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Ella Gaines had seldom been as confused as she was tonight. It should have been a triumph. Her carefully planned social gathering was a resounding success. The party glittered with prominent people, the catering had been impeccable, the service flawless. They were all having a lovely time, talking, laughing, and dancing. Several influential politicians were present and having a splendid time. Ella's party promised to be an event of the season, guaranteeing her high status among the wealthiest citizens of New Mexico.She had been delighted when Mary Travis had arrived on the arm of a wealthy rancher, Gerard Whitman. She had been downright ecstatic when Chris arrived alone, and barely acknowledged the Travis woman's presence, much less to seek her out. Her triumphant attempt to claim her rightful place on his arm, however, had been stymied. To her intense frustration, Christopher Adam Larabee continued to rebuff her every attempt at seduction.
He had been polite, chatting with her for a while before abandoning her to circulate. He had yet to ask her to dance. Baffled frustration held under tight rein, Ella watched him closely, convinced now that she had been mistaken in thinking the Travis woman the object of his affections. He was obviously waiting for someone.
Every time Ella's houseman announced a new arrival, Larabee's searching green gaze swept over to the door, and even as he moved around the room, his eyes restlessly returned to the entrance hall. She was convinced now that he was waiting for the mysterious woman he was so foolishly enamored with. Irritated, she sipped her champagne and watched the handsome blond as he chatted with Nathan and Dr. Rain Jackson.
Chris Larabee had never been so fucking bored in his life. With the exception of his people, the house was full of pompous politicians and airhead socialites. His efforts to avoid Ella had finally paid off, and she was leaving him alone for the moment. Hell, he had had to practically pry her off his arm earlier before he could go and take a piss. It was with relief that he met with Nathan and Rain for an update.
Rain's beautiful brown eyes crinkled at the corners with amusement as she took in Larabee's increasingly frazzled appearance. She and Nathan had snickered together earlier over his almost comical attempts to avoid Ella's clutches. The lean alpha of the Dark Angels had been surprisingly patient with the besotted woman, but Rain sensed that that was about to end. She tugged gently at his sleeve and winked up at him. "Dance with me. I can't pry Nathan out of the buffet table." She ordered, shooting her husband a fond look of exasperation.
He would have protested, but his mouth was full. He waved her gallantly away, instead. Laughing, Chris swept her off, jeering good naturedly at Jackson as he did. He smiled fondly down at her. She was especially pretty tonight. Her dark ringlets were swept elegantly up and pinned with tiny, jeweled butterflies, and her clinging, gold tissue silk gown displayed her slender figure.
They danced easily together, heads close as they exchanged information. Buck lounged elegantly against the French doors flirting with Eveline Travis. Ebony was corralled in a corner by a smitten Guy Royal. Standing six feet in her stockinged feet, she resembled a modern Nefertiti. Her tight, translucent white linen dress displayed rich dark skin, and her elegant African profile was alert and amused as she allowed Royal to maneuver her exactly where she wished to be. It wouldn't be long before she would allow him to escort her to a 'secluded' spot watched over by one of Buck's cameras.
The petite, vivacious Chantal was a fast worker, and had already bagged Sikes on camera partaking of cocaine party favors. Mission accomplished, she was working on getting him drunk as fast as possible, so she could ditch him and have some fun. JD had vanished into Ella's study for an intimate moment with her computer. From his position, Buck was able to ensure that no one could wander down the hall and take the kid by surprise.
"So far, so good. Sikes is already in the bag, Royal is about take the bait," Rain murmured. She nodded towards the door as JD appeared, looking flushed and very pleased with himself. "And JD is finished already."
"So, basically all we need is for Ez to take his walkabout?" Chris was pleased. He liked it when well crafted plans worked exactly according to schedule. It also meant he would be able to escape this interminable party earlier than planned. He frowned. "Ezra is late, as usual."
Rain chuckled softly."You can't blame him this time Chris. Not after that herculean task you assigned him!"
Chris grinned ruefully. He knew what a handful his Texas Wildcat could be. "I guess I'll have to give Ez a bonus for that alone."
Laughing together, they returned to the buffet table. Nathan had munched his way through the crab puffs and had started on a round of tiny meatballs supplemented with guacamole chips. Rain shook her head and pinched him surreptitiously.
"Ouch!"
"Pig!"
"What? I'm hungry!" he protested, popping one last meatball into his mouth as she dragged him onto the dance floor. Chris neatly relieved him of his full plate of goodies as he passed, ignoring his muffled protest, and began to help himself. He grabbed a glass of champagne off a tray, and prepared to settle in for some quality snacking. He was doomed for disappointment. Ella snagged him before he could find a quiet corner, and slid her arm possessively through his."There you are! You haven't asked me to dance yet, and it IS my birthday." She purred, beaming up at him.
He couldn't help but think that she must have based the design of her dress on that of an old fashioned saloon girl. Black and heavily beaded, the low cut decolletage was trimmed with black feathers, and the tight skirt split nearly to her hip. She wore a heavy, musky perfume that was giving him a headache, and enough flashy, diamond jewelry to blind a man.
Resigned to his fate, he set his purloined plate and drink down, and escorted her onto the dance floor. Over her head, he rolled his eyes at Buck's mischievous wink and waggling brows. He groaned silently when she signaled for a slow, romantic dance and pressed her barely covered breasts blatantly against his chest as she snuggled close. Sighing, he moved mechanically into the steps of the dance.
Ezra beamed encouragingly at his protegee as they climbed out of his BMW. Vin was nervously fiddling with the sapphire cufflinks Ezra had loaned him for the evening. Their fearless sharpshooter was in fact scared shitless. Not only was he wearing fancy dress for the first time in his young life, but now he was expected to actually socialize with rich folks at a fancy party where the only souls he knew were Chris and the boys. He was terrified of making a total ass out of himself, and of embarrassing Larabee.
Standish kept a firm hand at the small of Vin's back as he propelled the younger man up the front walk towards the entrance. Although he was speaking soothingly to the terrified young Texan, it was probable that Vin hadn't heard a word he said. Tanner looked as though he were being taken before a firing squad instead of to a party.
It amazed him that one of the deadliest men he knew was so terribly shy when it came to meeting a few harmless strangers. Perhaps it had something to do with Vin's claustrophobia, and his childhood. Wide blue eyes turned to his, and Vin halted on the top step, grabbing Ezra by the sleeve. "Reckon I should wait outside, Ez?"
Soft heart touched by the naked plea in Vin's soft drawl, Ezra slipped an encouraging arm over Vin's stiff shoulders. "Courage, Mr. Tanner! Ah imagine Mr. Larabee is ripe for rescue from our amorous widow about now! Ah will need you to watch mah back when Ah investigate the safe, as Ah expect Mr. Wilmington has already been distracted by the charms of a nubile young lady. Have Ah told you how splendid you look tonight? We should have a portrait taken..." Chattering inanely to distract Vin, he gently propelled him on.
Chris sighed with relief when the dance finally ended. He escorted Ella off the floor and was profoundly grateful when Judge Travis claimed her for the next dance. She watched him wistfully as she was led away, but he was oblivious. Returning to reclaim his stolen hors d'oeuvres, he found Nathan cheerfully devouring them. Damn. Deciding on whisky instead, he headed for the bar. Hell, he deserved a shot. Or two.
Ella nodded politely at Judge Travis' compliments on the party, hungry gaze riveted on Larabee over the man's shoulder as they danced. She was riding an emotional rollercoaster. She couldn't fathom why Chris stubbornly refused to claim what was rightfully his. They were meant to be together. Why was he resisting? She frowned in puzzlement.
After the dance, the Judge introduced her to his wife and daughter-in-law. Ella spoke genially to Evie Travis, and watched as the Judge gallantly led his wife onto the dance floor. She turned reluctantly to Mary, bristling at the blonde's half hidden, knowing smirk as she sipped at her champagne. It was a case of instant mutual dislike.
Mary's simple, white Grecian style dress was a cool contrast to Ella's elaborate beaded gown. She wore her platinum blonde hair up in a sleek chignon, her jewelry simple diamond studs in her ears and a diamond solitaire necklace. The women were a study in contrasts. Elegant old money versus nouveau rich.
"Mrs. Travis."
"Mrs. Gaines."
"Whatever do you find so amusing, Mrs. Travis?"
Mary arched a brow and pointedly looked over to where Chris Larabee lounged at the bar. She took another sip from her glass, and gave Ella another secret smile. "I believe you're about to find out, Mrs. Gaines." Mary gave her a dazzling smile and glided off towards a waiting Gerard Whitman. She almost felt sorry for the Gaines woman.
Puzzled, Ella stared after her for a moment, then strode towards Chris, a wide, determined smile on her face. She was intercepted by an inebriated Bob Sikes, who grabbed her arm and started babbling boozily into her face. Repulsed, she looked deliberately at Larabee, in an imperious demand for rescue.
To her immense shock, he ignored her. He didn't even seem to see her predicament. He was looking straight past her, a wide, sexy welcoming smile on his handsome face. The first such smile she had ever seen him wear, and it was NOT directed at her. It was the unmistakable look of a man catching sight of his lover. Stricken, she pivoted slowly to see whom Larabee was staring at with such open hunger, only to be brushed smoothly aside as he moved swiftly past her in a beeline towards the door.
Chris had just raised his whisky glass for a sip, when he caught sight of Ez' and Vin's entrance. He blinked, stared, and blinked again, feeling a wide, foolish grin cross his face. Goddamn. Where was his scruffy, tangle haired Texan? This sexy, elegant creature was something entirely new. He scowled when he noticed the hungry, predatory looks aimed at HIS Texan from a gaggle of nearby socialites, and moved swiftly to intercept. 'Mine.'
"Ez." He nodded absently in Standish's direction, his entire focus on the man standing shyly beside him. Vin raised relieved blue eyes to Larabee's face, his crooked smile blossoming.
"Hey, Cowboy." He greeted Chris softly, his eyes widening in appreciation at the sight of Larabee's newly clean cut face. He nodded at the glass Chris still held, unnerved a little by Larabee's stare. "That for me?"
Chris handed it to him absently. He would have handed him the moon, if he had it. His eyes were hungrily mapping that beautiful, square jawed face, roaming over the lithe body, admiring Vin's unique attire. He raised a fond hand and tweaked a determined strand of unruly, sun bleached silk that was already escaping its tie. He inhaled the familiar, clean scent of cedar, and his wide mouth quirked into a tender smile. His untamed Texan was still in there. Vin blushed hotly under his admiring scrutiny. Chris wanted nothing more in that moment than to eat him alive.
Ezra had given up on attempting to speak to Mr. Larabee, huffed in exasperation, and moved on into the foyer. He noticed Ella's shell shocked gaze after Larabee, and moved quickly to greet and hopefully distract the woman as he gallantly rescued her from the grasp of the drunken congressman. Trust Mr. Larabee to be about as discreet as a heat seeking missile!
Over Ella's shoulder, he caught Buck's minute hand signals. A hidden thumbs up, a circle, and an index finger flicked in his direction was all it took to inform Ezra that the only major remaining task of the evening was his inspection of the safe.
He nodded his understanding and indicated the stunned woman he was attempting to distract with an arched brow. Buck nodded and moved easily to take over. He beamed jovially down at the petite brunette and kissed her hand, drawing her smoothly out on the dance floor. His broad shoulders effectively blocked Larabee from her view as he slid a big arm around her waist and drew her close.
"Why Ella, you haven't danced with me all night, darlin'. Old Buck is starting to feel neglected..." he boomed down into her dazed face as he skillfully maneuvered her away, leaving Standish with a clear path to the study.
Nathan had moved discreetly to the doorway to serve as the first lookout and JD strolled down the hall to station himself near the study door, plate of snacks firmly in his grasp, apparently an innocent teenager escaping adult scrutiny, intent on feeding his face. Standish took one leisurely survey of the room, to insure he was unobserved, smoothed his lapels, then meandered down the hall towards the study.
Rain stepped casually back through the French doors that led into the courtyard. She nodded at Nathan, indicating that Raphael and Josiah had finished reconning the perimeter. The night's work was nearly finished. Soon they could relax and really enjoy the party. Her full lips quirked at the sight of Chris hovering possessively by Vin, warning off any would be poachers with a cold glare. Odds where, Larabee would be hustling Vin out the door before the hour was gone, Ella be damned.
Ella was numb with shock and a growing rage. This could not be happening. NO! How dare he! How dare he set her aside for a ... man. Her jealous, dark eyes focused coldly on Vin. It was all HIS fault, he had stolen her beloved Chris. Deluded and bewitched him. It was up to her to rescue Chris, and restore him to his rightful place at her side.
She allowed her escort to propel her around the dance floor, oblivious to his good-natured blather. Smiling slowly she relaxed and moved easily with the music as she felt a familiar, peaceful calm descend. Everything would be all right now. She knew what to do. She knew who she had to kill. Harper and his crew were due in tomorrow. Everything would be taken care of.
+ + + + + + +
Raphael Cordova de Martinez ghosted silently along the inner garden wall. From this angle, he had a clear view of most of the courtyard and the party. Dressed entirely in matte black, from the top of his sleek dark head to the low heels of his boots, he was nearly invisible. Josiah had already checked in, then headed for home. Raphael lingered after his whispered consultation with Rain Jackson. He was stalking larger prey tonight. As patiently as a leopard, he crouched in the shadow of an urn and waited.
Buck and Ezra stood on the terrace to catch a breath of fresh air. They were well pleased. The evening's business was done, and everyone could relax a bit. A bored JD had headed for home a quarter hour earlier. Ebony and Chantal were leisurely stalking unwary, wealthy cattlemen. Buck had given them leave to enjoy themselves for the rest of the evening.
Nathan and Rain were slow dancing happily together.
Buck and Ezra were currently placing bets on how soon Chris would drag Vin off into a corner, and molest him. The sharpshooter had inadvertently led their leader a merry chase tonight. Vin had proved an irresistable lure for the ladies. They all seemed to want a dance with the handsome, shy young man.
Larabee was currently standing at the bar glaring daggers at the back of a statuesque blonde socialite's head. She had had the nerve to cut in on his conversation with Vin, and then imperiously dragged the young man off for a dance. Now she was not so discreetly slipping her card into his vest pocket.
"Ah am quite proud. Mr. Tanner has mingled quite well.' Ezra beamed fondly at his unlikely Cinderella.
Buck snorted and took a gulp of scotch. "Hell, Ezra, the boy ain't had a chance to get nervous. The ladies haven't given him a moment to catch his breath since he got here, line started forming the minute he came in the damned door. Chris is about to blow a gasket."
"Indeed, Mr. Wilmington. Ah believe you owe me a small sum of money." Standish watched with immense satisfaction as Mr. Larabee firmly cut in on the startled blonde gave her a sharkish grin and with a firm arm around Vin's shoulders, escorted him off the dance floor, and out the door into the side garden.
"Ah, hell. I was sure Chris had more willpower than that! Worse than newlyweds!" Disgruntled, Buck dug out his wallet and handed Standish half the contents.
Ezra gave him a gold-toothed grin and happily slipped the fat wad of cash into his inner pocket. He picked an imaginary bit of lint off an immaculate cuff, and prepared to take his leave. "Ah do believe ah shall bid our charming hostess adieu. Mothah is due to phone me at midnight for a progress report. Ah also want to examine the financial information that young Mr. Dunne so efficiently procured tonight."
"Later, Ez." Buck slapped him on the back and thoughtfully watched him go. He took another sip from his glass and leaned back against the terrace rail. It still gave him a pang to watch Chris and Vin together. He had hoped that somehow the two would occasionally be open for three, but it looked like it wasn't going to be. Larabee and Tanner were loners that had somehow mated for life. Larabee was fiercely possessive. Tanner almost pathologically shy. They were damaged halves of a whole, complete unto themselves.
He supposed he should be glad he was still counted Chris' closest confidant. At least Vin hadn't shot him yet, and Chris had only threatened to kill him once. He folded his arms broodingly and huffed a breath, exasperated at himself. Chris would always be a part of his life, closer than any brother. Truth was, he envied Chris and Vin their closeness, and felt more than a bit left out and lonely. He turned rueful eyes on the party, not really in the mood to seek out feminine company.
A low whistle brought his head up and around, and he caught a glimpse of a dark figure standing at the end of the long terrace, half hidden in shadow. Raphael. He lifted a hand and beckoned, melting back in the shadows. Intrigued, Buck set his glass down on the rail and strolled casually down the terrace, checking to insure if he was unobserved. The lithe figure remained just ahead, and he quickly followed.
+ + + + + + +
Chris tasted of expensive bourbon tonight, Vin noted vaguely, as the tall blond pressed him bodily up against the interior wall of the gazebo. His hungry mouth seemingly intent on eating him alive, while big, hard hands worked at uncovering skin. The heady scent of the heirloom roses and honeysuckle vines covering the garden structure mingled with Chris's cologne and coupled with the fresh night air to make Vin nearly dizzy with desire.
Larabee nipped his way across the smooth, square jaw to a succulent earlobe, which he suckled wetly. Vin moaned and bucked helplessly in response, humping against the hard muscled thigh wedging his legs apart. He managed to grab the roaming hands that were about to rip his shirt and vest open, and shove them away.
"Dammit, Lar'bee!"
"Mmm,mmh?"
"Chris!"
Larabee reluctantly lifted his hungry mouth from the love bite he was working on beneath Vin's jaw. He surveyed his handiwork critically. Nope. Needed a bit more suction. He latched on again, making Vin yelp and squirm delightfully. Strong hands caught his head and pried him off. Irritated, he scowled down into a flushed, rosy face.
"What? I'm working here!"
"Stop messin' with my outfit, Cowboy. Went to a heap of trouble with the damned thing, an' I don't want it ripped. 'Sides, Ez said I look splendid."
Vin shoved him back a pace, and began ostentatiously to smooth his mussed clothing. Bright blue eyes slanted Chris a teasing, sideways look, checking his reaction. Yep, there was that jealous Larabee glare, right on cue. Tanner deliberately fueled the fire. He licked his wet, swollen lips slowly and deliberately and gave Larabee an arch look as he pretended to adjust his cufflinks."That was downright rude, cuttin' in on Miss Courtney like that. Her bein' so nice to me and all."
Chris growled, and folded his arms over his broad chest. He scowled down at his ornery, sexy tease of a partner. " Splendid, huh? Miss Courtney? Nice? Is that why she slipped you her card?"
He reached out a big hand, dipped into Tanner's pocket, and plucked out not one, but six different scented business cards. Without even glancing at them, he tossed them back over his shoulder. He gave the younger man an evil smirk and advanced deliberately in his space, tall frame crowding him back farther under the greenery covered roof of the gazebo.
"You happen to mention to Miss Courtney that you're spoken for, Tanner?" He backed Vin up against the far wall and placed big hands on either side of his head, effectively trapping him. Leaning in so close that Vin could feel the warmth of his breath inches from his mouth, he murmured softly, "You happen to mention that you belong to me?"
Vin swallowed hard as he stared into his lover's hot eyes. That moss green gaze pinned him as securely as a snake would a mouse. He could feel the strength and heat of Chris' body, smell the scent of his musk mingling deliciously with his cologne. It made him shiver, and it made him so hard he hurt. From now on, whenever he caught the scent of roses and honeysuckle he would think of this night.
"You're looking really fine tonight, Cowboy." Chris lightly, slowly brushed Vin's cheek with his newly smooth one. He deliberately courted Vin with soft words and touches.
"Makes me want to eat you alive," he whispered into the rosy shell of a tender ear as he gently gripped the lobe between his teeth. "So pretty. So sexy, so..."
"Ain't purty...aah!"
Larabee nuzzled lightly along his lover's jawline, lips touching as lightly as butterfly wings. He rubbed his own smooth cheek against Vin's, and smiled secretly when he felt the younger man shiver, as he nuzzled down his neck. He stopped, his lips curved against the pounding pulse in Vin's throat, just breathing his clean scent, feeling the heat of his skin, his heartbeat. He spoke quietly, one deliberate word before he dug cruel, sharp teeth into the tender skin. "Mine."
Larabee cupped the back of Vin's head with one big hand and wrapped his arm around the trim waist as he hauled his lover close, intent on making his claim. He bit the pulse in Vin's throat and sucked hard, bruising the delicate skin. There would be toothmarks and dark bruising, visibly marking Vin as his. Tanner moaned brokenly, arched against him, hands clawing his broad shoulders helplessly. Chris lazily lifted his head, licking his lips lightly, tasting the sweet copper tang of blood.
"I'm gonna suck you dry, Cowboy."
Big hands closed hard around Vin's waist as he lifted and set the dazed younger man up on the wrought iron table in the gazebo. His pants were efficiently opened and yanked down around his ankles, along with his silk boxers, freeing his rosy, weeping erection to jut stiffly up into the cool night air. Larabee raised burning eyes on his lover's face, as he bent to lazily lap once at his cock head. He blew a hot breath along the pulsing organ, as hard, calloused hands spread Vin's thighs wide. He lifted his head and gave Vin a wicked, white smile. "Then after I drain you dry, I'm gonna bend you over this table and fuck you into next week."
He bent his blond head and went to work, deep-throating Tanner in one swoop. Vin arched and reeled back in a rictus of pleasure, one hand tangled in Larabee's hair, the other jammed into his own mouth to muffle his scream. He bucked helplessly into Chris' hot mouth, noting hazily as he did that the moon was full and shining through the leaf and blossom tangled roof.
It sure as hell had brought out the beast tonight!
+ + + + + + +
Raphael took one last, searching look around the small side courtyard, then opened the back door of the big limo parked there.
Wordlessly, he motioned Buck inside. Just as Wilmington bent his lanky frame to slide in and opened his mouth to ask a question, a hand clamped on his shoulder and shoved, hard. Sprawling awkwardly, on his back, long legs akimbo on the sleek leather seat, Buck yelped in outrage, only to be efficiently silenced by a hot tongue in his mouth, and a busy hand in his pants. Raphael had pounced, and pressed Buck back in the seat using all his body weight and the added advantage of the element of surprise.
Buck Wilmington was, above all a practical man. If a lean, handsome, hard-muscled Latino stud was going to go macho and jump his ass, who was he to question his good fortune? His straining, diamond hard prick certainly wasn't objecting to the rough handling it was receiving. It took the big man all of three seconds to get with the program and start responding enthusiastically, kissing back hungrily and groping for skin. Lord, it had been too damned long since Buck Wilmington had had a hard cock up his ass!
Raphael growled throatily with pleasure as Buck lustily sucked at his throat, big hands working busily on freeing Rafe's thick cock from his tight black pants. He had always suspected the big man would be lusty in bed, now he was finally getting a taste for himself. Buck pawed at Rafe's clothes, seeking contact with hot, sleek skin. He wanted this man in him NOW.
Rafe grabbed Buck's fine linen shirt in both hands and tore it open from throat to crotch. He yanked Wilmington's dress pants open and dove in to bite at small brown nipples on the furred chest, while one hard hand furiously jerked Buck's cock. Buck threw back his head and howled with pleasure. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered vaguely how sound proof limos actually were...
Hector Ramirez slipped around the side door of the garage for a quick piss. Chauffeuring rich gringos could be a pain, but it paid fairly well. At least he could play dice with his compadres while he waited for his patron to finish partying. He finished with a sigh and zipped up. A muffled thump, followed by a groan caught his attention, and, curious, he frowned across the courtyard at the oversized stretch limo parked there. A broad grin split his dark face. Si, it was definitely rocking! Someone was enjoying the party!
Ella Gaines stood silently at the corner of the greenhouse. From this angle, with the bright moon, she had a clear view of the men in the ornate, rose entangled gazebo. She shivered in a mixture of rage and desire at the soft, passionate sounds of lovemaking that resonated from within. Mouth open, nails dug deep in her palms, she panted silently, fighting her arousal. That should be her!
She couldn't tear her eyes from the tall, strong body that so ruthlessly bent the slighter one to his will. The moonlight silvered Chris Larabee's blond hair, limed his skin, made his white shirt glow. It turned him into a feral, fey creature of light and shadow. He had, as promised, bent Vin over the table and mounted him. Now, he rode his young lover hard, determined to imprint his ownership heart deep.
Fingers entwined with Vin's he growled deep in his throat and gave one final thrust as hard and deep as he could, feeling his partner convulse, and buck into his own climax, even as he did. He let his weight relax on the smaller man, deliberately pinning him to the table. His nose buried in silky hair, he lazily mouthed the tender nape of his neck, a subtle reminder of his dominance. Vin moaned softly beneath him, limp with release.
Larabee reluctantly eased back, still joined with Vin, although he felt the wet heat of his semen ease the tight seal between them. He sagged slowly back on the iron bench as he slipped free, Vin cradled in his lap, holding his young lover close. Vin's head lolled back on Chris' broad shoulder, his eyes shut as he panted softly, trying to catch his breath. Larabee tenderly nuzzled a hot, flushed cheek, planting a soft kiss there as his own breathing began to even out. He closed his eyes and breathed in the scents of sex and cedar and pure essence of Vin. 'Mine. This is mine.'
" Damn, Chris..."Tanner's voice was raspy, breathless, hoarse with sex and a touch of awe.
Larabee smirked proudly against a silky, tousled head. "I know, Cowboy, I know."
He wrapped his arms around Vin and held him tight. They sat quietly, heads together, cheek to cheek, breath mingling, slowly coming down from their sexual high.
Engrossed with each other, neither noticed the furious woman lurking in the shadows. Finally, they began to untangle themselves and rearrange their clothing. By the time they exited the gazebo and headed for the drive and Chris' bike, Ella had vanished.
Judge Travis escorted his wife into the side courtyard. The party had been quite enjoyable, although he had been rather amazed to find it had included bikers as well as cattlemen and politicians. He had danced with Rain Jackson, and found her to be charming.
There were several limos parked in this particular courtyard. He frowned; they all looked alike to him. Was this one theirs? He opened a rear door at random, only to hastily shut it again. He spoke dryly to a flustered, pink cheeked Eveline. "I believe this one is occupied, dear."
Inside the car, the two half naked, cum splattered men sniggered happily together as they lazily untangled long, hairy limbs and groped for lost items of clothing. Buck Wilmington had a wide, stupid, sated grin on his face. It wasn't every night he was not only spectacularly fucked, but got to moon a judge as well. He beamed up into Raphael's flushed, handsome face, then wrapped a big hand around the back of his new lover's head and pulled him down for another round. Hell, the night was young.
+ + + + + + +
The big Harley rumbled up to the stoplight. It had rained briefly in Four Corners, and the streets were still slick with water, the night air fresh and cool against their faces. Vin yawned sleepily, snug against Chris' broad leather clad back. He was very relaxed and half asleep, chin resting on Larabee's shoulder, arms clasped loosely around his waist. Both men were still mellow with afterglow.
Chris turned his head and absently nuzzled Vin's cheek. He smiled as he felt a tendril of long hair catch on his mouth and tickle his nose. Tanner's rebellious mane was busily working itself free from its tie, whipping lazily over his shoulders.
Their moment of quiet contentment was suddenly rudely shattered, as a jacked up Mustang convertible screeched noisily to a stop beside them.
Four burly, drunken, college age men peered over at the bike. Taking in the riders' elegant evening wear and their close body contact on the bike, they whooped and jeered."Hey! Look, faggots!"
The driver, a burly, redheaded football player type, leered nastily over at Vin. He leaned over his door and made lewd slurping noises, while his buddies egged him on. "Hey sweet thang. You sure are pretty. You wanna go for a ride with some real men?"
His friends thought this funny, and howled their appreciation at his wit. Vin and Chris ignored them. They had better things to do than deal with idiots this late at night. The light changed and they moved on, only to be caught a few blocks up at the next light. The Mustang pulled up, its occupants growing bolder. "Hey boys, feel up to a old fashioned Saturday night queerstomping?"
The youths yowled their agreement. Vin snorted as he felt Larabee's body tense in front of him. These assholes had no clue. Chris was one of those hardy individuals who regarded barroom brawling as a refreshing hobby. It wouldn't take much more before he decided to crack a few heads.
"Yeah, maybe we'll let the pretty one suck us off, if he asks nice," the acne scarred twerp seated behind the driver piped up excitedly. The rest chortled in agreement.
Vin sighed. Nope. No clue at all.
Chris gave a wordless snarl and pulled the big bike over to the curb. The men whooped and began to pile out of the car. Vin sighed again and slid off to lean patiently against the Harley, arms crossed as he waited. This probably wouldn't take long. Chris arched a blond brow at him.
"You gonna just stand there?"
"Yep. Promised Ez I wouldn't muss up the suit. Besides..."
Vin answered virtuously, carefully peeling a stray hair off his lapel.
Larebee gave a much put upon sigh. "I remember, he said you looked splendid."
Vin beamed at him, and gave him a saucy wink. Chris snorted, slid his duster off, tossed it to him, and turned to wade into the fight.
As predicted, it didn't take long. Five minutes later two of the four were lying face down, groaning, in their own personal pools of vomit, while Chris gleefully drove a knee into the groin of the third. The fourth man, realizing he was outclassed, reached sneakily over the side of the Mustang into the floorboard and pulled out a tire iron. He angled to get around to Larabee's vulnerable back.
He had just drawn his arm back to deliver a vicious blow to the back of Chris' head when the unmistakable loud click of a hammer being cocked froze him in his tracks. "Nnnh Unnh."
Turning slowly he found himself staring into the cold blue eyes of a predator. The 'pretty one' had the barrel of a Colt .45 leveled dead center between his eyes. He swallowed hard, caught like a rabbit in that cold gaze. Vin waggled his gun in an unmistakable 'go away' gesture. The sweating youth dropped the tire iron with a clang, and ran like hell.
Chris dropped his gagging, semi-conscious prey and dusted his hands off, before straightening his lapels. He had whirled around at the sound of Vin's gun cocking, but saw that he had things under control. Vin tucked his gun away in his shoulder rig and grinned at him cockily. "Hey Cowboy. You 'bout ready to go home, or ya want ta kick 'em in the head a time or two 'fore you go?"
Chris gave a snort of laughter at the sheer feeling for this man that welled up inside him. He crossed to Vin in two quick strides. The adrenaline was flowing and he felt as horny as a teenager. Eye to eye with his lover he gave a happy, throaty purr, mouth lightly brushing Vin's.
"Splendid, huh?"
Larabee Ranch, The Following Morning
Larabee frowned at the insistent bleat in his ear. Finally, he cracked a baleful green eye open to glare at the bedside table. 'Goddamned cellphone. Whoever invented the damned things should be shot.' The tousled head pillowed on his shoulder snuffled sleepily and burrowed closer. A glance at the digital clock caused his scowl to deepen. Hell, it was barely eight A.M. He snaked a long arm out resentfully, and snarled, "This better be good.""Ah, good morning Mr. Larabee! Ah trust you are in good health this fine morning?"
"Ezra?" Chris squinted at the phone, then the clock, in disbelief. Had the sanctified dead risen from their graves?
A warm chuckle sounded in his ear. "Indeed, Mr. Larabee. Ah have not yet been to bed. Ah have urgent news. We have a buyer for the late Mr. Delgado's purloined arms shipment, however, we must move post haste."
Larabee, abruptly wide awake, listened as Standish explained. Apparently, their potential buyer was nervous and in a hurry. He absently stroked the sleek golden brown skin of Vin's shoulder. Vin sighed, turned, and stropped his whiskered jaw against a small brown aureole. The tingle went straight to Chris' groin. He shifted long legs to ease the pressure.
"Who's the buyer? Miguel Sandoval?"
Larabee felt an amused smirk spread across his face. He snickered meanly. "Guess that war with the Alvarez family has heated up a mite."
The idea of selling Diego's stolen guns to the rival of the man who had tried to kill him amused him. "Poetic justice? Yeah..."
He stretched lazily as Ez prattled on, then clamped his mouth shut abruptly as a hot, wet tongue sleepily laved his nipple. Bright blue eyes twinkled up at him as Vin latched on to the tiny bud and began to suckle lazily. Larabee's green eyes began to glaze. He blinked and fought to maintain his composure. "Where do they want to meet? Oh, yeah..."
He curled his fingers in the curly chestnut mane and tugged hard to peel Tanner off his tingling tit. Vin released the tiny, throbbing bud with a wet slurp that curled Chris' toes. Slanting a mischievous gaze up at Chris' face, laughing blue eyes crinkled at the corners, he burrowed under the sheet, tousled head rooting its way south. Hard, calloused hands spread Chris' muscular thighs wide. Larabee gasped, one big hand knotting into the covers.
"Mr. Larabee, are you there?"
"Oh yeah...damn."
He concentrated hard, scowling, trying to ignore the delicious sensations between his legs. Vin was lazily rubbing his silky hair against Larabee's erect cock, even as he nibbled the sensitive, twitching skin of Chris' belly. Larabee's eyes nearly crossed when a hot, wet tongue abruptly curled around his swollen cock head and...slurped.
"Shit!"
There was an amused chuckle in his ear at his surprised croak. "Mr. Larabee, shall we rendezvous at the Saloon, ahem, perhaps in an hour?"
"Oh, hell yeah!"
The hapless cellphone sailed across the room to smash into the wall.
Vin raised his head from a wide-splayed, furry, golden thigh, licked his lips, and beamed up at Larabee. "Mornin', Cowboy."
Chris croaked a feeble reply and weakly flapped an arm in Vin's general direction. He squinted blearily at the cobwebbed ceiling. Funny, that smudge looked just like Buck's moustache...Where the hell did Tanner get his energy?
There was an irritated meow from beside the bed. He turned a dazed head to meet Miss Lily's bright eyes. Her tail switched impatiently. Breakfast was late.
"Not my fault."
Larabee croaked at the testy feline. Vin chuckled, sat up, and slapped Chris' thigh.
"Better get a move on, Cowboy. Time's 'a wastin'."
The young man bounced out of bed and headed down the hall. Miss Lily followed, fluffy tail held high. Finally! Someone was getting with the program. Larabee groaned. Lord, no one should be that damned perky in the morning!
The Saloon, The Parking Lot, 9:30 A.M.
Buck chuckled as Chris and Vin pulled their bikes into the lot a half hour late. An unshaven, sour-faced Chris suffered from a severe case of bedhead and wore his worn black leathers with his darkest shades. All that was missing was the hangover. Vin was bright-eyed and alert, as always in the mornings. Ezra stood nearby, also sporting dark sunglasses and clutching an extra large black coffee as he leaned sleepily against a flashy, souped up Corvette.Raphael, Josiah, JD, and Nathan slowly emerged from the Saloon. All four were bleary eyed and caffeine deprived. JD yawned, setting off a chain reaction down the line of bikers. Chris gave them a humorless smile. "Alright. We ready? Who's driving the truck?"
Raphael raised a hand, and stepped forward. Larabee tossed him the keys of the nondescript panel truck. The meet was to take place three hours south, in a small town near the Mexican border. If things went smoothly, they would be back home before dark. Chris turned to Vin and clasped his forearm. "See you tonight, pard. Say 'Hey' to Charlie and Irene for me."
Vin studied him gravely, dark blue eyes intent on his face.
"You sure ya don't want me ta ride along, Chris? I kin visit Charlie next week."
"Nah, Cowboy. Got plenty of backup with these yahoos. You don't want to miss Charlie's 65th birthday. Irene would take that damned wooden spoon of hers to your ass. I'll meet you here tonight."
They clasped arms again. Larabee gave him a leer and wink. Vin grinned, shook his head, and rumbled out of the lot. He opened the Magma up, popped the front wheel up, catwalked the big bike, then dropped down and roared off down the highway. Chris shook his head after him fondly. 'Showoff.'
Buck raised a surprised brow."Vin's not going?"
"It's Charlie's birthday," Chris answered quietly.
Buck nodded in immediate understanding. Charlie Truehorse had been the one bright light in Vin's abysmal childhood. The Native American bounty hunter had had no qualms whatsoever about hauling home a malnourished, scrawny teen that he had rescued off the streets of Houston. A mute, nearly feral Vin had been amazed at the warmth and love the Truehorses had extended to him.
Charlie had taught him to hunt game, both animal and human, to ride, track, and shoot. Irene had taught him herbology, how to gentle horses, and several Native American dialects. They both loved him fiercely. Their only child, a son, had died in the last days of fighting in Vietnam. Vin returned that fierce, unconditional love, watching over the elderly couple, and visiting them as often as possible.
"All right! Mount up. Let's head out." Larabee barked impatiently, and gunned the big, black Harley.
Rafe winked at a grinning Buck and climbed into the truck. Ezra slid into his 'vette, carefully adjusting his precious coffee in the cup holder. The others climbed on their bikes. The band of Dark Angels headed out, the truck and Corvette falling in behind their ranks.
Not one of them had noticed the dark van that had turned out of Blossom's parking lot across the road and followed Tanner.
White Horse Mesa, Charlie Truehorse's Trailer, Roughly 2:00 P.M.
Charlie leaned back in his chair under the awning of the trailer and patted his round belly happily. Chocolate birthday cake with raspberry filling was his favorite. A compact, stocky, broad shouldered man, his thick salt and pepper hair shaved in a brush cut, he was starting to spread a bit in his old age. He beamed fondly across the table at his shiye, his son. Vin was working on his third piece of cake, with little sign of slowing down.Irene shuffled out of the trailer door, carrying another tall glass of milk for her boy. Although she stood only five feet tall, she was almost as wide, and most of it was muscle. She had once picked Vin up after he had taken a bad tumble from a green horse, draped the groggy, semi-conscious teenager over one shoulder, and waddled placidly home--all three miles. When she deigned to speak at all, it was usually in Navajo.
She ran a work roughened hand through Vin's hair and gave his ponytail a sharp, loving tug as she silently set the milk by his hand. Mouth full, he nodded happily up at her in thanks. Charlie reached for the fingerprint smudged polaroid photo on the table. He chuckled at the picture of a frisking Peso, Vin's bandanna in his teeth. "So this is the horse that bit a bad ass biker in the ass!"
He and Vin snickered, both picturing the irate Larabee. Irene's mouth twitched. The Truehorses tolerated the Dark Angel because of Vin, but they were wary of him as well. Larabee's bad rep stood for itself. Still, if Vin cared for the man, then he was considered family, and that was that. Charlie's dark eyes twinkled up at his wife and he patted her ample behind fondly. "That was good cookin', Peaches! Might have put some meat on the boy this time!"
Irene snorted. She had been trying for years to fatten her boy up, to no avail. She poked Charlie's belly sharply instead. He turned wide, wounded eyes up at her. "Now Peaches, I only had two helpings of cake."
She put her hands on her broad hips.
"Okay, it might have been three..." he conceded sulkily. He glared across the table at Vin's snort. "Help me out here, boy."
Vin shook his curly head. "Nope. Ain't arguing with Miz Irene. Don't want no spanking with That Spoon."
The only spanking an astonished young Vin Tanner had ever had, had come from Irene Truehorse's hand and her trusty wooden spoon. She had turned the lanky boy over her knee after he stole and devoured a pie meant as a gift for her sister. It hadn't mattered a bit that he had stood a foot taller than she at the time. She welded 'That Spoon' like a queen's scepter as well as a favored kitchen implement, and both Charlie and Vin had learned to walk softly when she had it at hand.
Charlie huffed, and folded his arms. His pretend sulk vanished though, as he caught sight again of his birthday gift from Vin. He reached over and pulled the antique, ivory handled Bowie knife lovingly out of it's cherrywood case. Charlie and Vin shared a love of fine knives and firearms. It was Charlie who had discovered and nurtured Vin's phenomenal skill as a marksman.
He winked at Vin and made a slashing motion with the wickedly sharp blade. "Could scalp a few palefaces with this."
Irene gave a derisive snort and cast her eyes heavenwards as she gathered up dirty plates.
Vin jumped up to help, only to be pinched sharply for his pains. He yelped and sat back down hastily when she wagged a finger at him. He had forgotten that he was an honored guest today. He glared across the table as Charlie sniggered and beamed fondly after her.
"Don't look at me boy. You should know better. Reckon you got room on that fancy bike for all the leftovers she packed up for you?"
Vin gave his foster father his familiar, crooked grin. "Reckon I always got room for Miz Irene's mutton stew and fry bread."
"And cake too, you got to take home some for Larabee. Don't want him gunning for me."
"Reckon yer safe, Charlie, long as ya got Irene watchin' yer back. Chris don't want no part of that spoon."
They laughed softly together as Vin got up and prepared to take his leave. Irene came out of the trailer with several large tupperware containers. She handed them to Vin, then gave him a rib cracking squeeze goodbye. He 'oofed' and bent and dropped a shy kiss on her round cheek in return. She gave his curly ponytail another fond tug, murmured, "Tsiishch'ili," under her breath, and returned silently to the trailer.
Charlie grabbed his walking stick and walked him to his bike. Vin ambling slowly to accomodate his limping gait. Arthritis, and age had finally stopped Charlie's bounty hunting. He had chosen this birthday as his retirement year. He gave his boy a quick, loving hug.
"Don't be a stranger, boy. Bring Chris and the boys next time. It'll give Peaches something to fuss over."
"I will. Take care, Charlie."
"You too, son. Be careful on that machine."
Truehorse eyed the big, red Magma respectfully as Vin tucked his food in the saddlebags, climbed on, and started it up. In the old days, given the opportunity, a younger Charlie would have probably broken his neck on one. He ruefully decided to stick to horses of the four legged variety, and leave the iron horse to Vin. Vin flashed him a smile, lifted a hand, gunned the bike, and was gone, winding down the dirt road into the canyon below.
As he always did, Charlie limped over to the venerable pinon pine growing at the edge of the mesa. It was something of a ritual for him, to watch Vin go, and he enjoyed watching the boy open up his bike once he hit the straight stretch of highway on the canyon floor below. He could hear the purr of the bike's engine on the road as it wound down the mesa.
He waited patiently, sharp black eyes on the curve where Vin would emerge from the shadow of the mesa. What he saw in the next few minutes had him wheeling, and bellowing for Irene in a furious mixture of Zuni, English, and Navajo, as he limped back to the trailer as quickly as his crippled legs would allow. Some sonufabitchin' biligaana bastards had ambushed his boy.
+ + + + + + +
Vin had just reached the canyon floor and started to open the big bike up just as he had a thousand times before, when the bright red car suddenly wheeled from concealment behind the huge boulders at the curve, directly into his path. He braked and tried to swerve and lay the big bike down, but it was too late. He skidded, leaving a trail of rubber, and his front wheel struck the front end of the Miata at an angle, throwing him up over the hood. He threw his arms up to shield his head and tried to tuck and roll, but wasn't fast enough.
He had a brief glimpse of Ella Gaine's jeering face as his body struck the windshield, before white hot pain exploded in his arms and head, and momentum threw him over to crash and roll hard onto the blacktop. Additional pain sizzled through his hip and left leg. Dazed and semi-conscious, he fought to keep his senses, to try and stand, but his body refused to obey. He never saw the hard kick aimed at his head from the leader of the men who had emerged from the black van parked in the shadow of the mesa.
Ella Gaines smoothed her silk head scarf, checked her lipstick in the side mirror, and smiled down at the unconscious, battered body. Harper's men bent and grabbed Vin, dragged him across the road, and threw him in the back of the van. They followed, jumping in quickly, and within minutes the two vehicles were on the road, leaving Vin's twisted, smashed bike in the middle of the road. By the time a furious Charlie Truehorse, rifle in hand, reached the edge of the mesa above, they were gone.
Deming, New Mexico. Near the Mexican Border, Approx. 2:30P.M.
Chris Larabee leaned against his Harley, handsome face impassive. Inside, he thrummed with tension. He was growing more uneasy with each passing moment, unsure why, and it irritated him. Things were finally winding up. Ezra, with Raphael acting as translator as needed, had concluded the damned deal. Moodily, Larabee watched as Ez politely shook Miguel Sandoval's hand, accepting the hefty briefcase full of cash from the swarthy, nattily dressed Mexican jefe in exchange for the truck load of guns.An overturned semi on route 25 had delayed their arrival at the abandoned warehouse, spooking their buyer and nearly causing a wary Sandoval to cancel. Fortunately, Ezra P. Standish could talk the devil into investing in harp futures, and he had successfully soothed the man's frazzled nerves.
Miguel Sandoval bade Standish a polite farewell as he tossed the truck keys to one of his men. He cast a covert glance across the warehouse, where the blond leader of the Dark Angels lounged, flanked by his alert, heavily armed men. The man reminded Miguel of a lion surrounded by a particularly lethal pride. Larabee had remained silent, aloof in the background, while Standish and Cordova had efficiently conducted the business at hand.
Miguel had learned as much as possible about this tall, blond gringo in preparation for this important first meet.The man had a formidable reputation on both sides of the border. Sandoval had high hopes of further, profitable alliances with the Dark Angels.
He had nothing but the greatest respect for the man who commanded the firepower that had so easily taken out his rival, General Alvarez, and decimated Benito Delgado's operation. Nervously, he wondered if Larabee's sniper was watching them now. Even inside the warehouse, he felt unsafe. The nape of his neck itched fiercely.
The assassin who had taken out General Alvarez was known simply as El Muerte in Mexico. It was said he moved como la sombra del halcon, like the shadow of a hawk, bringing silent death to his victims. They neither saw, nor sensed his arrival until it was too late. Como un fantasma silenciosa. The shot that had killed Alvarez had been made from a phenomenal distance, and not a trace of the sniper found.
Chris Larabee waited with arms folded, long, leather clad legs stretched out, dressed in his customary black, the heavy Colt in his shoulder rig clearly visible. Buck flanked him on the left, easily cradling a heavy duty riot gun, big body seemingly relaxed, alert blue eyes on Sandoval's burly bodyguards. Nathan was crouched at his right, sleek in black leathers, lazily cleaning already immaculate nails with an extremely sharp knife, dark face impassive behind wrap around shades. Josiah towered moodily at their backs, pensive, pale blue eyes never leaving Sandoval's men as he thoughtfully fingered the cross and fetishs on the heavy chain around his neck. His big .357 Magnum was clearly visible in the cross holster over his broad chest. JD hovered in the doorway as lookout, trying hard to keep still, keeping one nervous eye outside, covering them from ambush from behind.
"Please extend to Senor Larabee my thanks. I hope we shall do business again soon."
Miguel spoke carefully, earnestly, in his best English.
Ezra returned his handshake heartily. "Ah shall do so, sir. It was an honor to do business with you."
Pleased at the Southerner's courtesy, Miguel inclined his head in respectful farewell to Senor Larabee, and took his leave, climbing into his luxurious, bullet proof Mercedes. His men scrambled to follow. Once their vehicles were out of sight, Standish sighed in relief. He beamed at Raphael and carried the case over to Larabee, popping it open to reveal the stacks of bills within.
Larabee cast a disinterested glance at their haul. Buck whistled and rubbed his palms together with childish glee. Standish beamed proudly. Josiah's face split in a toothy grin. Nathan shook his head, well aware that his friend's cut would end up in the Sisters of Mercy's coffers. Raphael kept a vigilant eye out, insuring they were still unobserved, while JD eyed the money hungrily, unconsciously licking his lips.
"Ez, you carry the cash. We'll split it at home. Buck, you know what to do with Vin's and my shares. Let's ride." Chris ordered curtly, not wanting to linger and attract unwanted attention.
"Hell, Chris, let's stop in Las Cruces at the steakhouse. I could eat a horse with the hide still on."
There was a general chorus of agreement with Buck's enthusiastic suggestion. Larabee reluctantly agreed. His men had done a good job, and they had not had time for lunch. His feeling of unease was growing, despite the fact the deal was successfully concluded, and they were practically home free. He turned to mount his bike.
Whooping happily in a release of tension, Buck goosed JD, slapped Ezra on the back, and threw a big arm around Raphael's shoulders. "You ride with me, pard."
He gave the shorter man a companionable squeeze that lingered, beaming down at him. Rafe shook his head, ruefully. How could one refuse such exuberance? Glancing over at Larabee, he saw that the blond was eyeing them thoughtfully, but the man said nothing. They mounted up and pulled out, heading north.
Rivera Ranchero, Red Rock Butte, Approx. 3:30P.M.
Vin Tanner awoke to a world filled with hurt. His head ached unmercifully, and his left eye was sticky and sealed shut with dried blood.He couldn't feel his hands. Dazed, he blinked down at his lap. Blood trickled steadily down his jaw. The late afternoon sun was hot and blinding on his face and body.
After a few minutes, he realized he was in some sort of greenhouse, and he that he was tied with his arms twisted behind his back to a sturdy wrought iron chair.He lifted his head with effort, trying to access his situation. He felt scraped raw all over. He hurt everywhere, especially his head, arms and left ankle, but the fact that he could neither move or feel his hands frightened him. He hated being helpless. He tried to shift the heavy chair, but couldn't budge it.
At his aborted attempts at movement, a thin, ferret-faced, ginger haired individual seated nearby, rose and regarded him silently, then turned and left. Vin blinked after him, licked his dry lips, tasting blood on the split lower one. He was hot and horribly thirsty, and knew that that was the very least of his problems. He was the prisoner of a crazy woman.
Closing his good eye, he slumped in the chair, trying to conserve what little strength he had. He would get only one chance, if any, and he had to be ready to move. Swallowing hard, he forced himself to relax and play possum. Chris would come for him, it was only a matter of time. Charlie would have seen the attack from the top of the mesa. He just had to be patient. Vin Tanner had long ago abandoned faith in God. He put his faith in a dark, fallen angel instead.
Las Cruces, La Paloma Steakhouse, 3:45P.M.
The Dark Angels spilled out of the restaurant, replete with good food and high spirits. Bucklin T. Wilmington had just been shot down in a spectacular fashion by a sassy, wisecracking, blonde waitress, and his friends were delighting in insuring that he never forgot it. Larabee's lips quirked in an amused smile as he listened to Buck's loud, blustering protests to the friendly jeering.He doubted that anyone else had noticed the interplay between Buck and Raphael. During the meal they had sat close together in the booth, arms brushing as they ate. Buck stole half of Rafe's potato wedges, casually invading the smaller man's personal space, draping an affectionate arm over his shoulders, leaning close when he spoke to him. On the bike, Raphael sat easily against Buck's back, one broad hand resting casually, possessively on the tall man's hip.
This was a new twist in Buck's love life. Granted, he fucked every nubile female that moved, but to Larabee's knowledge, he had never slept with any of the gang, other than Chris himself. He would wait and see. Maybe Buck needed a dominant male constant in his life, and Raphael was a good man. Larabee would reserve judgment.
Buck had just swung a long leg over his bike, when his cellphone trilled the opening notes of "Love Me Tender," from his vest pocket. Still hotly defending his seduction techniques, he pulled it out and flipped it open. "H'lo?" He frowned, winced, and withdrew the shrieking phone from his ear. "Inez! Parle English darlin'. I can't understand a word you say...yeah...yeah, he's here." Smile dying on his handsome face, he wordlessly extended the phone to Chris.
Heart pounding, Chris took the phone, guiltily remembering that he'd smashed his own cell earlier that morning against the bedroom wall. "Inez, yeah, it's me. Yeah? Let me speak to him."
The others watched, alarmed when Larabee paled and swayed on his feet. Buck rushed forward, hands out, only to be brushed off as Chris regained control. "Charlie? What EXACTLY happened? When? Speak English, man! Okay, we're about three hours south, we're on our way."
He was hurrying towards the Harley even as he spoke."We'll find him, I promise. I know who has him. Tell Irene everything will be alright. I'll call."
Larabee snarled in fury, cursed viciously, whirled, and threw Buck's phone against the brick wall of the restaurant as hard as he could. He was shaking with fury. He had been a fool. He had underestimated Ella, and Vin had paid the price.
"Chris?"
He whirled on Buck, face an anguished mask, and spat, "That was Charlie. He's at the Saloon. He's been trying to find us. A dark haired woman in a red car-- Ella, ran Vin off the road. Her men threw him in a van. The fucking bitch!"
Faces hardening, the Dark Angels rallied around their leader. Buck watched his closest friend carefully. He more than anyone, knew what would happen if the sharpshooter was dead. There would be hell to pay. Chris would rampage, then let himself sink into a morass of black rage, guilt and despair. He stepped forward and laid a firm, comforting hand on Larabee's shoulder. "We'll get the boy back, Chris. Junior's tough as old boots. The bitch is going down."
Chris ran a shaking hand through his hair as he fought his black rage down. He dared not lose control and berserk now. Vin needed him. He took a deep breath, seeking calm. He had to think, plan. He licked his lips and turned to his men. Fuck! Why did they have to be halfway across the damned state!
"We go hammer down. Straight up 25, cut over to Red Rock Butte, no stopping! JD, Ezra, you take turns busting those speedtraps outside of Socorro and Albuquerque. Lose the cops. Run your vehicles through the chopshop, after. You can meet up with us later at Ella's. Whatever happens, come hell or high water, WE DO NOT STOP! Understood?"
"Indeed, Mr. Larabee."
"We're with you brother."
"We'll find him, Chris."
They mounted up quickly. Heartened by their unconditional support, Larabee gunned his bike, the others falling in to flank him as they roared up the highway. Ezra paced them in the speedy Corvette.
'I'm on my way, Cowboy. Hold on. I love you.' He had never told Vin that aloud. He prayed he would get the chance. Any cop fool enough to try and stop them would pay the ultimate price.
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