by Ann Yost
She choked out the words.
“I don’t want you to stop.”
He made a sound in his chest that was half laugh, half groan.
“Honey, I couldn’t stop if a dozen mobsters with machine guns came through that door.”
”Oh.” She tightened her grip on him and felt his erection expand inside her. It was too tight and too sore and too exciting for words.
“Come to me,” she whispered.
He dropped his head and spoke into her mouth.
“Lily.”
An instant later he began to move. She felt the restraint he tried to impose on his body and she rejected it. She arched up and thrust her tongue into his mouth.
“Come to me,” she repeated. “Now.”
Cam launched himself like a heat-seeking missile, his breathing rasped in her ear, his body drove hers deeper and deeper into the faux leather, his need was her need and she felt tears on her cheeks. His climax exploded, rocketing them both into another dimension. She gathered him against her and stroked his back while he struggled for breath. Then she just held him tightly, thankful for this unexpected gift fate had brought her when she’d thought it was too late and especially when she no longer deserved it.
Too soon he lifted off her.
“It was too fast,” he said. “I’m sorry.” She shook her head.
“There was no time to get you ready. I don’t know what happened. You were just so tight.”
“It’s okay.”
“It seemed like a good way to hide.”
“It was.”
“But I got carried away. I didn’t mean to do it like that.”
She wished he’d stop reviewing his technical performance and talk about love. She wished he’d stroke her face and tell her he still cared, that he’d always cared.
But those things didn’t happen because they hadn’t made love. They’d had emergency sex. Sex as a diversion. A quickie designed to conceal their real purpose for being in Big Eddie’s office.
“I really am sorry,” Cam said, again. She summoned a weak smile.
“I know. I’m sorry, too.” She pushed him, gently, and he moved away from her. “It’s time to go,” she murmured.
Almost immediately he looked as cool as usual while she felt sticky and her dress was crumpled beyond repair. It took two full minutes to find and get into her shoes.
“Your hair’s a mess,” he said, dispassionately, fingering one of the long strands that had worked its way out of her updo.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m heading out to the parking lot.”
“Right.”
They decided he should go first with the laptop. She’d follow a few minutes later. He had his hand on the doorknob when he turned. She felt her heart thump. Say it. Just once. Tell me you still love me.
He frowned at her.
“We didn’t use any protection but it’s all right. I’m healthy. And I’m sterile.”
Molly went very still.
Sterile? Was he kidding?
“You have a daughter.”
The words were faint but he heard them.
“Yeah, well, that’s a story for another time. I just wanted you to know there won’t be any unpleasant repercussions.”
Molly watched the door close behind him. No unpleasant repercussions. What irony there was in those words. She thought about the baby she’d mourned and about the baby she’d broken all the rules to try to get. I’m sterile.
But it wasn’t true. He had fathered two children already and nine months from now, during the Sowing Moon, he might have another son or a daughter.
Of course he wouldn’t know it.
She’d just had a chance to reconnect with Cam Outlaw, something she’d wanted for thirteen years and she’d never felt worse in her life.
The old saying was true. You had to be careful what you wished for because you just might get it.
****
Regret hit him like a tidal wave. He couldn’t believe what he’d done. It wasn’t so much that he’d slept with the enemy, although they were certainly not friends. It was the way he did it. The terms, ham-handed, ox-like and Neanderthal came to mind.
He’d dreamt, over the years, of tying up the loose ends, a prospect that usually ended in bed with a bitter sweet connection.
Instead, he’d lost control and plowed her like a pig in rut. Damn. He hadn’t meant to treat her like that. Tiger Lily deserved better. And there was nothing he could say or do at this point. It was just a huge mistake. Remorse for his behavior was mixed with a helpless sense of a missed chance. Cam sought a word for the unpleasant sensations roiling inside him and found it.
Anguish.
He wanted a do-over.
He wanted another chance.
There wouldn’t be one. Not unless he was willing to forgive the past, to seek a future with a woman who’d proven she couldn’t be trusted.
Cam realized, suddenly, that he’d accepted Grey Wolf’s summons because, buried under the layers of time, was a hope that he could let go of the pain he’d carried in his heart all these years. On some level he’d wanted to see Molly again, see her, make love to her, and walk away.
The seconds on Big Eddie’s faux leather butterscotch sofa had not fulfilled that wish.
Pride had kept him from approaching her last night when they’d shared a room, anger had prevented anything from happening after he’d found her at the hot tub and, tonight, he’d been scuttled by lust.
Three strikes. He was out. Tiger Lily was, once more, in the past and this time he had to let her go.
He entered the casino intending to make his way through it then step into the adjoining lobby of the Blackbird Spa. He’d go up in the glass elevator, gather their belongings from the honeymoon suite, then return to the ground floor in the service elevator. Then he’d exit the building from the back and circle around to the front parking lot where he’d left the Mercedes.
His heavy heart and preoccupation allowed him to get halfway across the casino floor without noticing that something was missing. It was the noise. There was no click of the wheels or calling out of numbers. There was no hum of conversation punctuated with bursts of laughter.
The game room was virtually silent.
Something was very wrong.
A large group of people were huddled near the Black Jack table, all of them facing the same direction like a field of flowers turned to the sun. A terrified wail drifted up through the crowd like a thin column of smoke from a chimney.
Everyone on the floor was distracted, the circumstances perfect for a slick getaway but Cam found he couldn’t ignore the stricken cry. He moved toward the group.
“What’s going on here?”
The onlookers, probably responding to the authoritative note he’d deliberately adopted in his voice, started to chatter. He held up a hand.
“One at a time,” he said, wondering how this clutch of adults could be so shocked they couldn’t figure that out themselves.
“We need a doctor,” a woman explained. “There’s a young woman giving birth and no one knows what to do.”
“We’re on an Indian Reservation,” a man said. “They don’t have a hospital and probably don’t have any medical care.”
“There’s Molly,” said a young woman, who was plainly a croupier. Cam noticed she was Penobscot. “Molly Whitecloud. She’s the midwife. She’ll come.”
Christ.
The thin wail turned into a bovine groan and Cam looked past the forest of people. A young woman, her thin, tent-like dress twisted around her distended belly, lay on the dirty carpet of the casino, her head cradled by a youth whose bare arms were covered with tattoos and whose chubby cheeks had suffered a recent outbreak of acne. Neither of the two principles could have been much older than eighteen. Babies having a baby and in a very unsanitary place. Cam bit back a curse. He’d have to involve Molly. She’d certainly hear about it if anything went wrong and she’d never forgive him.
He hunkered bef
ore the youngsters for a moment.
“How close are the contractions?”
“Real close,” the boy whispered, his face sweaty, his eyes glazed.
“All right. Hang tight. Help’s on the way.”
Cam caught her in the parking lot about to step into her Jeep. Within minutes she’d taken charge. She instructed Cam to phone for an ambulance, and the croupier to find clean sheets, a blanket, hot water and scissors. She told one gawker to find some ice chips for the sufferer and another to herd the crowd out of the casino.
Cam admired her efficiency but one part of his mind recalled the night Daisy had been born. The child’s appearance had brought a sudden shaft of light into the barren midnight of his marriage.
It hadn’t lasted.
“Cam?”
He shook off the memories.
“Can you change places with Bobby so she can see his face?”
He didn’t argue. A minute later he found himself curled around the straining and surprisingly strong body of Patty Sue Stottlemyer as she pushed and panted and tried to expel her baby.
Patty Sue stopped groaning as she focused on Molly’s face and her quiet commands. Cam found himself listening, too. It was the first time he’d seen Molly in her professional capacity and, because he’d been through a birthing scene, he knew just how good she was. No one had been able to comfort Elise or to help her work through the experience and she’d been medicated.
The pains came faster and faster, tumbling over one another with no let up in between. Cam needed most of his strength to hold Patty Sue at a slight angle so that she could push against his chest. Cam felt the sweat gather in his armpits and run down the inside of his shirt. Fortunately, he’d left the purloined laptop in Molly’s car. As labor intensified Molly kept up a stream of instructions, which included telling Patty Sue what was happening and what was going to happen and, at the same time managed to sterilize a pair of scissors and to instruct the young female croupier to rip up the clean sheet.
Cam watched her run the operation like a drill sergeant, albeit in a silver dress hiked up so she could rest on her knees. Her hair had escaped it’s pins and the black silk streamed down her back. The indigo eyes lit with a fierce concentration. Cam never doubted that Patty Sue was getting the best possible care for herself and her baby.
And then he heard Molly’s excited words.
“Look, Bobby! There’s the baby’s head.”
The teenager’s face was the color of moldy cheese.
“Ma’am,” he said, “When’s it gonna be over?”
“Really soon,” Molly told him. “Just hold her hand now. It won’t be much longer. I know this is hard on you.”
“Hard on him?” The words spewed out of Patty Sue’s mouth. “You better remember this Bobby Ray Stottlemyer, cause it sure as shootin’ isn’t gonna happen again.”
Cam choked back a laugh.
“Okay, Patty Sue,” Molly said, cheerfully, “one last push. Two at the most. Give it everything you’ve got, girl.”
With a trumpeting sound like that of an enraged moose, Patty Sue followed the instructions.
Chapter Seven
Molly was aware of Cam the entire time she was working with Patty Sue. His quiet strength and gentle manner provided comfort and support for the frightened girl. Her pride in Cam mingled with a familiar sense of loss.
She knew he was a fine father to Daisy and now she knew he’d been a good husband to Elise. The knowledge twisted her soul.
She massaged the softened, stretched perineum to try to keep it from tearing.
“Push, Patty Sue,” she crooned. “Down deep in your bottom. That’s it. That’s right. Take a breath and push again with the next contraction. You’re doing a great job. You must have been practicing.”
“No,” Patty Sue puffed, “not practicing. Wanted drugs.”
Molly smiled at that even as she thought about how drugs were not possible on the rez. It took a medical doctor, an anesthesiologist to administer an epidural. Even with a clinic the reservation women would have to give birth naturally.
The birth was smooth enough until the little head popped out and a subsequent push failed to release the shoulders. Molly maneuvered the baby as best she could. When Patty Sue cried at the additional pain, Molly sought Cam’s eyes. His steady gaze calmed her down and within less than a minute she’d caught the baby.
She cleaned up the newborn, instructed Bobby on how to cut the cord and handed the child into his mother’s arms. And then she shook with relief. And fatigue. Cam’s voice brought tears to her eyes.
“Great job, Tiger Lily.”
An approaching siren brought an additional sense of relief. Molly checked her watch. The delivery had taken less than half an hour, which meant that Chester Appleton, not his wife was behind the wheel of the vehicle. Edna Mae drove with the speed of sap leaking out of a maple tree.
And then they were all outside in the parking lot and the rain had stopped. Chester, with Molly’s help, got mother and child settled into the ambulance. When she glanced out the back at the people milling around, she caught sight of Dwight Winston standing ominously close to Cam. His right hand was jammed into the pocket of his trench coat as if he were covering Cam with a gun.
Good heavens! Had Winston and Big Ed discovered the laptop missing? Already? If so, they must have been suspicious all along. Molly’s heart jack-hammered in her chest. She had to save Cam, but how? There was no time to think. She called to the young croupier who had helped her inside.
“I need Mr. Outlaw—that gentleman there—to sign the birth certificate before we go to the hospital,” she explained. “Could you go get him and bring him over here? And Candy, don’t explain that to him—just bring him with you.”
In Molly’s experience, people didn’t question a firm command during a crisis and this was no exception but her heart was in her throat until Candy showed up with Cam in tow. Winston, unfortunately, was only a few feet behind them.
Chester started to close the back of the ambulance when Molly stopped him.
“We’ve got a problem here,” Molly said, in a low voice. She prayed the ambulance driver, who tended to be argumentative, wouldn’t balk but he must have heard the tension under her words. “I need you to get behind the wheel. Give me ten seconds to close the doors then take off, okay? And use the siren!”
She must have communicated her fear because the old man studied her briefly then agreed. “Whatever you say, Miss Molly.”
Even with the plan in place, Molly was nervous.
“Cam,” she called out, her voice a little shaky, “Patty Sue wants to speak with you just for a second. Could you come up here?”
“Of course.” He glanced back at Winston, as if to say he’d be right back, stepped into the vehicle and shut one of the doors as Molly shut the other. It was as if they’d rehearsed the move a hundred times.
Instantly the ambulance jolted into gear and started to pull away, the siren blazing. Through the back window, Molly stared into a pair of very angry eyes.
“Did he have a gun?”
“Yes. I don’t think he was planning to shoot me. He just wanted the laptop back.”
“Oh, damn! The laptop is still in my Jeep!”
Cam grinned at her and produced the computer from where he’d stashed it in the waistband of his pants.
“I picked it up. Your suitcase, however, is still in the car.”
Relief washed through Molly and she grinned at him.
“Good thing it’s Chester behind the wheel,” she said as the vehicle took the corner from the casino’s driveway onto the road.
“Yeah.” He returned her grin. “If it had been Edna Mae, Winston could have followed us on foot.”
Molly looked out the window. Would Dwight Winston follow them to the hospital? Would he shoot out the ambulance’s tires? She shivered.
“I hope Daniel gets this place shut down quickly.”
Cam’s face took on a remote look.
> “Thanks for saving my hide.”
She looked at him a long moment. Despite the danger of the past moments and the bleakness of the future she was glad to be with him.
“Thanks for your help with Patty Sue.”
Molly helped Bobby fill out forms at Eden Memorial while the resident on call examined mother and baby. She waited with the young couple until their parents arrived. By the time she was ready to go it was four a.m., she was almost asleep on her feet and she realized her Jeep was still at the casino. She headed for the lobby to call Daniel but found him already there and in what looked like an intense consultation with Cameron Outlaw. Cam’s hair was disheveled and lines creased his forehead and bewhiskered cheeks. His evenings clothes were stained with blood and dirt.
Molly’s heart jerked. She felt an almost irresistible urge to walk into his arms and stay there forever. Instead, she spoke without thinking.
“You didn’t have to stay.”
Cam’s blue eyes were hooded, whether from fatigue or anger she couldn’t tell. He didn’t answer and Molly knew that he hadn’t wanted to stay. She tried not to feel hurt.
“Outlaw gave me the laptop,” Daniel said, his dark eyes were kind. Although her ex-husband was nearly a generation older he and Cam were built along the same lines and each gave off that aura of confidence. A woman could feel safe with Daniel. With Cam, too, she thought. At least until he touched her.
“Come on,” Daniel said, slipping his hand through her arm, “I’ll give you both a ride back to the casino.”
Molly gasped and stared at him. “What?”
“To pick up your cars. Don’t worry. By now the cops have come in to shut the place down.”
Molly’s last thought, before she fell asleep in the backseat of Daniel’s old sedan, was for Lynn Brown Bear and all the others who would lose their jobs.
****
The flashing lights woke Molly. Cam could tell because she made a small rustling sound as she sat up. He’d hoped she wouldn’t wake up, hoped she was a heavy sleeper. It irritated him that he didn’t know. He turned to see her fumbling with the door handle.
“Stay in the car,” he said.
“What?” She sounded half-dazed.