* * *
The ride to the abandoned miners’ shack took a little over two hours. Though she’d held herself stiff for the first hour so that she wouldn’t touch him any more than necessary, the girl had eventually relaxed into him. Hunter had to admit that he liked how that felt. He liked her in his arms, warm and soft, her faintly floral scent teasing his nose so that he was imagining far more of her body than he wanted to. Once or twice her ragged coat had fallen open, revealing the creamy flesh that her dress put on display. He’d pulled it closed both times, because it was cold and because he didn’t want to dwell on how much he liked looking at her. She was an attractive woman, but still, the way he wanted her was embarrassing. His loyalty to his brothers was more important to him than anything else. But this was asking too much.
It was almost with relief that he pulled up in front of the shack and dismounted. A glance at her face confirmed that the fear she’d been fighting had taken hold. Her eyes were wide with it and her hands trembled as he massaged them to ensure good blood flow. When she met his gaze, he had to look away from the force of it and remind himself that they were doing this for Miguel. Miguel, a stupid kid with a big heart who’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time. He didn’t deserve to be taken any more than she did. But there was no telling what that coward Ship Campbell had done to him, so if there was any chance at all that she knew where Miguel was, they had to find out.
Without a word to her, he easily lifted her over his shoulder and walked toward the shack they had staked out before heading into town. The word ‘shack’ was generous. It was a small, one-roomed affair, just large enough to keep a man out of the elements, with a crudely built hearth and place for a bedroll. If the four of them slept here tonight, they’d almost be shoulder to shoulder.
If Campbell hadn’t taken Miguel to retaliate for his pal’s death, Hunter would be at home in Helena by now surrounded by the luxury he’d once taken for granted, yet had come to appreciate in his years of riding with the gang. Their activities necessitated weeks camped outside and meals that were humble at best. The fact that Miguel had been kidnapped just after their last job, thus delaying his trip home, only angered him more.
Zane had already lit the lamp in the single room and was kneeling at the hearth to start a fire when Hunter walked in with her. No one was around to see their smoke, and even if there was, they’d be long gone before anyone came to check it out in the morning. Setting her on her feet, he took the knife from his belt and bent to cut the rope from her ankles and then her wrists. It only took a moment to jerk the old coat off her shoulders and down her arms, before catching her wrists again and tying them—despite her protests—and looping the end of the rope around the low rafter in the ceiling. She gasped when he pulled it tight so that her arms were raised high above her head and only her toes touched the ground. Though she didn’t say a word, her eyes were accusatory, making him feel like a bastard for putting fear into them.
He took a step back to get a good look at her in the light. Her dark hair had loosened so that it tumbled in disarray almost down to her waist. Her features were delicate and gentle, pretty in a wholesome way that wouldn’t normally hold very much attraction for him. He liked experienced women who expected nothing more than a fun night. But there was something more in her pretty face. A challenge. A secret. Something that made him want to study her longer.
His gaze caught hers and held as her eyes blazed at him, anger beating the hell out of the fear that was also there. It displaced but couldn’t completely hide her interest in him, lurking in their depths. Was she even aware that it was there shining out at him? No, she didn’t know what she was revealing to him. Her eyes were wide with an openness that was almost naive. It drew him in, even though he knew it couldn’t be real. She worked in a saloon. She knew men.
Turning on his heel with a muffled curse, he glared at Zane who was standing, having just finished with the fire. “Don’t touch her. She’s mine.” He’d meant that he would handle the interrogation, but the words felt too right. Too primal. This was a bad idea. Zane flashed him a knowing grin and held his hands up in compliance.
Hunter was fuming as he walked outside and over to where Cas was taking care of the horses. Without bothering to say a word, he tore into one of his saddlebags to make sure it was the one with the food he’d stashed there earlier in the day. Dried beef, not exactly the supper he’d been hoping for, but it was all they’d get that night and it looked like much of his portion would go to the girl.
“Hunter?” Cas’s voice cut through his anger.
“What?”
“Taking her was our only choice. Even if she doesn’t know anything, which I still don’t believe is true, we need her to exchange for Miguel.”
Cinching the leather bag closed, he glared at his brother. “Zane won’t talk to her. I’ll do the interrogating.”
“Hunter—” But whatever he was planning to say, he stopped when he noted the determination on Hunter’s face.
“You’re my brother, Cas. I joined up with you because what happened with your grandfather—his murder, the money stolen from your family—was horrible. I want to help you restore your family’s empire and bring his killers to justice. I vowed to help you do that and I meant it. But the girl isn’t part of that.” He nodded toward the shack. “She’s mine.”
Cas took in a deep breath, clearly torn between his need to find Miguel quickly and his respect for his half brother. Finally, he relented. “You have until morning. If she doesn’t talk by then, I’ll have no choice.”
“She will.” Hunter smiled, slinging the saddlebag over his shoulder and tucking his bedroll under his arm, before going to confront his captive. She’d talk by morning, because he had no intention of letting Zane—or anyone else—touch her. She was his.
The moment the pretty one had stepped outside, the giant lowered his hands and took the few steps necessary to cross the room and stand in front of her. Even with her extra height due to the fact that her hands were strung up to the rafters and her weight was supported by her toes, he loomed almost a head taller. She sucked in a deep breath and tried to control the trembling that threatened to begin in her limbs if she even dared to imagine what he might do to her. Just one of his large hands could break her. Bracing herself for the possible blow, she forced herself to look up to meet his stare, refusing to be cowed by him. Hard, black eyes stared back at her, a cold mask that left her longing for the comfort of the pretty one’s presence. She had no reason to expect that he would protect her, but he had seemed reluctant to hurt her. A scar slashed through one brow and a high cheekbone making the giant look forbidding and almost barbaric.
“My brother has a weakness for comely women.”
Brother? His darker complexion clearly proclaimed his native heritage. There was no way the men were brothers, but she couldn’t dwell on that with his next words. “You’d do well to confess your secrets to him.”
“And if I don’t?” As soon as the words were out, she longed to call them back. She’d become accustomed to verbally sparring with Ship’s men, but these men were predators and Ship wasn’t around to save her with his influence.
His lips parted in what might have been a smile, but as she stared at his even white teeth she could only imagine it to be the grin of a wolf as it toyed with its prey. “Then you find out if I share his weakness.”
The creak of the door opening and the scuff of a boot stepping inside the shack was such a relief that her entire body unclenched as her breath whooshed out. The pretty one stood broad and tall just inside the doorway, his brow furrowed as his sharp, narrowed gaze took them in. A hitch in her chest that she attributed to relief made