TheSurrenderofLacyMorgan (31 page)

“I said put ’em down. Now!” Devil’s voice boomed.

It took a moment, as if each henchman weighed his odds
against Quinn and the possibility of losing Devil as a leader before they
slowly lowered their weapons.

Once everyone was disarmed, Quinn laid his gun on the table
beside him and Devil relaxed back in his chair.

“So,
my
little woman stole your gold and money. Why
would she do that?”

“It was blood money from the Cheyenne Bank robbery,” Lacy
said, staring at Devil.

“Wasn’t no blood money. A stupid marshal who should’ve been
put out of his misery years ago got in the way. Had to shoot ’im and a couple
others,” Devil said, the cocky grin teasing the corners of his lips once more.
“As for the money, I’ve searched this valley from top to bottom and can’t
figure out where she hid that loot.”

Quinn slid his hand from between Lacy’s thighs and up her
ass to her waist, gently moving her in front of him.

“Perhaps you just didn’t use the right persuasion.” Quinn
pulled her back onto his lap, facing Devil. “Loosen up, darlin’,” he ordered.

Lacy knew what was coming next. God, she hoped she could do
this. She had to do it. They needed to even the odds, and the only way to do
that was by distracting everyone in this room from what was happening outside
and give the whiskey time to work.

Swallowing her fear, she reached up and untied the ribbon
holding her curls piled on her head. She shook them out then leaned back
against Quinn.

It was time for her torture.

Quinn smoothed her hair off her neck and slid his tongue up
the long column to her ear while keeping his eye on Devil and the others.

Damn, he hated exposing her passion to this scum. It was
something special, something he didn’t want to share with anyone but Dakota.

He’d tried to come up with another plan, but she’d insisted
on going through with this one. Her need to punish Devil matched his own. They
were here now and had no choice. All he could do was protect her until they had
Devil and the gold secured.

“Relax and trust me, darlin’,” he whispered against her ear
for only her to hear. “Close your eyes and pretend we’re alone.”

He gripped her hips and pulled her back against the bulge of
his hard, throbbing cock.

A soft moan escaped her.

Devil slammed back his whiskey and poured another. “Make her
show us those tits o’ hers.”

“Yeah, make ’er show ’em!” one outlaw called from the far
corner, the others hooting and slapping the table.

“You heard the man. Show off those tits,” Quinn said loud
enough for every one to hear.

She stiffened beneath his hands. For a moment he thought
she’d refuse.

Dammit, he didn’t want to force her. The point was to make
Devil jealous and yet so enthralled that he didn’t notice any of his men
dropping behind him.

He pulled her earlobe between his teeth and gently bit down,
whispering, “Do it for me, Lacy.”

Slowly she raised her hands and worked the laces of her
camisole until the material hung open, suspended only by the tips of her
nipples. Golden skin, from the mounds of her breasts down to her flat stomach
and the waist of her split skirt, exposed for everyone in the room to see.

And he hated every minute of it.

“Show them,” he said, swallowing the bile that rose in his
throat at the leering looks from the men—all but one, who’d slumped onto the
far table.

Lacy reached up and slipped the shirt off her breasts.

“Hot damn!” swore one of the poker players.

“Fuck me, look how tight they is,” said the other.

“Just like I remembered ’em. High and tight.” Devil emptied
his glass again and leaned back in his chair. Legs sprawled wide, he slid his
hand down to rub the bulge in his pants openly.

The man disgusted Quinn. He was glad he’d ordered Lacy to
keep her eyes closed. With any luck she wouldn’t have to see how her actions
raised her stepfather’s lust fever.

“Cup your tits, darlin’. Show them how you like to be
teased.”

As she obeyed, cupping her breasts and pinching the nipples,
he fought the urge to draw his pistol and end Devil’s life right then and
there.

At the poker table, another man slumped sideways, as did the
fat whore at the bar. With any luck the others would go down long before Lacy
had to follow through with pleasuring herself in front of them.

A few more minutes and it should be just him, Lacy and Devil
still conscious in the room.

What the hell was taking Dakota so long?

With her eyes closed and her body pressed tightly against
Quinn’s, Lacy could almost close out everything and everyone inside the tavern.
She imagined herself seated like this facing the mirror in the hotel back in
Goldwater, listening for Quinn’s sensual commands.

“When you do this, you’ll be pleasing me.”

“Just like I remembered ’em. High and tight.”

Devil’s voice intruded on her imaginings, forcing her to
remember why she was here and who was in the room with her. Her skin crawled
and her stomach threatened to rebel.

”Cup your tits, darlin’. Show them how you like to be
teased.”

Quinn’s quiet command soothed her.

She wasn’t alone with Devil. Quinn’s heat warmed her back
and thighs. His arousal showed his pleasure in her actions.

She could do this. She knew without a doubt she could do
anything this man asked of her because she knew the honor in his heart and the
love for him in her own.

Slowly she slid her hands up her ribs, then cupped her
breasts. Visualizing the intensity of Quinn’s blue gaze as he’d watched her in
the mirror, she let her fingers glide to her nipples. Pinching and rolling them
like a lover’s touch, she arched her back and moaned.

As she continued to knead and tease her breasts, he slid his
hands over her thighs, spreading them farther. Cool air caressed her pussy as
he pressed her open, her skirt falling to the sides. He’d exposed her to
everyone, but the heat of his fingers so near her sexual core sent waves of
desire coursing through her.

Then he stroked her, claiming her as his.

His.
She wanted to scream it to the room, to the
mountaintops. She was his, to use and pleasure at his will.

Quinn skimmed his fingers lightly over her folds. “Like
that, don’t you, darlin’?”

“Yes,” she moaned.

“Yeah, she’s a moaner. Heard her do that the night Santos
got in her britches.” Devil cackled, and she could imagine him stroking his
cock outside the barn where Santos had seduced her. Her stomach roiled again in
rebellion against Devil getting pleasure then or now.

Quinn stroked and rubbed her for several moments, relaxing
her once more and eliciting more whimpers of pleasure. Her need built like
kindling in a fire. Just as she was going to explode, he rested his fingers
against the throbbing nub at the top of her sex.

“Do you want more?”

God, yes.
She wanted to beg him to make her come,
relieve some of the tension.

“Yes, please.” She wiggled her hips to try to get more of
that delicious contact, but she knew he wouldn’t allow it.

“Then tell me where you hid the money.”

“I can’t.”

“You won’t get what you need unless you do, darlin’.” His
finger teased the edges of her pussy. Stimulating, but not delivering the touch
she wanted.

She turned her head and opened her eyes to stare into his
hot blue gaze. “I can’t.”

“Give her to me. My whip’ll get it out of her.”

“Tell me what I need to know, darlin’, and I’ll let you
come.” Quinn promised, never breaking the link in their gazes.

“I hid it the last place Devil would look.”

“Hell, that’s what she kept saying back in the fall. You’re
gonna have to drill her with your cock, Halliday. That’s what Santos found out.
Your little bitch there will do anything for a big one stuffed up her. Ain’t
that right, girl?” Devil leaned closer and she could smell his fetid breath
mixed with whiskey.

And she knew what he was about to say.

And with those words Quinn would let him take her.

Out of the corner of his eye, Quinn watched the bartender
slump down the wall and the last of the card players join his friends out cold
on their table.

Good.
That left Devil and his short henchman to deal
with, the two who hadn’t partaken of the drugged whiskey.

“Lacy told me your man tricked her into helping hold the
horses outside the bank during the raid,” Quinn said, using his hands to ease
the stiffness that had returned to Lacy. Panic filled her eyes, and something
else…sadness? What the hell was going on with her?

“Oh, he got her to do more than just that. While he was
driving his meat into her, she agreed to write a letter for him.”

Letter?

This time Quinn looked from Lacy to the outlaw and back
again. “What letter?”

“It wasn’t what you think.” She swallowed hard and tears
rimmed her beautiful green eyes.

“She didn’t tell you that part, did she?” Devil cackled and
sat back in his chair, looking quite smug.

“Please understand.” And the fear on her face echoed her
words. She’d kept something from him. Something he’d needed to know before
they’d headed into this snake pit.

Shit.
Despite what they’d shared, despite the words
back on that cliff, she still didn’t trust him. He had a feeling the thing she
left out would change everything.

All he could do was play out the hand dealt him.

“Tell me about the letter.”

Devil swallowed another mouthful of whiskey before bragging.
“Santos got her to write a letter to that marshal telling him we were planning
on hitting the Cheyenne Bank.”

Anger buzzed in Quinn’s ears. Devil had to be lying. He
couldn’t have misjudged the woman’s innocence. He watched Lacy’s face for some
sign the man was lying.

Shame and sorrow filled it.

“You did this?” he asked, wanting to hear her deny the man’s
claim.

“I’m so sorry.” She swallowed hard but didn’t deny her
involvement in Cap’s murder.

“Told him when, but not how many of us there was. Led him
right into the trap.” Devil barked another laugh. “She was so happy to do
whatever Santos wanted, she finally agreed to go on the raid with us. Couldn’t
wait to go, in fact.”

“Please, it wasn’t like that.” Lacy laid her hand on his,
her words too late to calm the rage soaring though him.

He pulled his hand away, turning to face the outlaw leader.
“You’re right. She can’t be trusted to tell me where she hid the money. She’s
yours to do with what you want.”

Devil grabbed Lacy by the arm and hauled her to her feet
toward the tavern door, snatching a lantern on his way out.

She knew where he was taking her, had feared it for months,
but it didn’t matter anymore. She’d lost the trust she’d seen in Quinn’s face
these past days. Nothing would save her now.

She’d known this would happen.

She’d prayed she’d be wrong.

Darkness clouded Lacy’s vision. Fear and despair battled
inside her. The ache in her chest that had started with Devil’s announcement
spread until she thought her ribs would explode from the pain.

But she deserved her punishment. She’d written the letter
and a man had died. She just prayed that in the end, Quinn would still take
Devil to face his retribution.

Devil nodded to his henchman as he dragged her out into the
night. “Harris, get my whip.”

Quinn sat stunned, watching Devil drag Lacy to the tavern
door, fear and acceptance on her face.

She’d lied. She’d hidden her part in Cap’s murder, even
after she knew who he was. Her betrayal tore at his soul. How could he have
misread her so thoroughly?

Had he?

“Always trust your gut, boy. It will save your life more
often than not.”
Cap’s words rang in his ears.

His gut told him Lacy had been duped.

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

She’d known this would happen.

That’s what she’d meant up on the mountainside when she’d
insisted they carry through with this plan.

She’d known the truth would come out. She’d known he’d hand
her over to Devil. Had been willing to put herself at risk, just so he and
Dakota could bring the leader to justice. Was that the action of a woman who’d
help plan a murder? His gut told him there was more to the story.

“Harris, get my whip.”

Devil’s words struck him like a cold slap. If he didn’t stop
it, Devil would punish her hard, and this time, she might not survive.

With a quick look around to be sure everyone was still out
cold from the herb-laced whiskey, he hurled himself from his chair to the door,
his gun already in his hand. He took one step onto the porch and froze.

The cold steel of a gun barrel pressed into the side of his
neck. “I don’t think you should interfere with my boss,” the owner of the gun
said, only the slightest accent in his words. “Toss your gun on the ground.”

“You must be Santos.”

“Ah, I see
mi puta
has told you about me.”

Quinn knew enough Spanish to know
puta
was the same
as slut. The anger inside him shot up another notch. He might’ve used the word
in trying to distract Devil, but no one was going to call Lacy the name while
he could prevent it.

Obeying Devil’s second-in-command, he tossed his gun a few
feet away on the ground, but close enough to get to if the chance arose. “Lacy
told me how you used her.”

“She was a good fuck, even for a virgin. She thought I loved
her.” The bastard laughed. “Thought we’d get that marshal who’d been tracking
the gang to arrest her stepdaddy and leave together.”