Her Bodyguard (17 page)

“Excuse me?”

“Take your clothes off.”

She licked her lips. “You want to go swimming?”

“I want to see those nice plump tits. Now. We’ll take a dip afterward to cool off. Sex is sweaty work.”

Now, fear not only rode her blood, it gnawed at her like a hungry dog on a juicy bone. She didn’t want to be a willow that bends. She didn’t even want to be a strong oak tree. She wanted to be a bird that could take wing and escape.

Without taking his heated gaze off her, Murphy reached into his boot and drew out a stiletto. “Don’t be difficult,” he warned, his voice resonant with threat. “I’m losing my patience.”

Mari backed up a step and attempted the only Plan B that occurred to her at the moment. “My father will pay you. He’s very wealthy. You may have heard of him. He’s a famous architect, Trace McBride. If you return me unharmed, he’ll pay you a substantial reward.”

“Hmm…” Murphy scratched his jaw. “A rich daddy. That’s an interesting tidbit of information. He likes you, hmm?”

Mari nodded briskly. “He loves me very, very much.”

“Well…that’s something to think about.” He used the knife to point toward the buttons at her bodice. “Now, the clothes. If I’m forced to cut your dress off, you won’t have anything to wear afterward.”

Afterward. Mari shuddered. “But what about my father?”

“I’ll think about it. Later. If he loves you like you say, he’ll pay to have you back no matter what shape you’re in. Even dead, for that matter. It’s my experience that people like to have bodies to bury. Actually, just knowing where the bodies are already buried makes a difference.”

Bodies. Oh, my. Mari closed her eyes.

“Show me your bosom, woman.”

Mari’s trembling fingers went to the buttons on her bodice. So much for Plan B. Yes, the logic had been weak, but it had been worth a try. If Murphy were stupid, it might have worked.

If Murphy were stupid, he wouldn’t be the leader of one of the most notorious outlaw gangs in the country.

Plan C. I need a Plan C.

You better hope you come up with something better than Plan B
.

The gentle breeze kissed her bare skin and she shuddered as the dress parted, revealing the thin linen chemise beneath it. Mari regretted her decision earlier at the general store to forgo a corset and travel in comfort until she caught up with her baggage and her own custom-fitted underpinnings.

Murphy’s voice held a husky note as he took another step toward her saying, “Hurry up.”

His urgency was apparent, and Mari knew she was running out of time. Plan C. Plan C. She still had the knee-to-the-groin move to employ, though she’d just as soon Plan C involve a weapon for use in quarters less close.

She looked down, ostensibly to aid in drawing her arm through her sleeve, but in reality, she searched the ground for a weapon. She saw nothing but small stones, a few sticks, a clump of flowering lantana, and a cactus shaped like a baseball bat.

An idea flickered, hovered just beyond reach. Then she heard her flamboyant, bohemian grandmother’s voice, speaking clear as springwater in her mind.
A woman carries two potent weapons with her at all times; her body and her mind. Wielded together, they can make her all but invincible.

Invincible.

Plan C burst fully formed like San Jacinto Day fireworks in Mari’s brain. Without hesitation, without second thoughts, she made quick work of stripping off her dress.
My body. My mind. Invincible.

She stood proudly before him dressed in only a thin chemise and drawers. His stare never lifted above her neck. His hand reached down between his legs, and he gave himself a vulgar stroke.

Mari swallowed hard, then said, “That works better with your britches off, you know.”

Now he did look up, obviously surprised. Mari summoned every lesson she’d ever learned at the feet of her grandmother, Monique Day, Texas’s most infamous flirt, and allowed her eyes to melt with sultry warmth. Then she smiled at him with wanton invitation and shrugged. “If this is inevitable, I might as well enjoy it. You are a handsome man, Finn.”

Lust flared like a wildfire in his eyes and he took a step toward her, then abruptly stopped. Suspicion hung ripe in his tone as he asked, “What trick is this?”

Be bold. Be smart. Be invincible. Mari grabbed the hem of her chemise. “No trick.” She whipped the garment over her head, baring her breasts to his hungry eyes. “Are you all talk, Finn? Or a man of action?”

He took two more steps toward her before his brain caught up. He unstrapped his gun belt, then set it on the ground and repeated the action with his knife.

Mari hated to see the weapons go—she’d have preferred using one of them. Yet, she still had options. She had a plan. She’d be invincible…or, if worse came to worst, a willow. She’d be fine. Just fine.

Murphy started toward her.

Oh, God
.

“Wait!” She held up her hand, palm out, then threw him a smoldering look and repeated his earlier demand, “Strip.”

He arched a brow. Amusement joined the lust gleaming in his eyes.

Mari needed him to be excited, distracted, so she put a purr into her voice. “Take your clothes off. I want to see you, too. You’re such a…big…man, Finn. Let me see how big you really are.”

Leering, he yanked off his shirt, then tugged off his boots. Mari’s blood pumped with nervous determination. She chanced a glance toward her weapon of choice, judged the distance, planned her timing.

Finn Murphy shucked down his britches. It took all of Mari’s acting ability not to recoil at the sight of his jutting penis.

She’d never seen one before, not an adult one, anyway. It looked a whole lot different than her brothers’ tallywhackers did when she used to change their diapers. In no way did she find it appealing.

But it was imperative she pretend to like it, to be impressed, so she widened her eyes and said, “Aren’t you a fine-looking man?”

He preened like a peacock. “Your turn. Scoot outta those bloomers, honey.”

This time, Mari couldn’t suppress her shudder. Seeing it, Murphy chuckled. “You’re a hot one, aren’t you?” He reached down again and stroked his cock. “Hell, if I’d known you wanted it this bad, I’d have stopped hours ago.”

Now, Mari. Now’s the time
.

Though Finn Murphy didn’t know it, the predator had just become the prey.

She hooked her left thumb in the waist of her drawers, then, giving her hips a wide, eye-summoning swing, walked toward him. With a tug of her thumb, she exposed just a little more skin. He all but salivated. She took two more steps toward him, then stopped within reach of her goal.

Mari braced herself. She wanted his attention on her left hand, not her right, so she tugged her drawers well below her navel.

“Goddamn,” Murphy breathed.

Do it!

With a fast, smooth flurry of movement, she bent her knees and grabbed the cactus close to the ground. Needle-sharp spines gouged into her palm and fingers as she yanked the plant from the dirt and windmilled her arm. Swinging with all her might, Mari hit him with the cactus exactly where she’d aimed.

Right between the legs.

Howling, Murphy dropped to his knees, then onto his side. Shrill screams emerged from his throat.

Mari dropped the cactus and shook her hand hard. The spines burned. Her hand felt as if it was on fire. The rest of her felt like a warrior goddess. Invincible.

While Murphy writhed on the ground, Mari quickly confiscated her captor’s gun and knife, then scooped up her clothes and hurried to the bank of the pond. Ignoring his curses and moans, she knelt and doused her burning hand into the water and whooshed it around, hoping to wash the cactus spines from her skin. With her good hand, she scooped up water and brought it to her mouth to drink. Once she’d quenched her thirst, she straightened and studied her hand. Though she’d managed to dislodge a fair number of needles, at least half of them remained embedded in her skin.

She found the pain reassuring. If her hand hurt this badly, Finn Murphy wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon. Of course, Clay Burrows could show up at any moment, so she dared not waste too much time before getting out of here.

Still, the water looked inviting and she was already nearly naked. A few minutes delay surely wouldn’t hurt. Mari glanced over her shoulder at the thrashing man on the ground and decided to risk it. She raided his saddlebags for a clean shirt with which to dry herself, then waded into the pond. The water soothed her, refreshed her, and the normal act of cleansing her body allowed her to relax. She emerged rejuvenated from the pond.

“You bitch,” Murphy gasped. “You goddamn bitch.”

Mari turned away from him, and calmly dried herself, then dressed. He continued to spit even more vile invectives, but she ignored both him and the twinge of guilt she felt for causing him such pain. Considering what he’d intended for her, he deserved her fury, not her sympathy. Still, it went against her nature to cause any living being pain—even a being as villainous as Finn Murphy.

Once she managed to button her gown, Mari turned her attention to finding her missing shoes. A search of Murphy’s saddle proved fruitless. Either Burrows had them or they’d discarded them somewhere along the trail. Mari slipped her feet into Murphy’s boots. They were big on her, but they’d do.

More than ready to continue her escape, she glanced at the two horses and made a swift decision to take them both. While she seriously doubted he physically could manage to follow her anytime soon, she’d rather be safe than sorry. Working one-handed, she adjusted his stirrups to fit her.

Hearing a stirring behind her, she glanced toward Murphy and saw him attempt to rise onto his knees. Groaning, he slumped back onto the ground.

“I imagine Mr. Burrows will arrive soon to help you,” she told him matter-of-factly.

“You bitch.” Murphy glared at her through pain-racked eyes. “You’ll pay. I swear I’ll make you pay for what you’ve done to me.”

His threat was the spark that set fire to Mari’s fury. “What
I’ve
done to
you?
” she snapped, stepping toward him, her hands braced on her hips. “You’ve got some nerve, Finn Murphy! You’re the one who kidnapped me off the street. You’re the one who intended rape. You brought this all on yourself.”

It was as if he hadn’t heard a word she said. “One way or another, I’ll make you pay,” he vowed. “Whatever I do is gonna hurt you far, far worse than this hurts me now.”

He certainly sounded like he meant it. Did she want to have that threat hanging over her future? No, not at all.

But eliminating the threat meant eliminating Murphy. Mari raised the gun, leveled it at her attacker. Could she do it? Could she shoot the man now, in cold blood, with her life not immediately at risk?

Yes. Yes, she could pull the trigger. She could end the threat, end his life, with a bullet through the heart. Right here, right now.

Anger churned inside her as Mari stared down the barrel of Finn Murphy’s gun.

“You’re not gonna do it,” he said, his tone filled with scorn.

For a long moment, Mari’s finger twitched against the trigger, then slowly, she lowered the gun to her side. “No, I’m not. That would make me no better than you.”

Slipping her foot into a stirrup, Mari swung up onto his horse. She wrapped the sorrel’s reins around her right wrist, then took up the black’s reins in her left hand and gave him one last look. “I guess I’ll just have to hope somebody else manages to give you what you deserve.”

He spit more curses at her as Mari gave the horse a kick and calmly rode out, following the trail they’d made coming in.

Once away from the villain’s sight, she indulged in a groan of pain. Her hand burned. Her bottom, already sore from hours on horseback, ached with every bounce upon the saddle. Her nose was sunburned, her lips dry and cracked. The borrowed boots rubbed blisters on her feet. As if that wasn’t enough, she was now a target for retribution from a silver-haired, gray-eyed, black-hearted villain.

Luke Garrett had plenty to answer for.

Maybe she
would
shoot someone in cold blood, after all.

CHAPTER NINE

LUKE EYED THE SPOT on the trail where one of the three horses veered off. Not Mari, he noted with disappointment, but not surprise. The smaller mount remained with the biggest horse. This wasn’t sign of an escape, but a separation. He followed the trail of the single horse a few feet, then surveyed the landscape.

The high ground. Odds were Murphy sent Burrows to the high ground to watch for Luke. That meant a couple of things. One, Burrows must have seen him coming by now, and two, their destination likely was close.

So, how should he approach? They knew he was coming. No sense trying to sneak in. He might as well ride in bold as brass, guns not blazing but at the ready. Murphy wanted him there for a reason.

Spurring his horse, he followed Mari’s trail, energized by the knowledge that the confrontation was undoubtedly near at hand. Knowing he’d need cool, calm control during the showdown, Luke allowed himself a few minutes to give his rage toward Murphy free rein and get it out of his system.

Fury, hatred, a fierce need for vengeance—all roared through him like a springtime tornado. This time, finally, he’d make Finn Murphy pay. For Janna and the girls. For the finest Texas Ranger who ever wore the badge, his friend Harvey Rowan. For Luke’s stepfather, Brian Callahan. For Rory. For the countless innocent people Murphy had wronged, robbed or murdered.

And now, for Mari McBride.

He prayed that this time he wouldn’t be too late.

So caught up was he with the intensity of his loathing, when he first spied the figure up ahead of him on the trail, he thought the virulence of his emotions must have caused him to hallucinate. That couldn’t be Mari McBride perched atop a boulder, arms folded and foot tapping impatiently against the rock.

“It’s about darn time you got here,” the apparition snapped as he approached.

“Mari?”