Tucker's Claim. Sarah McCarty

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СКАЧАТЬ with a long, drawn-out moan. “Desi saved this one for you. She says he’s Boone’s best.”

      “Saved him?” Tucker bent and scooped the pup up. He was big boned, but still not large and he was all gangly puppy wiggles. His ears drooped to his knees and his nose wrinkled back to the bridge. Tucker held him at eye level. “Cute little thing.” The pup licked his face. “Why’d she have to ‘save him’ for me?”

      Tracker shook his head, sending his long hair swishing around his shoulders. “There isn’t a body in the territory who doesn’t want one of Boone’s offspring. A dog that’ll track with a knife wound to his chest with no direction other than his conviction that his mistress needs him, hell, that’s the stuff legends are made of.”

      There was no doubt the hound had earned his forever place at Hell’s Eight. “Just because Boone’s that way doesn’t mean his kin is.”

      Tracker shrugged. “You try telling folks that. They pretty much don’t want to hear anything but that there’s a puppy for them.”

      “How many were there?”

      “Six, and the competition is stiff for every one. People keep raising their offers.”

      “As in money?” The pup snuggled in a disjointed flop against his shoulder.

      “Yup. And Desi keeps turning them down flat, much to Caine’s disgust.”

      “Why?”

      “Seems Desi is real particular where she’ll let the pups go. Calls them Boone’s children.”

      “Damn.” Tucker laughed. He would like to have been there to see Caine’s reaction to that. Desi’s Eastern ways often clashed with Caine’s Western practicality.

      “Caine used stronger words.” Tracker grimaced and pulled his wet shirt away from his stomach. “He needs the money, and Lord knows the ranch could use it with the pressure those Easterners are putting on us, trying to force Desi out of safety.”

      “They haven’t given up?” Tucker sighed. Desi and her twin sister, Ari, were heiresses, but someone didn’t want them to come into their money and was doing his level best to make sure they didn’t. It looked like their father’s trusted solicitor was the culprit, but who the hell could be sure? This wasn’t the kind of battle he was used to. He was used to a straightforward track, hunt and kill. You knew your enemy, and if only for the moment it took to get off a shot, you saw him. But this battle with the threat against Desi and Ari, this was a whole different animal. This took place behind the scenes with whispers and payoffs and well-hidden third parties calling the shots. And the fights were like shooting at ghosts that slipped in and out of the shadows, sniping at Desi and Caine’s happiness, but never coming into the light so they could be exorcised.

      “Desi is worth a hell of a lot of money.”

      Tucker grunted. “It’d be easier if Caine would take it.”

      “A lot of things could be easier, but blood money always comes with a curse.”

      “So you’re siding with Caine on this one?”

      “You’re not?”

      Tracker released his shirt. “It’s Desi’s money. Just because some cowardly son of a bitch hired Comancheros to kill her family to get it doesn’t change that fact.”

      “It’s cursed.”

      “It’s money, and if put to use as Desi wants, it would put Hell’s Eight in the black.”

      It was the same argument they’d been having since it became clear Desi was an heiress. “Some things aren’t worth the price.”

      “Desi won’t be in any more danger with the money than she is with someone trying to make sure she doesn’t get it.”

      “Money changes things.” Might even change Desi to the point she wanted to go home. And if Desi went, so would Caine. Even if he’d die a slow death in the East, he’d go because there would be no life for him without his Desi. Tucker couldn’t imagine Hell’s Eight without Caine. “And not always for the good.”

      Tracker sighed and looked into the distance, a disturbing sense of…inevitability in his expression. As if he knew something Tucker didn’t. “Everything changes. Even Hell’s Eight.”

      A chill went down Tucker’s spine. Tracker had worn that same expression all those years ago when he’d looked at the sunny horizon and said, “Today is going to be a bad day.” Eight hours later, the Mexican army had raided, slaughtering everything in their path. He’d thought his life hell before the raid. It was only afterward that Tucker realized he had no idea what hell really was. “Hell’s Eight is forever.”

      Tucker wouldn’t believe otherwise.

      Tracker smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes. “So it is.” He motioned to the puppy. “Truth is, placing the puppies has been a good distraction for Desi. She’s getting close to her time.”

      “The pregnancy’s going well?”

      Tracker’s lips settled to a thin line. “She seems awfully swollen to me.”

      “Is that bad?”

      He shot him an exasperated glance. “How the hell would I know?”

      Sally Mae would. The thought popped into Tucker’s mind. But Sally Mae was here, and Desi was at home at Hell’s Eight, a place Sally would never be. Damn. “It will kill Caine to lose Desi.”

      None of them had had much softness in their lives, but when Desi had swept into Hell’s Eight’s circle, they’d all gained hope.

      Tracker straightened. “He’s not going to lose her.”

      Not if they had anything to do with it, but how much control did a man have over pregnancy? The sense that the world as he knew it was shifting increased.

      “From your mouth to whomever’s listening’s ears.” He wouldn’t say God. Couldn’t. He didn’t have Sally’s faith. When God had allowed the Mexican army to wipe out his town and everyone he knew except the Eight, when God had allowed them, as boys, to almost starve to death before they’d found Tia, he’d decided God wasn’t for him.

      The pup grunted and wiggled in his arms. Tucker put him down. With a little whine and a look, the pup squatted a couple feet away. As soon as he finished the rest of his business, he attacked a piece of grass and then came and sat on Tucker’s booted foot with a little satisfied squeak.

      Tucker slid the toe of his boot side to side, giving the pup an awkward pet. The pup moaned. “He’s the spitting image of Boone.”

      “Which is why everyone wanted him, but Desi said he was for you.”

      Desi’s way of saying thank-you for all she thought he’d done for her. She really didn’t understand the bond of Hell’s Eight. Between them, there wasn’t a need for gratitude. Hell’s Eight protected their own. And Desi had earned her place. He bent and petted the little guy’s head, catching its ears on his fingertips. They were surprisingly heavy. “There’s no need.”

      “Desi’s СКАЧАТЬ