Lone Wolf Justice (4 page)

Chapter Three

The next three days were spent getting to know her new husband better, and meeting the townsfolk. As she now had her parlor full of guests, she should have spent some of that time redecorating. The room was plain, leaning toward the masculine, with not the tiniest splash of pink breaking up the dark woods and brown walls.

To rectify that deficiency, Diana showed Harriet, Caroline, and Laura her new pink bonnet, the brim covered with an array of silk flowers and ribbons. “Isn’t it darling? Justice gave it to me, deciding upon the style himself.” Her other bonnet had been found flattened in the lane, covered with blood and dirt.

“He did?” That drew a smile from the sad-eyed Harriet. “Carver, you see this bonnet? Sheriff decided upon the style himself.”

Carver, Harriet’s brother and the leader of their wolf-people band, looked over. “I see.” His smile didn’t reach his coal black eyes. Carver was a serious man, and he frightened Diana a little, although he had treated her with a careful respect, taking his hat off and waiting to be seated until she was settled on the settee.

The rest of the men were outside, doing whatever it was men did, having filled up on punch and molasses cookies. The cookies had turned out crisper than she’d have liked, the bottoms as black as Carver’s hair, but her guests had enjoyed them, Laura even commenting on how she’d never tasted cookies like them before.

That had given Diana some comfort, as she wanted to make a good impression on them. They were part of Justice’s mysterious wolf world, and she was determined to show him she could fit into that part of his life also.

“He knew I’d like it.” Diana smiled. Justice hadn’t said as much, silently handing the hatbox to her, but she knew that was what he had been thinking. “We have a connection,” she shared with her new friends, grateful to have other females to talk to.

“I understand.” Harriet nodded solemnly. “Some folks think a wolf can’t have a connection with a human, but those folks are wrong.” Her brown eyes flicked in her brother’s direction.

“Exactly.” Diana beamed. “I dreamed of Justice long before I met him. That was the reason I came out west, and I don’t --” The front door slammed open, and boots rang on the wooden floor. “That must be him now.” She hadn’t expected him home so soon. Justice normally joined her later for their midday meal, and if he could spare the time, a quick fuck. “If you’ll excuse me.” She rose as gracefully as she could to her feet, Carver also standing as a gentleman should.

Justice filled the doorway to the parlor, his grim expression communicating his displeasure, his hands on the handles of his revolvers. “What’s the meaning of this?” he demanded.

“We have visitors, husband.” She smiled up at him, touching his chest in an attempt to calm him. “They came to see you, but as you were at work, I invited them in for refreshments.” He would appreciate her hostess skills.

“If’n they came to see me, they knew where to find me.” Justice glared at Carver.

“Hmmm…” Diana didn’t address his comment, as she had wondered about that herself. “Have a seat, husband.” She tugged on Justice’s arm, trying to lead him into the room, but he wouldn’t budge, his boots planted firmly on the floor. “Entertain our guests while I plate some cookies for you.” He often growled when he was hungry, or aroused. Her cheeks heated. If his issue was arousal, that would have to wait until they were alone.

“I ain’t staying.” His gaze didn’t break from Carver’s. “And he ain’t staying neither.”

If Carver and the men outside left, the ladies would accompany them, breaking up her first party, and Diana didn’t want that. “Justice, love --”

“He’s right, Ma’am.” Carver picked up his hat. “Your husband and I have dealings elsewhere.”

“I ain’t got no dealings with you, Carver.” Justice skewered the pack leader with his eyes. Diana had never seen him in such a foul mood.

“Suit yourself. You wanna die, Sheriff, I’m not stopping you.”

“I beg your pardon?” Diana stepped in front of the big man, stopping his exit. “Why would my husband die?” And how could she stop his death from happening?

“Badlands Burton is coming to town, with his boys. He’s planning on having himself a cockeyed shootout, your husband being at the wrong end of all those silver bullets. Your husband is fast with his pistols, Ma’am, but even he cannot take on that many bad ’uns.”

Another Burton was challenging Justice because of her. Diana moved to her husband’s side. She couldn’t live without him, and he couldn’t face all those men alone. “Justice, let him have me.” She clutched his vest, hanging onto him. “I don’t want you to die.”

“Have faith, woman. He ain’t having you, and I ain’t dying.” His gruff words lacked conviction. He tilted his head back, staring up at the ceiling, taking a deep breath and slowly exhaling. “With the boys, huh?” he asked Carver. The wolf-people leader nodded, his face equally grave. “I better get my gear in order.”

That sounded too ominous for Diana’s preference. “I’m coming with you.” She didn’t let go of his vest. They would face the threat together.

“Naw.” He gently pried her fingers away. “You stay here, in our home. Bake me up another batch of those cookies.” Justice kissed her forehead, his hands lingering over her curls. She wore her long hair down, tied with a ribbon at the nape of her neck, the way he liked it. “I’ll be hungry after all that shooting.”

“We’ll stay here, Sheriff.” Harriet, Caroline, and Laura circled her. “Waiting for your return.”

“’Preciate that.” Justice tipped his hat. “Di.” She looked up at him, seeing good-bye in his brown eyes, and her heart tore in two. “You’re the best dang thing ever happen to this no-account half-breed, you best recall that.” His lips covered hers in a fast, fervent kiss, his arms wrapping around her waist, his body hard against hers.

Diana blinked back tears, not able to move or speak as Justice walked away, the front door slamming behind him. He was going to his death. He couldn’t face all those men alone.

Carver cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “I’ll make sure it is a fair fight, Ma’am. Don’t worry none about that.” The pack leader trailed her husband out the door.

“What am I to do?” Diana turned to the women. Laura and Caroline were sniffling into their cotton handkerchiefs.

“You’re to follow your husband.” Harriet placed her new bonnet on her head, tying the ribbons under Diana’s chin. “You will stay out of sight, as not to distract him, but close enough to aid him. All men require aid -- yes, even my big brother.” Harriet offered her a small smile.

“I’m to follow him,” Diana repeated. She would find a way to help him, he would survive today, and they would grow old together.

Chapter Four

“I can smell ya, Carver,” Justice snapped. “You come to watch me die?” He was dying today, as there was no way he’d face Badlands and his boys and live.

“I’ve come to save your half-wolf buttocks.” The pack alpha quickened his long stride, eating up the ground between them, his best wolf rangers following him down the Main Street, horses and wagons suspiciously absent, townspeople watching them from smoky windows. “You tend to Badlands. We’ll tend to the rest.”

Justice yearned to tell Carver he’d handle his own dealings, but that was a falsehood, and he hankered with all his heart for one more day with his Di. “Why ya be doing this? I ain’t your kin, and I’m a half-breed.”

“Why didn’t you tell your pretty new wife you can stir up grub like no other? I ate her cookies, four of them.” Carver grimaced.

He didn’t tell his wife ’cause she liked cooking for him, and he liked her cooking for him. Burned cookies and mushy potatoes were nothing weighed against that joy. “Ain’t none of your affair.”

“I think it is. Good folk are good folk, human or wolf.” The man paused, his volume lowering as though he was sharing a confidence. “Should my sister fall in love with a human, I would protect him too.”

Carver wasn’t one for
shoulds
. The never-smiling Harriet loved a human. “She know that’s your position?” Packs didn’t take kindly to half-breed pups.

Badlands, as ugly and big as his brothers, swung through the saloon doors, his spurs clinking against the walkway. Justice put his hands on his guns. Badlands was a sneaky bastard, the reason for his name, and Justice didn’t trust him none.

“If she didn’t know my position on humans before, she does now.” Carver flicked his fingers, and his men herded Badlands’ posse out of position, flanking them two to one, their guns drawn.

Carver had kept his quiet, letting his actions do his yammering for him. Justice understood, not one for flinging words around, though right now, those words were needed. “Put my wife on the next stagecoach out East, if…”

“Yeah, if.” Carver nodded. “Do the town a service and plug some silver into Badlands.” He slapped Justice’s back and stepped away, leaving him alone in the middle of the street.

“Howdy, Sheriff,” Badlands called, after spitting a juicy mouthful of chewing tobacco onto the street. “I’ll be riding that fine filly of yers tonight, good and hard.” He thrust his hips forward, mimicking the fucking motion. “While yer six feet under.”

“You reckon?” Pushing all distracting thoughts of Di out of his mind, Justice faced his adversary, his hands on his guns, his gaze fixed on the man’s eyes. They would be the first indication of a draw. He waited, time slowing to a dead man’s crawl, the noon sun blazing down on his neck, his heartbeat loud in his ears.

Badlands’ eyes narrowed, and Justice pulled his gun, matching the man for speed. Justice’s aim was true, he knew when he let the hammer drop, but he got no pleasure from the knowing, jerking back when Badlands’ bullet caught him in the shoulder. Although the silver grazed his skin, it was enough to kill him, the burn spreading. Weakness overcame Justice, and he dropped to his knees, red dust choking him.

A woman screamed, and small hands grabbed him, the scent of roses lending him peace. He loved his Di. His eyes closed. The past four days had been the best dang days of his no-account life.

“Oh no, oh no, he’s been shot. We need a doctor,” the sweetest voice this side of heaven hollered. “Get the doctor.”

No sawbones could help him. He was a goner. But his Di didn’t know that. His shirt was ripped, his wound prodded. The burn was in his chest now, and when it reached his heart, it would stop.

Lips sealed over the bullet hole, sucking and spitting, sucking and spitting, and the haze hanging over his brain lifted, his wolf fighting the silver. He opened his eyes, blinking at the brightness, directing his gaze at the pink form huddled over his wounded shoulder, staring at her with jaw-slackened wonder. It was Di, his Di, not a sawbones, tending to the silver poisoning.

“Di.” Her ridiculous bonnet with all its gewgaws and frippery bobbed, and blood arced onto the dirt. He had seen that bonnet in the store window, and he knowed his Di would like it.

“Di,” he tried again. He was weaker than a newborn calf.

The brim of that bonnet raised, revealing bright blue eyes, and a blood-stained mouth, red dripping down her round chin. “Justice, your wound wasn’t healing.” Tears glistened on her cheeks like the stars twinkling at night. “I thought you were dying.” She touched his face, her hands cool and soothing.

“I was near dead afore you saved me, wife.” He turned his head to press a kiss in her palm. “You’re right handy with the doctoring.”

“Do you truly believe so?” Di’s face lit up, and Justice nodded, not wishing to utter a wrong word dampening it. “Oh, Justice, I love you so much.” She flung herself into his arms.

“I love ya too, Di,” he murmured against the silk flowers bedecking her golden head.

Chapter Five

Four months later, Diana watched as Justice pushed a licked-clean plate toward the center of the table. “If you’re still hungry, there’s pie.” The crust was tough and chewy, but the filling had turned out mouth-watering.

“I’m hungry, and I’ll be having pie.” He gave her a wolfish grin, and Diana turned to retrieve a slice, only to find strong arms wrapped around her waist. She was swung around as though she weighed little more than a feather, and lifted to the sturdy, wooden table. “Yer pie.” His firm lips covered hers, and she opened eagerly, allowing him inside, tasting the beef she’d served him. Her hands grasped his wide shoulders, her legs spread to straddle his hips, as he kissed her senseless.

“Oh, Justice.” She sighed with satisfaction, threading her fingers through his brown hair while he kissed down her neck, pushing the knitted shawl off her shoulders. Hoping for a quick evening encounter, she hadn’t buttoned up the back of her dress, and her bodice hung open.

“You prepared fer me, wife?” Justice tugged down her dress, revealing bare breasts, undergarments also foregone. He cupped and squeezed her heavy breasts with his callused hands, her nipples tightening into hard points, begging for his loving. Applying himself to her right breast, he licked teasingly toward the sensitive center before fixing his mouth to her soft skin, sucking as much breast into his hot mouth as possible. Diana felt his tug and release right down to her pussy.

“I’m always prepared for you, Justice.” After she hiked up her skirts, she tended to him, pulling back the buckle on his gun belt and placing his revolvers beside her on the table. Diana made quick work of his breeches, removing that last barrier between them.

Justice switched to her neglected left breast, leaving a trail of stimulating abrasions across her skin from the stubble on his chin. As he suckled noisily, she stroked him, spreading the bead of precum on his cockhead over his hard shaft. He smelled of smoke and gunpowder and arousal, and her pussy dripped with desire.

“Justice, I want you inside me.” She hooked her feet around his bare ass, digging her heels in, drawing him closer.

“What my Di wants, my Di gets.” He eased into her with a tantalizing slowness, his broad cockhead sliding in inch by inch. She felt every raised vein on his shaft, his blood pounding fast and strong. When he was seated fully in her, his cock in her pussy, the metal star on his shirt-covered chest cool against her skin, he paused. “Yer feeling our connection?” He repeated the question she often asked him.