Samantha James (11 page)

His easy tone belied the savage light in his eyes. He caught her just above her elbows and stepped forward. There was no mistaking his anger. His eyes were dark gray and depthless, as turbulent as a summer storm.

Abby’s mouth went dry. Her breath came fast, then slow, then fast again. “You misunderstood,” she said quickly. “I—I promised you money!”

He shook his head. “As I recall, yesterday morning in Laramie you said, ’I’ll give you anything, Kane, anything you want.’ That’s another thing I haven’t forgotten.”

“No!” she cried. “I—I won’t let you do this, Kane. Do you hear? I won’t let you!”

“Sweetheart—” That hard smile still hadn’t left his mouth. “—you can’t stop me.”

The softness in his tone was deceptive … Arms like iron bands came around her, dragging her against him. Tension and anger radiated from him, snaring her in a web from which there was no escape. She was trapped, not only by all she sensed in him, but in the steely binding of arms tight and hard about her back.

She had one shattering glimpse of his eyes, filled with fury and a glittering heat, a heat that was far more frightening than his anger. She would have cried out but his mouth came down, sealing hers like a hot brand. For one shocked, frozen moment, Abby remained passive, but only for an instant. She sought to twist away, but Kane allowed no room for struggle. His arms tightened; they were fused together from chest to knee, so close her feet were jammed between his, her breasts crushed against the unyielding breadth of his chest.

She tried to bring her hands up but it was no use. His lips plundered the softness of hers, raw and hungry and ruthlessly demanding. Abby despised her helplessness, but she was wise enough to recognize that Kane’s size gave him an unfair but unremitting advantage over her. She was no match for his strength.

But Abby wasn’t about to concede victory—and damn his hide, she didn’t care if he knew it. She held herself rigid in his arms and when his tongue came out to trace the seam of her lips, she clamped her lips together and barred him entrance.

His head came up. His hold on her eased though he didn’t release her. “What!” he mocked. “Hasn’t your husband taught you how to kiss yet?” An arrogant smile curled those hard lips. “Sweetheart, if you gave him this kind of reception seven nights in a row, no wonder he headed for parts unknown.”

Though Abby’s face burned scarlet, she didn’t back down from his sneer. “You’re not half the man Dillon is,” she said levelly.

“Is that a fact? Well, let me tell you something, sweetheart. I’m beginning to wonder if there’s really a flesh-and-blood woman under all those clothes. Let’s just see, shall we?”

He moved before she could stop him. His hands came up and flicked open her vest, closing unerringly over the mounds of her breasts. Even as their eyes locked, challenging gray slate with startled blue, he raked his thumbs across her nipples, intimately acquainting himself with her swelling softness.

A red-hot anger choked her. Lord, but he was a snake to touch her so—to handle her so … when he thought she was married yet! Fury lent her courage—and strength.

She wrenched free of his hold. Drawing back her arm, she dealt a stinging, open-palmed blow to his cheek. “You don’t have a shred of decency in you,” she hissed. “You’re an animal, Kane. And don’t ever—
ever!
—touch me like that again.”

Kane’s eyes blazed fire and ice. Like hell, he thought fiercely. I’ll touch you any damn way I want.

But the thought had no more than crossed his mind when a burst of wheezing male laughter sounded from behind them.

“Well, well, looky here. Looks like you got yourself a stray on your hands, doesn’t it now!”

S
on of a bitch.

The curse resounded in the chambers of Kane’s mind. He stiffened, his hands falling away from Abby. Slowly he turned to face the owner of that gritty male voice, cursing himself for letting his guard down. If he hadn’t been so determined to rile Abby the way she riled him, the keenly honed instincts that had served him so well over the years would never have failed him now.

Not ten feet away were two men on horseback, one lean and stringy-looking, the other heavy-jowled with small, beady eyes that would have looked right at home on a wily coyote. Kane’s eyes slid to his gun belt, lying on the dirt six feet away.
Shit
. If only he hadn’t been so goddamned eager to discard it.

“Havin’ trouble with the little lady, mister?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” Kane’s easy tone didn’t fool Abby. He was as tense as a metal wire. She instinctively eased closer.

“Didn’t sound that way, the way we heard it.” The heavy-set one gave a wheezing laugh. “Say, Jake, I think this boy could use a lesson or two. What d’ya say?”

“I’d say that’s the best idea you’ve had all year, Chester. And you know what they say—no time like the present.” Jake gave a grating chuckle, a sound that chilled Abby’s blood. Both were unshaven and unkempt. An air of menace clung to the pair, as thick as stale smoke. Her heart began to pound.

The one called Chester spit out a greasy wad of tobacco and hitched his chin toward Kane. “You there, put your hands on your head real slow-like and move away from the lady.”

Kane remained where he was, arms taut, fingers flexed. The two were eyeing Abby like a child might eye a sweet treat behind the counter.

He didn’t like it—he didn’t like it at all.

Rage splintered across Chester’s face as he nudged his horse forward. “If you’re smart, mister, you’ll do what I say.” Without warning he drew back his boot, then thrust his heel out against Kane’s chest. On horseback, his added height gave him the momentum he needed to knock Kane off-balance.

By the time Kane recovered, whirling on him with teeth bared, Chester had hoisted a rifle to his shoulder. It was aimed dead-center at his heart. He motioned with the barrel.

“Git yourself over to that boulder and kneel down … no, not that way. We want ya where you can see how much your little gal there likes a
real
man.” He grinned, displaying a mouthful of stained, yellowed stumps. “That’s good, right there. Now put your hands behind your back and keep ‘em there.”

Jake swung down off his horse. He crooked a finger at Abby.

Abby stood like a trapped doe.

Jake let out a foul curse and strode toward her. “You two don’t hear so good, do ya?” He grabbed her arm in a bruising grip and twisted his hand in her hair, jerking her face up to his. “We can do this nice and easy-like, or we can have some fun. Which is it gonna be, sister?”

Lank, greasy hair stuck out from beneath his hat. Fetid breath struck her face, as sour as the odor of his unwashed flesh. Abby’s stomach heaved.

Terrified, praying it didn’t show, she spit in his face. Jake’s features contorted into an ugly mask. He grabbed a fistful of her shirt, then shoved her with all his might, sending her tumbling to the ground. Though she tried to stifle it, a half-sob of pain ripped from her throat.

Her cry went through Kane like a knife ripping through paper. He sprang up on the balls of his feet, his body coiled and ready to spring. The chill of cold metal rammed against his temple was the only thing that stopped him.

Chester leered at him. “I wouldn’t if I was you, mister, less you want your little gal to see your brains splattered from here to the Sweetwater.”

Earth and sky spun by in a sickening whirl. Dazed by her fall, Abby cried out when ruthless hands yanked at her wrists, jerking them behind her back. Jake cinched her wrists tight with a strip of rawhide. She winced when he gave a last vicious tug. The rawhide bit deeply into her flesh.

He flipped her over and hauled her to her feet. Grating laughter filled the air when she stumbled.

“You bastard!” she cried. “I’ll die before I’d let a filthy beast like you lay a hand on me!” Sheer bravado prompted her outburst. Jake retaliated by ripping open her shirt, sending buttons flying in all directions. She jerked when he wrenched the material from her shoulders down to her elbows, exposing her white cotton chemise.

He chortled. “Hooeee, Chester, looky what we got here!” Gleaming black eyes devoured the sight of her full breasts straining against the thin cloth. Abby paled when he whipped out a knife. In a horrified frenzy, she thrashed wildly, trying to slam her knee into his groin. He twisted, easily deflecting the blow.

“You wanna fight? Hey, that’s all right by me, sweet thing. Hard and fast and rough is just the way I like it.”

With one stroke he slit the flimsy pink ribbons of her chemise from her waist upward. Freed from their restraint, her breasts spilled out, white and round and bare. Sheer lust flamed in his eyes.

Next to Kane, Chester’s attention wavered. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head.

Jake grabbed Abby. He squeezed her so tight she feared her ribs would snap, then jammed his knee between her thighs. Terror like ice clogged her veins. Abby tried desperately to strain away but succeeded only in chafing her wrists. Hot, wet lips opened hers; his tongue gouged deep. Abby turned her face away and gagged. She moaned as hot hands roamed her breasts, squeezing roughly, pinching her nipples and making her gasp in pain.

“I’m ready,” he panted. “Oh, yeah, wait till you see what I got for you, sweet thing.” In horror she saw him fumbling with his pants. She wrenched away with a cry.

Exactly what happened next, Abby couldn’t say. She heard a man scream with pain—Chester—and then a deafening explosion. A burning smell assailed her nostrils. She felt more than saw Jake’s body jerk. He staggered back, his expression dumbfounded. Blood like a crimson flower blossomed on his chest. He slumped to the ground.

Smoke drifted in the silence. When it cleared Abby saw that Kane had Chester pinned to the ground, a knee on his chest, the gleaming tip of a knife laid against his whiskered throat. “Say your prayers, you bastard. ‘Cause you’re on your way to hell just like your friend.”

Chester began to blubber. “Don’t kill me, mister! It was all Jake’s idea, I swear. I didn’t want to kill ya, honest, but Jake wanted to hump the girl!”

Kane smiled tightly. “Tell that to some other sucker, fella.”

Abby dragged in a searing breath. “No!” she cried. “Kane, you—you can’t kill him!”

“Why the hell not?” His tone was flat and emotionless.

“Because if you do, you—you’ll be no better than the two of them!”

Their eyes collided, his fierce and burning, hers mutely pleading. She glimpsed in his a venomous glitter, and sensed his rage was directed not only at the man held hostage on the ground, but her as well for attempting to stop him.

An air of utter ruthlessness surrounded him, an air that frightened her. The cords in his wrist grew taut, the tension in his chiseled features terrible to behold. His knuckles turned white on the hilt of the knife as he battled the urge to finish the murder in his heart. Seconds passed, seconds that stretched to an eternity.

With a snarl he leaped to his feet. “Get your hide in gear and take your buddy with you. And you sure as hell better hope you never cross my path—because if I ever see you again, the lady here won’t be with me to save your worthless ass.”

He meant what he said; every one of them knew it. Chester scrambled up as fast as his girth and the wound in his shoulder would allow. He dumped the other man’s body across his horse and gave it a sharp slap on the rump. Whether Jake was dead or alive, Kane didn’t know—he didn’t care. He watched Chester mount and spur his horse forward. Then he turned to look at Abby. His eyes found hers through the twilight gloom.

“Dear God,” she said numbly. “You—you stabbed him.” The words were more breath than sound. Her gaze followed Chester’s rapidly disappearing figure.

“I had to find some way to get him to drop the gun. Lucky for you that I did, or that bastard Jake would be rutting between your thighs right now!”

Abby flushed, both at his crudity and the stabbing condemnation in his tone. “I suppose you think I should have slapped their hands and asked them to leave,” he went on harshly. “Honey, those two deserved everything they got. Do you have any idea what they’d have done to you? A lady who looks like you do would fetch one hell of a price in a whorehouse—after they got through with you, that is. We were goddamn lucky—
you
were goddamn lucky. I just hope to hell I don’t regret letting them live.”

Abby didn’t answer, not because she didn’t want to, but because she couldn’t. Kane’s words painted a stark picture in her mind. The enormity of what had happened began to seep in. She shuddered with revulsion. Her vision blurred; spots danced in front of her eyes. For an instant she feared she would faint—she, Abigail MacKenzie, who had never fainted in her life! She shuddered again, recalling the way that horrid man Jake had touched her—what he’d been about to do! Though she tried, she couldn’t control the weakness that rushed through her, making her legs feel like mush.

The hands that plucked at the torn ribbons of her chemise were none too steady. From where he stood Kane could see the telltale imprint of that bastard Jake’s hands on the swelling flesh of her breasts. He swore softly; she’d bear those bruises for a while. He crossed to her, his mouth a tight line in his face. She was struggling to hold the gaping edges of her chemise closed with one hand and pull her shirt back over her shoulders with the other.

“Wait.”

His voice was gritty. She stopped, her eyes lifting slowly to his. That she didn’t argue was a sign of just how shaken she was, he decided grimly.

“Hold still. I want to check those ribs.”

He left no room for protest. She froze, the back of her arm pressed against her chest. Kane tried hard not to look, but bloody hell!—he was only a man, and not a very upright one at that. He bit back a groan. Her chemise was nearly transparent. He had no trouble discerning the shape of her breasts, trembling and soft and full; the darker, dusky outlines of her nipples visible through the sheer cloth. He wondered if she knew the pressure of her arm merely made the round, cushioned fullness swell still further.

She flushed when he slid his hands inside her chemise, engulfing her rib cage. At his touch, Abby inhaled sharply. His gaze cut immediately to hers. “Sore?”