Covington, Cara - Love Under Two Lawmen [The Lost Collection] (Siren Menage Everlasting)

by Love Under Two Lawmen (lit)

  Finally, Warren held up his hand and Amanda stopped. She saw what had alerted him. Up ahead, Adam’s mount stood quietly, its reins caught on a tree branch.

  There was no sign of Adam anywhere. Listening, she could hear no stray sounds. Nothing. It was as if the horse had just come to be there of its own accord.

  They inched forward until they were close to Adam’s horse. Amanda searched the ground frantically, but saw no sign of blood.

  Warren brought his horse close so he could lean in and whisper to her.

  “I’m going to go ahead on foot, see what I can see. Hold my horse and stay here.”

  She would have protested, but he’d already slipped from the animal’s back and begun to run, low and silent, past Adam’s horse, and likely, Amanda thought, straight toward trouble.

  How long would she give him? What the hell would she do if he didn’t return?

  Just as she was trying to decide if she should follow, she caught sight of Warren running back toward her. The look on his face as he drew close to her damn near stopped her heart.

  “They’re beating the hell out of him. We have to move now.” He mounted his horse, spun in the direction he’d just been.

  “Wait! Give me some idea where he is, and what we’re up against. Warren, you have to think! We have to come up with some kind of plan.”

  He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

  “Yes, of course, you’re right. They have him tied to a tree, and there’re four of them.” Then he held out his left hand and used his right index finger as if using a pencil on paper to show here the lay of the land.

  “They’re here. Adam looks in rough shape. Three of the men are close, the other sitting by the fire, as if he’s not involved. Their horses are here.”

  Amanda felt her heart sink. She was a crack shot, but only against painted targets. Then she sat straight, nodded once.

  She’d do what she had to in order to rescue Adam.

  “All right. Let’s go.”

  This time it was Warren who stopped her. “Wait. Remember how those Cherokee attacked us?”

  “They stole our horses.”

  “Yeah, which made us have to walk and slowed us down. Give me Pocahontas. I’ll get Adam. You scatter their horses.”

  Amanda gave him the knife, knowing that if Adam was hurt, she didn’t have the strength to lift him. She dismounted, tying her horse near Adam’s. Then she cocked her rifle.

  “How far?”

  “About a hundred yards over the next rise. Maybe a quarter mile, all told.”

  “Okay. Just give me a couple of minutes to sneak in and around and untie their horses. Then you come in like the wrath of God. I’ll start shooting as I get on one of their animals and ride it back here.”

  “Good. That sounds good. All right, let’s do it.”

  She took a deep breath and set her resolve. She didn’t know what the next few minutes would bring. She only hoped all those lessons she’d taken would pay off now.

  Chapter 20

  Adam fought the urge to bend over and puke.

  Unfortunately, ropes bound his wrists above his head, so bending over wasn’t an option at the present time. The tree at his back no longer scratched, or if it did, he no longer cared. Blood dribbled down his chin, a souvenir from Big Ben Bodine’s first punch—before the oaf had gotten the idea to string Adam up and use him as a punching bag. That tactic just proved to Adam that Bodine indeed was dumber than dirt.

  A smart outlaw would have given him a bullet in the head, straight off. Maybe he’d just puke the next time Bodine stepped close to him. That might make the bastard reach for his gun.

  I must be in pretty bad shape to be wishing he’d shoot me.

  At the moment, Bodine had stepped back, flexing the knuckles of his right hand after having delivered a hard punch to Adam’s stomach, which was why Adam thought he might just puke.

  Bodine and two of his men had taken turns at him a couple times each already. The other two, thank God, hit like girls. Still, Adam thought it prudent to act as if he was in worse shape than he really was. He let his head hang down as if he neared unconsciousness and focused on his breathing.

  Are you sure it’s an act, old son?

  “Are you going to let me talk to him before you beat him senseless?”

  Adam didn’t recognize that voice. He figured it must be the man who’d been sitting by the fire, watchful and silent. The tone, the words, spoke of education. And something else, something that seemed almost familiar.

  “Yeah, I reckon I can give you a few minutes, Mr. Baker. You know, I’m glad I decided not to kill the sorry son-of-a-bitch first off. This is a lot more fun, and I can still kill him.”

  “I certainly don’t want to step in the way of your entertainment, Bodine. I won’t take long with him.”

  Southern. The fourth man spoke with a Southern accent that reminded him of Amanda’s.

  Adam’s head was yanked upwards by the hair. He blinked as if he had trouble focusing. He’d never seen this man before. In mere seconds, his Ranger-trained brain catalogued the details. Fair hair, mean eyes, better clothes than his cohorts, and didn’t stink nearly as bad as they did.

  Not another minion, then.

  “I want to know where you’re taking the whore.”

  Adam blinked a couple more times before answering. “I’d like to think I’d have better taste than to take any whore you’re acquainted with.”

  Adam groaned when his answer earned him a hard kidney shot.

  Mean and smart.

  Bodine hadn’t targeted that area yet. Adam’s stomach rolled, and he swore he could see stars behind his closed eyelids. He wondered if he would puke after all.

  “Let me refresh your memory. Amanda Dupree. You hooked up with her back in Waco. She has something that belongs to me. A journal. She obviously hired you as her trail guide. Where are you taking her?”

  “El Paso.”

  Bodine laughed. “El Paso’s to the southwest. You’ve been headed northeast, asshole.”

  “Northeast? Well, damn. I always did have a lousy sense of direction.”

  The southerner hit him again, same spot, only harder. If this kept up much longer, Adam knew he wouldn’t have to fake being close to unconsciousness and he was going to puke whether he wanted to or not.

  The southerner stepped closer, lowered his voice. “Step-daddy thought he could pull one over on me by arranging for his bastard daughter to get that journal. I’m his only legitimate heir. That journal belongs to me. Now, for the last time, where are you taking her?”

  Adam had another caustic answer on the tip of his tongue.

  Gunfire and the scream of horses exploded into the night before he could use it.

  “The horses!” One of the minions turned toward the animals, but dove for the ground when shots rang out in his direction. The ping of bullets hitting the ground forced the other three to dive for cover as well. Galloping hooves and more gunfire came from another direction. Out of the dark, and then into the light of the fire, a painted horse raced toward him.

  Adam had bare seconds to recognize Warren. A flash of metal followed by the clang of steel against rope and wood freed him. He wasted no time reaching for his lover’s arm, grateful for Warren’s strength as that man grabbed him by the shirt and hauled him upwards. Adam nearly soared up and across the front of Warren’s horse.

  One of Bodine’s henchmen, the one called Ira, suddenly stood, pistol in hand, and aimed toward the darkness, away from Warren and, Adam realized instantly, toward Amanda. Without hesitation, Adam pulled Warren’s pistol from its holster, aimed, and fired.

  Two shots rang out. From the corner of his eye, he saw another man, one who ranged himself to the front and right of Warren’s horse. Gun drawn, his aim on him and Warren, his eyes glazed over as a hole blossomed on his forehead. His weapon dropped as he fell lifeless to the ground.

  “Go!” Amanda’s voice gave that command.

  “Hang on!” War
ren said.

  He didn’t have to tell Adam twice. One hand still clutched the Colt, but the other fisted Warren’s belt.

  Amanda, her body bent low over one of Bodine’s horses, raced ahead into the night, and Warren spurred his horse in the same direction. Shots chased them, but the darkness had already swallowed them and Adam knew he and his lovers had become invisible to the outlaws.

  It took every bit of Adam’s will to hang on, to not puke his guts out or pass out. Riding on his belly after the punches he’d taken in the last half hour tested the limits of his endurance.

  In short minutes, Warren brought his horse to a stop. Adam vaguely recognized the stand of trees where he’d left his own mount.

  “Can you ride?” Warren asked.

  “Yeah.” He had to ride. They were by no means safe, not yet. Hopefully, Bodine’s other horses had scattered and he wouldn’t find them until daybreak, maybe longer.

  Adam slid off Warren’s lap and immediately bent over, took just a moment to gain his breath and fight for air.

  “Here. Get on mine. I’ll ride yours.”

  He wasn’t going to argue the point. Warren helped him into the saddle, then took the reins of the Paint, gaining its unsaddled back easily.

  “They don’t have any horses,” Amanda said then. “I kept this one, and the other three ran off. Bastards didn’t even unsaddle the poor creatures for the night. They were gun-shy, too. This one nearly dumped me on my ass when I held its reins and fired my gun.”

  Adam heard the thread of nerves in her voice. He looked over at her, took in her wide eyes, the stark terror etched on her too-white face.

  I scared her, and I made her kill a man.

  Memory of the other body falling formed crystal clear in his mind.

  There were so many things he wanted to say and several more he needed to say. But all that came out was, “I’m all right, sweetheart. Thanks to you and Warren.”

  Amanda nodded.

  “Let’s get back to camp,” Warren said.

  Adam knew his bravado had endangered his lovers. Whatever illusion of safety they’d had was gone now. “It’s nearly daybreak,” Adam said. “We should pack up and move out before those bastards find their mounts.”

  Warren turned in his saddle, gave Adam a level look. “We’ll check you out, first,” Warren said.

  Adam opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again. Warren’s expression was as fierce as Adam had ever seen it. Considering what his two brave lovers had just pulled off, he thought it might be a good time for him to keep his mouth shut.

  * * * *

  “Colin Baker,” Amanda supplied the southerner’s full name. “My father’s step-son. I know who he is, but I’ve never met him.”

  Amanda kept her attention focused on Adam as the sun reached mid-day. They’d been riding slower than normal, not surprising, considering the shape Adam was in. In the light of day, she saw firsthand the damage those bastards had done to him. His split lip had swollen and he looked like he was going to have a shiner. His chest, when they’d stopped for a rest and she’d insisted on inspecting it, looked like a patchwork quilt of black and blue. She hadn’t touched him. She wouldn’t have known what to look for or how to do it without hurting him.

  She prayed there was no internal damage harder than she’d ever prayed for anything before in her whole life.

  “What do you know of him?” Adam asked.

  Adam’s question, following his announcement of who one of his attackers had been drew her thoughts back to the conversation.

  “By all accounts, he’s a wastrel. His father had left him an inheritance, his when he turned twenty-five, and he ran through that pretty fast. It’s true he was Gladstone’s only legitimate heir as far as that goes.” Amanda shot a grin at Adam. “My father’s son died in the war. But the man was free to give anything to anyone he chose. Which he did likely because he didn’t feel his step-son deserved anything more.”

  Adam looked around him, at the land ahead, especially. “Bodine has likely already figured we’re headed to Tahlequah. It’s the next large town on the trail, and I know he’s pretty familiar with Indian Territory.” He paused for a moment, adjusted his seat on the saddle. “We’ll have to keep our eyes open from here on,” Adam said. “They might regain their horses. If they do, they’ll be after us for sure.”

  “Glad you said we,” Warren said.

  Amanda wondered if Adam caught the censure in Warren’s voice or if he understood the significance that today, she and Warren flanked him.

  She knew he was in pain. He couldn’t hide that from them. Neither did he complain—typical male, she thought.

  “I owe you both an apology.”

  She turned his attention back to Adam.

  “I knew we were being followed, and my only thought was to protect you both. But I should have told you. We should’ve checked it out together. Instead, I thought I could handle things myself and nearly got us killed. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s always been your nature to lead, to protect,” Warren said. “It’s one of the things I love about you. But you’re not immortal. And you need to understand that for me, life without you would be no life at all.”

  Amanda remained silent as Warren’s words to Adam squeezed her heart. What would it be like, she wondered, to matter to someone that much?

  “I know. I feel the same way.” Adam inhaled sharply. “Let’s take a breather.”

  Because that had been the first admission of discomfort she’d heard from him since they’d rescued him just before dawn, Amanda figured he must be feeling pretty sore by now.

  “How far you figure we’ve ridden since we set out?” she asked, looking over at the men.

  “No more than six miles,” Adam said.

  The land continued its up and down undulations, the angle maybe a bit sharper than the day before. Amanda wondered if they were heading toward mountains, though she couldn’t see any in the distance.

  “Do you think maybe you have a busted rib?” Warren asked.

  Amanda watched Adam’s face as he swung his right leg over the horse. He winced, and she guessed his injuries were hurting more than they had mere hours before.

  “I didn’t think so, but I could be wrong.”

  They tethered the horses, and Amanda gathered some firewood so they could at least have some coffee with their lunch. They were just on the down side of a small plateau. She walked a small distance, backtracking, her gaze intent as she searched out the land behind them, the land they’d traveled that day. She could see for quite a distance and saw no sign they were being followed.

  “Damn it, Lawyer Jessop, that fucking hurts!”

  “Lay still while I check you out and don’t be such a girl.”

  Amanda cleared her throat and nearly laughed when Warren looked up, read her expression, and blushed. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

  “You’re apologizing to Amanda when it’s me you hurt?” Adam’s tone sounded outraged, but the glitter in his eyes gave him away. Flat on his back, shirt open, he should have looked vulnerable.

  There wasn’t a vulnerable bone in Adam Kendall’s body.

  Warren laughed. “Yes. I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

  “How is he?” Amanda had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop from laughing. Warren’s implication was plain and a little bit of a slap at Adam. Though obviously enjoying their banter, it seemed clear to her Adam had already lost the edge of his contrition of minutes before.

  “How long are you two going to make me pay for last night?” Adam asked now.

  “It’s only been a few hours,” Warren said, smiling. “Ask me again in another few hours. Can you sit up?”

  Adam did so, cursing all the way. He bent his head and focused on breathing. Then he nodded, and Warren helped him to his feet.

  Once their lover was standing, Warren shifted his attention to Amanda. “I don’t think he’s got any broken ribs, and I really don’t think there’s anything busted up inside him
. I know enough to understand I’d feel swelling and a lot of heat if there was. But he is bruised and bound to be sore for at least a few days.”

  Amanda went over to Adam, who’d not yet buttoned his shirt back up. She gently placed her lips on the worst bruise, one that rode on his belly above his hip.

  “I’m sorry you got hurt.” She looked up at him then. “You scared the hell out of us, Adam. We were afraid we were going to lose you.”

  “Yeah, I got that.” He reached for her and drew her in close to him.

  His arms felt tentative around her, and she made her grip, when she returned his hug, just as gentle.

  “How are you holding up?” he asked her after a few moments.

  Warren came over to them and laid one hand on Adam’s back and one hand on hers. The expression in his eyes spoke of the same tender concern she’d heard in Adam’s voice. She didn’t pretend not to know what he was asking—what they both wanted to know.

  “I killed a man last night,” she said softly. “And I know, if I hadn’t aimed my gun and pulled the trigger, that man would have killed one or both of you. He had you both in his sights. I hate that I had to do that. But I’d do it again, in a heartbeat, if it meant saving either of your lives. So I’m okay with it.”

  “Thank you for saving my life. Both of you.”

  The moment was drifting into the emotional. Amanda couldn’t go there. Adam and Warren would spend the rest of their lives together. She was only a temporary part of them, a transitory member of their world. Time to change the mood.

  “You know,” Amanda stepped back and gave him what felt like a smug smile, “there are some very old cultures in the world that hold once a person’s life has been saved, it belongs to the rescuer.”

  “Is that a fact? My, my, Miss Dupree, you certainly are a storehouse of information.”

  Amanda couldn’t hold back her smile. Adam returned her teasing, accepting her movement away from the emotional, and she felt so grateful she could have kissed him.

  Amanda shrugged. “What can I say. My mother—”

  “Saw to it you had lessons,” both men finished for her.