Molding Clay (16 page)

“Davy, it’s sweet that you want to help but I can’t see how you’re going to find the

people responsible for the trouble when the law doesn’t have the first clue.”

“Baby, you’d be surprised what Davy can do,” he bragged and swallowed the shot.

“Question is, if I take care of your problem, what’s in it for me?”

Rusty saw the opening she’d been waiting for. Taking a deep breath, she mentally

chanted, at the same time reaching for his hand. Something electric sparked at the

contact of their skin. She locked eyes with him. “Davy, you help me pin the bastards

responsible and you can have everything you deserve. That I promise.”

Davy grinned and tried to lean across the table to kiss her but she moved out of

reach and his lips slobbered across the side of her face. Rusty smiled as seductively as

possible. “Honey, I think it’d be best if people didn’t see us together until the dust

settles. That way Russell can’t get wind that we’re putting our heads together to get rid

of him. I better get on back home before tongues get to wagging. But before I do, can I

ask one question?”

“Anything, baby.” Davy was so drunk his eyes were literally rolling.

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“When exactly do you think you can make this happen?”

“Two days,” he managed to mumble before his head hit the table.

Rusty smiled and stood. She looked around for Clay but didn’t see him anywhere.

After searching the bar, she went outside. His truck was gone.

“Shit!” she steamed. Leaving her stranded wasn’t part of the plan.

With another curse, she started the long walk home.

* * * * *

Clay checked the time on the digital readout of the plastic clock that sat atop the

television in Stella’s apartment. They’d left the bar an hour ago. He wondered how

Rusty was faring with Stikeleather and whether he should give up on Stella and hightail

it back to the bar.

At present she was “powdering her nose”, a phrase that grated on Clay’s nerves.

What made women incapable of saying they had to take a leak? Another thing he loved

about Rusty. She’d fly off with a “gotta pee!” over her shoulder.

Stella entered the room, interrupting his thoughts as she weaved her way toward

him. It was a wonder she could walk at all. She’d nearly single-handedly polished off

the bottle of bourbon she’d brought from the bar.

“Heya, handsum.” She ran her hand over his leg as she sat down beside him. “Miss

me?”

“You have no idea,” he replied, patting himself mentally on the back for being able

to answer honestly. An hour with Stella seemed like much, much longer. So far, he’d

managed not to have to kiss her, but it was getting increasingly difficult.

“So, you were telling me about your fiancé,” he initiated the conversation. “What

was his name again?”

“Davy?” she asked and snorted. “Honey, I’d toss him aside like yesterday’s news if

there was something better on the table.”

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“Really?” He smiled charmingly and angled to face her. “Doesn’t sound much like

an engagement, darlin’.”

“He’s a freak,” she said with a hiss. “Fucking freak. Wants to come in here acting

like he owns me, have me do all kinds of kinky shit and the whole time he’s pretending

I’m someone else. Stupid fucker doesn’t think I know, but I do. I know.”

“That’s horrible,” Clay said. “But maybe you’re wrong about him. I don’t know the

fella, but surely he wouldn’t pass up a chance at a life with a woman like you for some

other little hussy.”

“Hussy, hell.” She gave another snort. “Dumb jackass has it for your partner. Little

tomboy Rusty, all piss and vinegar Miss I-Can-Outdo-Any-Man-in-Sight Blackhawk.”

“Rusty?” Clay asked in mock surprise. “Why the hell’s he hot for her? Woman ain’t

bad to look at, but she’s a heap more trouble than she’s worth.”

“Exactly!” Stella crowed. “See, me and you think alike. Man would be a fool to take

up with Russ. Not only does she think she’s good as a man but—and this is just

between us—her mama was a witch.”

“A witch?”

“To the bone,” Stella said, tapping his leg to punctuate each word.

“Well, Stella—honey—I don’t know about the witch part, but I do know she’s got a

mean disposition and hard to get along with, which brings me to wonder if maybe you

aren’t reading your beau all wrong. After all, why would he want Rusty when he could

have a sexy, sweet woman like you?”

“Hell, it ain’t just her. Him and his whole family’s had a hard-on for that ranch long

as I can remember. Why you think Danny married her after he got her knocked up?”

“Way I hear it, the pregnancy was an accident and he married her to give the child a

name.”

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Stella howled in laughter. “That what she told you? Well, she’s lying to your face,

honey. Truth is, Danny set out to get her. He watched her for nigh onto a year before he

got her drunk that night and knocked her up.”

“He must’ve had it bad for her.”

“He had it bad for her ranch.”

Clay shook his head. “What’s so special about that ranch?”

Stella laughed again. “You ain’t heard? Supposed to be some treasure buried out

there. Something Rusty’s ma brought back from across the ocean, something handed

down from her folks. Some folks say it’s a treasure from somewhere way overseas that

belonged to Rusty’s mama’s folks way back. Others say it’s some kind of magical gypsy

thing.”

“And the Stikeleathers went to the trouble to get her married to Danny to try and

get it?”

“Yep.” She hooted another long laugh. “Damn fools. All it got was Danny dead and

the rest of them chasing after their own tails trying to bully Russ into hooking up with

one of the other dimwit brothers.”

“You including Davy, your beau, in that dimwit group?”

“Hell no. Davy’s a lot of things but he’s no dummy. That fella’s got smarts. Why,

look at all the shit he’s had his family do to—” Her eyes grew round and she clamped

her lips shut.

“Do to what?” Clay asked.

“Nothing, forget it.”

“Come on now, darlin’, you’ve got me curious. What I hear is that Davy’s as dumb

as the rest of his family. Now you say he’s smart. Which is it?”

“What difference does it make?”

“Like I said, just curious.”

“Curiosity killed the cat,” she said with a giggle.

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Clay forced a chuckle. “Well ain’t that the truth. But I’m not a cat, and it’s

downright mean to get a man’s curiosity up then leave him hanging.”

“You’re hung, all right,” she said and made a grab for his crotch.

Clay fended off her advance, capturing her hand in his. “Easy, darlin’, no need to

rush.”

“You a slow hand, big boy?” she asked teasingly.

“Something like that,” he said with a smile. “Now what were we talking about? Oh

yeah, Davy. You said something about all the stuff he’d had his family do?”

Stella frowned for a long moment then shook her finger at him. “I get it. I get it. I

should’ve known. You ain’t here ’cause you got the hots for me. You’re here for her.

You think I’m gonna spill the beans on Davy.”

On wobbly legs she got to her feet. “Well, you got it wrong, mister. I ain’t no rat,

and I ain’t no fool. Now get the fuck outta my house ’fore I call the law.”

“Honey, you got it all wrong,” he protested.

“The hell I have.” She backed away from him. “Get out! Get the fuck out!

Clay knew when to cut his losses and this was one of those times. Besides, she’d

already confirmed that Davy and his family were behind the trouble at the ranch.

Without a word, he stood and left. Back in his truck, he thought about what he’d

learned as he headed for the bar to get Rusty.

* * * * *

Clay had no sooner left the apartment than Stella was on the phone, calling Davy.

She had to try three times before he answered, and when he did, she could tell he was

drunk.

Without giving him a chance to do more than say hello, she started in telling him

what happened. Only in her version, Clay had lured her out of the bar by telling her he

had information on how Rusty was trying to renege on her deal with him, and pin all

the trouble on the Stikeleathers.

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Davy didn’t say a word until she ran out of steam, and then all he said was,

“Anyone asks, I was with you all night. You got that, Stella. I was with you all night.”

“Sure, baby, whatever you say,” Stella replied and hung up the phone. Russell

would be sorry he tried to play her for a fool. It was clear from Davy’s directive that he

planned on doing something he needed an alibi for. Stella smiled to herself and looked

for the bottle. Might as well celebrate with a drink.

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Chapter Twelve

Rusty put her hand up over her eyes at the glare of headlights coming up fast

behind her. The vehicle, a truck, stopped with its lights on her, making it impossible for

her to tell who was driving.

“Need a ride?” Davy’s voice rang out a moment after the sound of the truck door

opening.

“Surprised you’re fit to drive,” she replied. “You were out cold when I left, so I

figured I’d walk.”

“They throwed me out,” he said as he stepped unevenly in front of the headlights,

revealing the gun in his hand.

“Hey now!” Rusty protested, putting both hands up, arms bent at the elbows.

“What’s all this?”

“This is me calling the shots from now on,” he said in a boastfully arrogant tone.

“You always did underestimate me, Rusty. You think I’m fool enough to fall for that

line of horseshit you laid on me at the bar? Ha! Not hardly.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Like hell. See, while you were trying to work me, Stella was working that dude. I

know what you’re trying to do and I’m here to let you know it ain’t gonna work.”

“Davy, you’re not making sense at all. If you’d just stop and think—”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid, bitch!”

“I wasn’t—”

“I said shut the fuck up. Get in the truck.”

“Why?”

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“You want me to shoot you?” He waved the gun, shouting at her. “Get in the

goddamn truck!”

“Fine,” she agreed, realizing that Davy wasn’t at all stable. And unstable people

were dangerous. She’d learned that from her short marriage to Davy’s brother.

Cautiously she went to the passenger door. Davy followed, his wobbly walk giving

testament to the fact that he was way too drunk to drive. As soon as she was seated he

tossed something into her lap. ‘‘Put ’em on.”

Rusty felt the first glimmer of real fear when she saw the handcuffs. “Davy, this

isn’t necessary. I’m not going—”

“Shut up and put on the fucking cuffs!” he screamed.

Rusty knew better than to push it. She fastened the cuffs around her wrists. Davy

checked to make sure they were good and tight before he shoved her across the seat.

“Get behind the wheel,” he ordered as he climbed in and slammed the door. “Start the

truck.”

“With these on?” she asked, raising her manacled wrists.

“You’ll manage,” he snarled. “Start the fucking truck.”

Rusty did as ordered but did not put it in gear. “Now this is how it’s gonna go,” he

said. “You and me are gonna head on over to your place for the night. Tomorrow

morning we’re gonna take a ride down to town hall and get the judge to marry us.”

Rusty momentarily forgot her fear. “Like hell!”

Davy backhanded her, making her head swim. “Keep your fucking mouth shut.

You’re gonna do exactly what I tell you to do or your dude is gonna end up deader’n a

doornail.”

Fear lanced through Rusty with sharp bitterness. “What have you done?” she

gasped.

Davy laughed. “I ain’t done nothing but spend the night with the woman I love,

honey. Now my brothers, they’s a different story. Right about now they should be at

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Blackhawk waiting for the dude. When he shows up, they might have to get a little

rough with him. But he’ll live. If you do like you’re told.”

Rusty stared at him in astonishment. Surely he couldn’t think the plan would work.

Even if she went through with it, as soon as she knew Clay was safe she’d go to the law.

As if reading her mind, Davy laughed. “It ain’t something you can get out of. Right

after we’re married good and proper, you’re gonna sign over Blackhawk to me. Then if

you wanna walk, be my fucking guest. I’m gonna have my fun with you tonight

anyway, so it’s not like you’ll be fucking up my wedding night.”

“You’re not touching me,” she said hatefully.

“Oh I’m gonna touch you, all right. And your fucking dude is gonna watch. I’m

gonna fuck you seven ways from Sunday and when I finish, I’m gonna give my

brothers a turn.”

He laughed manically and slammed his hand down on the dashboard. “I finally got

you, bitch, and by this time tomorrow I’m gonna own Blackhawk and the treasure will

be mine.”

Rusty gaped at him in complete bewilderment. “What treasure?”

“You know what fucking treasure!” he screamed.

“No I don’t!” she screamed back. “There isn’t any treasure!”

“There is!” he yelled and tried to backhand her again, but she saw it coming and