TheSurrenderofLacyMorgan (29 page)

“You two are this close and you’re just going to give up?”

He opened his eyes and squinted at her. “We’ll think of
something else. We’re not going to risk taking you back into that valley full
of vultures.”

“A week ago you were both willing to do just that.”

“A week ago you were just an outlaw.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’ll have to ask Quinn. Now let me rest. My head hurts.”
He closed his eyes.

She stared at Dakota a moment. Growling, she shot to her
feet. She was not going to settle for this. For once she was going to get some
justice. She thrust her feet into her boots and stalked out in search of Quinn.

Lacy found him by the horses, staring to the west where the
sun dipped partially behind the mountain peaks miles away. His silhouette stood
strong and solid in front of the setting sunlight, glints of gold sparkling off
his hair. A knight of old, a warrior meant to defend and protect.

She resisted the urge to sigh.

This was the kind of man she’d always dreamed would rescue
her from Devil Morgan and his men. He was willing to do that, to protect her,
even if it meant letting Devil get away with murder. She couldn’t let that
happen.

Mustering the anger and determination she’d felt earlier in
the stone outcropping, she marched up to stand beside him, not touching him.

“You have to take me into the valley.”

“No.”

“It’s the only way to get close to Devil.”

“We’ll find another.”

Men! Why did they always think they had to make the
rules?

She stepped in front of him, laying her hand on his chest.
“When you pulled me out of Beaver Run, did you have any other idea on how to
capture and punish Devil and his men?”

He clenched his jaw a few times. “No. You were our only
option until they hit another bank. Which, given the winter in the mountains,
meant we’d already waited months.”

“So nothing has changed. There is no other option.”

Quinn slid his hands along the side of her face and then
back into her hair, tilting her head until she stared into his intense blue
eyes. The sheer power in his gaze and the strength in his hands sent tremors of
need throughout her body.

“Everything’s changed, darlin’. Everything.” He claimed her
lips with his in a searing kiss. No mercy. No quarter. Just a man claiming his
woman.

Lacy clenched the front of his shirt in her fists, meeting
him with as much strength and passion. A woman claiming her man. This. This was
what she wanted. This passion. This man. Her whole life she’d dreamed of him.

He released his hold on her head, sliding one hand down to
cup her ass cheeks, bare beneath the tails of his shirt. Gripping her tight, he
pulled her against the hard ridge inside his pants.

She lifted one leg and wrapped it around the back of his
thigh, opening her pussy for more of the delicious pressure. Her tongue mated
with his, thrust for thrust.

When one hand parted her ass cheeks so he could work his
fingers up the swollen wet slit of her sex from behind and the other hand
teased the small rosebud of her nether hole, she fought the urge to give in yet
again to his ministrations.

A groan escaped her.

As much as she wanted him inside her, hard and deep, this
time she needed something more from him.

Sliding her leg down his until her foot landed on firm
ground, she pushed against his chest and pulled her lips from his.

“What?” he asked, trying to pull her back for more.

She straightened her arms to hold him off. “You’re right,
Quinn, things have changed. I’ve changed.”

With a tilt of his head and his brows drawn together, he
studied her. “What do you mean?”

“When you and Dakota rode into Beaver Run, I was scared of
Devil or the law finding me, content to hide the rest of my life. But then you
forced me to face my past. To also face my passions. To see the person I am,
the woman my mother wanted me to be.”

“Yes, and when we found you I wanted nothing more than to
make you pay for helping with the bank robbery and Cap’s death. Pay in any way,
even with your life. But now I know you were innocent, and I refuse to put you
at risk.” He smoothed his hands up her back as if comforting her.

The gesture tore at her soul as much as his words. She would
tell him all of the story, but first she had to get him into the valley. Once
he heard she’d been the one who lured Cap to the ambush, Quinn would turn from
the caring man she’d come to love into that cold lawman who’d hunted her down
in Beaver Run. If he was going to take out his anger and vengeance on her, she
wanted to be sure Devil and Santos got what they deserved too.

“Believe me, Quinn, I know exactly what I’m risking, but Cap
and the other two victims deserve justice. My mother deserves justice too. If
we don’t stop Devil, more people are going to die. You, Dakota and I will be
responsible for that. I can’t live with any more deaths on my head.”

Quinn shook his head. “I can’t risk you going in there. Not
now. Devil’s anger at the stolen money changes everything. If he gets his hands
on you and something happens, he will kill you this time.”

She smiled and ran her fingertips over the rough beard on
his face. “Then you’ll just have to be sure not to let him really get me alone,
won’t you?”

“Dakota’s herbs may take too long to work. The timing would
have to be perfect.”

“We’ve enough to take down a herd of bulls, brother,” Dakota
said, coming up behind them. “She’s right. This is what Cap would want us to
do. Our duty above all else.”

“Promise me one thing,” Lacy said, looking deep into Quinn’s
eyes.

“What, darlin’?”

“No matter what happens, no matter what you hear in that
valley, you’ll make Devil pay for all the things he’s done.”

“I promise.”

Lacy reached over and pulled her other lover close and
kissed him lightly on the lips. Then she turned and kissed Quinn. “In my whole
life I’ve never been safer than this past week with you two. Trust doesn’t come
easy for me, but I trust you to keep me safe.”

Even as she said it, she hoped that once they were in Devil’s
valley, they’d not only keep her alive, but find some way to forgive her. The
truth would come out one way or another. Secrets were never buried long.

* * * * *

Early the next evening, they approached the mountain
shielding the outlaw’s hidden valley. Quinn scanned the rim of the narrow inlet
for the guards Lacy told them would be watching—one on each side.

Sunlight glinted off metal to his left.

“One up top. Left. Near the boulder,” he called back to
Dakota, who flanked Lacy behind him.

“I saw him. Other hombre on the right. Black hat. Seated
between those two saplings.”

“We’ll be easy targets, going in or coming out.”

“As soon as they see me, they’ll fire two shots off to let
Devil know,” Lacy said quietly. “One for company’s coming, the other that it’s
trouble. Once we’re inside the opening, every word we say can be heard the
length of the entrance, and all the way up to the lookouts, even in a whisper.”

“Got it. No conversation.” Pulling back on his reins, Quinn
stopped them short. “Remember the plan. You stay with me, no matter what else
happens. First we get them drunk, then we grab Devil, then we worry about the
gold.”

He saw the flash of fear cross her face. It was gone a
moment later and she sat straighter in her saddle and nodded. Damn, the woman had
backbone enough for an army. And he wished they could turn around and ride
away.

But her impassioned argument from the night before still
sounded in his head along with Cap’s advice, “Son, out here, we’re all that
stands between good people and savages.”

Unlike other white men, Cap hadn’t been talking about tribal
Indians when he used the term, but the renegade outlaws who would steal, maim
or kill without conscience—men in this valley.

“Ready?” He squeezed Lacy’s hand, which was clutching her
reins.

She stared back unflinchingly. “More than ever in my life.”

He nodded then glanced back at Dakota, who inclined his
head. His rifle lay across his lap, prepared for anything. If they tried to
look too trusting or harmless, every outlaw in the valley would suspect a
trick. Instead they’d come armed and wary like any other group of Western
travelers.

Twenty yards ahead they heard the report of one rifle shot,
followed by a second.

Quinn tightened his hold on his reins and edged his horse
closer to Lacy’s mount. Their plan was a solid one, but he knew better than to
trust a gang of murderous thieves. Despite what he’d said to Lacy, chances were
something would go wrong before they’d safely captured Devil.

They crossed into the dark entrance between the mountain walls,
moving single file—him, Lacy, Dakota and finally their packhorse—only a sliver
of light at the far end showing the way.

Damn.

Perfect place for an ambush. If anyone hid in the rock
crevices they passed, they’d be caught in a crossfire and dead before they ever
got inside the valley.

He wished they could’ve waited for Nicco and Ian, hell the
Army would’ve been nice too, but if Lacy was right and Devil was getting
desperate for money, the gang might not wait too much longer for another raid.
After all these months of searching for Cap’s killers, he wasn’t going to let
them escape now.

The farther into the narrow passage they rode, the harder
his gut churned. A fine bead of sweat slid down his neck despite the cool
spring air blowing down the mountain.

No way would they be able to leave after dark without
risking breaking a neck on a fall from their horses. How the hell had Lacy made
it out in a winter storm?

Halfway through, the shaft of light at the end started to
widen. Silhouetted in the sunlight were three men seated on horseback. Quinn
squinted to try to identify their greeters.

“So the thieving whore returns,” a deep raspy voice echoed
through the passage.

Quinn knew from the air Lacy hissed in behind him the voice
belonged to Devil. Too late to turn around and ride with her to parts unknown.
He just prayed they all made it out of here in one piece.

“Heard there was a bounty on her head,” he called up ahead,
trying to keep the anger out of his voice. “Name’s Halliday. You Devil Morgan?”

“Damn right and that bitch belongs to me.”

Over my dead body.

Quinn studied the welcoming committee as they rode closer.
The long and lean man sitting tall in the middle had to be Devil Morgan. His
scraggly gray beard hit the front of his collar and fit the description a
witness gave in town after the robbery and murders. His jaw swelled on one
side, then he leaned over and spit a stream of spittle laced with dark tobacco
juice.

To his left was a bulky giant who kept looking around as if
expecting someone to pop out and start firing. Flanking Devil on the right was
a shorter man who kept leaning in to whisper to his boss.

Devil might be calm, but his cohorts were definitely
nervous, or excited about the prospect of getting their hands on Lacy.

Riding into the sunlight, the low brim of his hat shading
his eyes and keeping him from squinting, Quinn maneuvered his horse to one
side, giving Lacy and Dakota space to stop beside him. One hand deceptively
lying in his lap, mere inches from the butt of his gun, he watched the trio in
front of him as Lacy came into view.

Wearing her camisole, with its thin material and deep
neckline open to showcase her firm breasts and taut nipples, and her split
skirt to show off her long legs, she’d meant to entice every man here. The gold
collar glimmering on the long column of her throat added to her sensual allure.

He’d hated her outfit and fought the idea before they broke
camp this morning, wanting her to wear her men’s pants and shirt. But she was
right.

As a distraction, she worked to perfection.

Now all he wanted to do was shoot the men ogling her.

As he got his first good look at Lacy, Devil licked his lips
and pulled on the reins of his horse. No doubt about it, he lusted after her,
probably had for years.

The idea sickened Quinn and notched up the protective urge
he’d had for Lacy since almost the day they’d captured her.

Damn, he needed to focus on the mission, not Lacy.

“Well, now, seems we have a problem then,” Quinn drawled
easily, but with enough steel in his voice to let the other man know he meant
business.

Devil nodded and Big-bulky reached for Lacy’s reins.

Quinn palmed his gun in less than a second, the barrel
pointed at the henchman’s face. “I didn’t bring her back out of the goodness of
my heart. You’ll have to pay good money for her.”

Big-bulky held his hand up and backed his horse away from
Lacy.

“H-he’s faster ’n Santos, b-boss,” Short-and-nervous
stuttered, looking quickly between Quinn and Devil.

A muscle jerked in Devil’s face and he slid his leering gaze
over Lacy’s body once more before his lips split in a snakelike smile. “Well,
let’s go parley then.”

Turning his horse, Devil led the way. Quinn and Lacy
followed, with Dakota and the packhorse behind. Devil’s two men brought up the
rear.

As they rode toward a cluster of buildings, shacks mostly,
Quinn scanned the area for trouble spots. A large barn stood to one side, a
corral with a dozen horses milling about connected to the side. Several cowboys
hung over the fence and stopped to openly stare at the group as they passed.

Quinn’s skin crawled as if a troop of ants marched across
it. From every angle he swore someone watched their movements. A few women, the
valley’s whores, stood in one doorway shooting hostile stares at Lacy.

At the far end of the makeshift road stood a larger
building. She’d told them this was the tavern where Devil held court. Just to
the left was a pole standing over six feet high with a metal ring embedded in
the top.