Sixes Wild: Manifest Destiny (6 page)

“No need to be offish.” I find myself leaning forward just a bit. “I’ve just got some questions, is all.”

“Then shoot, lawbat, or give up the gun.” She laughs roughly. “We both got ears.”

“That we do.” My eyes flash to her ears before I can stop the darn things. I blink, then meet her gaze level and steady. “First off, what do you know about Hayes’ unlawful ties? You can’t expect me to swallow this insurance scam tripe. That’s small potatoes to him. Seems to me he wanted to get that money off the books, more likely.”

She gives me a smirk. “You reckon I care to cross him any more than I already have?”

“I don’t think that’s possible unless you stole his wife.” I settle my wings against the back of my chair, the sling chaffing. “Or his money again.”

“Well, his wife ain’t the breed I’m lookin’ to buy. And I hear tell he’s ponied up the cash for a better safe.” Her eyes dare me to call her on that, then she fiddles with a claw. “I only caught wind of that theft business a day beforehand, most likely fixing to pay some folk off. Isn’t quite simon-pure about how he runs that mining outfit either— Is your wing alright?”

My mind flounders for a second, then catches the trail again. “Near as can be, considering. What’s this have to do with Hayes?”

“Nothing. Ah just thought it fair I get to ask a question too.”

“I see.” I decide not to press her too hard on any one front. “Second, where did you come by such fancy iron?”

“What’s this got to do with the lion Hayes?”

“Nothing.”

The bunny leans in a hair. Her muzzle is not four inches from mine, her paws not an inch from her iron. Her voice is steady, steady as her aim was when dealing with the outlaws. “You lookin’ to return them to their rightful owner?”

“Never said it wasn’t you.”

She breathes. Her scent teases my nose. “They were my daddy’s. The only thing of his I still got.”

I nod. Something about her eyes makes me believe her.

“Can I…” She clears her throat, sounding like a woman for just an instant. “…see your wing?”

“You plan to keep holstered this time?”

Her paws rise. Her voice resumes being low and husky, though still disarming. “Just checkin’ my handiwork.”

I slip the sling off. She gets real close to look. Even on her knees, she’s as tall as I am sitting. I can feel her breathing against the thin fur of my wing. It washes down over my wing like waves, slow and regular.

One paw comes up and she reaches for the pink scar, which is now almost flush against the surface. I wince. She freezes, paw curling back. I breathe and let my wing down in front of her, spreading it the rest of the way. It feels tight and stiff, but that’s to be expected. I know it can carry me.

The wound is close enough to the top of my wing that she is right up against me. Those floppy ears brush the side of my muzzle. Gentle and slow, her paw traces up my wing bones to that scar. Her touch is like a safe air current, smooth and steady. She smooths my fur under her fingertips, feeling along the change in texture. The scar has no fur, naked as her twitching pink nose. “This doesn’t hurt ya?”

“Not a bit.” Her scent is full and close now, heavy and warm like a thick blanket. The bunny turns my way, her blue eyes showing just a hint of regret. She says “sorry” so soft she starts to sound like a girl again.

Our muzzles bump, softly jostling.

“Ya really ought to arrest me.” Her breath brushes hot against my ear, causing a carnal stir within my trousers.

I do my darnest to ignore it. “Why’s that?”

“I shot you.” Her paw touches my wing, ever so gently.

“And saved me from being shot.”

“Ah am not keen on giving the money back.”

“Six…” I took her by the shoulders. She feels so light in my wings, like she was air. “Bring it back and testify. I can protect you.”

“Those fools weren’t Hayes’ only muscle. Ya can’t keep me safe from every hard case he puts on the dime.”

“I could if you were a deputy.”

She backs up to look me in the eyes. “Deafness don’t run in mah family, Blake, but I think my ears are startin’ to go. Sounded like ya just said I should become a deputy.”

I trace her ear carefully with one wing thumb. “That’s good, because I did.”

“The heck would ah agree to that for? Hayes doesn’t know a blasted thing about me and—” Her ears slip back around the brim of her hat, her face darkening. “—and neither do you. Besides, I’ve got the money. Bully for me. And ya want me to swap it all for the chance to break up tussles between lowlifes? What makes that a square trade?” She has a scoundrel’s smile and an angel’s eyes.

“Because I…” I stammer. I can feel my ears getting hot. I think about her lips, how nice it would feel to…

She kisses me. Just takes me by the ears and plants one on my lips. I ought to have been shocked at such forward action by a lady. But, from the taste of her cigarettes to the way she presses in against me, Six isn’t like any lady I ever knew. I find my wings curling around her.

After a moment, she eases back, leaving me leaning forward just a bit. Her hat is gone, knocked off by the force of the kiss. Her muzzle dips, and she starts blushing again. “Sorry. Ah didn’t mean tah…”

“I-I liked it.” I run a wing thumb under her chin, bringing her eyes level with mine. “Don’t you go bein’ sorry”

The hare narrows her blue eyes, saying silently she didn’t quite believe me. “Ya look a touch pained.”

I grimace, giving a nervous chuckle. “Your gunbelt is digging into my side.”

“Oh.” And just like that, she straddles my hips. The warmth of her crotch presses against mine. The bunny looks up at me like this is nothing compared to kissing me. “That better?”

“Umm…” I squirm.

Six glances around, skittish like I’ve never seen her. Tensing, her body pulls back against my wings. Her ears dangle free now; they brush against my chest, low as they can get.

I lean against her, nuzzling in close. We touch noses; she gasps. Her muzzle’s shorter than mine, and her fur feels soft as cotton as I brush along her cheek. I want to touch those floppy ears, but if they’re anything like mine they’re delicate and ticklish something fierce. I wrap my wings tight against her back. She gives a quiet squeak. Though the thin fur of her cheeks, she’s blushing. We bump noses again. My lips touch hers. I kiss her.

A sort of shudder runs through her. She hauls me to my feet and suddenly we’re kissing against the wall of my office. Soft quick kisses, long lingering ones; she can’t seem to make up her mind. I play with that little fluff of a tail, feeling the bowie knife she keeps beside it.

Part of me, perhaps the wiser part, demands to know what I’m doing kissing a lady outlaw, one who dresses like a man no less. But the rest of me soon hogties that voice and from there on it’s all kisses and touches and her hips against mine. Our gun handles clatter together as she starts to grind up against me in a most immodest fashion. I shiver, poking out of my sheath a little, rubbing against the inside of my undergarments. She’s so hot against me. Her paws brush across my chest, pinning me against the wall. The rough wood tickles the backs of my ears. I kiss back at her, licking her lips, but she doesn’t open her mouth. Seems nobody ever taught her just what that means. She can’t be much past twenty— hardly an age for a virtuous young lady to be out in the world unescorted.

The kisses fall upon my lips like Arizona rain: rare, precious and sweeping away like a flood all thoughts that came before. The leather of her vest runs smooth against my wings. I breathe harder, pausing in my attentions to recollect myself.

My thief is not to be dissuaded. Her lips find my cheek, my neck, my chest. She starts unbuttoning my vest. Her own breath is hot and fragrant, sweet as cider under the ghost of all that tobacco. That peculiar scent serving to rile a fella, no matter the species. “You— you’re in heat?”

She answers by pulling me toward the cell, out of sight of the small, barred window. I bump against the bars, then she pushes me back against the cot. One bunny paw reaches back around to touch my ears, while the other starts working along the front of my britches. That quick paw digs under my gunbelt, uncinching my regular belt.

I struggle to regain my breath, forcing a cool breeze of sanity into my lungs. “Hold off, Six. That office door doesn’t lock— Those are my trousers!”

“Possession ain’t nothin’ to a bunny in mah line a’ work.”

Her paws slip against the tip of my member. It’s been years since a woman touched me there and even in wilder days they never took to it with such enthusiasm. She grips me like the pommel of a saddle, except I’m the one holding on for the ride. There’s power to her movements, muscle to her frame. Not some delicate debutante then, a farmhand perhaps?

Desire burns in me. She pours kisses onto my lips, feeding the fire. I’m stiff as a railroad spike. Her paw is clumsily squeezing on my fully exposed shaft. I wonder if she’s ever done this before, wonder just how long she’s been playing the part of a man. Meanwhile, I’m squeaking like a prairie dog with each grope and, while I’m not quite jealous of her having paws, it does feel nicer even than rubbing it against my wings— all fuzzy and warm. Her lips plant little panting kisses all over my muzzle, leaving tiny traces of wetness in my thin fur. I’m working up the gumption to call this shindig off when she freezes. Her powerful thighs crush in against me and, were it not for the cot, I believe she could have given me a hell of a bruise.

I brush her with my wing, one hind paw ready to go for my gun. “Six, what—?”

And then she’s gone, springing off me and shutting the cell door behind her. It dawns on me after a heartbeat. She’s got my damn britches in her paw! Before I can get to the bars, she’s tried two keys on my belt and the third one clacks into place. She pulls it from the lock and glances at me, all manner of skittish.

My wings can’t fit through the bars in any meaningful way, so I reach with a hind paw. The chill of iron against my manly bits makes me yelp. “Yikes! What in all hell’re you doing, Six?”

The cell door rattles under my weight, but stays locked. She backpedals. “I’m real sorry, Blake. I-I’m just a mite skittish on these matters.” She adjusts her clothes, snatching her hat from the floor. “I’ll understand if you don’t want nothing to do with—”

“Jordan.”

“What?”

“Call me Jordan.”

“Oh.” She smiles. Her paws wring the leg of my confiscated garment.

I take a steadying breath. “Look, bunny. I’m not fixing to make you do a thing you don’t care to.”

Her eyes slip down. To my horror, I find my erect penis is sticking lewdly through the bars… My ears go down, realizing I’m dreadfully indecent. I cover up with my wings. “Just toss those britches back my way and we’ll sort out the what’s-what here.”

“Honest? You ain’t mad?”

“I am too damn naked to be mad!” It dawns on me that makes no kind of sense, so I add: “Please!”

She presses her lips together like she’s trying not to laugh. Damn this bunny. I give her another desperate look and she balls up the trousers, pulls back to throw them, and—

Footsteps. My office door swings open.

Our gazes meet. The britches drop to the floor. They’re only a few feet away, but they might as well be in a Chinaman’s closet for all the good they do me. Six shoves her way out of the office, galloping down the hall and out the front door. I see her flash by the barred window, hat already on, muzzle grinning under its shadow.

I cuss. Then I look into the somewhat sad, very confused eyes of Deputy Harding.