by Howe, Cheryl
“You could believe it well enough when you sent me to do the very thing you condemn me for.”
“I didn’t ask you to take up with him. Are you on his side?”
“We’re all on the same side.”
“If you believe that, you’re a bigger fool than I thought. He’s just taking what he wants and filling you with empty promises.”
“Christopher hasn’t promised me anything.”
“Like I thought.” He stalked past her. “Where’s his saddlebag? I’m getting my guns and heading out.”
She stepped in front of her brother, blocking his path to Christopher’s saddle and their supplies. Christopher had slipped away to shoot a rabbit for dinner. They’d have a stew with fresh meat tonight. Corey couldn’t leave.
“Where do you think you can go?”
“Anywhere but here. Get out of my way.”
She stood her ground. Her brothers had never been able to lay a finger on her. Her father gave them the spanking of a lifetime if they even raised their voices to her.
“You’re doing no such thing. You just trot your horse back out to the field with Lucky and the palomino. We’re staying with Braddock.”
“Is that what he makes you call him—Braddock? Or is it Mr. Braddock?”
“He doesn’t make me do anything.”
Corey folded his arms over his chest. “So you’ve chosen to turn your back on me all on your own.”
“Turn my back…” If he hadn’t grown several inches taller than she, she would have followed through on the urge to whack him hard on his backside. “All I’ve done since I’ve gotten to New Mexico is clean up your mess. You’re in a lot of trouble. We’re in a lot of trouble because of you. You’re not running out on your responsibilities this time.”
“Didn’t you learn anything from Berkley? Braddock’s no different. He isn’t going to help us. He just wants to get his axle greased.”
Corey sidestepped her while she stood with her mouth open. When she recovered enough to use her voice, You don’t even know him died in her throat. Those were the same words she had used when her mother warned her Berkley would never go against his father to marry her. She had been so sure then. Almost as sure as she was now.
She kept her distance while Corey pawed through Christopher’s saddlebags.
“You shouldn’t do that. Those are his things.”
Corey raised a pistol in each hand. “These are mine.”
After he stashed the weapons in his pockets, her brother went for the flowered valise that held their supplies.
She grabbed the bag out of his hand. “You’re not taking our food.”
“Our food?” Corey arched a brownish red eyebrow. His cynical expression was that of a grown man. A hard man. She didn’t know when or how the transformation had happened.
He lunged for the bag.
She twirled to the side, removing it from his reach. “Listen to me, Corey Sullivan. I’m just trying to keep you alive. I can’t let you leave here by yourself.”
He brushed past her. “What are you going to do, yell for your lover?”
She dropped the bag and grabbed his arm to keep him from reaching his horse. He shook her off and she stumbled back. He didn’t even turn to see if she caught her balance.
“Corey, are you going to leave me?”
He dropped the foot he had raised to place in the stirrup. “I don’t want to. I want us to be together, but you’ve chosen him over me.”
“That’s not true.” She couldn’t explain what Christopher meant to her. She didn’t even know herself. “He’s going to find Mulcahy and help you.”
“Yeah, he’s going to use me to find him, even though I told him Mulcahy wants to kill me for messing up the robbery. And then, if Mulcahy doesn’t kill me, I get to go to jail for the rest of my life. No, thank you. I’d rather go live with the coyotes. At least they take care of their own.”
“What do you think I’ve been doing?” Frustration broke her voice.
He must have seen her pain, because he turned back to his horse but didn’t attempt to mount. “Don’t cry, Lori. I’ll find you after everything blows over.”
Being wanted for murder wasn’t going to blow over. He might look like a man, but he was still her little brother. She’d come all this way to be with him, and she couldn’t let her own selfish desires separate them, or worse, cause Corey harm.
“If you have to go, I’ll go with you.”
He glanced at her over his shoulder. “He’ll follow us.”
“He’ll follow you anyway.” She knew it with a certainty she wished she didn’t.
Corey turned. “You can stop him.”
“I can’t.”
Corey gazed intently into her eyes, giving Lorelei the sinking feeling this was what he had planned all along. “Maybe if we work together we can get him handcuffed. There has to be a time when he has his guns off. A time when he isn’t expecting it.”
Lorelei took a step back, realizing what that direct gaze meant. “Oh, no! I won’t use our relationship to hurt him.”
“He’d do it to you.”
“You might as well ride out of here, Corey. I won’t do what you’re asking.”
She turned her back on him and walked toward the wood she had gathered for a fire. Her hands shook as she stacked the dried pieces of timber. Corey’s boots crunched twigs and earth as he followed her. He hadn’t planned on leaving at all, not without her cooperation. Christopher had good reason to worry about taking off his guns. Had he truly believed she would agree to such a thing using her body to trick him, ambush him?
Lorelei threw a heavy log on the fire with enough force to scatter the others. Of course he thought her capable of that kind of deception. Distracting him was exactly what she’d intended when she went to his hotel room on the first day they had met.
“Lori—”
“Go if you’re going to go.”
“Not without you.”
She whirled around, a dried branch in her hand. “Right, then who will do your dirty work?”
“It’s not like that.”
She dropped the gnarled length of pine before she hit him with it. “Then how is it?”
“It’s not like you didn’t do the same thing to Berkley.” He had the good grace to glance away.
The old pain in her chest flowered at the reminder of a time she’d rather forget. Her plan to meet with Berkley after his father had accused hers of cheating on a horse race had been the beginning of the end of her dreams. At the time, she’d believed Berkley’s love was strong enough to weather his father’s false allegations. She hadn’t known her father would show up with witnesses, hoping to catch them in a compromising position. Perhaps she’d suspected, but she didn’t know for sure.
Lorelei turned away, unable to face Corey. It hadn’t mattered anyway. Berkley had let her reputation be ruined rather than go against his family to marry her.
Corey gently gripped her shoulder, bringing her back to the situation at hand.
In avoiding his persistence on a subject she wished to never speak of again, she spotted Braddock standing across the clearing. Christopher, her lover, the man whose gentle caresses made her feel safe, had remained in the woods. Braddock, cold and hard, a rifle clutched in his hand, surveyed the scene like a hungry animal. The muzzle of his rifle pointed toward the ground, but the way his body tensed warned he could swing the weapon up and fire at a moment’s notice.
Their gazes met and held. Lorelei could tell by the black look in his eyes that he’d been there for a while. The tall trees that had embraced her earlier cast accusing shadows as the light drained from the sky.
“Who the hell’s Berkley?” he said with the coldness of a stranger.
Corey turned, seeing him for the first time. Lorelei couldn’t find the courage to fumble for an answer to his question. Braddock strode toward them. Lorelei darted her gaze away, unable to meet the censure in his eyes.
“Going somewhere, kid?”
<
br /> Lorelei forced herself to confront Braddock. She had no reason to feel guilty. In fact, she had refused to betray him even though the deepened lines around his mouth said otherwise.
“Corey wants to leave. He says you’re holding him prisoner.”
Braddock ignored the question in her statement, eyeing the pistols Corey had stuffed in his pockets instead. “You going to use those, kid?”
Corey kept his hands by his sides, too close to the guns for Lorelei’s comfort. “I told you, I’m not a killer like you.”
Braddock swung the rifle up and pointed it at Corey. “That’s good to know, but since you’re a lying little bastard, I’d feel a whole lot better if you’d toss them to the ground. Nice and slow.”
Lorelei moved beside her brother but stopped when Braddock swung his rifle’s nose in her direction. She gazed at Braddock over the barrel, not knowing him at all.
“She’s unarmed. And these aren’t even loaded. You took all the ammunition.” Corey lifted his hands above his head. “Take them if you want.”
Braddock strode toward them, and Lorelei backed away. He grabbed the pistols from Corey’s pockets and tossed them to the ground.
“Turn around.” He shoved the rifle into Corey’s shoulder when he didn’t comply fast enough.
Lorelei rushed to her brother’s rescue, not sure what she intended to do. “Stop that. What are you doing to him?”
“Stay back, Lorelei. I have a tendency to shoot before I think when I’m irritable, and right now I’m pretty goddamned irritable.”
She stopped, not wanting to believe he meant it but too unsure to discount his words.
Braddock shoved Corey toward his ransacked saddlebag. With the rifle in one hand, he fished out metal handcuffs with the other. He shifted the rifle under his arm and swiftly handcuffed Corey’s hands behind his back.
“See, Lorelei? Do you see what I told you?” Corey cried. The sound of the cuffs clicking shut emphasized his point.
Lorelei tried to sound calm and in control no matter how laughable the idea was. Cold reason was all that worked with Braddock. “Are you turning him in?”
He didn’t even glance at her before he shuffled Corey off to the base of a tree. “I’m going to find Mulcahy. Nothing’s changed.”
“Corey says Mulcahy will kill him.”
“If he gets his hands on him, I imagine he will.” He put a hand on Corey’s shoulder and shoved him to the ground against the tree.
Braddock strode over to his scattered belongings then, inspecting what had been taken before he repacked the rest. Lorelei’s gaze strayed to Corey. He looked like a pig trussed for market. With a motion of his head, he gestured toward Braddock in a silent plea for help. She stared at Braddock’s broad back, not sure what she could do, but knowing she had to do something.
As she approached him, she noticed Braddock’s rifle propped against a thick pine. She glanced back at Corey. The unguarded weapon hadn’t gotten past him. He motioned again, the rifle clearly his intended target.
Braddock knelt between her and the weapon. She wasn’t sure she could get to it, and was even less sure she could use it against him. Braddock wasn’t a man who could be bluffed. Perhaps she could shoot him in the leg. The thought of hurting him at all sent her stomach to her knees. But if she didn’t find her courage and something happened to her brother, she’d never forgive herself.
Helpless to make a decision, she maneuvered herself within reach of the gun, hoping it wouldn’t come to that. “You can’t let Mulcahy get his hands on Corey. Doesn’t that prove to you he’s innocent? The man he was supposed to be in cahoots with wants to kill him.”
She noticed the rabbit then. He must have had it tucked away during the confrontation with Corey. Braddock skinned the animal with quick, detached motions. His hands were covered with blood, his eyes filled with cold disgust. “He’s not innocent.”
His statement didn’t leave room for argument. The rifle leaned directly behind her. Christopher remained turned away—purposely avoiding looking at her, she suspected. She could swivel on her heels and grab the weapon. Indecision mired her in what felt like knee-deep mud. The desire to trust him kept her feet firmly planted.
With great effort she took a step toward him, and one away from the rifle.
“What about me?”
He still didn’t look at her. “What about you?”
“What do you intend to do with me?”
He glanced at her over his shoulder, then turned away. “I never intended anything, Lorelei.”
She clasped her shaking hands behind her back. If she could get the rifle, what would riding out of here accomplish? Where would they go?
She glanced at Corey. His silent, anxious pleading unnerved her. What had justice ever done for any of them? Justice didn’t rescue her father when he was accused of cheating in a horse race. They’d been turned out of their house to pay fines. And there was that awful month her father spent in jail. Supposedly the punishment had been lenient, but it had broken her father’s spirit and his pride. He’d never been the same after that. Her mother’s words haunted her. Corey was too much like her father.
Lorelei knew what she had to do. “After you catch Mulcahy, they’ll send Corey to jail.”
“Yep.” Braddock stuck a sharpened spit through the poor rabbit’s glistening body.
“There’s nothing you’ll do?”
He poured water from a canteen over his bloody hands, then shook them dry. “Nope.”
“But you said—”
He stood and faced her, stopping anything else she might have had to say. She backed up, suddenly afraid of him.
“I said I wanted to help you. Not him. He robbed a stagecoach. I said I might—might,”—his teeth shone white against his dark-stubbled beard as he ground out his words—“be able to keep him from hanging, but I never said anything about keeping him out of jail.”
He turned away, but then abruptly whipped around as if he suspected her plan. “So you can stop looking at me like I have two heads. I’m not the one who had any other motives besides having a good time. Sorry I ruined your plans, sweetheart.”
He turned his back to her again and tossed wood into a pile to start a fire.
The urge to explain, to tell him he had overheard wrong, shriveled in the harsh light of his words. Shooting him in the leg—the thigh, better yet—became more and more appealing. She didn’t deserve his cruel assessment. Even though there were never any promises made, and she should have known better, she thought there was more between them than “having a good time,” as he so crudely put it.
She quietly and calmly picked up the rifle. He never once glanced her way. She had all the time in the world to fix her aim on his head while he crouched over the smoking wood.
Casually he raised his gaze to hers. His cold expression didn’t waver in the least at the sight of her raised weapon. “It’s not loaded, Lorelei.”
The shaking started where she squeezed the rifle’s long barrel and ran up her arm, blurring her vision. He knew what she had been up to. Had always had one eye on her. He’d never made himself vulnerable to her, as she had to him. His pistols were always right where he could reach them. Even when he was finding his pleasure inside her body, he was ready to shoot anything that threatened him, including her brother, maybe even her.
Lorelei cocked the gun, aimed at his arm, and pulled the trigger. The sound of the hammer hitting an empty cartridge widened his eyes. His startled look brought her little satisfaction, because his expression immediately changed to murderous. He shot to his feet and strode toward her, yanking the gun out of her hand.
For a moment she thought he would hit her. She willed him to, so she’d never doubt what kind of man he was again.
“You were never honest with me.”
He ignored her and stalked back over to the fire, which crackled and popped as it caught the wood. With the sun having set and twilight taking over, the flame’s glow flickered across the hard sur
faces of his face. He nudged a piece of wood back into the roaring center with the toe of his boot, looking as if he had never smiled a day in his life.
“Aren’t you going to handcuff me, too?” If she taunted him enough he would be pushed over the edge, be forced to give up this cruel act. Christopher could never treat her like this.
He picked up a long stick and used it to stir the fire. “Do I need to?”
She swallowed her fury, trying to match the coldness in his voice when she spoke. “If you want to keep me from slitting your throat while you sleep, then it might be a good idea.”
She expected him to react. Wanted to scratch the indifference off his cool surface. How could he act like he didn’t care when her heart was burning at his betrayal? At least if he would yell or scream or curse her, she would know she hadn’t been such a fool. Hadn’t been so wrong about him.
But his leisurely stroll to his saddlebags mocked her threat. When he turned to her, the firelight reflected off the dull metal handcuffs he held. He dangled them from one finger as if he were bringing her a pretty trinket.
“Lucky for me I keep a second set.” His cocky smile faded when he reached her. “Turn around.”
She lifted her chin, refusing to budge.
He grabbed her by the shoulder and roughly spun her so her back faced him. She almost wanted to laugh. She really hadn’t thought he would do it. Still didn’t. The joke was on her. He twisted one arm behind her back and closed the metal cuff until the iron encircled her wrist, then did the same with the other. He turned her to face him again, this time more gently.
With her arms behind her back, her chest thrust against her white blouse.
He lowered his gaze, making a show at perusing what the position revealed. Her nipples stretched the worn fabric to bursting.
Every nerve in her body was taut. How dared he think he could still arouse her? She wanted to spit in his face, but did nothing, waiting for his next move. Let him see what a miserable man he was. Let him be sorry for what he’d done to her.
He didn’t seem sorry at all. He rested his palms on her shoulders, then slid them down her arms to the cuffs at her wrists. When his arms were around her he pulled her forward, forcing her snugly against him.