The Mercenary's Kiss. Pam Crooks

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СКАЧАТЬ him. The peace.

      He felt the rumble of horses’ hooves moments before he heard them. Creed twisted, searching for riders. Jeb saw them first, just beyond the woods.

      He reached for the Colt strapped to his thigh and leapt to his feet, all in one swift motion. Instinct warned a group of men riding as hard as this one was either looking for trouble—or running from it.

      He slipped behind a sycamore tree for cover and heard Creed do the same. Back pressed against the trunk, weapon raised, Jeb glanced over at him. His grim expression mirrored Jeb’s unease.

      Jeb gauged fifty, maybe sixty yards separated them from the riders. Mexicans, heavily armed. A dozen of them, led by one man. Jeb glimpsed a flash of red, but the trees and distance marred a clearer view, and he couldn’t see what the leader held in front of him.

      “What do you make of ’em?” Creed asked in a low voice.

      “Damned if I know,” he muttered.

      One look this way would reveal the horses Jeb and Creed had had no time to hide, but none of the Mexicans bothered. Within moments, they were gone, leaving behind only a cloud of dust in their wake and a bevy of unanswered questions.

      Questions Jeb had no intention of answering.

      “Could be those Mexican revolutionaries the lieutenant colonel was telling us about last night,” Creed said, returning his weapon to its holster.

      “Maybe.”

      But Jeb didn’t want to think about Kingston or what he needed. He hadn’t wanted to think of it last night, and he didn’t want to think of it now. He strode toward his mount.

      “Whatever those men are up to doesn’t concern us anymore, Creed,” he said firmly. Unable to help it, he looked across the woodlands to the path that had fallen silent. “They’re heading south.” His mouth curved, cold and determined. “And we’re heading north.”

      To San Antonio. To a new beginning.

      And nothing was going to keep him from either one.

      At the sight of the overturned medicine wagon wedged between the trees, Jeb drew his horse up abruptly.

      Creed reined in beside him. “An ambush?”

      “Looks like it.”

      The team had been cut from their harnesses and set free. Jeb spied them drinking at the river. He removed his Colt from the holster, just in case, but it seemed whoever had attacked the wagon had left.

      “I’ll check the rig,” Creed said. Weapon drawn, he crept toward it and inspected the interior, then gestured that no one was inside.

      Still, the stark silence troubled Jeb. He urged his horse closer, saw a woman lying on the ground and half-hidden among the tree’s shadows. Dread rolled through him.

      A gray-haired man lay a short distance away. Jeb took in the crimson stain on his shoulder, the contorted leg. The man moaned, appeared to fade in and out of consciousness. Creed rode toward him and dismounted.

      Jeb sheathed the Colt, his attention on the woman again. He slid from the saddle and knelt beside her to check for a pulse.

      She was still alive. Blood oozed from an angry gash on her forehead. The wound appeared fresh, and he figured her assailant hadn’t been gone long. Minutes, most likely.

      The band of armed Mexicans had been riding hard from this direction. Jeb studied the wagon. It wouldn’t have been easy to overturn a rig that size. But a dozen men on horses could do it. Easy.

      He suspected these were the men Lieutenant Colonel Kingston told him about, revolutionaries so ruthless even the President of the United States was concerned. And Jeb suspected, too, they were hightailing it home, to the relative security of their own country against possible retaliation from this one.

      He ran a grim glance down the length of the woman. Her blouse was partially unbuttoned, revealing the creamy flesh of a breast, but her clothing wasn’t dirty or torn, and he made a cautious guess the band hadn’t added rape to their abuses.

      He slipped an arm beneath her shoulders, but she whimpered, and he halted. Her head lolled toward him. In the filtered sunlight, he noticed the swelling from a purpling bruise on her cheekbone.

      She’d put up a fight against whoever hit her, and a compassion he didn’t often feel stirred inside him.

      Her hair had fallen loose from its ribbon. He brushed the long, golden strands from her cheek and noted its satin texture, the warmth and softness of her skin. The delicate bone structure of her face.

      Even bruised and bleeding, she was a beauty.

      She whimpered again and shifted a little against him. Her lashes fluttered, as if she tried to open her eyes but couldn’t.

      “Easy,” he said in a low voice. “You’re going to be all right.”

      Her eyes flew open. She struggled to focus on him. He’d been knocked out a time or two himself and knew how she clawed her way out of the blackness. Suddenly she gasped and pushed away from him.

      A wildness filled her expression. She twisted back and forth, searching, her features frantic. “Nicky! Where’s my baby? Nicky!”

      Baby?

      He exchanged a quick glance with Creed, then reached out to touch her, to calm her, but she flinched violently, and he drew back.

      “There’s no baby here,” he said carefully.

      She stared at him. She made a sound of anguish, of unadulterated grief, and the depth of it cut right through him.

      “Oh, my God. Oh, my God!” She wavered on the edge of hysteria.

      “They kidnapped him?” Jeb asked, stunned.

      She nodded, her fist pressed to her mouth.

      “Christ.”

      “Elena, honey,” a hoarse voice rasped.

      She swung toward the man lying on the ground. She scrambled to his side and buried her face in his chest. “Pop, he’s gone.”

      The man shook with a silent sob. “I know, honey.” His trembling fingers speared into her hair, holding her to him. “God help us, they took him.”

      Her head came up again. The wild look in her face had returned. “We have to find him. We have to go now.”

      “Lennie—”

      “Come on, Pop.” She tugged on his suit coat. “You have to sit up. I’ll get the horses, and we’ll go after him.”

      Jeb rose and walked toward her.

      “He’s not going anywhere,” he said quietly. Firmly. He squatted beside her. “He’s hurt too bad.”

      Eyes as green as leaves in the jungle seemed to stare right through him. As if Jeb had never СКАЧАТЬ