Arizona Temptress

by Smith, Bobbi

  Rick shuddered violently as her hot, velvety softness surrounded him, enveloping him in liquid fire and drawing his very soul from his body. And for that fraction of time, Rick, too, was able to give up the demons that were haunting him and lose himself in the whirling wonder of her love.

  “Oh, Cazador, it feels so right, so good,” she whispered as he began his rhythm, moving to pierce her sweetness again and again.

  “I know, love,” he groaned, his desire building to a demanding crescendo with each slow, perfect thrust.

  Suddenly, the steady, measured pleasure-giving pace was not enough for them. Impatient to renew the glory they’d found with one another, the power of their need great, they strained together, eager for a new draft of love’s fulfillment.

  Reveling in his potent possession, Jennie caressed his hard-muscled body with eager hands, moving easily with him, atuned to his every move, every nuance. Guiding and following, taking and giving, teasing and pleasing, they soared as one to the heights, their second mating even more glorious than their first. Bursting into flame at the pinnacle of ecstasy, they surrendered to love and were made willing captives of their spent dreamlike desire.

  Sated and content, they lay clasped in each other’s arms, unwilling as yet to face the reality that awaited them. And it was only when a shaft of bright sunlight broke through the rapidly dwindling clouds and shone harshly into the mine that their awareness slowly, and regrettably, returned.

  “It’s over,” Rick murmured as he lifted his head to squint into the light.

  “The rain?” Jennie found it hard to focus her drifting, mellow thoughts.

  “Um,” Rick growled. “The sun’s back out in all its glory.” He paused, his heart heavy as once again he had to focus on the grimness of their circumstances. “We have to go.”

  He didn’t want to leave Jennie’s embrace, but he knew it was time. The few luxurious moments he’d allowed himself to pretend that Malo didn’t exist were over. Shifting his weight from her loving warmth, he began to dress, pulling on his pants and boots and then rising to get his shirt from where Jennie had spread it out by the dying fire. Shrugging into the still damp garment, he then brought her the rest of her things so that she, too, could get ready to leave.

  Jennie had heard the thread of steel in his voice and knew there was no point in trying to dissuade him from continuing on in his quest to join Malo. Girding herself against the inevitable, she stood up and quickly pulled on her clothing.

  Though his movements seemed casual enough as Rick moved a distance away from her, in reality, they were anything but casual. He found the very sight of her stimulating and he felt an overwhelming need to take her in his arms and hold her. A part of him wanted life to be as sane, tranquil, and easy as Jennie thought it was, but he knew better. Their time here was over, for her sake and his own.

  “How does it look outside?” she asked as he went to stand in the opening. “Do you see anything?”

  “No. It’s pretty quiet.” Rick’s gaze swept the canyon, hoping to catch sight of Luis and Ray.

  “I’m glad Luis and Ray were ahead of us when the storm broke.” She shivered at the thought of being trapped in the mine with them as she slipped her arms into the shirt.

  Rick regarded her silently, his eyes dwelling on her breasts, and he couldn’t stop the desire that surged through him as he remembered their soft sweetness. As she buttoned the last button, he forced his heated gaze away.

  “I’ll see to the horse,” he said abruptly, wanting to be away from the torture chamber the mine had suddenly become.

  Jennie looked up questioningly, wondering at his hasty exit. Realizing that he was probably just anxious to catch up with the others, she hurriedly put out the fire and rolled up the blanket.

  As Jennie was putting his things back into the saddlebags, she found the remains of her torn blouse, bloodstained now with the proof of her lost innocence. For a long moment she stared at the cloth, her expression solemn as she considered the import of her actions. Hildago’s lectures on remaining chaste until after marriage rang hollowly in her mind. Jennie knew she was no longer the naive maiden, but in her heart, it didn’t matter. She loved Cazador and she had wanted to share that love with him. A smile lit her face as she remembered his tenderness and his passion, and she knew that he was the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. All other men paled in comparison.

  At the sound of Rick who was returning with their mount, she gathered the bedroll and the saddlebags and went out to meet him.

  “Thanks,” he said as she handed them to him.

  Glancing back in the direction from which they’d come, Jennie noted the storm’s blustering path and felt a great sense of relief, knowing that the tempest would slow the progress of any posse that was following them. Where before she’d been hoping for rescue, now she knew she could not bear to be parted from Cazador, and she hoped that her father would not be able to find them.

  Rick watched as she gazed back toward the desert. Thinking that she was still anxious to be rescued, he spoke his words harshly: “There’s no one there, Jennie.”

  She was puzzled by his tone, but before she could question him about it, he strode back into the mine. Thinking his changing mood was due to his need to hurry, she mounted the stallion and awaited his return.

  Picking up the last of their gear, Rick checked to make sure that the fire was dead before heading outside. Without speaking, his expression unreadable, he stowed the equipment and then swung up into the saddle behind her.

  Jennie waited for his arm to come around her and pull her back against him in their usual riding style, but he didn’t. And she was left feeling strangely bereft as he took up the reins impersonally on either side of her and kneed the horse to action, guiding it onward, ever deeper into the canyon.

  Chapter Ten

  Miguel Malo stood, rifle in hand, his attention directed down the canyon to where two riders were approaching. “Only two? I understood there were to be three of them!” he said angrily to Ramon, his lookout. “Can you make out who they are?”

  “No. Not yet,” Ramon told him nervously as he continued to stare at the men who were nearing their camp.

  “We are expecting only Luis and Ray and Cazador. I don’t want anyone else to get near this cave, do you understand?” He fixed him with a cold-eyed glare.

  Shifting under Malo’s penetrating look, he answered hurriedly, “Yes, Malo.” Ramon knew better than to question his orders for Malo was the boss and he was renowned for dealing quickly and ruthlessly with anyone who dared cross him.

  “I want to know who they are as soon as you can identify them,” Malo said and then turned away, satisfied that Ramon would follow his instructions.

  Working his way back down the rocky incline into the protection of the cave, Malo surveyed, with smug approval, the campsite he had personally chosen. Wide and deep, the cave was situated high in the bluffs at the end of Willow Canyon; its entrance was camouflaged by huge rocks and sparsely growing mesquite and creosote bushes. He knew that from below they were virtually invisible, while their view of the valley was unobstructed; that had been his main reason for selecting it, because it guaranteed no surprise attacks, either by Indians or whites.

  Malo was pleased with how well things had gone so far in his plan to find the Peralta gold, and he smiled when he thought of how easy it had all been. It amazed him that no one had thought of doing this before, and he wondered why old man Peralta hadn’t gone for it himself. Obviously, Malo concluded, Juan Peralta was a fool.

  “Malo?” Ramon’s voice from behind him startled Malo from his thoughts.

  “What?”

  “Luis and Ray are the two riders we saw, but there’s no sign of Cazador.”

  Malo scowled. “I was counting on having him along. Send the other two to me as soon as they arrive.”

  “Right.” And he disappeared back outside.

  “Old man!” Malo called as he moved deeper into the cave to wher
e Juan was being kept bound and under guard.

  Juan Peralta looked up quietly as the bandit approached, taking care to keep his expression blank as his hatred for Malo welled up inside of him.

  “It won’t be long now,” Malo bragged. “The rest of my men are almost here.”

  “Pity,” Juan replied through swollen bloodied lips. “I had hoped that the storm might wash the filth from the mountains.”

  Malo chuckled evilly and leaned closer to leer in Juan’s bruised and battered face. “If you value your life, you would do well to learn to hold your tongue.”

  “You will not kill me, Malo. Not yet.” Juan showed no trace of fear as he calmly met his adversary’s eyes.

  Malo drew back and regarded him malevolently as he pulled his knife and toyed with the blade. “We shall see, old man, we shall see.” His thoughts were interrupted by Luis’s and Ray’s call.

  “Malo!”

  Turning from his torment of Juan, he headed to where the last two members of his gang were waiting for him. “Where the hell is Cazador?” he demanded without preamble as he came to stand before them.

  “He’s coming,” Ray answered quickly.

  “What do you mean, ‘he’s coming’?” Malo snarled. “I thought he was riding in with you.”

  “He is. We were separated by the storm,” Luis lied. “He’ll be along in another hour or so.”

  “And he’s bringin’ a woman with him,” Ray added, hoping to cast his hated enemy in a bad light.

  Malo shrugged his indifference, for women were of little concern to him. “No matter. I brought Chica and Lucia along. His woman can help them with the cooking.”

  “How close are we to the mine?” Luis asked eagerly, changing the subject.

  “The old man is sly as a fox,” Malo told them. “He gives us only one day’s direction at a time.”

  “Can’t you just get him to draw a map?” Ray asked, anxious to get his share of the gold.

  “In these mountains I would not trust a map. No, he will lead us directly to the mine.”

  “What are you going to do with him after we get there?”

  “I have not decided yet whether to leave him in the middle of the desert for the Apache or just to kill him outright.” Malo smiled as he contemplated both alternatives.

  Luis nodded his understanding. “Is there food? We were running short on the way in.”

  “Check with the women,” he told them. “I’m going up to watch for Cazador.” When he noted the lusty light in their eyes at the thought of being with the women, Malo said, “Lucia is mine.”

  “Right.” They hurried to reassure him, respectful of his place as their leader.

  “Oh,” Malo said, “was there any sign of any Apache?”

  “No. Our only worry was a posse.”

  “A posse?” he asked. “Why would a posse be coming after you?”

  “Cazador’s woman.” They hastened to explain, wanting to put Cazador in as bad a light as possible. “He took her captive even though we told him to just kill her. She’s Mac McCaine’s daughter.”

  Malo growled. “McCaine? The M Circle C?”

  “The same.”

  “They’ll never be able to find us in these mountains and, maybe when we’re finished with the gold, we can ransom her back for a tidy sum.” He smiled at the possibility as he turned away to rejoin Ramon.

  Luis was pleased as he watched him walk away. “Hey, Ray.”

  “What?”

  “What do you think Cazador will do when Malo decides to ransom the McCaine girl?”

  Ray grinned. “I don’t know, but I’m sure gonna enjoy watchin’.”

  And, after exchanging knowing glances, they headed toward the women to get something to eat.

  Again, Malo waited at the lookout point, watching for some movement in the rock-strewn valley below. When at last he spotted their approach, he followed their progress avidly. Malo had heard many tales of the infamous El Cazador, and now he would finally get to see him for himself.

  Cazador had been the fastest gun in the territory a few years back and then suddenly, he’d disappeared. He hadn’t been heard from again until just recently. No one really knew where he’d gone or why, and Malo was curious. Why would a gunfighter with the best reputation around vanish for a long period of time, only to reappear years later? Before his association with Cazador was over, Malo was determined to have the answer.

  With avid interest, Juan watched the interchange between Malo and his newly arrived men. He could tell by Malo’s stance and actions that he was angry about something, but his words were lost to him in the echoing cavern.

  Bound hand and foot, he awkwardly shifted positions, seeking some small amount of comfort where he sat on the cave floor, and he wondered how long it would be until they killed him. He had managed to maintain a certain bravado in spite of Malo’s devious cruelties, but he didn’t know how much longer he could hold out against the continual abuse.

  Had there been some hope of rescue, Juan knew he could have lasted forever, but there was no ray of hope. According to the rumors he’d heard among Malo’s followers, Ricardo had been killed in the attack on the ranch.

  His heart grew heavy as he thought of his grandson’s short and tragic life. So much had happened to Rick: first his mother’s passing when he was still just a boy, and then the massacre and the years Rick spent riding as a gunslinger, trying to forget.

  The ache inside Juan became almost unbearable as he remembered the sons he’d lost in that last, horrendous trip here to the Superstitions. After the deaths of Rodrigo and Antonio, Juan had vowed never to return to these cursed mountains. There was not enough gold in the world to make up for the loss of his two fine sons.

  He had tried to cling to Rick, his only living heir, to bind him to him with love and family responsibility, but Rick had balked. Weighted down by his own unspoken misery, he had left El Rancho Grande and sought forgetfulness in the wild lifestyle of a hired gun. Juan knew it had taken him all those years to come to terms with the deaths of his beloved father and uncle. When Rick had finally made peace with himself, he’d returned home and Juan had welcomed him with open arms, for he loved his grandson beyond all else. But now, even Rick was gone, lost to him forever, and Juan cared little what the future held.

  It had infuriated him to know that he had to lead them to the gold, but Malo had threatened to slay all of the women at the ranch house unless he cooperated; so he had gone with them, knowing that he would probably never see his home again.

  At the sound of someone’s approach, Juan looked up, and his expression softened as he saw Lucia coming toward him carrying his evening meal. Though she was Malo’s woman, she had been the only one who had not mistreated him, and he was truly grateful for that.

  “I have your dinner,” Lucia told him as she squatted down beside him and untied his hands.

  “Thank you, my dear,” he told her as he briskly rubbed his wrists and then took the bowl of stew she offered.

  “You’re welcome.” Lucia was continually surprised by the courtesy the old man had shown her. Never before in her life had a man treated her with such kind regard, and she found herself growing fond of Juan, despite her determination not to. “Do you need anything else?”

  A great sadness filled him as their gazes met. “No, Lucia.”

  His haunting melancholy disturbed her and for a fleeting moment she wished that she could help him; that she could defy Malo and free him from his captivity so he could return to his home. But she knew it was impossible because Malo would find out; he always did when someone plotted against him. She had been with him long enough to know that she took her life in her hands if she dared to cross him.

  “All right.” Lucia stood up and looked nervously around for Malo, afraid that he might have been able to read her thoughts. She breathed an inward sigh of relief when she found that he’d left the cave. “I’ll be back later, when you’ve finished.”

  “Lucia?”

  �
��Yes?” She paused as she started to turn away.

  “I saw those other two men ride in. Are all the men in camp now?”

  “There’s still one other man coming. He was supposed to ride in with Luis and Ray, but from what Luis says, Cazador got separated from them in the storm.”

  Juan was stunned at the mention of Cazador for there was only one man in all of the territory who used that name. Forcing himself not to respond outwardly, he asked with carefully tempered curiosity, “Isn’t he that gunfighter?”

  “Yes,” Lucia told Juan as she glanced over toward the cave entrance. “And he should be here soon. I’m anxious to see him. It’ll be interesting to find out if he’s as good as they say he is.”

  “I’m sure he must be or he wouldn’t still be alive,” he said as excitement and hope began to grow within him. Ricardo was alive! But why had he resumed his identity as Cazador? Had he done it just to infiltrate Malo’s gang? What was his plan? Worried lest he give himself away, he remained passive as she continued to talk.

  “That’s true,” she said and then, deciding to join Malo outside so she could get a firsthand look at Cazador, she walked away. “I’ll be back.”

  As Juan watched her go, he wondered what Ricardo had planned, and he worried about his safety. One man against all of these? But glancing around, measuring the desperadoes, his confidence returned. He knew his grandson well and if anyone could effect a rescue under these circumstances, Ricardo could.

  A sense of peace overtook him and he began to eat, knowing that he would need his strength to help.

  “We’re almost there,” Rick told Jennie as he guided the horse up a slipping incline. “They disappeared behind that boulder and that’s the same place I saw the sun glint off that rifle barrel.” He pointed toward a massive rock near the crest of the mountain.

  “Are you sure it’s safe to just ride in?” she asked in a worried voice.

  “Believe me, Jennie. If they’d wanted us dead, we wouldn’t have gotten this far.” Rick was growing apprehensive about his upcoming meeting with Malo, and his words came out more tersely than he’d intended. “These men don’t play games. Remember that.”