by Bec McMaster
CHAPTER SIX
"ARE YOU SURE WE NEED HIM?" Eden seethed, as they pulled their motorbikes to a halt at the edge of the Rim. Dust choked the air, but she knew both CJ and Colton heard her.
CJ shot her a faint smile. He'd been considerably more relaxed ever since Colton joined the party that morning. Maybe she'd be better off kicking them both off the edge of the Rim and continuing on by herself.
Maybe she was just pissed because the last man she’d ever wanted to see again was barking orders like a Confederacy general.
"Darlin'," Colton drawled, "Everyone needs me in their life. Especially the ladies."
Eden's eyes narrowed to slits.
"And you're the one who tried to blackmail me into doing this. I'm not here out of the goodness of my heart, so if you want me gone, then just say the word."
Somehow, the cage of her teeth caught the answer that sprang to mind.
"Just in case you need a little crash course on this entire situation: You chased me down. You demanded I guide you. I'm doing exactly what you asked me to do. I don't get what the problem is," Colton said, then lifted his water skin to his lips, his face tilted toward the dying light of the sun as he drank. His throat worked and Eden looked furiously away as a splash of water trailed down his lips and chin.
This. This was the problem.
She wasn't impervious to him.
She'd seen his gaze drop to her breasts in the bar. She knew exactly what had been going through his mind at the time. Every now and then a spark of heat flared in his whiskey-brown eyes when they met hers, and while she ought have been disgusted, she couldn't help feeling the past flash between them.
The first time she'd ever laid eyes upon Johnny Colton had been the day he and his uncle rode into her small town when she was eighteen. She'd been running errands in town for Adam when she'd burst around the corner of the general store and seen a young man bent over the horse trough, splashing water over his face. Tall, lean, dressed completely in black, he'd straightened when he'd heard her suck in a sharp breath, leaving water tracking rivulets down his throat and the open collar of his shirt.
It had been an unguarded moment.
Wide eyes. A handsome stranger barely a handful of years older than her.
And then Johnny Colton had given her the shyest smile she'd ever seen on a man, and Eden's heart had started beating a little faster.
"Hello, angel," he'd said to her.
Eden hauled herself out of the memories. She'd been attracted to him the second she saw him. She'd let him use their washhouse and then stolen a kiss behind it. And it seemed—despite everything that had happened—that attraction hadn't completely died away.
Just admit it. You're not pissed at him because he's doing what you asked. You're pissed because you can't take your eyes off him.
"No problem," she managed to say between her teeth.
Colton smirked.
Ugh.
Turning around, he surveyed the small town nestled right on the edge of the cliffs of the Divide. "Welcome to Rimside. Location: Buttfuck Nowhere. Population: Scum of the earth. Don't drink the water. You might get syphilis."
"Cholera," she muttered. "You're thinking of cholera."
"Don't ruin my monologue."
"And stop swearing. You don't have to cuss all the time."
"I like swearing, thanks, Grandma. There are some situations where a simple gosh darn just isn't going to cut it." He gestured toward Rimside. "This place is a shithole filled with reiver scum. Unfortunately, it's also the only place within a reasonable distance that has access down into the Divide, without us having to pass through any of the Dead Zones around here."
Just the thought of the radioactive Dead Zones sent a shiver down her spine. When the meteor that caused the Darkening hit all those years ago, it had sent the world into an unnatural impact winter, and wildfires scorched the lands. Nuclear reactors had melted down, poisoning the area around them to this day, and everyone in the Wastelands knew to avoid them.
"Night's falling. How soon can we get down?" CJ asked.
"We stay in Rimside tonight—"
"Surely we can at least go down?" she blurted, glancing toward the sky. Evening slid across the blue expanse, a hint of shadow crawling across the horizon, like someone was drawing a blanket over the world. "We're tight on time."
"The last thing we want to do is camp the night at the base of Rimside. The bast... very bad men here like to entertain themselves with a specific custom that attracts all manner of critters in the Divide."
"Such as?"
"Criminals find themselves walking the plank, so to speak. Each night you'll find every predator in the Divide at the base, looking for remains. It's an easy meal for scavengers."
"Aren't all reivers criminals?"
Colton sighed and closed his eyes as if to ask, why me? "Yes. Kind of. Reiver gangs roam the countryside, but Rimside is ruled by a fellow named Clark. Millicent Clark—"
Eden snorted with amusement. "What kind of fearsome na—"
"It's the kind of name nobody is going to make fun of," he growled, "especially within hearing of Rimside. Or that somebody might just find out for themselves what waits at the bottom of the cliffs. Clark allows anyone in, but he insists upon one rule: No trouble. You'll find reivers from several different gangs in here. You're allowed to knife a man in the streets as long as you clean up the body. You can steal from other reivers. Break a few bones. But if you break any of the furniture in any of the bars, or molest any of the locals, you're going to meet Clark. He looks after his own."
"So what you're saying is watch our backs, because anyone might take a swing at us, but be careful if you swing back."
"I'll get us some rooms," he said, "and you can get some sleep while I make sure we have supplies for the trip across."
"We have—"
"Trust me. You won't have what I need. Any more questions?"
He looked at her pointedly.
Eden made a sign like she was zipping her lips.
"I wish." Colton swung off his bike and walked it toward the small settlement at the top of the escarpment, dragging a handful of coins from his pocket as the people there opened the gates.
Eden followed, struggling with the weight of her brother's old Yamaha. Colton paid to have the bikes stored, with a warning he'd be back for them in a week or so, and then helped grab one of her bags. He swung it over his shoulder with his own, barely breaking a stride.
"You don't have to—"
"I know."
The idea of him carrying her bag was personally offensive. She didn't want help. Especially not from him.
"My mother raised me to have better manners than letting a lady carry her things. Don't force me to sully her memory," he warned, as if reading her mind.
"What did she say about kidnapping?" she snapped.
Colton shot her a narrowed look, and this time it was his turn to press his lips thinly together.
Point one to her.
The smell hit her as they made their way into the main street, and she found the source immediately. A man pissed against the interior of the wooden palisade wall, swaying slightly. He turned bleary eyes upon them as the guards patted CJ down and then took a double take when he saw her.
"You're with me," Colton said, grabbing her hand and dragging her against the side that was unencumbered with bags.
Eden slammed against him, recoiling immediately. "Like hell I am—"
"Hog-tied," he said. "Cave. You and me." Then he draped an arm around her waist and let his hand rest familiarly on her hip.
"If that hand moves any lower," she hissed, "I will not be responsible for the outcome."
A thumb stroked against her hip as if to dare her. Colton's smile was pure evil. "You might as well get comfortable with me. You're my woman while we're in Rimside. Which means tonight we're sharing a room."
"When hell freezes over."
Colton's smile vanished and his hand slid from her side. "Lo
ok around you, angel. This isn't Haven or Absolution, or any of the settlements you know. This is Rimside. And like it or not, when they look at you all they're going to see is fresh meat. Unless you want every reiver in the place trying to stick his hands where they don't belong—or worse—then you can tolerate my touch. The only way to get down to the Divide is by passing through this shithole, so play your part, I'll play mine, and by the time the sun rises, you can pretend I haven't washed in a year again."
"If I need a protector, then CJ can play the part."
Colton's gaze slid toward her friend. "No offense, kid, but are you even shaving yet?"
A growl echoed in CJ's throat, but he gave her a long-suffering look. "Edie, you know I'd do anything for you, but... you're like my older sister. There's ten years between us. I don't know if I could play the part of your protector."
"And while I'm sure your friend can gut anything that moves, CJ looks young and pretty enough that he's probably going to have to watch his back too," Colton added. "Reivers aren't always that fussy."
In a horrible way, it made sense.
"Cole," CJ burst out. "Only my friends call me CJ."
Colton nodded slowly, as if to concede he wasn't a friend.
The light was fading, leaving longer shadows. A fire burned ahead of them in a rusted metal barrel. Several unwashed men in leather vests and dirty shirts warmed their hands around it. A woman strode past with the sides of her head shaved and a bright orange Mohawk standing to attention. Not all reivers were men. And the women were often the worst of the worst, as they had a point to prove.
"Wahoo!" screamed a reiver in the distance, shooting his gun into the air.
Another laughed, and a pair of drunks staggered out of what looked like a nearby makeshift bar. One of them turned to tug at the buttons on his jeans, and she looked away swiftly before she copped an eyeful of something she didn't want to see.
Eden felt Black Tom's hands on her jeans again, a sick sensation curling in her stomach.
"Fine," she said tersely. "I'm your woman. Just keep your hands to yourself unless you want to lose them."
A hand squeezed the back of her neck, the gesture both protective and confronting. "Nobody's going to touch you," Colton murmured.
"Don't make promises you can't keep." She brushed his hand off her.
"Oh, I can keep this one." His voice roughened. "Because if anyone dares to lay a hand on you, I will gut them. This way. The Saucy Wench’s this way."
EDEN SETTLED her gear neatly in the corner of the room Colton had hired for the night, and then turned to stare at the narrow bed tucked against the wall. Barely enough room for Colton, let alone her. "You're on the floor."
Colton eased the door shut with a click, his large stride carrying him into the center of the room, where he dumped his bedroll. "I figured."
His presence seemed to absorb all the oxygen in the room, which was small enough to begin with. They'd be stepping all over each other. Trapped together. Breathing the same claustrophobic air.
Eden shivered. She and CJ had snatched a mouthful of food while Colton made arrangements for their descent in the morning, and purchased what looked like enough ammunition to mount a campaign on Cortez City single-handedly. The food had been terrible, and she'd felt the greasy stain of every reiver's eyes upon her. It had almost been a relief when Colton returned, because suddenly nobody was looking at her like she was a delicious morsel. He just had that air about him that said, screw with me or mine, and you're a dead man.
But being alone with him....
Sharing a room....
He set the lantern on the table and circled the room, running his fingertips over the walls.
"What are you doing?"
Colton paused, then leaned closer to where his fingers rested beneath a faded old framed poster that hung there, and examined something. Muttering under his breath, he took the frame down and hung his hat there, covering the pinhole.
Oh.
"I thought you said this was the safest place in town," she said.
"It is. Emphasis on the saf-est." Scraping a hand through his close-cropped black hair, he gave her a weary look. "Do you want me to fetch some water so you can wash?"
She would kill for some water and soap. The last two days had been hot and sweaty, and dust coated her skin like a glove. Everywhere. But there had to be a catch. "If you offer to scrub my back...."
Colton arched a brow. "My mother did teach me some manners."
The polite way he said it took her aback.
"Truce, Eden." He sighed. "One night of truce, okay? I'm tired and this is probably going to be the last chance I get to sleep for the next four days. Trust me. You want me as alert as I can be down there."
Eden. The word sat heavy in the air. So too did his request. She wasn't usually this bitchy.
"Truce," she whispered.
Colton nodded slowly, his dark eyes never leaving her face, and then he turned toward the door. "I'll fetch the water."
The second the door shut, she turned and stared blindly around the room. What was she doing? Embarking on a dangerous trek with her most hated enemy?
Do you hate him?
Or do you hate what he had a hand in doing to you?
She sank onto the bed, finally picturing the face of her true enemy.
Growing up in the Wastelands, she knew monsters. But there were monsters—wargs, revenants, shadow cats—and then there were monsters. Bartholomew Cane haunted her memories like a ghost, and for someone who'd been dead for three years, his image was easy to recall.
A match flared in the darkness, and hot, dangerous eyes lingered on her in a way that made a young Eden's skin creep. Cane's rugged features held the taint of cruelty, his heavy mouth sloping down as he lit his cigar, and shook the match out slowly.
"You got what you wanted," a younger, not-as-world-weary Johnny Colton said, stepping between her and Cane. "McClain's going to give you Luc Wade. Now let me take the girl home. It's done."
Ugh.
Eden dragged her hands over her face, trying to banish Cane from her mind. By the time Colton had returned with a bowl of water that even looked clean, she'd almost succeeded.
"Thank you."
A half smile twitched at his lips.
"What?"
"You're welcome," he said. "I'll go next door and make sure Cole knows how to barricade his room."
"You really know how to settle a girl's mind."
Colton's smile faded. "I don't want your mind settled. I want you wary, angel. But you should be safe tonight. Take the time to wash."
He headed for the door.
"Knock," she suggested. "And don't open the door until I grant you permission."
"Yeah, I got it." Dark eyes scoured her briefly, reminding her she was intending to get naked.
Eden's breath caught in her throat.
"I'll give you a couple of minutes," he muttered, and then slipped out through the door.
Her gaze slid to the bowl. There was barely two inches of water in it, but oh.... She burst into a flurry of movement, fetching the small bar of soap Riley had packed for her and the thin washcloth. Voices murmured next door, the walls paper-thin. Stripping out of her clothes, she knotted her hair loosely on the top of her head and set the bowl on the floor so she could stand in it and not waste a drop. Next door, the door slammed firmly, Colton's boots ringing on the timber floors.
The slick glide of soap over her skin felt like heaven.
A thin band of light stretched under the door and she could make out the large shadow standing guard, right in the middle. Water dripped into the bowl and the shadow shifted. Eden paused, the flannel draped over her right breast. A single panel of timber separated them. It felt intimate in a way she hadn't expected, and she could hear Colton shifting, hear the soft rasp of his breath.
Knew he was listening to water drip down her naked skin and splash in the bowl.
Damn it. Heat flared deep in her abdomen. Despite everythin
g, her body hadn't quite gotten the message Johnny Colton couldn't be trusted.
You don't have to trust him for what you want to do to him....
He's an attractive man, she told herself, knowing denying the facts wouldn't make them untrue.
Really fucking attractive, whispered the devil on her shoulder, the one that knew no man had seen her naked in years. Eden's naughty side didn't mind swearing at all, and certain situations did call for cusswords. All that olive skin, stained golden by the sun. His slightly lopsided smile, which held hints of pure wickedness. Large hands, roughened with calluses. The way his jeans molded to an ass even Eden couldn't resist glancing at from time to time.
Damn it. She had a mental image of when she'd dropped her flask a couple of hours ago and bent to pick it up. Colton had been standing right next to her, and when she'd glanced up, her head on a level with his belt, he'd had this look on his face that stole her breath—
This wasn't happening.
And worst of all, she had one place left to wash.
Nipples pebbling—and not from the chill of the room—she dragged the flannel between her legs quickly, but it was as if everything was betraying her. A spike of sensation shot through her as the soft material rasped over her clit, and she knew if her fingers stroked there, she'd be growing wet.
"You done yet?" Colton growled.
"No!" Eden wrenched the flannel away guiltily. What was she doing? She nearly tripped out of the wide bowl, spattering soap across the floor. "Don't come in!"
"Mierda." He continued muttering curses under his breath in what she assumed was Spanish. "I wasn't planning to, but you suddenly went silent."
I was thinking about how well your jeans fit....
Taking the full jug, she stepped back in the bowl and hastily poured it down her body. The water was lukewarm now, but it washed away all of the suds and dirt, and hopefully some of her sins.
She set a new speed record for drying herself and wriggled into fresh panties and an old shirt of Adam's that she wore to bed. The second she dragged her shorts up her legs she cleared her throat. "I'm done."