Playing For Keeps (Montana Men) (18 page)

When he finished with Danger, and destroyed Jace
Remington, he’d head to Texas, unless he thought of a way to force Lacey back
here. Either way, he’d whittle the big man down to size, and reclaim what
belonged to him. One way or the other, he’d bring Lacey darling back to
Montana.

Smitt studied on it for a minute and decided he didn’t
care how many months it took. Balling his hands into fists at his sides, he held
back the dark rage that always clawed at his brain. No one had ever loved him.
His mother abandoned him to his grandmother when he was born. God knew the old
woman was meaner than a pissed-off hornet eight days a week and twice on
Sunday. Nellie Davis hadn’t loved anyone. Not the daughter she’d murdered, him,
or his grandpa. Grandpa. Killing the old man had been the only murder difficult
for him to commit.

Relaxing his hands, Smitt shook the numbness out of his
fingers. What happened that late summer evening had somehow changed his way of
thinking.

Changed him?

It was like his first ejaculation cleared his brain of
smog and smut. At last, he could think, scheme, and plot his future. Just like
he’d always been in the way of his granny and grandpa, suddenly they were in
his way. From the lessons his old granny had taught him, he could think of only
one way to remove his grandparents.

Summoning the old woman to him that long ago summer
afternoon had been the beginning, or perhaps he’d only thought it was the beginning.
He only knew the anticipation had given him his first raging hard-on. When he
swung the ax and cut the bitchy old woman in half, he’d come violently.

Surprised by the wetness warming the front of his jeans,
he gawked in the direction of his zipper. “Holy, shit. Holy, holy, shit. I
fucking fucked off without fucking off.” He rubbed the wet area and laughed.
The thing was he wanted to dance around the barn, whoop and holler, but he
didn’t dare do anything to alert the old man. But damn, it’d felt good!

Slowly tossing the ax aside, he stared at his
grandmother’s bloody body and laughed. Better than good. It felt great.
Quickly, he jerked down his zipper, dragged out his now flaccid member and eyed
his new best friend. “So you won’t get up and lose my love juice unless I kill
someone? Hot damn, bout time you reacted to something you limp shit!”

He’d spent most of his early teenage years wondering what
the heck was wrong with his cock. It never got hard, not like the other boys he
saw in the gym showers. Now he knew the reason why. It needed a healthy dose of
kill-kill-kill to get a reaction out of it. Excitement flooded his loins. He
was sixteen. He’d never had a wet dream, or fucked a girl, but he learned that
day that hunting, that preying upon the unsuspecting, and inflicting pain and
finally death, made his cock swell hard as a bat. His balls tightened into
painful nuggets, and he ejaculated instantly.

Hell, he hit the mother lode, not once, but four times
that afternoon, because playing in their blood made his blood heat and race
through his veins.

Afterward, his member grew limp almost immediately. It
became useless again, until he learned about a certain pill that kept his dick
hard for hours. He learned when he killed, he came twice as hard. That summer
day, he enjoyed chopping up his grandmother and feeding her to the hogs.

But grandpa, the old man had never lifted a finger to harm
him.

Nor had he ever lifted a finger to help him either. No. No
one had ever loved him. It was okay, though, because he had a secret. A
wonderful secret, and very soon he’d have his queen beside him, his two special
ladies at his right and left at the table, his court and his babies.

And they’d all love him for eternity.

Pleased with the future he’d mapped out, Smitt silently
dropped to the floor of the loft and crawled flat-bellied. He slithered closer
to the edge so he could hear better what the stupid lawman was crooning to the
dumb horses in their stalls. A slow smile twisted his wet lips. Ah, a plan
began to take shape in the dark regions of his mind...

* * * *

Danger
rubbed the velvety nose of Calla, the little black and white mare Lacey had
always claimed. “You were her favorite,” he said softly. “She left us, girl.
The one thing worth having in my life, and I drove her away. I was stupid,
Calla, callous and stupid, all because I couldn’t bring myself to trust her.
She loved
me
…once. No more, though.
My fault. All my fault. Oh, God, what have I done?”

He buried his face in the mare’s warm mane and shuddered.
“Go ahead, ask me how I did the dumbass things I did to her. I have no answer.
I listened to lies, believed them over her denials. Hell, I wanted to believe
she was guilty, so I didn’t give her a chance to explain. In my arrogance, I
condemned her. God, I let her walk away without fighting for her. I was
terrified of losing her, so I didn’t stop until I did.”

Danger
lifted his head and knuckled the moisture from his eyes. He moaned deep in the
back of his throat. “Not manly to cry, is it, Calla? Right now, I don’t feel
like much of a man.”

Grimacing,
he rubbed the ache between his eyes. He thought maybe it was shadow pain, like
what an amputee had after losing a limb. No matter, the damn growth in his
brain had caused him to flip out months ago. It hadn’t helped that he’d delayed
seeing a doctor, and once he did, refused to take pain killers.

He
was pretty sure he’d caught Karen lacing his coffee this morning with something
to relieve his stress, but he wasn’t certain. Even so, he’d dumped the cup when
she wasn’t looking and wondered if he was getting paranoid again.

Hell,
it was no wonder his head throbbed, but at least he wasn’t having the awful
nose bleeds anymore. Every step he took, jarred his head, but he refused to go
easy on himself. He deserved pain. Nothing he suffered began to compare to what
Lacey went through. Battling constant nausea made him sicker than he already
felt, and the tiny holes they’d drilled in the back of his skull throbbed.

No
doubt, he should have stayed a few more days in the hospital, but he couldn’t
bear to remain there, isolated from his ranch, from Lacey, from everything and
everyone he loved. He figured he could lie around at home and recoup as easily
as in the hospital, but he hadn’t counted on Karen’s constant nagging. The
woman was driving him insane.

Walking
to the barn had left him feeling drained, but he knew it was good for him. And
he’d needed a break from Karen’s endless chatter about nothing and her
complaints about how big her belly was getting with his baby. He hadn’t counted
on the trip from the hospital making him deathly sick to his stomach, nor the
fight with Karen over the way she’d decorated the den.

He’d actually vomited when he saw the garish colors of the
new wallpaper. Why hadn’t he seen before that the woman had no taste? That she
was every bit as brash as her decorating? But the final argument with Rafe had
been the clincher, leaving his head pounding, a steady ache that still hadn’t
gone away.

Not
that the Texan argued.

Rafe
didn’t argue. He was the kind of man who told it like it w
as
—
a straight shooter. Hell, Rafe
drove
away with Lacey, and that was that, but Danger knew in his heart, the Texas
lawman would never have touched her if
he
hadn’t pushed him into following through with the desire the man felt for her.

Danger
rubbed a hand across his brow. He’d set the entire thing up, given Rafe the
green light. It was no one’s fault but his own that Rafe walked away with the
prize. He sure as hell couldn’t fault him for loving Lacey or sleeping with
her. Danger bit the inside of his cheek. The pain was nothing compared to what
pierced his heart and soul. The thing was, he’d always known, somehow felt,
that if Rafe ever touched Lacey, she’d be lost to
him
forever. He was such a fool. He’d given her up, given her to Rafe
without a fight.

Deep
inside, where it counted most, he’d known the only way Lace would ever sleep
with the Texan would be because she’d fallen out of love with
him
and in love with the ex-agent.

He’d
made damn certain she fell out of love with him.

“Stupid.
I was so stupid, Calla. How do I win her back? How can I make her love me
again? I need answers and I don’t have any.” He clenched his fists at his
sides. “I’m not giving up. I’m not letting her get away this easy.” Danger
closed his eyes, drew a sharp breath, and swore harshly. “Sonofabitch! I’m not
letting Rafe keep her. She’s mine.”

The
cold air made his lungs ache. He didn’t care. He deserved to suffer. He’d
destroyed something good, hurt a wonderful woman, all because he couldn’t lay
down his past and trust in her love. She’d been his miracle and he hadn’t been
able to believe in it.

It
gave him little comfort to admit Rafe would take care of her. Danger rubbed the
mare’s sleek coat. “He loves her, Calla. Rafe loves her. He’s better for her
than I am, than I could ever be. He’s a good man. He’ll take care of her, much
better than I did. I was too busy doubting her word, suspicious of her every
move, skeptical of her love for me. I was worried she’d let me down, but God,
Calla, I let her down instead. I was guarded with her, when she should have
been wary of me.

“She hates me, and I don’t blame her. I nearly cost Lace
her life by not being here when she needed me most. I did cost our son’s life.
She’ll never forgive me for that and I don’t blame her.” His voice cracked. A
deep moan wrenched from his gut. He dropped to his knees and sobbed. “I cost us
our little boy, and there’s nothing I can do to fix that. Her baby.
My
sister. Dear God, it would have been
better if I’d died. Lace deserves to be happy. The right thing to do would be
to let her go. Wouldn’t it?”

Danger buried his face in his hands and remained there,
ignoring the passing minutes, ignoring the freezing temperature. Grief
stricken, it felt as if the world had crashed down around him, and for the
first time, he faced the wrongs he’d done to the woman he loved.

The loss.

The terrible waste.

Anguish ripped through his soul. He thought his heart
would die from the pain of his loss. Moaning, he rocked back and forth. “Oh,
God, I know I don’t deserve it, but let her find it in her heart to someday
forgive me. It’s all I ask…her forgiveness.”

Minutes passed. Danger couldn’t bring himself to get up.
He thought if it would bring Lacey back to him, he’d remain on his knees for
the rest of his life, but he knew in his soul she was gone, and she wasn’t
coming back, ever.

Still he prayed for the absolution he couldn’t grant
himself. At last, he rose unsteadily to his feet. He thumbed away the streaks
of tears, but even that release hadn’t soothed his broken spirit, nor granted
him the peace he sought.

He figured nothing ever would, not until he talked to
Lacey again. Alone. He resented the fact that two other people kept them apart,
but there was nothing he could do to change it. And soon, there’d be a third.
Karen’s baby. His baby. God, what the hell was he thinking making that woman
pregnant?

Danger finished checking the stalls—made certain the
horses had plenty of food and water, then turned to leave. It was cold and
getting colder. The wind howled and the snow fell so thick he could barely see
the house.

Karen waited for him there, in the bed he and Lacey had
once shared. Jesus. He and Karen had sex that afternoon, but the woman never
seemed to be satisfied. She’d be waiting in the house, naked and demanding. He
had to crawl back in bed with her, and God, he felt as if he was crawling in
bed with a snake. He could barely stand the sight of her. Again, his reckless
stupidity had landed him in this idiotic mess.

Hell, Coe, his twin, wouldn’t even speak to him. That was
a first. Coe rarely shut up. But his brother had given notice and said he was
going where Lacey went, to Triangle, Texas, because she had more sense than his
own brother.

He’d stared at Coe, stunned that his brother was willing
to move so far from home. Coe was all the family he had left, except for his
niece and brother-in-law, and Anna’s widower wasn’t too friendly these days
either.

“Look, it’s time I got out of Rimrock and made a life
anyway, maybe find some little gal to marry and have enough damn sense to treat
her right, unlike someone else I can name,” Coe stated the day he announced his
decision to leave Rimrock.

Danger nodded. He couldn’t bring himself to argue with
him. His brother felt Lacey needed his protection. He agreed, but Danger wasn’t
so sure either Lacey or Rafe would welcome his twin. Lacey wanted a change. She
wanted to leave the Blackstones behind. He could hardly fault her for it.

In another week, Coe would leave. There was nothing he
could say or do to make his brother change his mind. Danger slammed the barn
door behind him and trudged back to the house. Hopefully Karen was asleep.
Conversation with her was simply beyond him at the moment.

Besides, Lacey occupied all his thoughts, and Karen seemed
to have a sixth sense about when his mind was on his ex-wife. And Karen—he had
a bad feeling the woman might be a bit unstable.

Danger bowed his head. God, what a mess he’d made of
everything.

Chapter Fifteen

There are good days and there are bad days,
and this is one of them.

~Lawrence Welk

West Virginia-Ohio Border

February 17, Tuesday

Five hours after the assassination…

Duel
slowed the black Porsche, whipped onto Exit 31 as the sign indicated, and
rolled into the dark, isolated roadside park. It wasn’t one of those with all
the amenities the big rest areas boasted about, but a single picnic table and
trash barrel worked just fine.

He
needed neither, except for a bit of privacy. When a man needed to drain his
lizard, anywhere within reason worked rather well.

At
this point, the thick air of hostility radiating from baby Hitler bounced off
his thick hide. He didn’t give a good damn if he offended her sensibilities or
not. He had to piss. For him, it was top priority at the moment or his bladder
was going to rupture.

Lucky
for him, he’d handcuffed the little tyrant. It wasn’t conducive for gratitude
or friendship, but he was past considering her delicate feelings.

He
snorted. “Delicate feelings my ass.”

The
look she sent him could have frozen the already ice-covered ground outside. The
woman might look like an angel, but she was a friggin’ whampus cat.
Hell
, he bet if he looked close enough,
he’d find a set of horns underneath that wild mane of red hair.

She’d
tried to bite him while he was driving and nearly caused them to crash. The
only thing that had stopped her was his threat to punch her lights out again.

She looked around now. “What are you doing?” It was the
first calm words the woman had spoken in hours. Her voice quivered. For the
first time, he detected a hint of fear in her voice, as if she believed he’d
pulled off the Interstate for nefarious reasons. Good! Let her stew.

“I
have something to do.” He grunted the words. He wasn’t feeling up to polite
conversation. Shit, it hurt to move. His chest and arm were killing him. What
he needed was a clean motel room, a hot shower, fresh clothes that weren’t
covered in dried blood as well as wet, and a few sutures.

And
pain killers would be nice. Lots of nice pain killers. Wasn’t happening anytime
soon, none of it was happening.

“What?
Is this it?”

Squinting,
he studied her. “Is this it?
What
it?”

“The
end of the line?”

“Lady,
you make very little sense. Just zip your mouth. I don’t even wanna talk to you
or hear your voice.”

“Aww.
You’re mad because I stabbed you?”

Did
she have to sound so damn smug?

“Am
I mad? Horse shit. Yeah, you could say that. I’m beyond miserable, thanks to
you. If you think this trip is going to be pleasant for you, you’re wrong. I
hurt.”

“Good,”
she said sweetly. “I hope your arm rots off.”

“Jesus
Christ. I liked you better when you weren’t yakking. Shut-up, or I’ll gag you.
And you should know when I hurt, I get testy.”

“You’re
a man, aren’t you? Never met one yet that’s not a wuss when it comes to a
little pain.”

He
glared at her. “Want me to stab you and see if you like it?”

“Think
you can best me in a fair fight?”

“Fair
fight?”

“Yes,
fair,” she snapped. “You cheated. You slugged me.”

“You
stabbed me,” he shot back.

“I
was defending my home!”

“I
was defending my body.”

She
arched a brow. “Yeah, like it needs it. Where are we?”

Like it needs it?
What was that supposed to mean?
“Nowhere important,” he replied testily.
“And I told you to shut up.”

“Make me. Where are you taking me?”

“As
of my stabbing, you’re on a need-to-know basis. When I decide you need to know,
I’ll tell you.”

She
snorted. “Anyone ever tell you you’re an
—
”

“All
the damn time, so I don’t need to hear it from you.” Duel didn’t want to talk
to her. He sure as hell didn’t want to think about her and her remark about his
body. She’d come around about an hour after they were cruising. At first, she’d
mostly struggled to break free of the cuffs, but once she realized there was no
snapping the links, she called him every name in the book, in between demanding
her freedom, and making vile threats to his family jewels and its lone
appendage.

Sure,
he ignored her. Duel figured his cock and balls were safe as long as he kept
them out of harm’s way. He’d driven for hours now. They were a long way down
the highway, a long way from her home in Virginia, but not nearly far enough.

In
the beginning, he tried to reassure her. He informed her he’d locked her house
good and tight. He even grabbed a couple of changes of clothes for her, jeans,
T-shirts, shoes, and socks—panties and bras. She’d looked more horrified than
relieved, so he’d hushed. Wretched, ungrateful woman!

Duel
choked at the memory of all the silk and satin in her dresser drawers, in his
big hands. He hadn’t known a woman could use so much fluff-and-stuff. And
perfume. Surely she had a favorite, but he had no idea which, so he grabbed all
of them, at least a dozen bottles of assorted shapes and sizes, and dumped them
in a bag. Hell, he’d lost precious minutes locating her car and parking it in
her drive.

The
moment he spotted the purple bug, he’d known it was hers. Mainly because the
snow was melted on the hood, plus the fact her key ring had a VW emblem on it.

“I
asked you why we’re stopping.”

He
flipped on the dome light. “I don’t know about you, but I need to stretch my
legs a little, take a leak, and maybe drink a bottle of water.”

She
stared at him as if he’d lost his mind, then her jaw dropped, her eyes widened,
her mouth worked before she finally chugged out the words, “It’s
you!”

“Me?”

“The
cowboy—the snoring cowboy.”

“I
have no idea what you’re gabbing about.”

Her
lips flattened. “What a disappointment you’ve turned out to be.”

“What?”

“Nothing.
There are no facilities,” she said.

“So?
Who needs them?”

“I
do. I don’t pee standing up and I’m not
peeing
in front of you.”

“Suit
yourself.” He shrugged. “Hold it ‘til you pop. I don’t give a rat’s ass.”

“I
know who you are,” she said in an icy tone, eyeing him.

Duel
lifted a brow. “I know who I am, too.”

Her
eyes darkened with hostility. Her thin auburn brows narrowed in a tight V.
Teeth clenched. “I don’t mean I
know
you, know you, but I know you.”

“Huh.
Nice. Glad I won’t have to introduce myself.”

“Yes.
No. I mean…I don’t know your name, but I saw you at the agency. Are you an
agent?”

Duel paused with his hand on the door handle and winced.
“I saw you there, but you didn’t see me.”

“I
saw you. You kissed me.”

“Oh,
hell
no, if I kissed you, doll baby,
I’d damn well remember the experience.”

“You
were asleep in the alcove. You kissed me…on the lips.”

“Uh…no.
Never happened.”

Her
eyes narrowed. “I think I’d know if I’ve been kissed or not.”

“And
I’d know if I kissed you.”

“How
would you know? I told you, you were asleep.”

Duel
pushed open the door and slammed it behind him.
Shit!
He’d kissed her and didn’t even remember doing it? What a
waste. A man deserved something for his pain and suffering.

He
flinched when he felt the wet warmth trickle down his arm. Duel stifled a curse
as he watched droplets of fresh blood stain the undisturbed snow. Crap! Moving
around had caused the wound to start bleeding again.

Earlier, he’d packed the site with some four-by-four gauze
pads he carried in a first aid kit under the seat, but the wound needed
suturing, front and back, and his little kit had limited supplies in it.

Tired,
Duel rubbed a hand down his face. At this rate, he was going to bleed to death.
He had to get somewhere and get the injury sutured. First things first. In
seconds, he’d taken care of watering the frozen bushes and returned to the car.

“Who
are you?” she asked immediately, an attack snarl on her lips.

“I thought you said you know me.”

“Rather,
what
are you? Assassin? Black-ops? Secret agent? CIA? Mercenary?”

“Yes.”

Her eyes bugged. “Oh. You mean you’re all
—
”

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you asking too many questions is
dangerous? And, lady, you ask way too many.”

“You’re going to kill me?”

“Probably. I’m thinking about it.” From the look on her
face, she believed him. Duel snorted. “Look, lady, I think you’re more apt to
kill me, and damn near succeeded with that fucking two-bit
butcher
knife. Do you wanna pee or not? Otherwise, we’re outta
here, and I’m not stopping again until the car needs fuel.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“I need to use the facilities—”

He snorted at her phrasing. He knew she knew there were no
facilities.

“—not with these handcuffs on,” she continued.

“They aren’t coming off for any reason.”

“Then you’ll have to wipe me. I’m not drip-drying.”

“Jesus Christ.
All
right!
I’ll take off the friggin’ cuffs, but you try anything funny, I
swear it’ll take longer for you to wake up next time.”

She muttered something about the legitimacy of his birth.
In spite of the headache settling between his eyes, Duel grinned and fished the
key to the cuffs from his shirt pocket. He got back out of the car, circled the
hood and opened her door. “Turn around and face me.” He guided her out of the
car and steadied her.

She winced when her bare feet hit the icy ground.
“Ouch.”

“What’s wrong, besides the obvious?”

“There’s something in my right foot.”

“Something?” Duel lifted a brow. “What?”

“I stepped on something in my back yard.” She glared at
him. “It was dark. How am I supposed to know what it is? A piece of glass, I
suppose.”

“The glass is still in your foot?” he asked.

“Don’t know. Maybe.”

“I’ll check.”

“No, you won’t.” She leaned away from him. “I don’t want
you touching me anymore than necessary. My foot will live without your
services.”

“Fine. Suit yourself,” he snapped.

“I will.”

“God, you’re stubborn. What happened to your shoes?” He
unfastened the cuffs and pointed in the general area he wanted her to go.

She limped a short distance, paused, and hiked her
straight skirt up to mid-thigh. “Turn around.”

Duel folded his arms across his chest though it hurt like
hell. “Huh-uh. I’m not turning my back on you for a second. I don’t fancy a
blade in my spine.”

“As if. What can I do?” she argued. “We’re in the middle
of nowhere. I have no shoes, no coat. I’m not totally insane. And I cannot pee
with you watching.”

He massaged his forehead. “I hear any other sound other
than water coming out of you I’ll be on you like a bull on a heifer.”
Impatience threaded his voice.

“Good grief, what a tempting picture that makes,” she said
acerbically. “There
are
other bodily
functions, you know, besides making water.”

“Can the sarcasm. You know what I mean. I’m talking about
escape noises, like running through the bushes, no–not…you know…explosive
little gas noises.”

“You’re warped,” she said. “You need to let me go. When my
brother gets finished with you, you won’t have a strip of hide left on you.”

“Your
brother?
Lady, I’m shaking in my boots.”

“Do you have any idea who I am?
Who
my brother is?”

He turned around just as she squatted. “Does this look
like a face that cares? No, I don’t know who you or who your brother is. And I
don’t give a good shit either.”

“Turn around,”
she screeched. “If you turn to face me again, I–I’ll pee on your tires. Bet you
wouldn’t like that, you or your little hot rod.”

Duel turned from her and in spite of their differences,
grinned. “Hot rod? I’ve got a hot rod, all right,” he muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing. Not a damn thing. Aren’t you through yet?”

“If I was through, I’d be up, not squatted here like
Pocahontas giving birth in the woods.”

“Hurry up! It’s freezing.” He blew on his hands trying to
keep them warm. “If your brother cared anything for you at all, he’d never let
you sleep with a man old enough to be your father, for cripe’s sake.”

“Sleep with…m–my father?” she spluttered. “You’re talking
about Mac? You know nothing about my relationship with him.”

“And I don’t wanna know. Get your business done and stop
stalling. No one is coming to rescue you. Not Mac or your esteemed brother.”

“You have no idea just how esteemed my brother is.”

Duel snorted. “Lady, that song is getting old. Jansen
isn’t a name that sends cold chills down my spine. Come on!” Too bad she
belonged to Mac. He liked her sense of humor, even if she was a maniac when she
had a knife. But obviously the rumor mill was true, because she certainly
hadn’t denied there was a relationship between her and Mac. Damn. “Get a move on.
If you’re waiting for your famous brother to come, I think he’s abandoned you.”

“Yeah? Well it wouldn’t be a first.”

“What?” Duel frowned.

“You’re right. It’s freezing out here. I have goose
bumps.”

“So? Hurry up.” Duel waited impatiently. How long did it
take a woman to water the ground for God’s sake?

“You’re probably right, you know.”

“About what?” Duel had no idea what the woman was chatting
about. Why all of a sudden was she being friendly? Talkative? His hackles
raised a notch. His gut told him she was up to something, and it wasn’t good.