Reese Page 20

  Reese blinked. “A day?”

  “Yes. You feel better?”

  “Much.” He struggled with the idea that he’d slept an entire day and it had felt like an hour. “Where are my men?”

  Like a cloud passing the sun, a shadow moved across her face. “They went after El Diablo.”

  Shiny black dots danced in front of Reese’s eyes. Thankfully, he was already lying down or he would of had to as thoughts he’d hoped never to have again sped through his mind.

  Jed’s sister; Rico’s too; Nate’s new friend, Jo; Sullivan’s family—whoever they were—and anyone who might love Cash besides Reese—the list made him sick with trepidation. He had once traveled to the houses of the dead and been shunned at every one.

  He’d promised himself he would never again get so close to anyone that their deaths would tumble him into madness. But he’d always been very good at breaking promises.

  “I told them not to,” he managed.

  “You were unconscious. They thought you were dying.”

  “That’s a good reason to go and get themselves killed,” he snapped.

  “Which is exactly what happened, I am not sorry to say.”

  Mary let out a squeak of alarm at the voice behind her. Reese yanked her to his side when she would have stood between him and the two men in the doorway.

  Jefferson and El Diablo.

  From the guns in their hands and the expressions on their faces, Reese would be joining them soon. If it hadn’t been for Mary, he wouldn’t care.

  “What are you saying?” Mary’s voice shook.

  “They’re dead. Every last sneakin’ one of ‘em,” Jefferson said. “We waited for them to come. Knew they would. And they did.”

  “What do you want?” Reese asked.

  “To kill you. I been waitin’.”

  “You can’t mean to shoot a sick man in his bed?” Mary demanded, easing in front of Reese again.

  Jefferson laughed and walked into the room, moving so that he was in front of the bed and Mary was out of the line of fire. Reese relaxed a bit. “He don’t seem too sick.” The man eyed Mary. “From the looks of you, he’s been well enough for some kissin’. Wouldn’t mind a little of that myself. After.”

  “I’d shoot myself before I’d let you touch me.”

  Jefferson’s eyes narrowed, and he took a step toward her. Reese braced himself to spring. Danger to Mary made him feel a whole lot stronger.

  “Enough!” El Diablo’s voice cut through the tension. “We have come here for one thing. Dispose of the leader.”

  “If all his men are gone,” Mary cried, “what possible harm can he do you?”

  “He is the only man in a town full of women, children, and cowards. He will lead you as he led the others. I cannot allow that.”

  “Take your gold; we don’t want it.”

  “There is no gold, foolish woman.”

  “What?” Jefferson demanded. “You said this town was full of gold.”

  “I said this town was golden. A place of the sun. Land of the People. Mine. I said what I had to say to get you to help me.”

  Jefferson’s face darkened. “Once I tell the rest there ain’t no gold, I wouldn’t give a Confederate dollar for your sorry hide.”

  “Then I guess you will not be telling them.”

  The gunshot was impossibly loud in the small room. Mary threw herself on top of Reese, and for a moment he thought she’d been shot. But red blossomed across Jefferson’s chest. He dropped his gun then followed the weapon to the ground.

  Mary moved just enough to see El Diablo while keeping herself in front of Reese. “What kind of monster are you?”

  “El Diablo,” the old man said, as if that explained everything. “Now, teacher lady, move. I must take him away with me to die.”

  “He’s not going anywhere.”

  “He will accompany me from this place to make sure no one has gotten brave enough to harm me. I will kill him close enough to town so that you can come and retrieve his body.”

  “No.” Mary’s mouth turned mulish.

  “I do not wish to kill you and bring the soldiers here. But if I must, I must.”

  “Mary, move.”

  “I will not!”

  Reese struggled to push her aside, and as he did, he whispered, “I have a plan. Just get out of the way.”

  She stopped struggling and peered into his face. He nodded, and she got up. Mary understood a good plan.

  Too bad he didn’t really have one.

  Reese dressed as quickly as he could with his wound, then accompanied El Diablo from the room and down the hall toward the door. His mind groped for some way to make this entire mess come out all right. But without his guns and his men, he was helpless.

  Reese opened the door, and he and El Diablo stepped onto the porch. The sound of guns being cocked made them both freeze.

  A long line of Rock Creek citizens stood in front of Mary’s house. Each held a gun, and they appeared as if they not only knew how to use them but planned to.

  El Diablo jabbed his pistol into Reese’s side. “I am taking him with me.”

  “No, you aren’t,” Jo Clancy said. “Put him back where you got him and we’ll let you live.”

  “I can shoot him where he stands; then what will you do?”

  “Fill you so full of holes there won’t be enough left to bury. Kill him, we kill you, it’s that simple. Let him go”—Jo shrugged—“and we’ll turn you over to the soldiers alive.”

  “I would rather die, here, on the land of my ancestors, than live a thousand years anywhere else.”

  Reese prepared himself to die. Then someone hit him from behind.

  He fell, smacking into the plank floor of the porch, a body on his back as a gun fired.

  Another thump had Reese turning his head. El Diablo lay dead a few inches away. The body atop his back lifted, and when he flipped over, Mary sat next to him on the porch, staring at El Diablo with a combination of anger and disgust. Reese glanced from the old Indian to William Brown, who stood at the side of the porch with his rifle.

  “Comanche for a cougar,” Brown said. “Your miserable life for my grandaughter’s. I’d say we’re even, wouldn’t you?”

  Chapter 17

  The entire town poured into Mary’s house, or so it seemed. The bodies were removed, the blood wiped away. Mary sat on the bed next to Reese, still in shock at all that had happened and how fast things had changed.

  In taking responsibility for defending Rock Creek, the people had solidified into townsfolk. In destroying El Diablo, they had answered a threat to their homes and won. The victory would keep them there regardless of future threats, and the town would grow because it was now a home for everyone rather than just a place to live until things got too bad.

  With all the people in her house, fixing, cleaning, talking, she could not talk to Reese. He lay on the bed, so pale and quiet, she was terrified he would take a turn for the worse again, just when he’d begun to get better.

  “I didn’t see them until it was too late,” Jo said. “I was watching the river. They must have thought we would be unprotected without the men.”

  “Hey!” Brown protested. “There are men in town.”

  “You never would have known it before today,” Jo muttered. “I ran to Sutton’s and sent the twins to round everyone up, then snuck to your window to listen in. When I heard that gunshot, my heart nearly stopped.”

  “Mine too,” Mary said.

  “El Diablo said he was taking Reese out of town, so we lined up to wait. Brown insisted he had to be alongside the house just in case. I wasn’t sure what we were going to do when El Diablo refused to give up, then Mary came barreling out the door….” She threw up her hands. “And it was all over.”

  “That’s usually the way these things go,” Reese said, dryly.

  Mary glanced at him. Those were the first words he’d spoken since El Diablo died. He still looked ill, and she understood why. If El Diablo
had told the truth, his men were dead because they’d gone on a vengeance mission. And she’d let them go without saying a word because she’d wanted the old bastard dead.

  Vengeance should be left to the Lord. Earthly attempts always seemed to end badly.

  “Reese has to rest,” Mary announced, suddenly needing to hold him close, to soothe him, and in doing so, soothe herself.

  Everyone filed out, and Mary shut the door. The silence they left behind was almost deafening after the noise they had brought.

  She returned to her room and found Reese staring at the ceiling. “Appears you didn’t need us, after all.”

  Mary sat on the bed. “Of course we did. Until y’all came to Rock Creek, everyone minded their own business. No one cared about anyone else. No one did anything more than they had to do to get by. People left as soon as things got tough. They had no reason to stay.”

  “And now they do?”

  “They fought for this town. They won’t give up so easily the next time there’s a threat because they stood together and they earned this place.”

  “They would have stood up for something eventually.”

  “I don’t think so. In you and your men they saw honor and loyalty and unselfishness at work.”

  “Because of honor, loyalty, and me, five men are dead.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “If they aren’t dead, then where are they? Do you think they’d let El Diablo and Jefferson double back here unless they were dead?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I do. Those buzzards wouldn’t have gotten within ten miles of Rock Creek if my men were alive.”

  “Then where are the rest of El Diablo’s gang?”

  “I’m sure he had them waiting outside of town, figuring he and Jefferson could ride in and kill me without too much trouble. Maybe no one would even notice. But once they saw it happened the other way around, hyenas like that would run. El Diablo was right. Without a leader, followers scatter. But if they find anyone else with grit, you’re gonna have trouble. Bastards think there’s gold in Rock Creek.”

  “If there was gold here, do you think the town would look like this?”

  “Mebe.” Reese closed his eyes. “I’m so tired, Mary. I feel like I want to sleep away eternity. But I’ve got to find my men.”

  “Not tonight,” she murmured. “Sleep.”

  “No.” He struggled to open his eyes, to sit up, but she pushed him back with ease.

  “You aren’t going anywhere until you can make me let you.”

  “What if they need me?”

  “They don’t need you like this.”

  “Suppose you’re right.” His eyes slid closed. “They might come back by morning.”

  He sounded like a child who’d lost his mother but continued to hope that she might come back if he only believed strongly enough.

  Mary ran her fingers through his hair, then across his brow. “Maybe so,” she agreed.

  “I sleep better when you’re here.” He caught her hand. “Don’t go.”

  “I won’t,” she whispered, but he was already asleep.

  Mary’s eyes burned, and her head bobbed with fatigue. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept all night. When she tried to disengage her hand from his, Reese held on and made a sound of distress that broke her heart. Did she hold him close, just for tonight?

  Why not? She’d done far more than that on another night. This might be the last chance she had to rest at his side.

  Mary was able to free herself long enough to strip down to her chemise; then she slipped beneath the sheet and curled against him. Immediately, his arm came around and held her closer. His breathing slowed, evening out into a deeper sleep.

  The soothing cadence lulled her, and within minutes Mary followed him into the void.

  *

  Reese awoke in the darkest hour of the night. His left side was warm, his right side cool, and a weight across his legs had him afraid for a moment that he was back in the Confederate hospital.

  Wounded, alone, dying. Had he lost his legs this time?

  Then the sweet scent of Mary calmed him as nothing else ever had. He shifted against the weight, and one of her legs slid between both of his.

  His poor battered body kicked into a familiar dance. Reese was surprised he could feel such desire, but if he could want Mary with a force that was nearly overwhelming, then he could get up in the morning and search for his men.

  She sighed in her sleep and murmured his name. The sound only served to make him hard—or rather harder. Her breasts, barely covered by her chemise, brushed up, then down, his ribs. Her foot ran down his calf, and their toes tangled.

  Reese’s teeth ground together. This was getting out of hand. He glanced at her face and found himself captured in the glow of her eyes.

  “I thought I was dreaming.” Her breath brushed his chin.

  “You were.”

  He didn’t realize he was touching her until she shuddered. His fingertips brushed the tops of her breasts—full and ripe and nearly bursting from the neckline of her undergarment.

  He pulled away, but Mary caught his hand and drew it back, pressing his palm to her chest. “Feel that?” Her heart thudded, fast yet sure, against the flutter of the pulse in his hand. “That’s what happens every time I look at you. When you touch me, sometimes I think I might die. What I feel for you is like nothing I’ve ever felt before.”

  “Mary, I—”

  She put her lips to his, and he lost any capability of speech or intelligent thought. All he could do was feel—her, him, them. The last time they would ever have.

  He wanted to give her pleasure—which was all that he had to give. He had no name, no home, no occupation beyond his gun any longer. The voices of children that had once brought him joy now only brought him nightmares in the daytime. He would never again be able to do what he had planned to do forever.

  The man he’d been had died on a battlefield in Georgia. The man he had become afterward would die when he buried those who had given him something to live for ever since.

  Then what? How many chances did one man get?

  Reese had a feeling his last chance had died with the five men he’d refused to call friends. But he didn’t want to think of them right now. He would be thinking of them for a long time to come.

  Right now he would share one last night with Mary.

  Reese deepened the kiss she had begun, parting her lips, teaching her a new rhythm with his tongue. How could she taste so good and smell so sweet? How could she feel so right when he knew this to be wrong?

  He had been a fool once; he would not be again. He would make this night about giving, instead of taking, for a change.

  They had kissed many times, and each time the burst of fire in his gut and the warmth in his chest were like the first time. The knowledge that she had never been kissed before him, never been touched before him, made him want to be the last man too. That was impossible, but it didn’t make him want it any less.

  She met his kiss stroke for stroke. Her hands roamed over his chest, across his belly, then lower. His fingers clenched on her shoulders when her palm curled around his length and tightened.

  Temptation whispered, and he considered shoving her back, making them both mindless with want and need, then plunging into her, over and over until they both came gasping.

  With a strength of will he had thought long lost, Reese reached down and took her hand from him. He swallowed her sound of protest with another long kiss, and when their mouths broke apart, she lay there smiling, all her trust visible in her eyes.

  Reese turned away. He had seen that expression too many times before, and every person who had ever looked at him like that was dead.

  Stifling a curse, he dipped his head and let his mouth wander over every visible curve and dip. Snagging a finger in the neckline of her chemise, he tugged, and her ample breasts sprang free. They shone like the pearl handles on Nate’s guns.


  He pressed his lips to the curve where a breast met a rib—full and soft, blending into sharp and hard. Her skin was warm, not cool like a pearl. He let his lips follow the slide of her chemise, downward on a journey past her waist, then across her belly.

  Spending a good amount of time at her navel, he tested the dip with his tongue, lips, and teeth. When her fingers pulled his hair and the muscles beneath his mouth trembled and clenched, he murmured soothing sounds against her skin and moved lower.

  “Reese?”

  Her voice, that blending of the South and sin, would haunt him forever. She reminded him of things best forgotten and made his heart hope even when his mind knew there was no such thing for a man like him.

  “Hush,” he told her, continuing on his journey. “I know what I’m doing.”

  He kissed her where he’d wanted to all along. Her body bowed, her mouth cried his name, he held her still, large palms against slim hips, and kissed her there some more.

  Tasting Mary was heaven in the midst of his hell. He spread his hands down her thighs, let his mouth follow his fingers, to her knees, then back again. He teased the burgeoning bud with his thumb until she thrashed and moaned, watching her face as she went higher and higher.

  When she cried out the beginning of her release, he replaced his fingers with his mouth and took her over the edge again and again with relentless fervor, until she lay beneath him, damp and spent.

  His body perched on an edge of his own. Just watching her, touching her, tasting her, had been the most unbelievable experience of his life. He wished he could do it again, but he didn’t have the strength to touch her and not take her. So he rested at her side, and when she took his hand, he held her fingers in his own and willed himself to do nothing more than that.

  “Why?” she whispered. “Why did you do that?”

  “You didn’t like it?”

  “Are you blind and deaf? Of course I liked it. But what about you?”

  “I’m good.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  She sat up and stared down at him, an odd expression in her eyes. Then, before he knew what she was about, she leaned forward and licked all the way up his length of him.

  “Mary, no.” He tried to push her away, but she grabbed his wrists and held them apart.