The Loner (25 page)

He deserved to have his nuts cut off for putting Caroline in the position to kill.

Come to think of it, he was a tad bit furious with her, too.

When she'd stepped into the firelight, he'd about had a heart attack. The one positive he'd held on to during the debacle was the knowledge that she was stuck away somewhere safe. Seeing her reveal herself had struck fear into his bones unlike any he'd known before.

He'd have to think about that later.

Now he just wanted to get this damned job done. One positive result of his fury was the energy he had to put into his digging. The desert ground was hard and dry, but it couldn't withstand his temper.

He'd dug half the grave before the rolling boil of his rage lessened to a simmer and he was able to think straight once again. He spent a few moments considering the information he'd learned from the killer.

First, he'd confirmed that the Plunketts had Will. Logan had been ninety-five percent certain of it, but it was nice to know for sure. Second, he'd learned that Whitaker expected Caroline to come look for her son, and that he believed strongly that she needed protection. Logan's gaze drifted to the bag of gold promised to the Preacher in payment for such protection. He might have to reconsider his opinion of Whitaker. He'd given away a fortune in gold to protect Caroline. Not exactly the behavior one might expect from an outlaw.

Finally, he thought about his own plans in relation to tonight's events. Had anything changed? Should he reconsider how he intended to take Caroline into Black Shadow Canyon? One piece of information he dearly wished he'd gotten from the killer was just how he'd known what this Preacher fellow was up to. Was the whole Geronimo's Treasure search common knowledge in the canyon? God, he hoped not. Caroline would be a target for every man out there.

Shoot, she was already a target for every man. Her beauty assured that. What the hell had he been thinking letting her come along?

Logan stripped off his shirt and medallion, then sank his shovel into the dirt and repeated a litany of curses until a new thought occurred. Maybe tonight's troubles would have given her second thoughts. Maybe she'd be so upset over having taken a life, she'd be willing to return to Van Horn and wait for him and Will.

He struck rock and the jar on the spade rattled his hand and shook some sense into him. Caroline, leave without her son? The lioness give up? When hell froze over, perhaps.

No, if anything, once the shock cleared from her mind, she might consider continuing her killing ways by plugging a bullet into him. He couldn't argue that he didn't deserve it.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd made such a stupid, green mistake as to let the bastard get the drop on him. The fact was that he'd let himself get distracted by playing Peeping Tom at his wife. Lust had clouded his mind like a dust storm, and he hadn't had a single clear thought until the bastard's bullet kicked up the dirt at his feet.

Hell, he'd load Caroline's gun for her if she wanted to shoot him.

Judging the grave to be deep enough, Logan approached the mutilated body and wrapped it in the blanket. "God have mercy on your soul, Preacher," he said as he covered the corpse's face. "I thank you for trying to help my wife. Wish I had been around to be of help to you."

He tugged the body into the grave, then began the process of filling it with dirt. Once that was done, he piled stones atop the dirt, stood at the head of the grave and said the Lord's Prayer.

He grabbed up his shirt and medallion, then took a circuitous route back to camp, keeping a sharp eye out for the presence of any other intruders. He returned to find that Caroline continued to slumber. With any luck, she'd sleep straight through the night.

Feeling gritty, grimy and sore, Logan grabbed a bar of soap and a towel from his supplies, stripped off the rest of his clothes and waded waist-deep into the cold spring water. He soaped himself, scrubbing hard to wash off the blood—both his own and that of others—then submerged his entire body beneath the water. The cuts and scrapes from the fight burned like fire and he gritted his teeth against the pain.

Pushing out of the water, he gave his head a shake and set droplets of water flying. The movement pulled at the cut across his throat and he winced. He felt the dribble of liquid down his neck and touched it, hoping it was water. Thick. Warm. Sticky. Hell.

He'd have to get Caroline to sew it up for him in the morning. The idea pissed him off. Reminded him how stupid he'd been. How reckless Caroline had been. He tossed her sleeping form a fulminating look.

They couldn't let it happen again. He needed to keep his mind out of his pants and she absolutely had to follow his instructions. To the letter! It had worked out all right tonight, but they could not count on being lucky like this again. Not with his luck.

Logan waded out of the stream, both physical pain and mental ire heating his temper once again. Naked and dripping, he reached for the towel he'd left draped across a bush and wiped himself dry.

He slung the damp towel around his neck and put pressure against the cut hoping to stop the bleeding. It was then that he noticed that Caroline was awake, sitting up and watching him.

Absently, she licked her lips.

Blood rushed immediately to his crotch, dammit.
Hell, no sense keeping pressure on the cut
—
no blood in my neck left to lose.

The fact that he was so painfully aroused, so quickly, made him furious. He lashed out at her saying, "Goddammit, Caroline."

She blinked. Her gaze lifted to his eyes. "What?"

"What?" he repeated. He wrapped the towel around his hips, shielding himself from what looked to be a hungry gaze. The fact that he did it when what he really wanted was to march over to her and bury himself in her charms only flamed the fires of his anger hotter. "You ask me
what?"

"Urn...yes."

"You can't look at me like that!"

"Like what?"

"Like I'm cream and you're a thirsty kitten."

"Oh. Did I do that?"

"You damned sure did!"

"I'm sorry. I was asleep. I woke up and there you were. All... naked."

"For God's sake, Caroline."

She smiled sheepishly, then said, "You're all scarred and bloody. A warrior. You make me feel safe."

"Safe? Christ, Caroline. I almost got you killed tonight."

"No, you almost got yourself killed, which I admit does stir my temper. You need to be more careful with yourself."

"Careful with myself?" The tucked-in towel slipped a bit as he brought his hands up, held on to his head and repeated a frustrated, "Careful with myself! This from the woman who left a perfectly safe hiding spot after promising me she wouldn't?"

"You can't hold that against me, Logan. I also promised I would watch your back. After hearing three gunshots, I determined I had no other choice."

"I didn't ask you to watch my back!"

"Nevertheless, I promised I would."

He turned away and started pacing back and forth. Frustration had him slapping a towel-clad thigh as he attempted to rein in his temper. He'd damned sure better get hold of himself, or else...

Or else he'd be taking hold of her.

"Grrrr," he growled. Then he stopped, braced his hands on his hips and said, "Look, we need to talk."

A smile briefly flirted with her lips. "You say that to me rather often, do you realize that? I don't want to talk, Logan. Come here."

"No."

"Why not?"

"It's not safe."

She sat up straighter and her eyes went round. "Are you worried about another intruder?"

Hell, he hadn't meant to scare her. "No, we're okay. I checked things out before I took my bath."

"So, why aren't we safe?"

"You're safe. I'm not!"

"I don't understand."

"Yes, you do. You damned sure do. You're dangerous, woman!"

"Because I killed a man tonight?"

"No, because you make me want to forget everything I'm supposed to be doing and thinking. That's what got me into trouble earlier tonight and I'd have to be a cotton-headed fool to let it happen again."

"I want to forget, too, Logan. It's been a really awful.. ." her voice cracked slightly as she added ".. .horrible night. Please come here and help me forget."

"No."

Caroline's reply was to stare at him for a long moment, then rise gracefully to her feet. She took hold of the hem of her gown and whipped it over her head.

In the end, Logan was simply a man. He didn't have the fortitude or the desire to withstand a woman—
this
woman—bent on seduction.

To hell with it.
Yet, even as he closed the distance between them, his anger at himself and at her simmered on his nerves. As a result, when he grabbed her hand and yanked her into his arms, the gentleness he'd shown her before was missing.

He buried his fingers in her hair and yanked her head back. His heartbeat raced as he ravaged her throat. His mind fogged as he savaged her mouth. The need to take her pounded through him like a drug.

Caroline didn't appear to mind his harsh treatment. She met his rough kiss with a wildness of her own. When his hands gripped her hips and kneaded the soft, supple flesh, her hands streaked up and down his back. Her nails scraping. Her fists pounding. Her voice demanding more even as it whimpered.

Their lips fused in a desperate kiss, their tongues battling, their teeth scraping. The heat of his desire burned through any restraint, any self-control. He stumbled forward, backing her against a hard, rough wall of rock. She lifted her legs, wrapped them around him. He tore his mouth free of hers, hoisted her higher and fastened it on her breast.

He suckled her greedily, feasted on her sweet flesh, and hot, electric lust pumped through his blood like a drug. Through his own haze, Logan heard the desperate, wild sounds she made. Madness had hold of him. He had no gentle caress to give her, no soft words. Yet, judging by every fevered response, Caroline didn't need that. Didn't want that.

Her hands grasped and grabbed, her fingernails bit into his skin. She cried out in pleasure as his tongue and teeth scraped roughly over her. Her legs gripped his waist like a vise.

He spun away from the rock wall and strode toward the bedrolls. She nipped at his jaw, pressed a sweet, gentle kiss against the cut on his throat, then sank her teeth into the spot where neck and shoulder met. The flash of dark, erotic pain made everything inside him go tight.

He lowered her onto the bedroll, then himself on top of her.

Her body was soft, smooth and hot. She trembled, strained against him, and Logan surrendered to the desperate desire to have her, to take her. To conquer her. He surged into her deep and hard, her hot, wet sheath gripping him like a glove.

The sense of coming home shocked him.

"Logan," she breathed, her voice needy, demanding his attention.

He covered her mouth with his and plundered with his tongue even as his hips began to pump. She tangled her fingers in his hair as she arched her hips up, meeting his thrusts, matching his rhythms, driving him further into madness. Their bodies turned hot and slick and fused into each other as one. He could barely breathe for wanting her...needing her. A forgotten emotion tugged at his heart and in the midst of passion Logan felt vulnerable and afraid.

She dazzled him. It was more than simply her beauty, as irresistible as that was. It was her generous, giving nature. Her fierce, loyal spirit. And her passion. Dear Lord, her passion.

Beneath him, her body vibrated. He watched with blatant male satisfaction as he drove her up, higher and higher, toward the peak. He murmured words to her— dark, shocking, erotic words not meant for the light of day, and Caroline responded with a high-pitched, needy keen. Then with a gasp, she fell, crying out her pleasure as her muscles gripped him, contracting around him in that torturous rhythmic pulse meant to pull the life force from a man.

When she opened her eyes, he met her gaze and let himself drown in the violet sea. With one final thrust, he surrendered, and as the molten pleasure erupted through him, an emotion he refused to name and never expected to feel fluttered in his heart.

Fear rolled over him like a tidal wave.
This can't happen. I won't let it.

Ruthlessly, Logan shored up his defenses. He crushed the flutter and strengthened his walls.

He told himself he absolutely, positively had not fallen in love with his wife.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Caroline knew that reality did indeed exist. For the time being, however, she was happy to live inside the fantasy.

The sky was huge with the moon high and bright. Stars painted the sky. The night was still; the cool, desert-scented air kissed her sweat-dampened skin. Somewhere up on the mountain, a cougar roared.

Caroline didn't even shiver. The bedroll beneath her lay scrunched and rumpled. She had anvils for arms and lead poles for legs. A fallen redwood lay splayed across her, dead to the world but for the steady beat of his heart.

For a minute there, she'd worried they might have killed one another. The intensity, the heat—a time or two in the middle of things she'd halfway expected to burst into flames. She sighed, content and sated, and a half smile played upon her lips as the haze of desire slowly faded from her mind.
What a way to go.

Logan shifted, disengaged and rolled off her onto his side. Caroline murmured a protest, mournful at the loss.

He cleared his throat. "I don't know what to say."

"Just don't ask me to stand up."

"Caroline, I tossed you down and plundered you."

She didn't try to keep the smug satisfaction from her voice. "Yes, you did, didn't you?"

"I was angry and I treated you roughly."

"We treated each other roughly and I'm not complaining. I'm not a fragile prairie rose, Logan. I enjoyed what we did. I didn't know it could be like that. It was.. .exciting. I don't know that I'd want it so rough-and-tumble all the time, but it fit the mood tonight. Don't you think?"

He laughed reluctantly. "I don't know what to make of you, Caroline Grey. You are one surprise after another."