The Bounty Read online

  “How long were you locked in?”

  “Three hours.” She paused. “By then, the water was up to my neck, and my throat was hoarse from screaming for help.”

  “God Almighty,” he whispered.

  “Owen got caught, but never got into much trouble, because his Pa was so rich. He was a mean young man, and it just got worse. My parents couldn’t see the evil that was part of his soul, but I could. I could always see it.” She squeezed her eyes shut and willed the tears back. “I never shook the fear of a storm…even when I was old enough to realize that what Owen had done was for his own twisted games. Now when there is a storm, I know that Logan will never, ever be here to comfort me. And it’s my fault. He’s dead and it’s all my fault.”

  “Shhh,” he crooned as he held her close.

  “If I hadn’t been so nosy, so curious, so damn sure of myself, we never would have gone over there.” She snuffled loudly. “Have you ever lost anyone you loved?”

  Tyler’s body stiffened at her question. “Yes.”

  “Then you know what it’s like to have your heart ripped out, to feel as if your soul was empty. I felt it, still feel it, and know it was my own doing. I gambled with his life and lost.”

  “You were very close.”

  “He was my twin brother, the other half of me.” Her throat felt raw. “I haven’t been a whole person in a very long time.”

  He was silent for a moment. “How did he die?”

  “I already told you. Owen Hoffman and his outlaw ranch hands murdered him. They beat him senseless, tied him up, then shot him in the head.” Her voice was loud with fury. “And I’ll never have the chance to avenge his death, will I?”

  As the thunderstorm raged like a demon outside the musty barn, Tyler held Nicky close, giving comfort when there was none to be had. She seemed to be turning her back on everything that was familiar to her.

  She grappled for him, her lips seeking his. It was more than a kiss, it was a battle. She tried to take control, but he was stronger. His lips gentled and she sighed, giving control over to him. Her kissing experience was limited, but obviously his wasn’t. His lips moved over hers, brushing his mustache against the sensitive skin above her lips.

  She was drowning in the sensation of being beneath him, of having his body lay on top of hers. He was hard, yet supple, like his lips. He licked the seam of her lips until she surrendered and opened her mouth. His tongue swept in and Nicky was lost.

  The darkness seemed to intensify in the barn as the hairs on the back of Nicky’s neck rose to attention like little sentries. Something was wrong. It sounded like a locomotive, but she knew what it was before it even hit the barn. Tyler tore his lips from hers and their eyes met. She could see his mind rush to the same conclusion as hers.

  A twister.

  A deafening, whirling noise preceded the roof of the barn being ripped clean off the sorry building.

  Tyler immediately shielded Nicky’s body with his own as the wind howled above their heads. Nicky thought she had been scared before, but this was mortal danger, and Tyler was protecting her. How did that happen? She felt his grunt as something slammed into his back. The wind spun around her, crazily kicking up dust and hay. She could barely see or hear anything except the shrieking wind. The warmth from Tyler’s hard body felt like a protective blanket. Nicky could definitely get used to that feeling.

  It seemed like hours, but was probably more like two minutes, until it was over. As suddenly as it came, the twister was gone, and a light rain was falling on them through the ruined roof of the barn.

  Tyler groaned in her ear as he tried to straighten.

  “Are you okay?” Nicky asked.

  He nodded. She was surprised to find them both relatively unhurt. The horses had bolted from the barn when the twister hit, but she didn’t think they’d be far. The rain began to slack off to an occasional drip.

  She looked at him, still stunned. “You protected me.”

  He stared at her unblinking for a moment.

  “You’re worth twice as much to me alive. Let’s go find the horses.”

  Nicky tried to swallow the lump of pain that blossomed in her throat at his callous words. As if he hadn’t been wrapped in her arms with his tongue in her mouth five minutes earlier. Her bounty hunter was proving himself to be a cold bastard. Too bad her body craved his heat.

  Chapter Eight

  Two days after the brush with the twister, they stopped for the night in a small town called Clayton. They were about two hundred fifty miles or so from Cheshire but, to Tyler, that two hundred fifty miles yawned like an empty cavern in front of them. He was so wound up, he felt like a pistol with a hair trigger and too much powder, ready to go off at any second. He seemed to have a constant semi-erection and had to stop himself from pulling his prisoner into his arms. He could still taste her lips and feel her supple body against his. It was enough to drive him insane with want.

  Tyler immediately steered the horses to the local hotel and dismounted, snapping the end of the shackles to his wrist. After tethering the horses, he let Nicky down from her horse, careful to remove his hands quickly. Keeping his distance from her was impossible, and the strain was almost unbearable.

  He walked across the road with long, dirt-eating strides, Nicky in tow. She didn’t say a word or ask where they were going. When he stopped in front of a small building on the corner of the main street, dawning realization sprang in her eyes. It was the sheriff’s office. He meant to imprison her there.

  “You can’t,” she said simply.

  “The hell I can’t. I can and I will.”

  He held her firmly by the upper arm and opened the door of the sheriff’s office, stepping into the cool, dark interior. He felt her hesitation, but he ignored it and yanked her forward. It was too important to be away from her. Even for just a night.

  “Nothing you do or say is going to change my mind, magpie, so make it easy on yourself,” he whispered.

  She looked back at him as though slightly dazed. She was, however, blessedly silent. He turned his attention to the jail and as his eyes adjusted he saw a middle-aged, sandy-haired man seated behind the desk. The silver star gleaming on his chest marked him as the man in charge.

  He tipped his hat. “Sheriff, name’s Calhoun. This here’s my prisoner Nicky Malloy. She’s wanted up in Wyoming and I’m bringing her back. I was wondering if I could use your jail for the night.”

  The sheriff’s right eyebrow raised in a questioning arc as Tyler spoke. He stood and walked over to the two of them. He was the same height as Nicky with a large belly that spoke volumes about someone’s cooking. He laced his fingers across his belly and rocked back and forth on his heels.

  “Bradley. Emmett Bradley,” he said by way of introduction. “You a bounty hunter or a marshal?”

  “Bounty hunter.”

  Bradley nodded, assessing with his sharp eyes. “She’s wanted back in Wyoming, eh? I don’t suppose you got yourself a wanted poster or any type of paper to prove it?” he asked politely.

  Tyler pulled the warrant and the wanted poster from his back pocket and handed them to the man. The sheriff unfolded the papers, read them both thoroughly, and then handed them back to him.

  “Okay, but we only got but one cell. If’n we have to put somebody else in there, it’s likely to be a man.”

  “Nicky can handle herself against any man, believe me.” She was certainly tying him into knots.

  The sheriff nodded. “Okay then, why don’t you take off those fancy shackles and we’ll get her locked up.”

  Tyler would not look in her eyes, but he sensed that she was frightened. He told himself he didn’t care at this point. He needed to be free from her for a night, to shake her out of his system, especially after the confusion of the last few days. He found himself unable to sleep next to her, knowing how soft and yielding her body was. He busied himself unlocking the shackles.

  Nicky rubbed her wrists. Tyler ignored the reddened skin wit
h some effort. Hell, the skin wasn’t broken, it was hardly even chafed. His hand closed on her upper arm. She started a bit at that, but didn’t try to pull away.

  “Lead the way, sheriff,” Tyler said.

  The sheriff took a ring of keys from his desk drawer and led them through a thick wooden door at the back of the building. It was a small room, not more than eight feet by eight feet. A cell was taking up much of the space. In it was a cot with a straw mattress encrusted with various varieties of dirt, along with a rather frightening looking chamber pot in the corner. A window the size of a loaf of bread was on one wall, weak light filtering through it.

  “Believe it or not, we don’t get too many visitors in here.” The sheriff seemed a bit ashamed of the accommodations.

  Tyler grunted in response as the sheriff opened the door to the cell. The key scraped in the tumblers with a small shriek, then the door swung open.

  “In you go, miss.” He gestured inside.

  Nicky made no move to enter the cell. Tyler tightened his grasp on her arm and forcibly walked her into the cell. When he let go of her, she swayed toward him. He backed off before he did something stupid like change his mind. Nicky hugged herself and glared at Tyler.

  Tyler stepped out of the cell and the sheriff closed the door, twisting the key to lock it again. Inside, he breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Bessie brings me dinner from home. I’ll send her word to bring an extra plate for you,” he said to Nicky.

  She nodded in response.

  Tyler finally looked her in the eye. The fear he saw there hit him like lightning. Outlaw that she was, she’d apparently never spent the night in a jail cell before. He felt himself waver and clamped down on his lust-driven soft heart. A night’s peace was more important to him right now. He had to have at least a few hours without her company to continue this journey. The reasons why were secondary.

  “I’ll be back for you first thing.” Magpie.

  He stopped himself from voicing the little nickname he had given her. He never felt guilt when he locked up the male outlaws he’d brought to justice. He shouldn’t feel any for locking up this one. At least that’s what he told himself. His inner voice was howling in protest as the object of his obsession was behind bars, unreachable.

  She stared at him mutely. Her lips were pressed together so tightly, they were nearly white. And her hold on herself was as tight as the damn shackles.

  “Much obliged, Bradley,” Tyler said to the shorter man.

  The two men walked out of the room, shutting the door behind them with a solid thump. With forcible effort, Tyler didn’t jump at the sound.

  ———

  After an amiable conversation with the sheriff, who was a little astounded, and a bit uncomfortable, that his prisoner was a woman, Tyler went back to check into the only hotel in town. It wasn’t fancy, but it looked clean enough. He retrieved his saddlebags and automatically took hers too. He didn’t know if anyone would steal anything, but felt obliged to look after her things.

  He went into the hotel room, dropped their gear, and headed for the saloon. As soon as he walked in, one of the soiled doves made a beeline for him. She had honey brown hair, blue eyes, and an ample bosom. Each more than a handful. Just the way he liked it.

  He ordered a whiskey and sat at an empty table with his glass. The woman followed him to the table, wiggling her hips as she walked. She smiled at him while she licked her lips and waited for an invitation to join him.

  Now this is exactly what I need to flush that little magpie out of my system.

  “Care to join me?”

  “I thought you’d never ask, honey.” She practically oozed onto the chair next to him, affording him a full view of her large breasts, which looked nearly ready to pop right out of the green dress she was wearing. It was almost the same shade of green as Nicky’s eyes.

  Don’t think about her.

  “Buy me a drink, cowboy?”

  “Sure thing.”

  “Cal, give me a whiskey, would ya?” the woman called to the bartender. “My handsome cowboy is paying.”

  Tyler flipped her a coin as she retrieved her drink.

  She ran her fingertip up and down his arm as she spoke. “What’s your name, sugar?”

  “Tyler.”

  “Tyler, darling, if you’re game, I can give you a half-hour of the best loving you’ve ever had.”

  “Is that so?” He was fairly certain it wouldn’t be the best loving he’d ever had, but hell, right now all he needed was to get laid. Not loved.

  She leaned forward and pressed her soft breasts into his arm. “Sure thing,” she whispered into his ear as she gently bit his earlobe. She smelled of cigarettes and whiskey and, up close, her pancake makeup looked clownish.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Whatever you want it to be,” she breathed, her response tickling his ear as her hand meandered toward his belt buckle.

  “Okay, then, I’ll call you Nicole.”

  Jesus Christ. Now why the hell had he said that?

  “Then I’m Nicole. Dollar for a half-hour, sugar. I can promise ya that you’ll hardly be able to walk when I’m done. And from the looks of you,” she eyed him up and down with a hungry look, “I may not be able to walk, either.”

  Tyler hesitated as he looked at the obviously well-trained whore working her wiles on him. Nicky had no claim on him; no woman did. And he damn sure needed to work that magpie out of his system.

  Why not?

  “Okay, Nicole, you’ve got a deal.”

  She turned his face to hers and landed a warm, soft kiss on his lips. His cock twitched to life. Perhaps this was a good idea after all. If he released his sexual tension, maybe he wouldn’t be lusting after Nicky like a randy hound. Deep down, he wasn’t sure it would change anything, but he wanted to try anyway. He had to do something to break the spell his prisoner had cast over him. It was as if there was an invisible thread between them that had wound them closer and closer together. Unfortunately, she was on the wrong side of the law, he was on the right side. Sooner than he wanted, they were going to collide. He was helpless to stop it. That was a feeling he didn’t like in the least. Tyler always wanted to be in control. He drained his whiskey in one satisfying gulp. Time to gain control of his body and perhaps his heart would follow suit.

  The saloon girl gave him a hand up, then squeezed his ass and led him to the staircase. Following her swaying hips up the stairs, Tyler had to avert his eyes from the green fabric that swished in front of him. He wasn’t going to think of the green-eyed woman sitting in the filthy jail cell.

  “Here we are, sugar,” she announced as she opened the door to her room.

  Tyler entered the whore’s bedroom and took a deep breath. It was as he expected. Covered with red satin and filled with cheap furniture. And it stank of unwashed bodies and old sex. Instantly, any thoughts of bedding this Nicole vanished like a puff of smoke, along with his partial erection.

  He turned to face her as she began to disrobe. He stayed her hands.

  “Hold on. I changed my mind. I, uh, can’t,” he offered lamely.

  She looked a little annoyed, but didn’t voice a complaint. Instead she studied his face for a moment.

  “Okay, cowboy, I understand.”

  He pulled a rumpled dollar out of his pocket and pressed it into her hand.

  “Take a half-hour off.”

  She took the money and tucked it into her cleavage. She apparently wasn’t proud enough to turn down a dollar for doing nothing.

  “What’s your real name?”

  She hesitated a moment. “Martha.” It was probably something she didn’t advertise. Most men didn’t want to sleep with a whore named after the first president’s wife. Better business sense to let the man choose who he wanted you to be.

  “Thank you, Martha.” He kissed her cheek.

  “Sugar, I hope Nicole is worth it.”

  Tyler opened his mouth to refute her statement, then closed it wit
hout making a sound.

  ———

  After a few more shots of whiskey, he found himself back at the hotel, sprawled on the bed, bleary-eyed and lonely. He didn’t allow himself to think about her locked in that tiny, dirty cell while he lay on this somewhat comfortable mattress.

  Damn Nicky. How could he get so attached to her in such a short period of time? How could he possibly miss her or feel so all-fired guilty about locking up an outlaw?

  As he wrestled with his conscience, he passed out and entered a sea of dreams about a woman with green eyes and chestnut curls dancing in the sunshine with two beautiful little girls, sporting the same curls, following along behind her.

  My girls.

  ———

  Growing up in the Wyoming territory, Nicky had endured quite a few hardships. She certainly wouldn’t call herself prissy or weak, but the cell she found herself locked in was beyond the scope of anything she had ever experienced. She listened to the rats and felt them brush by her every so often. She felt the bugs infesting the mattress crawling all over her as she scratched and tried in vain to ignore them. She smelled rather than heard the drunk passed out on the floor of the cell. He was some inebriated fool the sheriff had brought in as Nicky lay in the dark, trying to force herself to sleep. It was cold in the cell, too, colder than it had been sleeping under the stars next to Tyler.

  She closed her eyes, unwilling to think of him. He had put her here. He was sleeping in a soft, clean bed. He didn’t care. Why should she? As the pink rays of the sunrise began to peek through the little window, Nicky drifted off into a light slumber cursing the name Tyler Calhoun.

  ———

  As Tyler walked across the road to the sheriff’s office, he berated himself again for drinking the whiskey. His reward was a Texas-sized hangover that thrummed in his head to its own excruciating beat. He’d fallen asleep in his clothes, slept well past his normal wake-up time, and now he was rumpled and grumpy. He hoped Nicky wasn’t going to rankle him today, because in this mood, he was like a wounded bear. To top it off, he hadn’t screwed that pretty whore last night so his dick was scratching to be let out like a tomcat.