The Outlaws: Rafe (22 page)

"So Angel was right.
 
You did kill her father," Rafe said with slow deliberation.

 
"It was easy enough to arrange," Baxter gloated. "Enough talk, Gentry.
 
You know I'm going to kill you, why prolong it?
 
Killing you is the only way to get rid of you permanently.
 
Now say your prayers."

Angela chose that moment to spring at Baxter.
 
Seconds before she reached him, he spun around, but it was too late to stop the rock Angela held in her hand from connecting forcefully with his head.
 
Unfortunately his finger jerked spasmodically on the trigger as he fell to the ground.
 
The bullet went wild, missing a vital target but grazing Angela's upper arm as it whizzed by, leaving a bloody groove.

Baxter didn't move.
 
Angela stared down at him, holding her arm as blood streamed through her fingers.
 
It hurt dreadfully but she couldn't pass out, not yet.
 
She had to cut Rafe free before Baxter came around.

"Angel, are you all right?
 
God!
 
Where did he shoot you?"

Angela moved forward on wooden legs.
 
She stepped over Baxter and squatted down beside Rafe.
 
"The bullet just grazed me."
 
She appeared in a daze.
 
"He killed my father, Rafe.
 
I heard him admit it."

"I know, sweetheart.
 
It's up to a judge and jury now to convict him.
 
There's a knife in my boot.
 
Get it and free my hands.
 
I'll take it from there.
 
You saved my life...again.
 
I'm beginning to think you're my guardian angel."

Angela managed to cut the ropes binding his hands before she passed out.

His hands were free.
 
Blood rushed into them.
 
Excruciating pain left Rafe writhing and gasping for breath.
 
His hands and fingers refused a simple command to cut his legs free.
 
They felt like pieces of raw meat as he willed the pain away.
 
He struggled to move; he had to get to Baxter before he regained his wits, and he had to help Angel, who might be seriously wounded.

Dragging in a deep, steadying breath, Rafe flexed his hands, ignoring the numbing pain as he picked up the knife Angela had dropped and plied it to the ropes binding his legs.
 
It took longer than Rafe would have liked but finally the ropes fell away.
 
Then the agony began anew, spiraling upward from his feet to his knees, sharp, penetrating, debilitating.
 
He waited a moment for the pain to subside, then dragged himself to his knees and crawled over to Angela.

"Angel, speak to me.
 
Are you all right?"

Angela stirred, sighed, and sat up.
 
"What happened?"

"You passed out.
 
Let me look at that wound."

"It's nothing.
 
Take care of Baxter before he comes around.
 
He killed father," she said on a sob.

"Are you sure you're all right?"

"Positive."
 
She grasped his swollen hands and stared at them.
 
"Oh my God, you must be in agony.
 
What can I do to help?"

"I'll manage.
 
We've only one light.
 
I'll take you outside, then return and take care of Baxter.
 
A few hours in the mine won't hurt him until we decide our next move."

"Let me stay."

"You're bleeding; your wound needs tending.
 
I can manage here.
 
But we have to hurry.
 
Baxter won't remain out long."

"What are you going to do with him?"

"Not what he intended for me.
 
We'll discuss it later.
 
Come on."

   
Hobbling on numb legs, Rafe picked up the lantern and ushered Angela to the mine entrance.
 
"Go on," he said, turning back into the mine.
 
"I won't be long."

Angela heaved a reluctant sigh.
 
"Very well.
 
Hurry."

Angela couldn't imagine what was keeping Rafe.
 
He'd been gone too long for comfort.
 
Even taking into account the condition of his hands, he should have returned before now.
 
She hoped Baxter hadn't come around and given him trouble.
 
She had just about convinced herself to go back into the mine to look for him when she saw him staggering from the entrance.
 
She raced from the cabin to help him.

"What happened?"

"My legs still aren't working like they should.
 
Had I been left trussed up another few hours I'd never be able to walk again."

"Did you have any problems with Baxter?"

"No.
 
He came around as I was trying him up.
 
We exchanged a few words, that's all.
 
Forget him.
 
Let's have a look at that arm."

"It's nothing.
 
The bleeding has already stopped."

"Let me see, Angel."

Angela removed the crude cloth she had used to stem the bleeding and held out her arm.
 
Frowning, Rafe carefully examined the wound.

"The bullet gouged a pretty deep furrow.
 
Maybe you should have the doc stitch it up so it won't leave a scar."

"No," Angela protested.
 
"I'm fine, really.
 
Just help me make a proper bandage.
 
I don't care about the scar.
 
It doesn't even hurt that much."

Rafe followed her into the bedroom and tore up an old sheet while Angela retrieved a jar of salve from among her father's things.

"Sit down and remove your blouse," Rafe said, "so I can make a proper job of this."

Angela removed her blouse and sat down on the edge of the bed.
 
Rafe dropped to his knees beside her and set to work.
 
It was all he could do to keep his hands from straying to her full breasts, but he filled his eyes with the sight of those taut mounds straining against her shift.
 
By the time he finished bandaging the wound, his hands were shaking and sweat plastered his forehead.
 
He yearned to carry her to the bed and make passionate love to her, but there were some important issues that needed to be cleared up.

Rafe sat back on his heels and stared at her.

"What's wrong?" Angela asked.

His words held a bitter edge.
 
"Why did you marry Baxter?"

"How can you ask that?
 
You know why I did it.
 
He threatened to turn you over to the law if I didn't marry him."

"I'd rather face the hangman than see you with Baxter," he barked.
 
"You knew he couldn't be trusted.
 
He never intended to set me free."

"You're welcome," Angela said sweetly.

He scrambled from his knees and sat down beside her.
 
"Angel, I'm not angry at you.
 
I'm just...angry at the thought of you with Baxter.
 
Did you think he wouldn't demand his marital rights?
 
What were you thinking?"

"I didn't want you to die.
 
Besides, you heard him.
 
He killed father.
 
Oh God, what are we going to do now?"

"I'll think of something.
 
The bastard isn't going to walk free."

"What about you?
 
What are your plans?
 
You can't stay here, it's too dangerous."
 

He grasped her shoulders and dragged her against him.
 
"I can't leave you behind, you know that.
 
You can argue all you like but I'm still not leaving you.
 
Your marriage to Baxter isn't legal and you know it."

"I don't want him to go free.
 
He killed my father.
 
I've got to stay and try to convince the sheriff that Baxter deserves to be put behind bars for his crime."

"Every one believes you're legally married to the bastard, even though you and I know differently.
 
Baxter is a smooth talker.
 
What if the sheriff doesn't believe you?
 
I can't take that chance.
 
You're going with me and that's final."

"But..."
 
Her protest died on her lips as Rafe stopped them with a kiss.
 
His lips were hard, as unyielding as his decision.
 
He kissed her until she was breathless, until her body tingled and dampness gathered between her thighs.

Then he lowered her onto the bed and continued his relentless assault upon her senses until Angela felt like a mindless, boneless puddle of raw passion.
 
Lifting her upthrusting breasts to his mouth, he licked her jutting nipples through the thin material of her shift, then blew on them.
 
She felt them swell and peak beneath his sensual assault, felt the aching need he created claw at her innards.

She gave a small cry of alarm when he grasped the neckline of the shift between his hands and rent the fragile material in half, baring her breasts.
 
Then he swiftly stripped her naked.
 
She held her breath as his heated gaze slid down her body.
 
She burned everywhere his gaze touched her, and it touched everywhere.
 
It felt as if he were making love to her with his eyes.

"Don't stop me, Angel."
 
His voice was ragged with need.
 
"Back there in the mine I thought my life was going to end, and I'd never make love to you again."

Angela had no intention of stopping him.
 
She wanted him.
 
Whether or not she went with him, that truth wouldn't change.
 
She couldn't worry about tomorrow; only today mattered.
 
That realization was like a dam breaking inside her.
 
All her inhibitions, all her fears were swept away on a wave of incredible longing.
 
Passion flared hot and consuming.

Small hands swept his shirt from his shoulders.
 
Eager fingers traced a lazy pattern in the dark pelt covering his chest...then slid slowly down the taut grid of his belly.
 
One by one she released the buttons of his trousers.
 
His manhood sprang rigid and free into her palm.
 
A shiver slid down Angela's spine.
 
He was scalding hot and boldly erect.

When he tried to slide between her thighs, she shook her head and pushed him onto his back.
 
Together they removed his clothing.
 
Then she straddled him.
 
Head bowed, hair brushing his thighs, she placed a kiss on the head of his turgid hardness, at the same time skimming the underside of his shaft to the root with feathery touches of her fingertips.

"Angel..."
 
His breath caught.
 
"You're killing me.
 
Let me..."

"No, let me," she breathed against him.
 
She heard him mutter something under his breath and felt him stiffen moments before she touched him with the tip of her tongue.

She plied him delicately with hot, wet strokes of her tongue, a wanton, highly erotic caress, pleasuring him as he had pleasured her on more than one occasion.
 
Her tongue whirling, she licked and sucked and tasted, reveling in the tremors wracking his body.

Rafe's world was careening out of control.
 
The taut muscles of his body clenched.
 
Ecstasy consumed him, seduced by the captivating heat of her mouth and tongue.

His hands slid into the glorious mass of her bright curls.
 
"Angel!
 
For the love of God, stop!"
 
His voice was ragged, raw with charged tension.

He caught her and dragged her upward.
 
Then, in a swift move that produced a look of astonishment on her flushed face, he turned her about.
 
"I want you on your hands and knees," he whispered, positioning her for his pleasure.

A tremor passed through her.
 
He saw it and smiled.
 
Heat tugged at his belly, blood swelled his loins, making him harder, stronger, needier.
 
Desire pounded through him and his manhood throbbed with impatience to be inside her.
 
Taking his place behind her, he swept the blond curtain of her hair aside and kissed her nape.