Montana Wildfire (48 page)

Henry's laughter was cold, biting. "Honey, I rode with you and that brat for almost two months, As I recall, you don't have the guts to shoot a
rabbit,
never mind a
man."

The truth of his words hit Amanda like a slap in the face, but she refused to let that deter her. She forced herself to meet Henry's gaze, all the while praying he wouldn't sense her uncertainty. If he did, it was all over.

Lifting her chin, and sending him a haughty glare that would have made Miss Henry beam, Amanda decided not to argue or waste time trying to change Henry Rafferty's opinion of her. If she talked too much, it would sound like she was trying to convince
herself,
instead of them of her newfound courage. A mistake like that could prove fatal.

Amanda flashed Henry a cold, challenging smile that didn't reach her eyes. It was a mock imitation of the many Jake had given her in the past. "Three..."

The ploy worked. Henry licked his fleshy lips and ran his big palms down his thighs. He sent his brother a questioning glance. "Tom?"

The cold metal barrel Amanda ground into the back of his skull convinced Tom Rafferty to keep quiet. It was Amanda's voice that answered. "Four..."

"Honey, I think you'd best take a second to think about what you're doing," Tom said. He moved his head only a fraction, yet still managed to glare at Amanda from the corner of his eye. "You don't want to shoot me." He wavered slightly. "Do you?"

"What I want doesn't matter. What
does
matter is that if your brother doesn't do what he's told—and do it
now!
—you're going to die, Tom Rafferty. I
will
pull this trigger. Fi—"

"Okay, okay! I'm going!" Henry bellowed. His brown eyes were wide, and he looked convinced that Amanda Lennox
would
end his brother's life if he didn't do what he was told. His hands, which had lain atop his huge thighs, lifted in defeat.

Faster than a man his size should be capable of moving, Henry was on his feet. Like a disgruntled grizzly, he moved to sit in front of the tree to which Jake's left hand was tied.

"Now what?" Tom growled over his shoulder.

"Now you tie your brother up."

"And then...?"

"Let me worry about that." Amanda nudged Tom with the gun. His shoulders stiffened, and the muscles in the back of his neck pulled taut. "And now, I'm giving you the same amount of time I gave Henry. If he isn't tied
tightly
to that tree by the time I count to five, I
will
kill you."

Tom hesitated. Unlike Henry, who'd given in much too easily, Tom wasn't convinced Amanda Lennox had the guts to spill a man's blood. Hell, hadn't Henry said that the first time he'd skinned a rabbit in front of her, the prissy little thing had scampered into the underbrush and vomited? Surely a woman
that
sensitive couldn't put a bullet through a man's head. Surely!

Or could she?

The hell of it was, Tom wasn't sure. The Amanda Lennox that Henry had described wouldn't have had the guts to sneak up on a man and
aim
a gun at him, let alone threaten to pull the trigger. Yet she'd just done both. Maybe she could kill after all, if the stakes were high enough? Christ, what a gamble!

Tom's gaze shifted to the breed, who was staring at Amanda Lennox with those predatory grey eyes. He saw pain in the breed's gaze, no doubt from where Henry had sliced into him. And he saw fury. But there was something else there; something vague that simmered just beneath the surface.

Desperation?

Fear?

Tom wasn't sure, but whatever it was, it was informative. It told him something about the breed and the woman that, with luck, he could use against them. If he lived that long.

"Three..."

"I need rope, honey."

"Then get some,
honey."

"Can't. No more left. Henry used it all."

Amanda hesitated. "Untie Jake. You can use that rope."

"Jake? Who the hell is Jake'?"

She nodded to the breed, and Tom Rafferty shrugged. "Fine by me."

Amanda felt a trickle of unease ripple down her spine. The man had agreed too easily, and she watched him all the closer because of it. The second he took a step toward Jake, she knew what the sneaky rat was up to.

Reaching out, she grabbed the man's bony arm and shoved the pistol hard into the small of his back. "On second thought,
I'll
untie Jake."

She stepped around Tom, and split a cautious glance between the two devious looking Raffertys as she bent and retrieved Jake's knife from where Henry had tossed it to the ground. The hilt felt cold and heavy in her palm. The long blade glinted like silver ice in the firelight.

Her attention trained on the Raffertys, Amanda stepped to Jake's side and squatted beside him. Until now, she'd avoided looking at him, even when she'd felt his gaze on her. Knowing he was alive had been enough to keep her going. She was afraid to look at him, afraid to see what Henry had done. Her grip on courage was tenuous at best. Seeing Jake's familiar copper skin cut and bleeding might have made her slip; it might have been her undoing. It was a risk she hadn't been willing to take.

Until now. Now, she
had
to look at Jake.

Amanda restricted her gaze to his face, staunchly resisting the morbid urge to look lower. Her glance was brief, probing—she didn't dare take her eyes off the Raffertys for more than a split second. The tension hanging like a thick cloud in the air said they were waiting for any chance to jump her.

Jake gritted his teeth and forced his gaze and expression to remain neutral; a direct contrast to the emotions burning inside of him. Had he ever in his life been as furious with a woman as he was right here, right now, with Amanda Lennox? Hell, no!

The stupid bitch! Here he'd aimed to keep her safe—keep her
alive!—
by leaving her injunction, and what did she do? She not only
followed
him—
how
she'd done that, he'd yet to figure out—but she'd also meandered right into the thick of things, at a time when the situation was at its dangerous worst. Did she know those two idiots would just as soon kill her as spit on her? Did she have any idea how much danger she was in?

Or did she know, and not care?

White women,
Jake thought with an inward snort of disgust.
Who could figure 'em?
Jesus, it seemed like every time Jake thought he had Amanda Lennox pegged, she up and did something that surprised him. Again. And yet again.

His gaze shifted from the pistol to the knife. He wondered how she planned to cut through his ropes, and at the same time train both her gaze and weapon on
both
Raffertys. A quick glance at her face told him that Amanda was wondering much the same thing.

"Give me the knife," he growled.

Amanda shook her head and frowned, her gaze again fixed on Henry and Tom Rafferty. "I can't. Your hands are tied."

"So what? Give me the goddamn knife!" Jake's words were sharper than he'd intended, but he didn't care. His inner forearm stung like a son of a bitch from where Henry had cut him. And when his body tensed with annoyance—as it usually did when Amanda Lennox was around—the pain was incredible.

After a split second of indecision, Amanda put the knife into the hand not tied to the tree. Jake's fingers curled around the familiar wooden hilt, deftly turning the weapon so the deadly tip pointed downward. He sliced the rope in one smooth stroke, then made short work of the one securing his wrist to the tree.

His relief was instantaneous. The rough hemp had been tied tight enough to make his wrists bleed, but not so tightly that he'd lost all circulation. Of course not. Henry Rafferty hadn't wanted him numb; he'd wanted Jake to
feel
every torturous second of the pain he'd gleefully inflicted.

A soft crunch of leaves snapped Amanda's attention back to the Raffertys. Her gaze speared into Tom Rafferty who, sensing her and Jake's distraction, had seized the chance to move a few steps closer to his brother.

Amanda swallowed a surge of panic, knowing that every step Tom took lessened her chances of hitting him should she be forced to shoot. Her fingers tightened on the pistol, and she leveled the snubby barrel in what she hoped was the direction of his heart. "Take one more step and I swear to God I'll shoot."

"Uh-huh," Tom muttered. His voice no longer wavered, but was tight and controlled. A cool grin curled over his lips as, his brown eyes meeting Amanda's gaze, he took not one step... but three. "I'll just bet you will, honey. That doesn't mean you're going to hit anything though. Not at this distance."

"I will."

Jake's voice came so closely behind her that Amanda could feel the kiss of his breath on the back of her neck. She hadn't heard him stand, but she knew Jake well enough now to not be surprised by it.

She also knew what that flat, cold tone meant; the threat in his voice was unmistakable.

Amanda wasn't the only one to notice. Tom Rafferty stopped dead in his tracks, his brown eyes fixed on a spot just behind Amanda's back. His gaunt cheeks drained to a ghostly shade of white, and his jaw tightened with indecision. "You'll miss," he said suddenly, but his tone lacked conviction. "Henry cut you good. No way you can throw with your arm sliced up and bloody."

"I'd agree," Jake replied dry, "if your brother had cut into my right arm." His pause was short, and pregnant with tension, his grin cold and sinister. "He didn't, he cut my left."

"Don't listen to him, Tom," Henry said as he pushed to his feet and leaned back heavily against the gritty tree trunk. But, despite his words, even he wasn't sure. He could have sworn he remembered the breed reaching for his knife with his left hand—the reason he'd chosen that arm to skin. But, hell, he
could
be wrong. Did he dare take that chance? Did he dare
not
take it?

With more conviction than he felt, Henry repeated, "I'm telling you, Tom, the breed's lying. He throws with his left. I-I'd bet my life on it."

"Glad to hear it, Henry. Because those were exactly the stakes I had in mind." Jake smiled coldly. Pinching the tip of the blade between his index finger and thumb, his right arm lifted.

Henry pushed away from the tree and stepped to his brother's side. His gaze volleyed between the breed and the knife. Unlike Tom, he could gauge the weight and balance of a knife on sight. And he'd already held that knife once. The thing was meant for hunting, not throwing. In his estimation, the breed's chances of hitting a Rafferty were sketchy at best.

His gaze shifted to the woman. More precisely, he glared at the pistol Amanda Lennox cradled in her hands. As far as he was concerned, any woman aiming a loaded gun was cause for worry. But what
really
made him nervous was... hell, the prissy little thing didn't know squat about
cleaning
a gun, let alone
firing
one! And she was trembling like a leaf. Not a real reassuring sign. Her fear and inexperience were palpable; they made her dangerous.

"Well?" Jake sneered, his gaze locking with Henry's. "What's it going to be? Are the three of us going to ride out of here peacefully, or do I have to kill you and your brother first...
then
ride out? Either way, the end result's the same."

"Not quite," Tom Rafferty said. He must have guessed the warped path of Henry's thoughts, for his spine stiffened, and his stubble-coated chin tipped up. His brown eyes shimmered with newborn confidence. "The way I see it, you're going to have to hit us
—both
of us—before you ride anywhere. Can't do that when you're only holding one knife."

Amanda opened her mouth. She was in the process of pointing out how, if the blade did hit a Rafferty, and the remaining brother did try to charge Jake, he'd still have her bullet to contend with. A soft, low groan whispered out from behind her, snatching her attention before she could utter a word. She glanced quickly over her shoulder, her gaze sharpening on Roger. His head bobbed as he struggled to lift his chin.

A gasp lodged in her throat. Big, ugly bruises marred the side of the boy's face; bruises the shadows cloaking him could not conceal. He moaned again, his lashes fluttered. He was only able to pry one dazed blue eye open; the other was swollen shut.

Dear God, what had these two monsters done to the child?

Disgust stabbed at Amanda; disgust aimed at herself for letting Roger be taken in the first place and at the two men who'd done that to the poor boy. A wave of guilt made her stagger back a step. Her blood flowed cold as a wave of shock washed over her. She didn't realize she'd lowered the gun until it was too late.

Neither Rafferty wasted a second.

"Amanda!" Jake shouted when he saw Henry charging her.

Gritting his teeth against a surge of pain, Jake reached for her arm. He'd no more felt her sleeve beneath his fingertips before it was wrenched away. Dammit! A feral growl rumbled in his throat when he saw Henry Rafferty struggling to wrest the gun from her.