscles in his throat that moved as he swallowed.
She didn't want to answer his question. It was the one she dreaded. The one the sheriff hadn't asked. “I hid,” her confession was barely a whisper. “I hid while the students who are my responsibility were carried away."
He resumed his progress to the barn and covered her hand on his arm with a callused palm, squeezing it tightly. She had to hurry beside him, replacing her usual mincing steps with a sensible stride that matched his. It was that or be dragged.
Without turning loose his grip or speaking to her, they entered the barn already filled with the shadows of evening. He yelled out to the stable hand, “Get your ass out here, Wallace."
When the old man shuffled into the open, carrying a pitchfork for defense, the gunman asked, “You heat that water for me?"
Both men ignored Naomi as though she was invisible, but Charlie Wolf didn't release her so she couldn't disappear. She drew herself upright and waited while he gave the old man orders. She had no intention of leaving until the bounty hunter agreed to mount a rescue.
"Did just what you said, Charlie Wolf,” the old man's head bobbed ingratiatingly. “Filled the trough half full of hot water and set the buckets of cold beside."
Instead of the thank you that Naomi thought such a task should receive, the bounty hunter ordered him, “Get lost for the rest of the night."
The old man's unintelligible mutterings accompanied a speculative look at Naomi. She returned his questioning stare with her own bland gaze. Charlie Wolf threw the stable bum some money, and the old man's frown changed to a grin. He left smiling and pocketing bills, unconcerned with what happened in his barn the rest of the night.
Charlie Wolf McCallister was the most dangerous man Naomi had ever met. The half-breed seemed savagely capable of anything and bound by no rules other than his own. He dressed in soft buckskins instead of white men's clothes. His hair hung long, held by a headband covered by the black hat until he took it off.
As soon as Wallace disappeared through the door, Charlie Wolf released her hand and walked away without word or glance. He stripped off his shirt and dropped it on the floor of the barn.
Automatically, testimony to her years of picking up after others, she stooped and retrieved it. The handkerchief around his neck, dropped next, and as she bent to pick it up, she saw that he had stopped by the horse trough at the end of the aisle.
"Like I said outside,” she paused and watched as he unfastened his gun belt and laid it on the bale of straw. Then he untied the leather thong that held his knife to his thigh and laid it next to his gun. Scratching his bare chest, he turned his gaze toward her as if he just remembered she was there.
"I need to hire you.” She focused on the hand moving up and down his bronze skin. She had felt his strength only minutes before, and her arm tingled where he had gripped.
Muscles in his chest rippled under his nipple as his hand paused, rubbing a spot there. Naomi swallowed against the odd feeling in her throat that tightened, making it difficult to speak.
She couldn't help herself. Her eyes were drawn to the colorful loincloth that covered his groin. She licked her lips, but her tongue was dry because all of the spit in her mouth had disappeared. Her breath wheezed out of constricted lungs.
As she began her appeal, she tried, as her sister, Comfort, had always advised, to assume a position of success—in this case, focus on making the man hire his services to her.
"Naomi, most people don't want to think about what to do. Tell them. Give them directions and take charge of the situation." Comfort always had an angle and usually was right. She'd wrinkled her nose at eleven-year-old Naomi that day and sighed. “If you don't take charge, someone else will, and then you'll have to live by their rules."
Naomi looked at the male standing before her. He was a law unto himself. It was impossible to picture the man doing anything that she asked of him—ever. Confirming her assessment, he stood be
fore her and pointed at the tub as though it held some significance she should be aware of.
"You've been following me all over town.” The woman didn't even deny it, leaning toward him instead, patiently waiting as he took her measure—thin face with brown hair skinned into a tight knot, straight teeth, and nose spattered with freckles across burned skin. Deep, exotic cornflower-blue eyes met his.
Charlie's gaze came back to the eyes for a second look.
"My name is Naomi Parker.” If it weren't for the unusual shade of her eyes, Miss Naomi Parker would be written off as old-maid material. She was a tall, skinny female with prim and proper written all over her, past the first flush of maidenhood.
Being neither a prize himself, nor considered civilized, he rarely came in contact with females of social standing, but he recognized one now. He intended to run this one off as quick as possible and get on with his bath. Knowing what he did of her kind, he didn't think it would take much.
She held out her hand and for a moment he wasn't sure what she wanted. Then he realized she intended it as a greeting. He grabbed the extended limb and pulled hard, rolling her down his arm, and into his embrace before she realized she'd been captured.
He pulled her against him, wrapping his arms around her like bands of steel, pulling her so close her chin brushed his bare chest. The contact sent a frisson of heat coursing through him, which made no sense since her body was encased in iron, or at least something that felt like it.
"What the hell kind of contraption do you have on, Miss Parker?” His hands automatically fell to her hips, holding her against the swell of his erection, stealing a moment's pleasure.
Except for the slight mound of her breasts, she had the body of a fifteen-year-old boy—thin for his age—but a tall stripling. He noted all of this unconsciously, surprised that his cock had roused with fierce interest. Jesus, I need a woman.
His shirt and handkerchief were smashed between them. She tilted her head to glare at him as she struggled against his hold. Her hips moved in his hands, and in her struggle, she accidentally rubbed against his arousal. She froze.
"Stupid to offer your hand to someone you don't know,” he admonished her, even as he blatantly rubbed his swollen flesh against her hip.
Her breasts, about the size of robin's eggs, were nevertheless heaving, and she was pissed, not scared, as he stared into eyes that had darkened. He wondered what color they would be when she came, and then flinched at the thought.
Jesus, all pussy's the same in the dark. What the hell difference if she's a dried-up old prune? His cock demanded, Fuck her.
Old maid material or not, his cock was erect and urging him to make friends.
"You're lucky you survived the raid. Think about that, instead of wallowing in guilt, and let the law take care of your friends."
He had a cigar and the rest of a bottle of good whiskey waiting for him, and minutes before he'd thought that was enough.
He'd meant to scare her away so he could climb into that tub of hot water while it still had some steam coming from it. Instead he had a woman wrapped in his arms, and his body seemed determined to keep her. His cock said this woman could service him just fine—and she could do it now.
It was pleasing the way she fitted up against him, hip to hip, thigh to thigh. His first assessment that she was skinny gave way to new knowledge. She was a slender armful, her softness hidden under the iron casing she'd wrapped around her flesh. The thought of her long white legs sliding around his hips while he sank into her filled his mind.
He let his thoughts play over the impossible possibilities for a second before he let her go, allowing inches between them and dropping his hand that had been stroking her back.
"I'm planning on being in that tub of water in two minutes, naked as the day I was born, whether you get out of here or not."
He released her abruptly, expecting her to hurry from the barn. Instead, she continued the connection between them, pressing her body against his, her unwavering blue eyes staring up at him. Her lips trembled for a moment, and then she repeated her request.
"I need your help."
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Chapter Four
He stepped back and released his loincloth, then unlaced his pants. She turned away to set his clothes on the straw. Her face was beet red, but she wasn't caterwauling about his embrace or his current actions. When she turned back to him, her voice was steady and her face only slightly pink. “Do you have soap and linens for your bath?"
"In here,” he dropped the saddlebags next to her, watching to make sure she didn't steal anything. Besides spare buckskins and a pair of long johns, he carried a wad of money and his extra Colt six-shooter.
He didn't like the sound of her Comanchero story. Her students must have suffered the repercussions from his scheme to strip Mangas Colorado's band of a bartering tool.
He figured he at least owed her a listen-to. But he had a hard time concentrating on her words because he'd been on the trail of murderers and thieves for six weeks and hadn't been in a town for longer than that. He needed a woman and, old-maid schoolteacher or not, she looked better to him every minute she stood there.
He watched her fumble through the contents of the pouch before withdrawing the soap and drying cloth that she then laid next to the tub.
He ordered her, “Naomi Parker, grab my boot and pull.” He said her name deliberately, trying it on. He liked the way his mouth moved over and around it, almost like making a kiss.
He could remove his own boots; he'd spent a life time taking care of himself. But she jumped to do his bidding, worrying her full bottom lip with her teeth, as she avoided his gaze, concentrating instead on his foot. He deliberately clenched his toes inside the leather moccasins to keep the boot from coming off.
"You'll have to turn around and stand astride my leg."
She looked askance at him, and then a blush stole up from beneath her prim collar. Embarrassed or not, she climbed over his extended leg and tugged his boot off. When he stretched out the other foot, she straddled that leg, expecting to do the same, but he pulled her down so that her female parts rubbed against the soft suede of his deer skin pants.
She squeaked in surprised shock, but her voice was back under control when she looked over her shoulder and repeated yet again, “I need to hire your help in rescuing my students."
Her thighs reluctantly caressed him through his pants, and he felt the heat of her woman's place against his leg. He had to give credit where it was due; she was tenacious.
"What part did you plan to play in this rescue?” He wasn't really listening to her answer, mesmerized instead by the feel of pussy. From this angle, the old-maid teacher was looking pretty good.
The rump that pressed into him was rounded; he'd already re-estimated the size of her breasts, raising the expectation from robin eggs to apples. They, of course, were bound as tightly as the rest of her body. She sat, ass cheeks splayed over his leg, heated center brushing his thigh while she looked over her shoulder at him, pink lips shaping her answer. Sensory overload distracted him for a moment.
"I intend to ride with you.” That got his attention. I intend to ride you. His cock jumped inside his pants. But she looked at him so trustingly he parsed her words again and figured out what he'd missed ... ride with you, my ass. He started shaking his head, doubly pissed at his mishearing and his heated response.
She persisted, ignoring his loud, “No.” Charlie needed to run her off fast or dried-up spinster or not, the teacher was going to be fucked.
"Some of the girls will need me.” Her grim tone made it clear that she understood what was happening, probably even at the moment, to the kidnapped students.
"I don't work for free, teacher. How do you plan to pay me?” He raised his leg and flexed his muscles brushing hotly against her through the material that separated his flesh from her core. Given the state of his arousal, it was a dangerous move.
"I get paid once a month at t
he school.” She looked worried. “I'm not sure now who will tender my pay. It's not clear to me what's going to happen.” She continued to stare over her shoulder, her female parts riding his thigh, his cock stretched and elongated against his leg.
Well, it's clear to me what's going to happen here in about two minutes if you don't get the hell out of this barn. But Charlie didn't say it aloud. Instead he looked at her face, scrunched in worry, her teeth nibbling her bottom lip, and had the almost uncontrollable urge to lift her up and bury his face between her breasts. They were looking more like melons to him now.
All sense had left his mind. He was concentrated on one thing ... pussy and how to get into it.
First, I need to get her out of that god-awful wire contraption she's wearin' ... His cock was full and demanding release, and so it was with real reluctance that he offered her one last chance to get out.
"How you get paid is none of my concern. I don't take I.O.U.'s, in poker or for chasing danger, so if you don't have something to offer me in payment, you best be leaving, and you best do it now."
Her chin tilted up and she repeated, “I need to hire you,” and then she turned back to her task and slid down his outstretched leg, and he knew that she was aware of her affect on him. She grasped his boot and tugged. Well, maybe we can work a deal.
A grin softened the stern lines of his face as he looked at her backside. From his view, he could see the slightest rounding of hips that tapered to a narrow waist. His cock drooled in need, creating a wet spot on his pants pulled taut across his shaft.
She shivered and he asked her, “Scared or cold?"
"I lived through a Comanchero raid because I hid.” she answered. “You are not frightening. The only thing that scares me is the thought that I won't be able to help my students escape those men—so I guess, I'm cold."
"Not for long, teacher,” he growled, his inner beast excited and stretching to get out.
As if reminded by her own words of the haste needed, she continued softly, “We should proceed with your bath, sir, before your water cools.” It was the barest murmured suggestion, but his erection throbbed painfully at her sweet drawl.