TheSurrenderofLacyMorgan (3 page)
Read TheSurrenderofLacyMorgan Online
Authors: Suzanne Ferrell
“Now get on the horse,” Blue-eyes whispered in her ear, his
breath fanning her cheek.
With the extra freedom, Lacy slipped her foot into the
stirrup with ease. Before she could protest, he slipped his hand on her bottom
and shoved her upward. He used the extra leather binding her hands to secure
them to the saddle pommel.
“You done playing with our prisoner? Daylight’s nearly
gone.” Dark-eyes tossed Blue-eyes his reins.
“Shut up, Dakota,” Blue-eyes said as he started to climb on
his horse.
This was her chance.
Gripping the pommel tight with her bound hands, Lacy shifted
her weight, causing the gelding to sidle into Blue-eyes. His foot half in the
stirrup, he stumbled into his horse and hopped on the other foot, trying not to
fall. Without waiting to savor her minor victory, she kicked her boot into the
paint’s ribs and they shot off like a bullet—away from the shack and her two
captors.
“Dammit, stop her!” Quinn shouted as he tried to regain his
footing.
“You tied her to the horse. You get her.” Dakota O’Keefe
admired how the woman rode across the barren terrain beyond the shack. Even
tied to the horse, she sat the saddle well.
“Before she breaks her neck, Dakota.”
Without another word, Dakota charged after the woman and her
horse. Over the years, as deputy marshals, he and Quinn had chased down more
than one outlaw trying to escape. He had to admit this was the first sexy one
he’d ever had to rein in.
As he closed the gap between them, he could see her
golden-colored legs contrasted against the horse’s white and brown markings.
Having them grip him when she rode him would feel heavenly—and he had no doubt
she’d be doing so before they turned her over to the territorial prison.
She must’ve heard his horse coming up behind her. Her head
whipped around and her startling green eyes widened.
“Shit,” he muttered as she set the paint to a faster pace.
The sun had nearly set behind them and the sensual hellcat would kill herself
if she continued riding this hard in the dark. With a nudge to his horse’s
flanks, they once again gave chase. The stallion’s powerful legs ate up ground
until they were beside her.
“Please, don’t,” she said as he reached over and grabbed the
horse’s reins, slowing their momentum.
“We need you. And not with your neck broken.” Dakota lowered
his voice to the quiet reassuring one his father taught him years ago to use
when soothing a wild horse. Hopefully, it would work on the frightened woman as
much as her mount.
She gave a harsh laugh. “Why? Your friend means to turn me
over to Devil or try me for the robbery alone. Either way, I’m dead.”
Dakota moved Fuego closer, then reached over to tuck a loose
curl behind Lacy’s ear, cupping her soft cheek in his hand. He held her gaze a
moment. “In life there’s always hope.”
A spark snapped between them. He could tell by the way her
green eyes darkened and her breathing deepened that she hadn’t expected to be
attracted to him as well as Quinn. Her breasts moved when she inhaled, the
hardened nipples pressing into the material of her shirt.
The kitten was very sensual. Did Quinn realize her
responsive nature? Did she? This would be an interesting trip, indeed.
Never letting the visual connection between them break, he
slid his hand down her neck and over the delicate bones of her shoulder. “Quinn
and I must bring Devil Morgan to justice, kitten. He’s destroyed too many
lives.” He squeezed her shoulder, then trailed his fingers down her arm. “Even
yours, I think.”
“He’s an evil man. You don’t know…”
Memories of how Cap’s bullet-ridden body looked when he and
Quinn claimed it in Cheyenne flashed in his mind. He settled a finger over her
lips. “Believe me, we know his depraved nature.”
“No, you don’t.” She visibly shivered.
He resisted the urge to pluck her off the horse and set her
in front of him. She wasn’t some innocent caught in a bad situation. She was an
outlaw—a woman who had participated in a bank robbery where civilians had been
killed, one of whom was the marshal who trained him and Quinn.
The sounds of horse’s hooves pounding the earth behind them
signaled Quinn’s arrival. By the set of his brother’s jaw, Dakota knew the sexy
outlaw’s brief flight had done little more than anger Quinn.
He snatched her reins from Dakota and tied them to his
saddle. “That was a futile exercise, woman. Are you in such a hurry to die?”
“I’d rather die by my own hand than yours or Devil
Morgan’s.” Her chin went up and fire sparked from her eyes.
Quinn inched forward, grasping her chin in his hand. “Trust
me, before this is over you’ll be very happy to submit to me. And I suggest you
not try escaping again. There is nowhere you can run where Dakota and I won’t
find you. Understand?”
She narrowed her eyes, and for a moment seemed ready to defy
him. Then she lowered her gaze and nodded, though her knuckles were white where
she gripped the saddle pommel.
Dakota took the lead and headed southeast, back to the
mountains where the Hole-in-the-Wall Gang hid, his mind on their captive. The
woman had courage and spirit. He and Quinn would need to take care not to
strangle those qualities when they broke her to their will.
Chapter Two
As he followed Dakota along the tree line leading away from
Beaver Run, Quinn seethed inside.
Fool woman.
All it would’ve taken was one wrong step
by the gelding and they both would’ve gone down and Lacy would’ve been killed.
Damn, he should’ve seen her actions coming, should have
known she was so desperate to escape she’d do something foolhardy. Question
was, did she really fear Devil Morgan enough to risk her life? Or was she just
trying to escape justice for her part in the murders and robbery?
He glanced back over his shoulder at her. Her mane of
reddish hair had come loose in spots and curled around her face. Moonlight
shone down over her skin and, despite being tied to the horse, she sat the
saddle straight and tall. Her will was strong, but he needed information and
her cooperation, if for nothing more than her own safety.
“The woman is frightened of returning to Devil.” Dakota had
slowed his horse to parallel his.
“She should’ve thought of that before she took up bank
robbing and murder with him. And she’s a liar too.”
“Devil isn’t at the Hole-in-the-Wall?”
“Nope. She said the first direction to come in her head. She
thought we’d believe it and leave her to hightail it out after him. It’s what I
would’ve done. But I have an idea how to get the information from her.”
“How? She’s more afraid of him than us. You planning to beat
it out of her? I’ve never known you to hurt a woman before.”
“She’s a submissive.”
Dakota cast him a sidelong look. “You guessed this from the
collar she wears?”
“I had my suspicions, so I tested her a bit. I don’t think
she’s aware of what her collar means or her own natural inclination.”
“We take turns coaxing the information from her?”
Quinn nodded. “She won’t last too long.”
Dakota cast him a doubting look. “A silver dollar says she
lasts longer than you think.”
“I’ll take that bet,” he said with a grin. “Not too many can
resist both of us.”
“Yes, but very few believe their lives depend on refusing
our attentions.” They rode in silence for a bit before Dakota spoke again. “I’m
going to hunt us up some game for dinner. Meet you at the campsite.” Dakota
turned his mount and headed into the trees.
They’d scouted the area briefly on their way into Beaver Run
earlier in the day. A small stream ran through the area and if they were lucky,
by the time Quinn and their captive caught up, his brother would have a fire
going and fresh game on a spit for their dinner.
When he glanced over his shoulder, he caught Lacy staring
off at the trees, her shoulders slumped as if in defeat. For a moment he
wondered how she really got mixed up in this mess. This was the first time he’d
ever had to arrest a woman and bring her to justice. A knot sat hard in his
gut. Juanita had taught him to respect women. What would she say to his plan to
use Lacy to trap Devil Morgan?
The vision of Anson’s widow standing by his grave in the
gray hours just after dawn popped into his head. He hardened his heart to
Lacy’s femininity. She was an outlaw, a tool he could use to bring him closer
to the monster who’d killed his mentor.
The corner of his lip lifted. He couldn’t help it if she was
a very beautiful and sexy tool. Lacy was about to be tested beyond her
endurance and he, for one, planned to enjoy every moment of her taming. Might
as well start now.
He pulled on the horse’s reins until they were stopped side
by side. “Dismount.”
“Why?” she asked, her brows drawn down in suspicion.
“Because I said so.”
He waited while she struggled to bring her leg over the
horse’s side, getting a glimpse of her golden thighs as the slit skirt fell
open. Damn, she had long, supple muscles, so different from the women willing
and available to spend time with him and Dakota when they stayed in towns.
Once she stood by her horse, her hands still tied to the
pommel, he slid down to stand beside her. He untied her hands away from the
horse, but left them bound together then reached for his canteen.
“Thirsty?”
She shook her head.
Stubborn.
He pulled out his canteen, opened it and took a long drink.
She licked her lips.
“Sure? After your crazy ride, I bet you could use something
cool and wet.” He held it out to her.
“How am I supposed to hold it with my hands tied like this?”
She gave him a look suggesting he was an imbecile.
He fought off the urge to laugh. Her spirit remained
undaunted. Good. “I’ll hold it for you.”
Her eyes narrowed as he lifted the canteen to her lips, but
she wasn’t foolish enough to waste the water. She drank slow and long, the
muscles in her neck working as she swallowed the precious liquid. Heat shot
straight to his groin as he watched her pull and swallow, thinking how good it
would feel to have her doing the same to his cock.
Slowly her motions ceased. As she pulled away from the
canteen, water dripped from her lip to her chin. He watched it trail down her
neck, over the delicate chain collar, and disappear into the deep cleavage
exposed by the half-buttoned shirt. He raised his gaze to hers.
Heat sizzled through him at the depth of fire in her eyes.
A challenge. He might hold her prisoner, but she wanted him
to believe she wasn’t afraid of him. There was her mistake. For years he’d
intimidated more dangerous criminals than her. This luscious woman had
information he needed and he had a special torture in mind to obtain it.
With a grip on the reins, he pulled her paint closer,
trapping Lacy between him and the horse. He reached behind her head, gripped
her by the hair piled at the nape of her neck and pulled her forward. Her lips
parted in a surprised O.
He claimed her mouth at that moment, sliding his tongue in
to taste the depths of her once more, the warm heat and the defenseless feel of
her surprise. Warm. Soft. Feminine.
Hunger shot through him. He held her head angled to one side
as he devoured her lips, stroking her soft tongue with his own. Over and over
he pressed in, wanting more, needing her surrender. Finally, she moaned against
his mouth.
The sound forced sanity back into his head. Slowly he pulled
back, still gripping her, staring into her wide-open eyes. Deep pools of liquid
green heat stared up at him. Her lips, swollen from his assault, begged for
more. Her breasts rose and fell as she gasped in deep breaths. At the moment,
she was every man’s desire, and at his mercy.
He fought to control the raging need coursing through his
veins. Her sexual beauty be damned, he’d use her inner needs to his advantage.
Using others’ weaknesses to gain information was what he did best.
With a curse, he released his hold on her hair. He climbed
back on his mount then nodded to her. “Get back on your horse.”
“You could help me,” she said, struggling, one foot
precariously in the stirrup.
He didn’t trust himself to touch her right now.
“I could, but you didn’t have any trouble mounting your
horse after your father and his men robbed that bank. Now mount up.” He held
the paint still.
She cast him a look of pure hatred at his reminder of the
bank job but managed to get into the saddle.
“Devil Morgan isn’t my father. He married my mother when I
was a little girl.”
“Still doesn’t excuse you from helping him rob and murder.”
“I didn’t know he planned to kill innocent people at the
Cheyenne raid. You have to believe me. I never would’ve gone with them.”
“Doesn’t change the fact you went on the raid with them.”
“Not even if I tell you it was the only time?”
“Once is all it takes.”
He started in the direction Dakota had gone. As they rode
through the twilight, he glanced back to see how she fared.
Her hair had come loose to hang about her shoulders in a
wanton fashion. Her collar looked like a spider web against the skin of her
throat, and the swells of her breasts flashed in and out of the open front of
her shirt. She gripped the pommel with her tied hands and stared back at him
with those haughty sensual eyes.
Lacy gripped the pommel tight to keep from falling from the
horse’s back. Every muscle in her body shook from the desire ignited by the man
called Quinn. Her mind still whirled from his kiss, and from the fact he hadn’t
punished her yet for trying to escape. The key word being
yet
. Hard men
exacted punishment for the simplest act of defiance—usually with their fists.
She’d known hard men like Quinn and Dakota all her life. Living with her
stepfather and his men had taught her not to trust them.