TheSurrenderofLacyMorgan (16 page)

And wasn’t that what she wanted?

Justice.

For those innocent people in Cheyenne. For the others they’d
robbed and killed. For Mama.

And if anyone could punish Devil for the things he’d done,
it certainly was Quinn and Dakota.

Her whole life she’d dealt with the worst kind of men. Their
own needs came first. Their only loyalty to themselves or their leader. No law,
no woman mattered. They’d turn on each other if it meant moving higher in the
gang. A pack of coyotes.

Running her hand softly over Quinn’s arm wrapped around her
waist, she snuggled deeper into his body, her mind considering him and his
partner.

She’d never met men like them. They were as close as
brothers. On the trail she’d watched them communicate a time or two by just a
look. They’d both used her body to keep her in a constant state of excitement
or exhaustion. Off balance. Unsure what they’d do next.

Had years of experience given them this sort of
communication and trust? Or was it something more? Something deeper?

What kind of bond held them so close?

* * * * *

Dakota threw his arm over his eyes and stretched in the bed.
Lacy’s cries of ecstasy and Quinn’s groan of completion from the other room
filled his mind. His cock strained at the memory of her riding his brother and
the release all three of them had found earlier in the day. He gripped it tight
to keep from coming in the clean sheets. The next time he shot his seed, he
planned to be buried deep in Lacy’s depths.

It was part of Quinn’s plan, that Lacy would follow Quinn’s
commands. She would pleasure him because his brother desired it. And by obeying
Quinn’s wishes, her confidence in her body and skills would grow. She’d be one
step closer to facing the demon of her stepfather and his gang.

But would Quinn be able to give her the command to put her
in Devil’s hands? Each day he’d watched his brother grow closer to the sultry
beauty. Quinn’s heart was no longer cold and bent on avenging Cap’s murder at
all costs. He might not realize it, but something had changed inside him.

It was one thing to ask the woman of his heart to service
the brother who shared his blood and his darkest secret. Another to ask her to
go with a man who meant to harm her. Even if it was the only way to capture the
demon.

* * * * *

Santos guided his horse over the mountain trail heading
north toward the Wyoming Territory border. He shivered in the cold mountain air
and cursed the bitch for not hiding in a big city, somewhere warm.

No, stupid
puta
goes to a podunk town to hide.

Last night the tall half-breed had informed him he’d seen a
woman matching Lacy’s description in the town of Beaver Run. After spending the
night with the two willing whores at the best of the three saloons, he’d headed
out first thing this morning.

If his luck held he’d find the redheaded bitch before any of
the others Devil sent on her trail.

A slow smile split his lips.

The fools thought all Devil wanted was his stepdaughter
back. They were willing to find her for the pittance their leader offered for
reward.

But he knew better.

Finding Lacy Morgan had more benefits than any of them could
imagine. Heat surged to his cock as he remembered taking her virginity. Hot.
Tight. Sensual. The feel of her soft body beneath him as he pounded into her
made him throb even more at the memory.

Oh yes. He’d use her more. Maybe even auction her off after
he got what he really wanted from her. The same thing her stepfather wanted.

And only Lacy knew where it was hidden.

* * * * *

Devil stumbled out of the whore’s hut into the cold morning
air, squinting at the rising sun. Years ago, before Ruby’s death, he’d brought
the three women to live in the camp to rut with his men and keep the peace.

Damn Ruby for dying. Just like the bitch to leave him high
and dry. Now he was forced to slake his own lust with the overused sows.

As the sun cleared the mountaintop, he smiled. Soon, he’d
have Lacy back again. Just the thought of her warmed his cock. He glanced to
his right to see the whipping post he’d erected months ago, just for her.

He could still see her hanging there, arms tied over her
head, stripped naked for all his men to see. Her golden skin glistening in the
sun as he lifted the lash and whipped her flesh.

Swish.

Snap.

“Aggh!” she screamed, nearly pulling her arms out of
their sockets as she twisted to get away from the pain.

Her efforts and pain excited him.

“Tell me where it is.”

She panted, her breasts heaving with the effort. His men
whooping and hollering at her pain and nakedness.

She shot him an angry look over her naked shoulder. “It’s
gone.”

“It’s mine!” He drew back his arm, the whip whistling in
the air again.

“Ungh,” she moaned this time, her body jerking as the
welts striped her back.

“You’ll tell me or I’ll cut you to ribbons, girl!” He
lifted his arm again.

Lash after lash he’d worked her flesh. As she continued
to refuse to tell him where she’d hidden the treasure, the more obsessed he’d
become. The more punishment she took, the more excited he’d been.

Finally, she passed out, hanging like a limp rag doll
from her tethers to the post. Santos had convinced him to let her body heal and
try again another day.

The plan had been a good one, except they’d all
underestimated the whore.

The following morning, he’d decided it was time she took her
mother’s place in his bed, only to find her hut empty and her horse gone. To
top it off, she’d managed to leave the valley just before a winter storm closed
off the pass.

Maddocks stumbled out to take a piss on the bushes near the
cabin he shared with several others.

Devil motioned him over.

“What’s u-up, b-boss?” Maddocks asked in that half stutter he
had.

“Get your horse, I have a job for you.”

As the man scrambled to the barn for his horse, Devil
scratched his chest and licked his lips. The pass had finally melted and his
men scoured the countryside looking for the bitch. Soon she’d be back and tied
to the pole.

* * * * *

“Hold still, pet.”

Seated on the bed the next afternoon, Lacy held the shirt
Quinn had given her over her breasts, her back naked except for the bandages.
The day before, the material had stuck to the gooey poultice Dakota had covered
her wounds with and she braced for the pulling and prickles of pain about to
occur.

His warm breath fanned the bare skin over her uninjured
shoulder, igniting a shiver as he loosened the knot that kept the bandage tight
around her.

While Dakota worked, Quinn sat near the fireplace, cleaning
his Colt and watching them. She shifted her gaze to meet his. His words from
the night before rang in her mind.

“A warm, sexy kiss is always the best way to thank a man
for caring for you.”

“You want to please us both, don’t you?”

Dakota unwound the first bandage, leaving only the squares
of cloth covering the gouges made by the cougar. He laid them on the bed beside
her, then ran his hand up her bare arm and shoulder. “You’re doing fine. Now
take a deep breath.”

Held spellbound by the intense blue of Quinn’s gaze, her
body warmed by Dakota’s gentle touch, she obeyed and inhaled just as he pulled
the first cloth from the largest wound.

The tugging caused only a minor burning, much less intense
than the day before, and she exhaled.

Dakota squeezed her good shoulder. “Excellent.”

“That didn’t hurt as much.”

“Because it’s healing. We still need to clean it and reapply
the poultice, but only one spot is still bleeding.”

“Tell me about the day of the Cheyenne raid,” Quinn asked
suddenly.

Like a cold slap, his words reminded her not only were these
two men her lovers, but determined lawmen bent on bringing outlaws, including
herself, to justice.

She lowered her eyes to her hands, holding the shirt close
to her breasts. “Devil had gotten word that a military payroll was being held
at the Cheyenne Bank. A cavalry unit was supposed to be coming to pick it up
and escort it to the northwest outposts.”

“The official amount was thirty thousand. Ten thousand in
paper, twenty thousand in gold coins.”

She blinked and looked at him once more, the blood draining
from her face. “We heard only ten thousand.”

Oh God, how could it have been so much? No wonder Devil had
nearly whipped her to death to get it back. What would he do when she returned
and he learned what she’d done?

Quinn blurred before her eyes. The room spun.

“Whoa there, Lacy.” Dakota gripped her shoulders. “Breathe
deep.”

“What happened?” Quinn asked, coming to stand beside the
bed.

“N-nothing. Just a little pain. That’s all,” she mumbled,
bracing one arm on the bed and willing herself to stay vertical. Let them think
the wound was paining her and making her dizzy, not her own panic.

It was stupid to give in to the fear now. She’d made her
decision all those months ago, the night she left Devil’s valley. At the time
she’d known the consequences. That had never changed.

Slowly the dizziness passed. “I’m okay.”

“You’re sure?”

The tenderness and concern in Quinn’s eyes touched something
deep inside her. It both thrilled and scared her. She was torn between showing
them she was strong and begging him to gather her in his arms again.

Strength won out.

“There’s no choice.” She glanced over her shoulder at
Dakota’s concerned face. “Go ahead.”

He looked at Quinn. She saw the subtle nod exchanged between
them, then Dakota began washing the old poultice loose.

Quinn returned to his seat. “So Devil got wind of the
payroll. Do you know how?”

Back to interrogating her. Fine, she could handle his
questions, better than his tenderness.

“He has a man working the telegraph offices in Denver.
Someone he knew back during the war. Any news on large deposits and Devil gets
a message.”

“You know the man’s name?”

“George is all I know. Devil never said his last name.”

“This is going to sting,” Dakota said behind her.

The fresh poultice stung, but at least it didn’t smell as
bad as some of her grandmother’s old remedies.

“So how many of Devil’s men were at the bank that day?”
Quinn asked.

“Five men rode into town two days before. They positioned
themselves at vantage points on the main street where they could see both the
bank’s entrances, the one in front and the one in the rear.” She took a breath.
“Devil, his number two man, Santos, and I rode in the next day just after the
bank opened its doors. They dismounted and entered from the front while I took
the horses around back to wait for them.”

“Were you outside the whole time?” Despite his focus on the
disassembled parts of the gun he was oiling, she felt his attention on her. His
questions were meant to distract her from Dakota’s ministrations, but she knew
he wanted honest answers.

“The plan was for them to get the money and exit from the
rear, where I’d be waiting with the horses.”

“So you didn’t see Marshal McCarthy enter the bank? Didn’t
have any way to warn him?”

She shook her head. In all honesty she could say she hadn’t
seen the marshal enter, and she’d never imagined he or the others inside the
bank would be killed.

“No. I never saw him.”

“You have no idea who actually shot him?” Quinn’s voice
deepened with emotion.

Had he known the marshal? Had they worked together before?

“I don’t know who killed him. All I heard were the shots
before Devil and Santos stormed out the back door. Believe me, I had no idea
Devil meant to kill anyone or I would have tried to warn them. None of them
should’ve died.” She swallowed hard. Tears pricked her eyes at the reminder of
how she’d failed that day and how her failure had cost so many lives. “I’m so
sorry.”

For a few moments the only sound was the steady click of
metal as Quinn reassembled his Colt, and the soft graze of cotton on her skin
as Dakota finished dressing her wounds.

They might not believe her, but she truly was sorry. Sorry
she’d been part of the deaths and the bank robbery. Sorry she’d ever given in
to Santos’ charm. Sorry she’d ever trusted him. Sorry she’d lured the marshal
to his death.

Finally, Quinn stood, sliding his gun back into the holster
tied to his thigh. “I’m going down to the telegraph office. See if we got any
replies from the others.”

“When you get back, I’ll hunt down those supplies we’ll be
needing.” Dakota carried the bowl of dirty water and bandages to the dresser.

Quinn nodded, his jaw set in a hard line, but tenderness
softening the fine lines around his blue eyes. He stared at her a moment as if
he wanted to tell her something. Instead, he turned on his bootheel and left
the room. The door clicked closed behind him and she sat staring at it,
confused.

“You can get dressed now, pet.”

Dakota’s voice broke the spell cast over her. He stood with
his back slightly to her. She watched as he lathered her soap over his dark
hands and thick forearms, his movement both meticulous and sensuous.

She remembered those hands on her. The way his fingers
touched her gently while healing her wounds. The way they’d tweaked her nipples
as they’d teased her during their sexual torture those first few days.

Twice she’d given her body over to Quinn’s complete
fulfillment of her. Would Dakota be as demanding a lover? Would he be gentle?
Could she make him lose control like she had Quinn?

Suddenly, she wanted to discover the answers.