Demanding Satisfaction [Bride Train 9] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (9 page)

“Our job is to find criminals and bring them to justice, not take matters into our own hands,” said Max abruptly. Sam muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like swearing. “I don’t like it either, but we gave an oath to follow orders.” Max pressed his lips together. “I will not violate the laws I am sworn to uphold.”

Sam made a rude noise.

Every day Max saw evidence that life was not perfect, or even fair. But a man had to live his life the best he could in spite of it. Max changed what he could and tried to ignore the rest. Seeing the dull acceptance in the eyes of a woman beaten by her husband, allowed and even encouraged under laws of church and state, made him furious. Sam and Josh felt the same.

Stopping Isaac wouldn’t help those wives, or the women Isaac had tortured and murdered. But it might remove some of Max’s guilt for not killing a few brutal husbands.

“If I had my druthers, I’d haul William Clark in front of a hanging judge for being one of the original Vigilante leaders,” said Sam, pulling Max out of his musings. “And then I’d go after Sam Hauser, Sidney Edgerton, Wilbur Sanders, and Granville Stuart. Too bad outspoken witnesses tend to have accidents.”

Sam spoke with such sarcasm that Max didn’t bother replying. Like the others, Governor Edgerton had suddenly become extremely wealthy, though he had a relatively small salary. All three Gibsons had read Thomas Dimsdale’s book
The Vigilantes of Montana
as they travelled west. While supposedly factual, anyone with a sense of right and wrong and a basic knowledge of law would realize the Vigilantes had hanged innocent men to get control of their wealth.

Max would finish this assignment even though it went against everything he believed in. But once it was over, he was done. It was time to settle down and raise a family. He’d treat them the way a child should be treated, with discipline and respect.

But before they could think of settling down, they had to stop Mr. Isaac. Along with the help of numerous other agents, they’d put together a bloody trail that led to Montana Territory. If Max couldn’t change the rot at the top of the pyramid, he’d damn well do it at the bottom. There was a special place in Hades for brutes like Isaac who tortured and murdered women.

That thought led him to another. He growled in frustration at not being able to tick it off his list.

“What now?” grumbled Sam.

“We should’ve left Luke Frost a note telling him the Gatlin brothers are dead.”

Sam lifted one eyebrow. “The ones who raped and murdered his mother and sisters while he was coming home from the war?”

“The wire said they were gutshot and dumped in a back alley for cheating at cards. Took all night for them to bleed out and die. Painful way to go, but they deserved it.”

Sam grunted in agreement. “Men who attack women like that should be hanged above a fire with chains on their wrists. By the time the metal turns red hot and burns through the bone, they’re well roasted to the waist.”

“That’s not how justice works. The law must be followed, no matter what.”

Max insisted all three of them keep control of themselves and of the situation. Josh could see why control was necessary, but Sam continually fought the restrictions. Max figured it was more from habit than anything. One day Sam would realize that everything worked better when there was a plan of action which was carried out to the letter.

They rode on for a while, each caught in his thoughts. Max worked on what steps were needed to complete the next part of his plan. He thought Sam was doing the same until he opened his mouth.

“I still say we could’ve waited until after breakfast to leave. I heard there’d be cinnamon rolls today. I could sure use one about now.” He flipped up his collar and huddled in his coat.

“Is food all you can think about?”

Sam turned to him with a wide grin. “Nope. I’d rather think about what I found under Sophie’s nightgown. That warms me up, all right.”

Max glared to shut him up before he could say more. He flipped up his collar as well, but it didn’t help much. The wind had a bite, but it was getting into late September so not unexpected. Their horses stepped on white-tipped rocks and plants thanks to a hard frost. The wind blew from the west at this time of year, which meant it was at their backs.

“We’ve got to catch Isaac before the snows close the pass,” said Max. “Who knows where he’ll go next.”

Sam nudged his horse to go faster. “Then we’ll ride hard and get to Bannack City by tonight. I could use hot food, a warm bed, and a willing woman.” He slanted Max a look. “Too bad we’re riding away from all three.”

Max ignored the jibe. He always planned his steps and followed them in order. Finish their assignments, report to Allan Pinkerton in person, request to leave the Agency, return to Montana Territory, buy a ranch with the money they’d saved, find a wife, marry her, and have some children. Raise them in a way totally different than they’d experienced. All in order. Simple and clear.

Sam didn’t understand about setting a goal, establishing the necessary steps, plotting out a long-term timetable, and then achieving the goal. Or more likely, he understood but liked pushing his older brother until the tension erupted in a satisfying brawl. Josh, on the other hand, was more sensible.

But Josh hadn’t seen Sophie. Max wondered what his younger brother would do if that ever happened. Josh was like a bull grazing in the field. Calm and placid until something caught his eye, or his nose. The scent of a cow ready for his attentions would send a bull into a snorting, pawing frenzy. An eager woman, one Josh considered worth keeping, would do the same to their little brother. And once he had his mind made up, nothing would stop him from achieving his objective.

Josh had their mother’s brown coloring, eyes, and hair. Sophie might not recognize him as a Gibson, especially as he wore his hair and beard long. They dressed differently for just that purpose. Though Josh preferred to look good, he dressed rough for work. Whenever he dressed the way he liked, clean shaven and in a fancy suit, the women swooned over him. Max figured that was why Sam insisted Josh always look rough, to cut down on the competition.

There was a good chance their younger brother would watch Sophie while he ate a good meal, then listen to what others said about her for a day or two before making up his mind about her. Josh hated to be rushed but, once he made a decision, he never backed down. And like a bull, he had enough physical power to stop dang near anyone who stood in his way. Sam could get physical, but said he preferred loving to fighting.

“You’d lie in bed all day if you could,” said Max.

Sam barked a sarcastic laugh. “We both would if Sophie McLeod was in it. I swear, that woman is a powder keg just waiting for a spark.”

Sam’s wide smile and sigh had a purpose, and that was to goad Max. But there was something about the way Sophie’s eyes had flashed that made Max want to take her anger and turn it into another type of passion. To put her across his lap and spank her to show her who was in charge. His cock swelled with agreement, but his mind rebelled. Was this need of his something a man should have? He wasn’t like his father. He wanted to pleasure Sophie, bringing her there through an edge of pain. Was it wrong, if they both wanted and enjoyed it?

But he’d not likely ever touch the woman, much less have her squirming on his lap with her bottom all pink from his hand. He shifted in the saddle, hiding the movement by turning to Sam.

“And you think you have a chance of being that spark?” Sam’s sideways glance was far too smug. Max tightened his lips so he wouldn’t release the exasperated sigh that hovered inside. “What did you do to her?”

“You saw when you opened the door last night. When I brushed my lips against hers she grabbed me and opened her mouth for more.”

“And after you snuck out?”

“I massaged her sore feet.”

“I’ve never heard of you stopping at a woman’s ankles. Didn’t you at least kiss her?”

Sam’s lip twitched. That smug look was back. “Yep, and I kissed her other lips, too. Sweet and wet she was, eager for me to taste her. She tasted so good, gushing in my mouth when she exploded.” He grinned like a man who’d just won the final pot in a poker game. “She’s got a seven-year drought to make up for, and I’m the man to do it.”

“If you messed up my schedule, I will have your head.” Max rolled out his shoulders to hide his jealous twitch. “You have no business touching a woman, especially one running a business, when we’re on a case.”

“We’re always on a case!”

Max ignored the roar and pointed look. Sam had wanted to quit the Pinkerton Agency even before this assignment. He heard another sigh. This time it was without anger.

“She’s been a lonely widow for too long.” Sam spoke quietly, for once showing the real man behind his smoke screen. “Before that she was married to a man thirty years older. No wonder she’s more than ready for a real man!”

Max refused to imagine Sophie having sex. If he did, he’d turn around and ride back to Tanner’s Ford. And he’d not have her on her back, at least, not all the time. He’d have her on her knees in front of him, bent over the table with her dress up to her shoulders, up against the wall with her legs around his hips, or—

“You said, in front of a witness, that you were looking to set down roots and that Sophie would be worth handing in your badge.”

Max shrugged. He’d regretted speaking in front of Zach and Rusty McInnes. He never spoke of his plans except to lay them out as orders when the time was right. But Sophie affected him like no other woman.

“That’s before I found out how stubborn, cantankerous, and ornery she is. The woman’s been on her own for too long. She thinks she can run her own life.”

“And why shouldn’t she?” asked Sam, goading him again.

“There’s only one ramrod on a ranch,” he said with a hint of steel. “And that would be me.”

Sam burst out laughing. His horse danced at the sudden noise.

“Admit it, Max. You like it that Sophie’s a touch wild. It makes you want to tame her, but just enough. That way she’ll keep fighting you and you’ll have an excuse to spank her, again and again.”

An immediate image of Sophie came unbidden into his mind. She lay naked across his lap, her long brown hair loose and touching the floor. Her ass cheeks were already pink from his hand. She screeched and twisted under him, but he could smell her pussy’s fragrance. She struggled, but not quite hard enough to get away. She wanted him to prove he was strong enough to hold her, to protect her.

“She’d be a handful all right.” Max cleared his throat. “But there’s nothing you, or I can do about it until we finish this assignment. You know Mr. Pinkerton’s code.”

“If Sophie jumps me I won’t be thinking of Allan Pinkerton,” said Sam wryly. He followed the declaration with a light kick of his heels. His horse obediently trotted ahead.

Max waited until there was enough distance between them. He never spoke of his plans unless he had all his ducks lined up. Right now those ducks were squawking around the barnyard, frustrating the heck out of him.

“If Sophie McLeod jumped me, I’d have her against the wall with her skirts up before she could say please.”

Lily Thatcher opened the door and welcomed Sophie into her kitchen. Her young friend’s eyes were unusually bright. She looked somewhat flushed as well. Lily hid her surprise, keeping her face serene. It was automatic, from decades of self-preservation.

“You have news of Mr. Isaac?” asked Sophie eagerly.

“Yes,” replied Lily, “but I’ll wait for the others to arrive.”

Lily showed Sophie into her pleasant sitting room. Grace had set out a tea service before she went to fetch a few things from Tanner’s mercantile. At Lily’s gesture, Sophie selected a teacup and saucer. She ran a finger around the gold rim of the flowered cup, a small smile lifting one corner of her mouth. It was obvious to Lily that Sophie was desperate for a home of her own.

Recently married to the man she’d loved most of her life, Lily could understand. Before she agreed to marry Ambrose, she’d offered to move so he wouldn’t have to contend with what had gone on in their home previously. She hadn’t touched a man since long before moving to Tanner’s Ford and had mostly good memories of the town. With so many friends nearby, they’d agreed to live in what had been known as Lily’s Parlor.

Desire fluttered low in her belly at the thought of Ambrose. If she could feel this way at her age thanks to a randy old goat who wanted to make her scream just as loud as the ranchers’ wives, she could understand why Sophie wanted a lusty man in her life.

No, not one. Three, just like the valley women. Sophie had all the signs of a woman eager to share her bed after seven years without.

At one time Lily would have shaken in revulsion at the thought of even kissing a man. She had a different perspective than most on the relationship between women and men. Repeatedly raped when barely past her first flux, she’d decided to sell what would be otherwise taken from her. With little education, she’d had few choices. But she’d used her brain as well, rising to become an extremely well paid dominatrix of wealthy men who wanted no one to know what went on behind tightly closed doors.

As there was no sex involved, it kept her from the dangers of disease and pregnancy. It also made her very, very rich. Many of the men she’d flogged, humiliated, and abused were now wealthy and powerful. They were willing to answer a discreet request for information now and then. That provided her with facts Ambrose, or the Pinkerton Agency, could never discover.