Rough Wrangler, Tender Kisses Page 27

  For a moment he couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. A white-hot fury gripped him, paralyzing every muscle in his body—and then it was followed by fear. A dry-mouthed, choking fear.

  He couldn’t lose her as he’d lost his parents. As he’d lost Reese.

  He couldn’t lose his Caitlin.

  The next moment he was in the buggy, whipping the horse to a gallop, his face a dark, deadly mask. As stars sparkled across the indigo sky and unseen creatures prowled through the brush, Wade Barclay raced hard and fast for the gates of Cloud Ranch.

  Chapter 28

  The deep evening chill sliced through Caitlin like a sword as the night drew inexorably toward morning. With her hands still manacled before her, she leaned wearily against a rock, all too aware of Dominic Trent sharing the rock beside her—and of Smoke Jackson, lounging across the campfire from her, his mean black eyes watching her across the flickering orange flames.

  Drew Raleigh had dozed off several yards away, wrapping himself in a saddle blanket he’d taken from the buggy. When he’d first tried to offer it to her, Dominic Trent had stepped in, frowning.

  “That won’t be necessary. Miss Summers’s care and protection now rests exclusively in my hands.”

  “But she looks pretty damned cold—”

  “Who’s in charge here, Raleigh?” Trent’s tone held unmistakable menace. “When we first entered into this bargain, we agreed that this entire matter is under my authority. Are you reneging on our agreement?”

  “No. Of course not.” Drew swallowed uneasily. “But she needn’t freeze to death while we’re waiting for Piltson to show.”

  “Don’t interfere, Raleigh.” The words were a silken threat. “Or I’ll be forced to rethink your participation.”

  “Fine, Trent. Fine. Whatever you say.”

  Raleigh threw one fleeting regretful glance at her and retreated, blanket in hand. It was at that moment that Caitlin remembered where she’d seen him before.

  She’d been right—it had been at the Opera House. The night she’d met Dominic Trent, Trent had been deeply engaged in conversation with another man when he’d looked over and spotted her for the first time. That other man, she now realized, had been Drew Raleigh.

  So he and Trent had obviously been acquainted, probably for some time. But from the moment Trent noticed her that evening, he spent the rest of the night staring at her— she felt his strange chilling gaze on her in the lobby, in Gillis’s private box, while mingling with friends along the marble stairway and French-papered corridors. It made her uncomfortable the entire evening.

  Eventually, he found a common acquaintance to introduce them. And thus her nightmare began.

  No wonder she always felt a vague antipathy toward Drew—deep in her mind, she rightly associated him with that fateful night.

  But now it was the end of another, even more dangerous night—and as Drew Raleigh slunk off to the opposite side of the fire and wrapped himself in the saddle blanket, Dominic Trent dropped down beside her and dropped one arm around her shoulders.

  “Don’t touch me. If you do, I’ll be sick.”

  “Tsk, tsk, my dear. Still so stubborn, so childishly proud.” He withdrew his arm, but captured her chin and forced her to gaze directly into his eyes. “If only you’d agreed to my proposition that night, all this could have been avoided.”

  “If only I’d killed you with that candlestick, we’d have had the same result.”

  The menace in his smile filled her with sick, throat-clogging fear, but she continued to meet his gaze unflinchingly, even when those colorless eyes seemed to shine like demon orbs back at her.

  “You’ll have a long time to repent for that night. A very long time,” he whispered slowly.

  Mad. The man was mad. All of Philadelphia knew him as a ruthless tycoon, a brilliant businessman, a sought-after escort to soirees, but he was also known as a man who kept mistresses in four cities, a man whose darker habits, indiscretions, and secrets were whispered about, but never openly discussed. Even Caitlin had heard some of the rumors, but it wasn’t that which had always made her flesh crawl when he was in the same room with her. It was what she herself sensed in the man—and that was pure unadulterated evil.

  Now her brain whirled with possibilities. She didn’t know what he had in mind for Wade, but she wasn’t about to sit still and let him lure Wade into a trap. She had to get out of here one way or another, find Wade and warn him—before dawn.

  These manacles would slow her down, but they wouldn’t stop her. If she could get to a horse, and mount—she could ride.

  She glanced around the clearing, noting the positions of the horses, Raleigh’s buggy, the start of the trail just beyond where Drew Raleigh dozed. The shadows were deep, and dark, the stars fainter than they had been before. How long until dawn?

  If only Dominic Trent and the bounty hunter would sleep. But Smoke Jackson looked as wide awake and alert as if it were broad daylight. And Trent . . .

  He sipped a cup of coffee beside her, his shoulder brushing hers.

  “As soon as Sheriff Piltson gets here, we’ll head out to Wolf Cave. That’s where Barclay’s going to show up—if he cares enough about you to show up.” The taunting edge to his voice was meant to wound her, she knew, but it had a strangely opposite effect. Instead of weakening her with doubts, it intensified her resolution to escape and try to protect Wade. He would show up, there was no doubt in her mind of that. Wade Barclay would risk his life for her—for anyone who needed help, she thought, with a twist of pain. He was that kind of man. Just as Dominic Trent was the kind of man who would use and abuse others to satisfy the evil that had eaten into his soul.

  “What are you planning once Wade gets there?” She spoke quietly, hoping to lull him into boasts that would enlighten her about what lay ahead. But Trent wasn’t fooled.

  “You would like to know, my dear, wouldn’t you? But you’ll have to wait and see. Suffice it to say that I intend to prove to you that your only hope lies with me. No one else. Alec Ballantree was a sniveling little self-interested fool who deserted you when you most needed his support. And when it comes right down to it, Wade Barclay will do the same.”

  You’re wrong, Caitlin thought.Wade might not love me, but he would never desert me. Eerily, Trent seemed to read her mind.

  “I’ll prove it to you, Caitlin. At dawn. You’ll see exactly where you rank in importance to Wade Barclay. There will be no doubt of his desertion, his betrayal—”

  “Why?” Caitlin interrupted, her eyes blazing into his. “Why do you want me—a woman who loathes you? Surely you can find someone, some poor, misguided fool who would go to you willingly and—”

  He struck her across the face with the back of his hand, a hard thump that sent her reeling back against the rock. Pain sliced through her skull and tiny lights like blinking red stars swam before her eyes.

  “Don’t ever question my love for you, Caitlin. I won’t tolerate it. You’ll understand when this business with Barclay is done—I’m going to break you of this notion that you have anyone else to rely on but me. Even if it takes months to teach you that. Or years.”

  “Why?” she whispered through the throbbing pain in her jaw. “I don’t . . . understand—why can’t you let me be?”

  “Because I always get what I want, Caitlin. I always have, and I always will. And I want you. I love you. I told you that before, and now you can see to what lengths I’m willing to go. I’m going to prove to you beyond any doubt that I’m the only one in this world who will never let you go, never put anyone or anything above my feelings for you—the one who will always want you by my side— and,” he added softly, his eyes glittering into hers, “in my bed.”

  She shook her head, wincing as it throbbed. A breeze swept down from the mountains, whipping at her bare neck, her arms.

  Trent’s eyes narrowed. “Unless you’d rather go to prison.” He shrugged. “Perhaps after spending time locked away, you’ll appreciate all I have to offer.”<
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  “It’ll never come to that,” she whispered. “If Wade doesn’t kill you, I will. If not tonight, as soon as your back is turned. As soon as the opportunity presents itself. You’ll never win.”

  She braced herself for another blow, but instead Trent turned his head toward the sound of approaching hoofbeats.

  “Sheriff Piltson has arrived. And it’s nearly dawn. Time for our little assignation.”

  He hauled her to her feet as a rider galloped into the camp.

  Drew Raleigh stirred and clambered up, while Jackson dumped the remains of a coffeepot over the flames.

  The rider drew up and dismounted. “Howdy, Smoke. Mr. Trent.” He nodded at Raleigh. He turned his gaze to Caitlin and grinned.

  “This here our prisoner, eh? Well, well, they say it’s always the ones who look harmless who are the most dangerous—”

  He stopped talking abruptly. They stared at each other.

  Slowly, his grin faded. But Caitlin had already seen the two gold front teeth—and the red hair. It was all she needed.

  “You’re that rustler,” she gasped. “The m-murderer. You killed those two men—Skeeter Biggs and Otter Jones—and you tried to kill me. You’re no more a sheriff than I am!”

  “Wrong, little lady. See this?” He tapped a grimy finger on the silver star that glinted from his greasy buckskin vest. “The good folks of Squirrel Gulch elected me sheriff and that’s what I am. You must have me mixed up with someone else.”

  He grinned again, almost flaunting those glinting gold teeth. The same glinting gold Caitlin had seen on the rustler who’d pursued her. Combined with the red hair and the man’s build, she knew with every instinct in her body that Sheriff Piltson was Hurley Biggs, the rustler.

  Fury surged through her. And fear. Four ruthless, unscrupulous men, all aligned against Wade.

  Please let him come out of this alive, she thought. He didn’t deserve to be dragged into this mess—she was the one Trent wanted. Suddenly an idea came to her and she whirled toward Dominic Trent.

  “I’ll go with you willingly—if we leave right now. Anywhere you’d like, we can go. I won’t give you any trouble—you can send these men away and we can leave—just the two of us. We can return to Philadelphia— I don’t care. But no one else needs to be involved.”

  “You’re wrong, Caitlin. Wade Barclay is very much involved.”

  “He doesn’t need to be.”

  “Are you forgetting your sister? You’re just going to abandon her?”

  Agony shot through her, but she managed to retain her composure. “Of course not. But Wade will take care of Becky. We . . . don’t need to worry about anyone but ourselves . . . Dom . . . Dominic.” She forced herself to speak his given name, forced herself to ignore the shudder of loathing that ran through her.

  For a moment she held her breath, hoping, praying he would accept her offer. She met his gaze hopefully, pleadingly, willing to humble herself if necessary—if it would save Wade.

  Then Trent suddenly stepped closer, grabbed her shoulders, and shook her until her teeth rattled. “We do this my way, not yours, Caitlin. I’m the one who still suffers pain in my head from that little blow you gave me; I’m the one who has dreamed of making you pay. I get to decide how, when, and where it all happens. Starting with Mr. Wade Barclay.”

  He shoved her away from him and she went sprawling to the ground. She banged her elbow, scraped her cheek, and fought back tears of despair.

  Above her, Dominic Trent delivered a series of orders to the other three men. Caitlin scarcely heard.

  Cold, aching, and filled with dread, she knew only that in the confrontation to come, there would be blood and there would be death.

  And nothing she could do would stop it now.

  Chapter 29

  As gentle lilac dawn bloomed across the sky, a lone rider wound his way up the trail to the high purple rim of Wolf Canyon.

  The tenderness of the new day contrasted oddly with the violence that brewed in the air outside Wolf Cave as those above watched the approach of the rider below. At a nod from Dominic Trent, the bounty hunter Smoke Jackson fired into the sky, and the rider halted and glanced in the direction of the shot.

  A moment later, he was riding again—at a faster clip, toward the outcrop of rock from where the shot had come.

  Caitlin’s heart hammered as she heard the hoofbeats of Wade’s roan horse. In frustration, she once again tested the manacles chaining her hands before her. Dominic Trent grabbed a handful of her hair, which had by now tumbled loose of all its pins. He yanked hard on the pale curls that were the same color as the sun gleaming out on the new morning.

  “No one cares for you as I do,” he spoke against her ear. “No one will risk everything for you. Except for me. You’re about to learn that truth.”

  Caitlin made no reply. She couldn’t speak if she’d wanted to because Wade had just thundered onto the ledge and her heart broke in two as she saw him. At the same moment, Trent released his hold on her hair and, like lightning, snaked an arm around her throat, yanking her against him, her back clamped to his chest. With a thudding heart she felt the cold steel barrel of his gun against her temple.

  From beneath the brim of his hat, Wade assessed the scene in one swift glance. Four men—and Caitlin.

  His blood pounded in his ears. Red-hot fury threatened to overwhelm his good sense and his fingers itched for the trigger of his gun as he saw the cruel hold the man in the black duster had on her, and the gun pressed against her temple.

  Easy, Barclay. Not yet.

  The wiser, cooler voice inside his head took over as he met her desperate gaze. She looked so white, so fragile, like a summer flower wilting into the dust. And frightened—Wade would have given anything to end the fear shining in her eyes.

  Whipcord tension coiled through him and he fairly vibrated with the urge to charge toward her, tear that bastard away from her, and never let anything or anyone hurt her again.

  Instead he took a deep breath and shifted his gaze from her to assess the rest of the scene.

  Three other men—if you counted Drew Raleigh as a man. Wade recognized the bounty hunter known as Smoke Jackson—he’d seen him pass through Hope once or twice. Wade’s gaze narrowed on the red-haired man wearing the lawman’s badge. He didn’t recognize him, but there was something familiar about his build and that carrot-red hair.

  Wade couldn’t spot anyone else hidden behind the rocks or the scrub brush, or even inside the cave, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. As he dismounted, his sharp gaze swung back to the man holding Caitlin.

  “In these parts, Trent, we have ways of dealing with men who hurt women. You won’t like ’em.”

  For a moment surprise flickered over Trent’s face. Then he spoke, his voice as suave and smooth as usual. “Very good, Barclay. For a crude Wyoming ranch foreman, your powers of deduction are strong. Don’t you agree, Caitlin?”

  He jabbed the barrel of the gun against her temple. Caitlin gasped but said nothing. Her eyes were glued on Wade.

  “I reckon you’d best let her go,” Wade said quietly. “You don’t need to hide behind a woman. I’ll hear you out without you using her as a shield.”

  “Throw down your guns, Barclay. Then we’ll talk, not before.”

  “No!” Caitlin cried as Wade moved to comply.

  “Slowlike!” Jackson barked, leveling his Colt .45 at Wade.

  But as Wade’s fingers closed over his guns, Caitlin cried out again with desperate pleading. “Don’t do it, Wade! He’ll shoot you down in cold blood. He’s capable of anything!”

  “Easy, sweetheart.” His voice was level and as soothing as the morning sky. But beneath it there was a steely quality that spoke silently to her. Don’t panic. Don’t fight. Not yet. Wait for the right chance.

  “Let’s hear what the city boy has to say.”

  “Kick those guns over here, won’t you?” Trent sounded like he was inviting him to a picnic. “Ah, good. Very good.”
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  “Now let go of her,” Wade ordered coolly.

  But Trent only laughed and kept his arm snaked around Caitlin’s throat. The gun remained pressed against her head. “I call the . . . er, shots, Barclay, not you.”

  The red-haired man snickered at the witticism.

  Wade’s hard gaze never left Trent’s face.

  “You brought the deed? Show it to me.”

  The deed. What deed? His words rang in Caitlin’s head. The deed to Cloud Ranch? Stunned, her blood froze. Suddenly the ground seemed to tilt beneath her feet, the sun whirled in a golden blur, the pounding in her head grew to a roar. Finally, finally, things began to come clear.

  This truth Dominic Trent had promised her—it was all a test—a test to see what Wade would choose—saving her, or keeping Cloud Ranch.

  What an evil, diabolical man. The enormity of his malevolence shocked even her. And what of Drew Raleigh?

  She realized in a flash then exactly how Raleigh fit into all this. Of course. When—if—Wade turned over the deed, Raleigh would be rewarded for his part in the scheme with exactly what he wanted and needed for his damned syndicate partners.

  That had been the lure to insure his participation.

  But what if Wade refused . . .

  Nausea rose within her. If Wade refused she would know without a doubt that Cloud Ranch was more important to him than she was.

  Dominic Trent was forcing him to choose.

  In frozen disbelief, she watched Wade tug a document from his pocket. “Come and get it, Trent.”

  “I think not.” The other man smiled. “Sheriff?”

  Piltson sauntered forward, snatched the deed from Wade, and backed up several paces. He peered down at the document.

  “Looks like the real thing, all right.”

  “You’re a smart man, Mr. Barclay. Guess you do care about our lovely friend here, after all. The question is, how much? What is she worth to you, this woman here? From what I’ve been told, you two are—shall we use the quaint western vernacular?—sweet on each other.”