Disclaimers: Characters stolen without permission, but no one really cares anyway.
Warnings: Mild slash (nothing graphic). Abundant Angst, Violence, H/C (eventually)
Comments: This started out as a small moment inspired by the song "Breathing" by Lifehouse, (which my daughters tell me is a Christian song, though it screamed "Vin! Chris!" to me) but morphed into something much bigger. I said I would never write slash or an Ella fic, but you know that old saying "never say never". Chris and Vin's thoughts are sprinkled here and there in italics for no particular reason. One more thing - I love all of the boys. Trust me. I also love Vin's face - trust me on that, too.
P.S. The title is taken from a wonderful song by REM about daring to be who you really are.
Prologue: Crumbs
I take what I can get . . .It was unseasonably warm, but a gentle breeze pulled the hair from Vin's neck and filtered beneath the sweat-soaked bandana to lightly kiss his skin. Diamond stars dotted the sky, dangling just out of reach to taunt him. Not his to have, like so many things.
He stopped asking a long time ago.
He would have liked nothing better than to go to ground; spend the night shifting on the hard earth, watching and waiting for the stars to swoop him up and carry him away. A fanciful thought for a man normally so grounded. But even Vin could dream.
He tried not to, though.
Don't get your hopes up . . .
Chris wouldn't do it; wouldn't sleep in the dirt with a perfectly decent town and a reasonably soft mattress nearby. They'd been riding all day, he'd say. They needed a stiff drink, a hot meal, and a warm bed, in that order.
And Chris got what he wanted. Vin went along with it because that's the way it was. Chris said go and he went; said stay and he stayed. Only twice had he tried to ride away, and twice he came back.
Charlotte was a mistake, simply put. Not so simple falling into it, though, and even harder to climb back out. For Chris it was a matter of trust - never easily given and nearly impossible to regain once lost.
For Vin, it was only about need. Nothing more and nothing less. It was his weakness; a serious flaw in his character that tripped him up time and again. If he couldn't be loved, he'd settle for the next best thing. The absurdity of it was that Charlotte couldn't possibly need him as much as he needed her to need him. And in the end, the only purpose he'd served was to show her how much she needed her husband. That, and to drive a subtle wedge between him and Chris.
It took only moments to realize he'd been a fool, but weeks to set it right.
The second time it was Chris who lost his head; the sting of the truth about Ella hitting low and hard. Vin hated saying it, hated being the one, but he couldn't figure a way around it. Couldn't sit back and watch her destroy Chris, either, and she would. Vin could see it as clearly as hoof prints in soft red clay.
Nothing to do then but walk away - trust a fragile thing for Vin, as well. Not wanted, not needed . . .
But he came back. For the boys, he told himself. Ella was wicked, though he didn't know then the depth of her evil, and he couldn't deny the sick feeling deep in his gut. Bad things looming and someone would get hurt.
It wasn't supposed to be Chris.
That was when he knew - that very moment when he picked Chris up off the ground and called for Nathan - that was when he knew how it was. How he was.
An independent heart, he'd always made his own way, at first by circumstance and later by choice. But Chris changed all that. The man might only say three words in a day, but Vin hung on every single one.
"Town up ahead. Lookin' forward to a hot meal and a warm bed," Chris said then, his words nearly lost in a sudden gust of wind.
"Yep," Vin answered, not looking up from beneath the brim of his hat. Didn't need to; he could see the expression Chris wore in his mind . . . in the stars and the wind . . . in his dreams every night.
"I reckon you'd rather camp out," Chris offered smugly, not mean or spiteful, but obviously taking some pleasure in ruffling Vin's feathers a bit.
"Reckon," Vin agreed, dropping the subject, not in the mood.
They kept riding, like Vin knew they would.
It wouldn't be so bad. They'd get a room. Chris would take the bed, Vin the floor. He'd spend the night listening to Chris breathe, a habit he'd picked up after Ella. They'd almost lost Chris after all; first with a bullet and later with whiskey.
Buck had thrown up his hands, while everyone else just kept their distance. Except Vin. He'd taken to watching over Chris as discreetly as he could; stopping him from blowing the wrong man's head off when he was consumed with black anger, or carrying him some place safe when he'd passed out in some seedy alley. Watching him breathe . . .
He'd missed the shot. The most important shot of his life, and he was paying for it still. Or rather, Chris was. Months had passed since Ella had disappeared into the landscape - the taste of failure still bitter in Vin's mouth. He'd searched for two weeks and come back empty-handed, like every tip he'd ever learned about tracking had leaked clean out of his head. He told himself she was just that good. But it was the tug of home that distracted him; turned him back the way he came. Back to Chris . . .
He'd spent every night of those two weeks on the ground, under a blanket of stars. But for the first time in his life, he couldn't feel the light of a single one. Couldn't have found peace if it jumped up and bit him. All he could see was Chris, bleeding on the ground, his face a mask of shock and hatred and despair. And Vin had missed the damn shot.
He wasn't even certain when he rode after her that Chris was going to survive. Had the wound gone bad? Had the realization of what she'd done to his family sent Chris over the edge once and for all? Would he even be there when Vin got back?
I had to come back . . .
But Chris was there when he returned to town, and Vin had stuck by his side ever since. No rhyme or reason to that, but that's how it was. Vin followed him around like a lapdog; protecting his back when Chris too was stupid or too drunk or too damn pissed off to do it himself . . . lapping up the scraps and crumbs that fell from his table.
So caught up in his memories that he'd stopped riding, though he didn't realize it until Chris gently chided him, "How long you planning on sitting there, staring at nothing, Pard?"
A soft huff was his answer as he kneed Peso to move on.
They ambled into a dusty town an hour later. Not more than a dozen timber structures and one dirt road in the whole place, but the saloon was bursting at the seams. Garish music and booming voices cut through the rising wind, the stench of smoke and sweat and whiskey joining in for the ride.
Vin winced and shook his head. Not in the mood, so he offered to take the horses to the livery and get them settled for the night.
"No," Chris countered with a shake of his head. "Just tie 'em up out here. We'll get a drink first."
He could have argued. There was a time when he would have, but that time was long gone.
The wind was picking up, working into a storm as patchy clouds blotted out the stars, and Vin had to reach up and anchor his hat as he made his way onto the boardwalk. He saw Chris do the same, but he wished he hadn't. For a moment, he wished that a breeze had caught hold and whipped his friend's hat off. There was nothing finer than a cool wind kissing that golden head.
Well, one thing finer, and Vin's cheeks flamed just thinking of it. It was weeks ago, after a long night of hard drinking on Chris's part. Vin had put him to bed and settled in on the floor beside him. He kept the wick down low, in case Chris got sick in the night, and a soft glow hovered over the blond hair like a halo. Without conscious thought, Vin found himself on his knees at the man's side. His fingers sought out the yellow strands, and he thought it would be enough - just touching. But it wasn't. He had to smell it, taste it - his lips drawn to it like a man dying of thirst is drawn to water. Might be poison, but what choice does he have?
A stolen moment, like so many others . . . a crumb.
I take what I can get . . .
They settled at a table in the back of the saloon, a bottle appearing instantly without so much as a nod from either man. Chris poured two glasses of the amber liquid and drank one down before Vin even got a notion to start.
Several minutes passed when Chris spoke up, "What're you thinkin' on so hard tonight?"
Vin opened his eyes wider, ignoring the sting of smoke, and leveled his gaze at Chris. Caught off guard, though not for the first time . . . Chris had a way.
"Nothin' important," he replied with a shrug.
Feelings tearing him up inside and he wasn't sure how much longer he could go on that way. But it really didn't matter. He'd told the truth - it wasn't important.
Chris took a long drag on the cheroot he'd lit, and leaned back into his chair. His eyes drifted over the riffraff in the crowed room, before settling on Vin once again as he exhaled.
The smoke caught him wrong, blues eyes watering, and Vin pulled a hand across his face to wipe away the moisture. Chris took notice and sat up straighter; something passing through his hazel eyes as he snuffed the cheroot out on the table. He might have said something then, but a waitress draped herself on his lap and whispered something in his ear before he had the chance.
She wasn't pretty, not to Vin's eyes, but he couldn't guess what Chris found enticing. Ella had soured Vin's stomach from the get-go, but he knew Chris had found a good deal of pleasure in her arms. For a time, anyway.
Long, black hair swung and dark eyes flashed when Chris pushed the thin body away from him and said tersely, "Just food."
Chris had a way with women when he wanted to, but he could be downright hard when he didn't. The woman shook it off though and moved on, and Vin swallowed a wave of jealousy. If only he could do the same so easily.
They ate in silence, Vin reluctantly admitting that the juicy steak and warm bread might have been worth the suffocating crowd and stale air. It didn't take long, though, for the meal to sit heavy in his stomach. Thick smoke clouded his head and stole his breath, and like an itch too long denied, he couldn't wait another second to make a move.
He left the saloon without a word or glance at Chris. Moments later, as he led Peso to a vacant stall at the livery, he heard his friend come up behind him. No surprise there - he'd expected Chris to follow and take care of his own horse. But a firm grip on his shoulder immobilized him.
Like fire, Chris's touch, but he didn't flinch. Chris would never touch him again if he knew how it affected him, and that was one crumb Vin couldn't give up.
"Let's not, Vin. Let's just move on," Chris said tenderly, as if he was speaking with a skittish colt or a frightened child. Or maybe even a nervous lover -Vin wouldn't know.
It took all he had not to melt into the voice as he mumbled, "Might rain."
"Might. Don't reckon a little water would hurt either one of us, though," Chris replied, offering more than he had in a long, long time.
Don't get your hopes up . . .
They made camp an hour later, stretching a canvas tarp below a thick canopy of trees. It was enough to keep them dry when the rain finally came, or mostly dry. Every once in awhile, a good gust would slant the moisture their direction - sting their skin a bit, add sizzle and spit to the small fire they'd built. But they were warm and protected in their bedrolls, lying side by side on the packed earth. Vin couldn't imagine a more perfect night, though he doubted Chris would agree.
He was sure of it a few moments later when Chris grumbled, "Can't figure how a man with a back like yours would prefer to sleep on hard rock and wet dirt."
Vin's face couldn't hide his surprise. He'd never talked about his back problem with Chris. Never figured Chris even noticed.
"I ain't blind, Vin," Chris offered before Vin had the chance to formulate a response. "I see a lot of things."
The rain picked up, but the tarp and overhang of limbs muted the sound to a gentle tapping above them. Chris sat up to poke the fire, prolonging its life for another half hour at best. He turned his head towards Vin, meeting him eye to eye, waiting to see if he would reply.
Never had he backed down from Chris Larabee's gaze. It just wasn't in him. He might think the man walked on water - when he wasn't being an ass - but he wasn't afraid of him.
Until now.
What do you see? What do you know?
Vin pulled himself up on one elbow, his free hand picking at the strings of his bedroll, his eyes now riveted to the stony ground. He remained silent.
Coward.
"I know what you've done for me, Vin. I know how many times you've sacrificed your wants and your needs for me."
What the hell was wrong with Larabee? The man had far surpassed his verbal limit and Vin wanted to tell him to just stop. Stop now before it was too late to take it back; to stop words from springing free that weren't meant to be released ever.
But he didn't say it, and Chris didn't stop. "What I don't know is why. Why would a man like you waste his time with a man like me?"
Sensing Chris wasn't about to shut up until he had an answer, Vin shrugged and glanced up through long lashes. "Ain't figured it out yet. God knows you can be one stupid sonuvabitch on occasion."
Not a lie - not entirely.
Chris laughed lightly as he shuffled back to the bed roll and climbed inside. He turned on his side to mirror Vin, propped up on his elbow. "You can add selfish and arrogant and too damn stubborn for my own good to that list," he said, a hint of laughter still shading his voice.
He could, Vin thought, sure enough. Chris Larabee was all of those things at one time or another. But he couldn't speak his agreement; couldn't say anything at all in fact. Not with Chris drilling him with those eyes. And a moment later, when Chris took his hand and stilled the fingers that toyed nervously with the loose threads of his bedding, he could hardly breathe, let alone talk.
"I can be other things, too, Vin," Chris said, lowering his voice to something warm and seductive, except it couldn't be that.
Or could it? Was Chris offering a crumb? Or a promise?
Vin wasn't sure. Maybe it was all a game. Maybe Chris was playing with him, seeing exactly how far he could push before Vin either gave in or gave up. But no, that would just be cruel and Chris was indeed a lot of things, but never cruel.
Vin swallowed and looked away as he slipped onto his back once again. Chris dropped his hand, but kept his gaze steady. Nerves of steel - it was no mystery why Larabee never lost in a draw.
"I . . . I reckon you can be anythin' y' wanna be, Chris," Vin stammered, his eyes locked on the canvas tarp above him. No star to guide him behind the layers of canvas and leaves and rain clouds. On his own, like always.
Until you . . .
Rolling onto his back with a heavy sigh, Chris replied, "What I want and what I need ain't necessarily the same thing, Vin."
As if that simple statement explained it all: Chris's uncharacteristically generous behavior, his concern, his touch.
It was maddening, trying to reason Larabee out - and generally not worth the effort. Torturous, in fact, to put up with the man. And yet . . .
"I need to find Ella," Chris continued. "Put her behind me. And then . . . then I can concentrate on what I want . . . on what we want."
Drawn like a magnet to his eyes, Vin turned his head and sought the truth there.
A promise.
I take what I can get . . .
Part One: With or Without You
I know what I want . . .It was months in the making. Like a slow stream that with time and rain swelled into a creek, a river, a raging flood. A glance across a dusty street, a bottle over a campfire, a nod in a gunfight . . . simple moments, small and insignificant, that added up to something extraordinary.
And there were not so simple moments as well: Vin pulling him out of the mud, stilling his hand or his mouth because he was too drunk or too stupid to do it for himself, tenderly caring for him when he was sick in his stomach, sicker in his heart. Too many moments, far too many for him to categorize or sort out in his head.
And it had all washed over Chris that night; picked him up and carried him away until words were spoken and a promise made.
A promise he couldn't keep.
Two weeks had passed since that rainy night. Fourteen long days and endless, lonely nights could not lessen the heat of Vin's hand in his; couldn't diminish the hope in Vin's eyes.
He'd meant it at the time. Chris wanted nothing more than to sort this thing out with Vin - find a way to mold what they had into something fine and everlasting. It seemed possible that night, with Ella the only obstacle between them. It was easy to think things, feel things, say things because he didn't really believe they'd ever find her. Didn't think he'd have to keep that promise - no matter how much he wanted to.
The fact that he did want to - that he wanted Vin - was a shock he still hadn't come to grips with. He hadn't planned on having anyone in his life ever again, let alone a man . . . especially a man.
It was subtle at first - a small twinge in his gut when Vin smiled a certain way. Months later, that twinge simmered into a low heat when Vin rasped out a sarcastic reply to one of JD's bad jokes or Ezra's snide comments. Until finally, hot flames erupted down deep and low when he caught Vin looking at him - wanting him - saying things with his eyes and his heart that Chris knew he could never say with his lips.
So many nights he'd spent easing that ache alone in his room with his own hand, the vision of a square jaw and clear blue eyes spurring him on. The next morning, he'd be wracked with guilt . . . and sick with fear.
He didn't want to believe he'd fallen for Vin that way, and he sure as hell didn't want to go on like that, so he tried to drive him away. It wasn't hard to act like a selfish sonuvabitch, especially since Ella had turned his world on end. But no matter what he said or how rudely he behaved, Vin stayed on.
And that night, when he finally let himself see how badly he was hurting Vin, he just couldn't pretend any longer.
I want you . . .
It was deadly for two men to love each other, though he and Vin might could pull it off - discretion not something either one of them had to work at. He'd turned that around more than once on a cold night, how he and Vin could be together without anyone knowing. Even their friends - especially their friends.
But it was all just speculation and wishful thinking with Ella still looming over his head.
It all changed just that morning, though. It was a fluke - a twist of fate or quirk of timing. Buck and JD were in a saloon near the border when they heard tell of a rich, white woman setting up a spread nearby. She was looking to hire on a dozen men and paying good money, too. JD wanted to check it out right then, but for once Buck let reason overrule impulse, and they'd headed straight back to town.
Vin was with him when Buck shared the news. Tanner didn't say a word, just got up and saddled his horse. The others wanted to ride along as well, but Chris vetoed that idea. He wasn't sure how he was going to handle Ella, but it his friends didn't need to be involved. It was personal. It was also bound to get ugly, and he didn't want anyone else hurt on her account - didn't think he could bear it.
And yet he'd put the man he cherished most in harm's way.
I can't do this without you . . .
Shifting in his saddle, Chris turned his gaze to his partner. Vin was focused on the trail, his back ramrod straight and rigid. Tense, like a rattler ready to strike, and Chris smiled grimly at how accurate that simile was.
"Relax, Vin," he said then, wishing Tanner would adopt his customary slouch. Damn back was a constant source of aggravation for the man, though he never admitted it.
Vin mumbled a disgruntled version of "I'm fine," but he didn't ease up.
No one had questioned why he'd allowed Vin - and only Vin - to join him. He was their tracker and sharpshooter, his skills alone made him the obvious choice. But Chris wondered if they'd caught on that there was so much more there. Did they know that he needed Vin beside him like he needed air?
Of course it was apparent that he and Vin had grown to be friends, good friends. They generally rode together, ate together, played a hand of cards and shared a bottle. No one suspected there was more to it than that.
No, they didn't know, couldn't know the truth. It would be dangerous for both of them, but for Vin especially because Chris knew how it would look. He'd lost his wife and child in a horrible fire. Unbearable grief and justifiable rage excused most anything. It was Vin who would take the brunt of the condemnation. Already a bit of an outsider - an Indian sympathizer could never be trusted - Vin would shoulder the blame for leading Chris down the path of sin and eternal damnation.
And someone would kill him.
I can't take that chance . . .
"We'll get her this time, Chris," Vin suddenly spoke up.
A rare occasion when Vin misread his thoughts, but Chris didn't enlighten him, merely nodding instead. They would get Ella. He was sure of it. In spite of the lack of concrete evidence, he had no doubt they were on the right trail, no doubt he'd finally see an end to this.
And then what?
Bitter hatred and the desperate, driving need for revenge had fueled for him so long now. What would happen when that force, that reason, was gone? There'd be nothing left to hide behind. And since he'd already determined he couldn't risk living with Vin -because he for damn sure couldn't live without him - what exactly would he be living for?
"One thing at a time, Cowboy," Vin said with a hollow smile.
He should have known he couldn't keep Tanner out of his head for long.
They made camp that night, more for the horses' benefit than their own. Sleep wasn't likely to be on the agenda for either man. Vin had prowled the area for a good hour, looking for God only knew what. He came back silent and empty handed, grimacing when he finally took a seat on a fallen log next to the fire. Chris handed him a cup of coffee and tried not to notice how a soft breeze lifted the hair from his friend's face when he took off his hat. More than once Chris had imagined threading his fingers through those tangled strands.
Vin took the offered brew, briefly meeting his eyes, before leaning forward to pick up a loose stick. He kept his gaze on the ground, haphazardly poking at the packed earth with the long twig - obviously uncomfortable in Chris's presence like he'd never been before. Chris figured it would be a long night of heavy silence, but he was wrong.
"Y' don't have to go through with it y' know," Vin said softly, focusing on the simple pattern he was drawing in the dirt.
Chris feigned ignorance. "Go through with what?"
With a sigh, Vin replied, "What y' said a few weeks back. After we find Ella, nothin' has t' change."
Letting Chris off the hook - thinking that was what he wanted - and nothing further from the truth.
"Vin . . . it's not . . . it's not like that."
Vin's head shot up at that, and he must have wrenched his back because he winced before he caught himself. "What is it like then?"
Chris swallowed and sidestepped the issue. "If your back's bothering you, Nathan gave me some ointment. Said it helps - when you let him use it."
"Nathan talks too much."
"I could help you . . ." he began, but he didn't complete the offer. Just the thought of massaging that muscular back . . . touching, caressing . . . it could only lead to other things . . . things neither one of them was prepared for. And if anyone found out, if anyone even guessed what he was thinking . . .
It was apparent by the way Vin was staring at him that he'd figured out exactly what he was thinking, but he didn't call him on it. Just sat there patiently waiting for some sort of honest reply to his question.
"I'm scared, Vin," Chris admitted under his breath, though he knew Vin heard every muffled syllable.
"You think I'm not?"
Of course he was, but not for the same reason. Vin didn't let anyone too close, maybe partly because he hadn't had the opportunity, but mostly because he was still a wanted man. He couldn't afford it.
"No. That's not what I mean. I'm scared for you. Scared what could happen to you if anyone found out."
"Scared for me? Hell Chris, y' think this life comes with guarantees? How many times we faced down more than our fair share of bullets?" Vin argued, confusion written in the crease on his forehead.
"Not the same thing, Vin. I couldn't . . . I can't be the reason."
Understanding dawned swiftly in sad, blue eyes as Vin shook his head and whispered, "Some things are worth the risk, Chris."
He stood then and started to walk away, but Chris rose to his feet and gripped his arm.
"Vin . . ." he started, but what was there to say? What did he expect? That Vin would follow him around for the rest of his life like a lost puppy? Content with the crumbs he tossed his way now and then?
No. That wouldn't work for either of them. It had to be all or nothing.
With or without you . . .
As always, Vin understood. "It's alright. Ella comes first," he said softly.
Which was still right and still true, and so they entered the small border town that next afternoon with nothing resolved between them.
They left blazing sunshine at the door of the saloon; the inside of the establishment cloaked in shadows and dust. Like a thousand others in a thousand other dirty, dusty towns, and Chris wondered when his life became about chasing dust with whiskey. No, he knew exactly when that happened, and he still couldn't wrap his head around the fact that Ella was behind it all.
The man behind the bar was tall and thin with a thick black mustache. He glanced up at them as they entered, but he didn't say anything, just poured a couple of drinks and slid them across the bar.
Vin wasted no time and asked, "Heard there's a woman lookin' t' take on a few men."
The bartender's dark eyes narrowed at the corners as he answered, "She was. A few days back. Why? You interested?"
Feeling oddly detached, Chris kept quiet as he watched the scene play out. He noticed that the tall man's mustache twitched when his lips moved, but the rest of the man remained still. Weighing them out - and not liking what he saw.
Uncharacteristically edgy, Vin forged ahead, "Might be. Where's this place at?"
The bartender didn't bother to hide his suspicion any longer. "You two don't look much like ranch hands."
So Ella had her hooks in him, too, by the way he was protecting her. And Chris didn't know whether to feel sick or relieved that he wasn't the only one who fell for her lies.
"And you don't look much like a barkeep," Vin said before taking a long, lingering drink from his glass. "In fact, y' look familiar . . . like I might've seen your picture somewhere."
Eying Vin for a long moment, the man licked his lips and answered, "She's set up ten miles northeast of here. Take a left out of town, and another at the first fork in the road. Can't hardly miss it."
Tipping his hat, Vin swallowed the rest of his drink and walked out with Chris close behind.
It wasn't till they were remounted and heading out of town that it occurred to Chris that he hadn't even opened his mouth. How and when he'd decided to let Vin take the lead, he wasn't sure. Although judging by the determined set of Vin's shoulders, maybe it wasn't his choice after all. It seemed that Vin was as desperate to see this through as he was - maybe more so. Maybe Vin thought he had something to gain when this was all over, or maybe he just cared enough about him to want to end it for him.
"You really know anything about that bartender or were you bluffing?" Chris asked after they'd left the backwater town in the dust.
With a shrug, Vin answered him, "Everybody 'round here has somethin' t' hide."
Chris nodded.
Including me . . . especially me . . .
The miles passed quickly, in spite of the fact that neither man spoke a word from there on out. Vin kept his gaze fixed to the trail, as if it might up and disappear at any second. Chris, on the other hand, couldn't shake the feeling that he was watching it all unfold from someplace far removed from his body.
"Let's go up on that ridge there," Vin suggested, pulling Chris from the void. "We can get a better look what we're ridin' into."
"Yeah," Chris agreed, grateful once again that at least Vin was capable of reason.
He was right, too. They could see the entire spread from up on the crest. Ella had inherited money from her husband - a lot of it. Half a dozen men were putting up fencing, while another half dozen were painting a large, two story home.
Vin was already lying flat on his belly, the spy glass pressed to his eye, when Chris dropped down beside him.
"Any sign of her?" he asked. It was Ella's place, he was sure of it, though undoubtedly there were other rich, white women in the territory. His gut could be wrong - Ella had proven that in the worst way - but not this time.
Vin shook his head. "Nah. You wanna head down there tonight, or wait 'til mornin'?"
Chris took in the setting sun. It was an angry sky, burnt orange and scarlet red - the colors of fire and blood - and a shiver coursed through him.
Two against twelve, or maybe more, didn't scare him. But she did. Ella was a deadly combination of smart, mean, and crazy. If only his life was at risk, he wouldn't think twice, but he had Vin with him.
"No sense rushing into a bad situation. We'll wait. Get the lay of things . . . come up with a plan," Chris said, with far more patience than he had a right to.
Clearly disappointed, Vin mumbled, "Alright," before moving off to set up camp.
It would be another long night, but at least Vin would be under the stars he coveted so. Although judging from the way the man was on the prowl again, maybe he intended to forfeit sleep once more. That was another Tanner mystery, how the man could seemingly go for days without closing his eyes when he was on a hunt.
Chris couldn't say the same. In fact, he was exhausted, though admittedly Vin had done all the work. He'd just blindly followed along, devoid of thought or emotion. That notion should have conjured up all kinds of guilt, but he couldn't even summon the energy to feel bad about it. It was amazing how draining it was to not think.
She was there as he slept, like always, just waiting for him to close his eyes and lower his defenses. Shrouded in darkness, only the whites of her eyes and her teeth marking her presence, but he knew it was her. Every night, for months on end, she'd come. And it was always the same. He'd make love to her, feel her in his arms, his tongue in her mouth . . . mounting passion that he knew was wrong, wicked and evil, yet he couldn't stop. Sarah and Adam called to him, begged him to help them. But still he lay with her, unable to go to them - trapped in Ella's bed.
Their images had haunted him for three years; his wife and son consumed in fire as they pleaded for mercy, screamed his name. But it changed when he found out Ella was behind their deaths. Flames still licked their sweet bodies, but now they looked at him with contempt, as if he'd betrayed them, and maybe he had.
On this night, though, something was different. She emerged from gray shadows, her hair black as night and her face pure white, as if she'd drained the world of color. "You can't have him," she said.
She pushed him down on the bed and he was, like always, powerless to stop her.
But Vin wasn't. He came up from behind, soft and silent as a summer breeze, and gripped Ella by the arm, yanking her off of him. "I'll take care of her," he promised, and all Chris could see then was the clear blue of Vin's eyes as he moved to take Ella's place.
Vin's lips met his, and for the first time in a long time, Chris didn't hear screams of agony or pleas for help. He deepened the kiss, thrust his tongue in Vin's mouth and laced his fingers through his hair, and it was perfect and real and right.
But suddenly Vin gasped and arched above him. A thin line of blood trickled from his mouth and his eyes dulled as he whispered, "It was worth it . . . worth the risk."
No!
"Chris darling, when will you learn to listen to me?" Ella laughed bitterly as she pulled a bloody knife from Vin's back and waved it in front of him. "I always get my way."
"No! I'll kill you!" Chris screamed, but Vin's limp body pinned him to the bed and he was helpless.
No! Please . . .
The image suddenly changed and he found himself standing in the dusty streets of Four Corners. Vin lay bloody and still on the ground, being kicked and beaten by a dozen men until he was unrecognizable. Mrs. Potter walked by and spit on him, while Buck and Ezra shook their heads and walked away.
Chris grabbed Buck by the arm and yelled, "What are you doing?"
And Buck said, "Just don't think Vin's right for this particular job. It's not personal."
Buck had said that before, though he couldn't place when or where. It didn't matter. All that mattered was that he'd lost Vin . . . lost him before he'd even had him. Chris dropped to his knees, arms hugging his chest as his heart ripped in two.
Ella appeared before him then, and she looked down with disdain at what used to be Vin. "What a mess!" she exclaimed. "Only one way to get rid of it." Striking a match, she tossed it at Vin's broken body and slipped into the shadows.
But Chris heard her voice echo in his head, "I can make it happen - just like this."
No! No . . . please. . .
"Shh . . . shh . . . it's alright."
Vin . . .
Gentle hands caressed his hair and warm breath skimmed his ear and jaw. Chris opened his eyes to meet Vin's, unashamed of the stubborn tear that broke free and rolled across his cheek.
"I'll take care of her, Cowboy . . . I promise," Vin whispered as he brushed away the moisture with a single finger.
Not her . . .
Chris tried to speak, but he couldn't find his voice. Vin was alive - there was still time. He had to touch the straight nose, the whiskered jaw, the perfect lips before slipping his hand behind Vin's neck and pulling him closer. Noses touched as Vin sighed, his breath lost within Chris's own.
It's you . . .
He tried to hold it back, that deep, dark place that held only pain and loss, but he was overcome with despair and foreboding. A soft cry shook loose, grief and fear too powerful to be subdued.
Lips barely brushed as Vin whispered again, "Shh . . . don't worry now . . . it'll be over soon."
No, it was only beginning. But Vin didn't know. He thought Chris wept for his lost family. He hadn't seen . . .
I cry for you . . .
Chris wrapped his arms around Vin, pulling him tight against him, holding on. Through the layers of bedroll and coats and clothes, he was certain he could feel Vin's strong heart bounding out of his chest. He could hardly breathe as their mouths touched, and he heard Vin groan, "Chris."
Vin was right - there was nothing certain in this life, only the moment, and he took it. One hand fisted in Vin's coat, the other in his hair, as he pressed forward to take Vin's mouth. Like a dream, yet so very real . . . as if they'd been destined to be joined like this since time began. He felt Vin respond, urgent and desperate, framing his face with his hands and bruising his lips with his teeth.
But after only moments, Vin abruptly pulled away. He sat up, breathing heavily, and pulled his hand across his mouth. "I . . . can't . . ." he mumbled, leaving Chris equally breathless and more than a little confused.
"I thought . . . I thought you wanted this, Vin?"
"I do," Vin said, his penetrating gaze leaving no doubt how very much he did want it. "But not like this. You're not thinkin' clear. You don't know what you want, Chris . . . it ain't the right time."
I do know . . .
Vin started to get up to move away, but Chris latched onto his arm. "Just . . . don't leave."
I need you . . .
So Vin stayed. He spent the remainder of the night lying at Chris's side, like always; doing his bidding and getting nothing in return. And even though Chris knew Vin was right - that it wasn't the right time - the aching need to touch him and hold him and kiss him again was almost unbearable.
It occurred to him that it might have been Vin's way of paying him back for all of the times he'd frustrated him, but considering how Vin laid stiff and unnatural beside him, clearly the frustration went both ways. It was ridiculous - the two of them could fight off an army but couldn't fight their way around their feelings for each other? Somehow they'd let it get too damn complicated.
Conversely, finding Ella turned out to be amazingly simple.
Chris didn't think he'd sleep the rest of the night, but he must have because the next thing he knew, dawn was breaking and Vin was shaking him by the shoulder.
"We got her," Vin said, then turned and took off down the rocky slope.
By the time Chris had caught up to him, they were only a few hundred yards from the homestead. Vin continued on a bit further before crouching down behind a boulder and handing the spy glass to Chris. "There," he said, pointing a finger towards the coral where a lone figure stood in the early morning mist.
Chris took the glass, though he didn't need to. He knew it was her. She was gazing at a half dozen horses, fine stock from what he could see. Only the best for Ella, he thought as his stomach churned.
"I can take her from here," Vin whispered softly, as if Ella might hear him from where they hid.
He had his rifle raised, his site on the woman a good hundred yards below. A difficult - if not impossible - shot for most men, but Vin could do it. And he would do it, if Chris gave the word.
She deserved it; deserved to die alone with no warning. Like Sarah and Adam. And maybe if they were a few miles south, just over the border in Mexico, they could get away with it. But they weren't - and there would be consequences that Vin hadn't thought of.
"She's not wanted, Vin."
"What? What the hell does that mean? What the hell does that matter?"
They'd tipped their hand when they went into town, asking questions. If Ella turned up dead the next day, they'd quickly top the list of suspects. That bartender had taken a good long look at Vin, too - he'd remember his face. Wouldn't take much at all to match it up with a wanted poster, and just like that, Vin would be wanted for a second killing.
"She hasn't stood trial. We know what she did, but the law doesn't. You kill her now - in cold blood - and you'll be the one-"
"I don't care!"
"I do."
Vin gripped his arm. "Let me do this for you, Chris. Please. End it here and now. You don't have t' watch. You don't have t' be part of it. I take the shot. We ride out. It's over."
Take the shot . . .
"I can't let you do that."
But good Lord, he wanted to. He wanted Ella face down in the dirt with no mercy and no chance of hurting anyone he loved ever again. His dream haunted him, and he had the horrible sense that Vin would lose either way. Kill her and Vin could be charged with murder. Let her live and she could make their lives a living hell.
Vin still had in her in his site, still kept the trigger taut. "Please, Chris." Nothing more than a whisper now, a desperate plea.
Take the shot . . .
It was a mistake, letting her live. His heart knew it as surely as his head, but he couldn't go through with it. He wanted revenge, but not at Vin's expense.
For three years, he'd been consumed with rage and grief and the need for justice. Everything else came second. But like a bright light illuminating a dark room, he suddenly realized that something else - someone else - had come to matter more. So he gently lowered the barrel of Vin's gun and said, "No, Vin. We take her in."
"God, Chris," Vin choked.
But he pulled back.
+ + + + + + +
It was a mistake. Vin knew it as surely as he knew his own name. If Ella wasn't the devil himself, she was possessed by something equally evil, and she needed to be cut off at the head. No mercy, no chance that she could wreak more havoc and cause more pain for Chris.
His head was screaming at him to take the shot, and he was pretty sure that Chris's was, too, in spite of the words that came out of his mouth. But when Chris grabbed hold of his gun, he didn't have a choice. This was all for him and it had to go his way, no matter how wrong Vin believed he was.
It made little sense to Vin. Ever since he'd met Chris, this was the moment his friend had been waiting for. And now that he had the chance to end it, Larabee was more concerned about a stupid murder charge? Hell, he was already wanted for murder, what difference would it make? At least this time, if he ended up hanging, it would be worth it.
I'd give my life . . .
Alright then, they'd take her. Bind her and gag her and throw her over the back of a horse - and if she accidentally suffocated on their way back, well now, that would hardly be his fault.
They'd have to move quickly, before Ella's men descended on them. It was miraculous that she was alone as it was - and not bound to last long. In fact, by the time they'd hit the edge of her property, one of her men had joined her at the fence. He was a tall man dressed in black, and as he leaned over the rail, a cup of coffee steaming in his hands, Ella reached up to wrap an arm around his shoulder. Even from the distance, Vin could see the look of rapture on his face, and it made him want to throw up. Poor idiot didn't stand a chance, caught up in her evil web, so Vin would show him some mercy. Not kill him, anyway, if he could get around it.
As luck would have it, the pair stood at the outside edge of the property, far enough away from the house and the barn that they could take her without causing a commotion - if they were quick enough and quiet enough.
"How we gonna do this?" he asked Chris. His call - though Vin's finger still itched on the trigger of his gun.
"You take him. I'll take her."
Simple and sweet, and for the first time since their journey had begun, he could see that Chris was totally focused on what they needed to do.
Trees and rock provided good cover, but Ella and her man heard their approach and turned towards them when they were about twenty feet away. The man in black went for his gun, but Vin was on him before it even cleared the holster. A solid punch to his jaw sent the man sprawling to the ground, and a second to his temple knocked him out completely. Vin stooped over to take the bandana from around his neck to gag him; he'd use the man's own belt to tie his hands. Buy them some time anyway.
Chris stayed back, keeping his distance as he growled out a warning, "Don't try anything, Ella."
Vin was awed at his restraint. If he were in Chris's shoes, he was pretty sure he'd have put a bullet right between her eyes.
Ella replied smoothly, "Chris, how good to see you."
Sick bitch . . .
As he knelt to finish securing the man's hands, Vin heard Ella move behind him. Before he could look up, a heavy object slammed into him and knocked him to the ground. He gasped as a sharp pain shot across his back and down his leg, temporarily rendering him immobile.
It took him a minute to catch his breath, and by then Ella was on the ground next to him, bleeding from a gash in the back of her head. Chris had hit her with the butt of his gun, apparently, though by the time Vin found his feet, he'd turned the gun the other way. Ready now to put a bullet in her - anger fresh and determined in his eyes - and it hit Vin hard that Chris would be killing her not for what she'd done to his family, but for what she'd done to him.
Vin wasn't sure he bought what Chris said about it being murder to kill Ella without a trial, but he couldn't let Chris take the fall for this, anymore than Chris could allow him to.
"Not that way . . . remember, Pard?" he said gently as he gripped Chris's hand and lowered the gun.
Chris blinked and shook his head to clear it, but the gun came up once more. "You know what she did! And you'll be next, Vin!"
It was confusing, trying to keep up with Chris's changing emotions: calm, logical, almost detached one minute - ready to blow Ella's head off the next.
God knew they both wanted to end it, but it dawned on Vin that a quick bullet would be too good for her. It would be worth the aggravation to bring her in, just to watch her hang like the mangy dog she was.
"Not like this, Chris. We've come this far, let's end it right. Don't give her the easy way out."
He could see Chris struggling mightily to pull his spinning emotions back in line. But finally he nodded once before holstering his weapon and leaning over to pick Ella up off the ground.
Vin tried to help him, but the pain in his back pulled him up short. "What the hell did she hit me with?"
With a grunt, Chris hoisted Ella over his shoulder and nodded towards a stray fence rail lying on the ground.
"Strong little witch, ain't she?" Vin mumbled as he limped after Chris. Last thing he needed was a hit to his back, but he couldn't let it slow him up. Ella's men would be on their trail soon enough.
As an afterthought, Chris tossed over his shoulder, "Grab a horse. She ain't ridin' with me . . . or with you."
Vin kicked himself for being so stupid. He hadn't thought to bring along an extra mount. But then, he hadn't planned on bringing her back.
It took only a few minutes to lead a mare from the coral, and by then Chris was halfway up the hill with Ella still draped over his back. Vin never did catch up to him, the ache in his back and leg hindering him no matter how he tried to ignore it. Chris didn't seem to notice, though. He just threw Ella's limp body over the back of the horse when Vin finally made it to the campsite and proceeded to load up.
Minutes later, they were ready to ride. Vin paused long enough to glance back down the hillside, relieved to see that no one had followed them. Yet, anyway . . . and he pushed back the small voice in his head that said it had all been too easy.
The early morning sun appeared in all her glory as they fled. Vin pulled his hat lower and saw Chris do the same. It wouldn't last long, though. A storm was brewing, the unusual sunset the night before providing the first clue. Rain would work in their favor, but in the meantime, he had to cover their trail. Up and down from his mount, back aching like a sonuvabitch every time he stooped down or bent over to wipe away their tracks, and if Ella wasn't already unconscious, he'd put her that way himself.
The storm arrived later that afternoon, Vin finding shelter in a small cave after the first few bolts of lightening hit. He'd ride through wind and rain and blinding snow, but not lightening. A man didn't live through a lightening strike unless he was goddamn lucky, and Vin figured they'd used up their allotment finding Ella and getting away like they had. No use tempting fate.
Chris didn't like it, his face twisted into knots at having to drag this thing out. He didn't want to spend any longer in her presence than he had to - didn't matter that she was still out cold, draped over the back of her horse like a sack of shit. Soaking wet, too, and Chris mumbled that maybe he should just leave her out there; let nature have her way with her.
But letting her out of their sight wasn't an option, so Chris carried her into the cave and dumped her on the ground. He sat down then, as far away from her as he could manage in the small space. Back against the stone wall, knees pulled up to his chest, he let out a long sigh, tipped his head back, and closed his eyes.
And as always, Vin was mesmerized by him . . . the way he moved . . . the way he spoke . . . the way he didn't. It was damn near painful, feeling about Chris the way he did, and he knew better. Loving someone only set you up for pain and heartache.
Fool . . .
"You could sit down you know," Chris said abruptly, peeling his eyes open just enough to pin Vin with his patented glare.
"Might not make it up again," Vin replied honestly.
Chris shook his head as he leaned over and reached for his saddle bag. He pulled out the ointment that Nathan had sent along and instructed Vin, "Take off your coat."
Vin played stupid. "Why?"
With an exasperated sigh, Chris stood and replied, "Because it's hot in here and because I'm going to rub this on your back."
It wasn't hot. Warm, maybe . . . a bit on the muggy side, but that was bound to change after the storm passed, and Vin told him so. "Gonna cool off soon."
"Vin, the really nice thing about a coat is that you can always put it back on if you need it."
Rolling his eyes, Vin shrugged off his coat. Chris came up behind him, close enough for Vin to feel his breath on his neck. So maybe Larabee was right - it was definitely heating up in the enclosed space.
"Shirt, too," Chris demanded.
Vin turned his head to where Ella lay in the corner, not ten feet behind him. She still appeared to be unconscious - and damn, he hoped Chris never had a reason to hit him that hard - but Vin wasn't taking any chances.
"No. You wanna fuss, go ahead. But I'm keepin' my shirt on."
"Suit yourself . . . stubborn jacka-" Chris's voice trailed off then as he slipped Vin's suspenders off his shoulders and pulled the shirt from his pants.
"Aw shit, Vin. Why didn't you tell me it was this bad?""It ain't that bad."
"Damn bitch. Remind me again why I didn't kill her," Chris growled.
"Cause that would be too good for her. Damn site easier t' take a bullet than live with a noose hangin' over your head."
I should know . . .
"Nathan ain't gonna be happy."
"Nathan ain't gonna know."
Chris scoffed. "You think you can keep this from him? First time you try to sit down and can't, he'll be on you like a tick on a dog."
"Nathan's too nosy."
"Yeah. And I've also heard he talks too much. It's a wonder he's got any time at all to tend to the likes of us."
Vin sighed guiltily. "Yeah, okay. Just get this over with, Larabee."
Chris didn't respond as he pushed Vin's shirt up higher on his back. Warm hands worked Vin's aching muscles, gentle over the discolored area where Ella's post had made contact; deeper and harder as Chris moved up, massaging the ache that never went completely away.
Vin couldn't keep himself from groaning as he leaned forward, resting his forehead against the stone wall.
"Feel good?" Chris asked.
"Yeah," Vin mumbled breathlessly.
Too good . . .
He should stop this before it led to something they'd both regret. For God's sake, Ella was right there.
Chris must have gotten the same idea, because he abruptly stopped and let the shirt slide down over his back once again. Vin thought he was going to walk away then - play it safe - but he didn't. Instead, Chris leaned in closer, one hand caressing his shoulder while the other swept the hair from his neck. Lips brushed his throat for one glorious moment, and Vin couldn't stop himself from moaning softly.
"I do know what I want, Vin," Chris whispered hot in his ear, before turning and walking out of the cave.
A moment . . . a crumb . . .
A promise . . .
"You can't have him."
The voice was icy cold in the steamy heat of the cave. Vin shivered as he turned around to face Ella.
She was lying on her side, hands and feet bound, in the exact same position she'd been since Chris threw her to the ground. Vin wondered if he'd imagined it, but then she turned her face towards him. The whites of her eyes nearly glowed in the shadows of the cave, and he knew it was real. She'd seen . . . she knew.
He should end it. Chris wouldn't bat an eyelash if Vin's gun suddenly went off. Probably wouldn't bother to dig a hole for her. But even though he knew what she'd done, what she was capable of, he couldn't bring himself to shoot a defenseless woman in cold blood.
Vin glanced at the entrance of the cave where Chris stood, partially protected by a wide overhang as he smoked a cheroot and watched the waning storm. He hadn't heard, and there was no reason for him to know. It would only make an impossible situation harder for him.
Vin walked closer to Ella and replied coldly, "Don't reckon you have a say."
She only smiled calmly and said, "We'll see."
Battle lines drawn. And he knew he should let it go, not take the bait, but he couldn't help himself. "You're gonna hang for what y' did to his family. Best you be thinkin' on that."
No fear in those cold, cold eyes as she answered him, "He came for me."
Vin cocked his head as he pondered her words. Had she wanted Chris to find her? Was it so easy because she made it that way? Set them up? No one had followed them . . .
No. Even Ella wasn't crazy enough to believe that she had a chance with Chris after all she'd done.
But apparently she was just that crazy because she added dreamily, "He loves me."
If he wasn't convinced that her soul was stained black, Vin might almost feel sorry for her.
"Gag her," Chris suddenly demanded from behind Vin's shoulder, his voice dripping with disgust.
Ten minutes later, they were riding again. Ella was propped up on Vin's horse, her hands bound, same as her mouth. She was reeling from the head wound, hardly able to stay upright, but Chris didn't pay her any attention. He was more concerned that Vin was riding Ella's mare bareback; thought it was stupid that he'd volunteered. It was really a matter of practicality - there wasn't time to prepare her horse when Vin had grabbed it from her coral, and the way she was weaving, she wouldn't stay mounted without a saddle.
Raindrops continued to fall slowly and sparingly from the sky, the poet in Vin likening them to the tears that had flowed from Chris's eyes the night before. He'd wanted so badly to take that burden from him, to make it all go away once and for all. And if he were honest with himself, he'd wanted even more to follow through with what Chris had started. Might just be the biggest fool on earth, in fact, for stopping it. But something inside him had changed. He wasn't willing to settle for the scraps any longer - he wanted the full meal.
I want you . . .
The catch was that Chris had to want it, too. No doubts, no fears, and no Ella to stand in their way.
They rode on through the night, the rain finally giving way to the light of an almost full moon. They hit the edge of town at daybreak, and Vin only hoped someone was up to take over their burden. Ella hadn't caused them any trouble - although her eyes promised Vin he'd see more than his fair share if she ever got loose - but it would be a relief to have her safely behind bars, have this over with.
He stole a glance at Chris. Shadows deep under his eyes and his mouth still tight with anger, and he quickly remembered that this wouldn't be over for Chris until Ella was dead in the ground. Still, Vin saw a small flicker of relief pass through Chris's eyes when Josiah greeted them from the boardwalk near the jail.
"That didn't take long," Josiah said, reaching up to untie Ella's hands from the saddle horn.
Chris remained silent, so Vin slipped off the mare and replied, "Nope. Was easy . . . too easy."
Raising a brow, Josiah asked, "You think she's up to something?"
"Maybe."
"Lock her up and throw away the key," Chris finally added gruffly. "I'm finding a bed and a bottle."
With that, he stalked off, not even a glance in Vin's direction.
And that was why, precisely why, it didn't pay to care about someone that much. Vin could hardly swallow past the lump in his throat as Chris walked away. He should have known better.
Never get your hopes up . . .
Josiah helped Ella off of Vin's horse, just in time for her to collapse in his arms. "Must not have come away too easy, by the lump on her head," he said as he carried their prisoner into the jail.
Vin didn't respond to that, figuring she'd gotten off easy. But he stopped in his tracks when Josiah added, "You get Nathan while I get her situated."
"Nathan?"
"She's still a human being, Vin."
Vin rolled his eyes. There were times when being a good man and being a stupid one weren't too far apart. "Not hardly. She might look human, but she belongs to the devil."
Fortunately, Nathan came through the door just then, saving Vin the effort of searching for him. The others often teased Vin about his impeccable timing, but it seemed to him that it was Nathan who always turned up exactly where and when he was needed. The man could smell hurt from a mile away, which - much to Vin's chagrin - made it damn near impossible to hide anything from him.
Nathan quickly glanced at the cell where Josiah was stretching Ella out on the cot, before turning to Vin. "Anyone else hurt?"
Vin shook his head. It was mostly true.
Josiah spoke up from behind the bars, "Chris looked to be alright, under the circumstances. But Vin's limping."
With narrowed eyes and hands on his hips, Nathan simply asked, "Well?"
Vin tossed Josiah a dirty glare before replying, "Rode all night. Back stiffened up some. Ain't nothin' you can do about it." The trump card, because Nathan knew that was true. No one could straighten up his crooked back, though Nathan did all he could to make it easier for him.
"I could-" Nathan began.
But Vin cut in, "I'm tired, Nathan. Reckon if I just rest a spell, it'll be fine."
Nathan looked doubtful, but he merely nodded and said, "Alright. Go on then."
He was tired. It hit him at just that moment that he was so exhausted, he could hardly take another step. There had been times when he'd gone days on end without sleeping; times when he was on the hunt - or on the run - but eventually he'd have to give in and sleep, and that time had come.
He preferred his wagon, but with the townspeople getting up and around, he'd be better off sleeping in the boarding house. He'd taken the room at the end of the hall because it had an extra window and offered more privacy, if privacy was to be had in the middle of town. Chris had the room right next to his, and he paused as he passed by. The urge to check on him, to make sure he was alright - make sure they were alright - was powerful. But instead he lightly leaned his forehead against the door and listened. The silence was deafening, but he reminded himself that it was far better for Chris to sleep off his anguish than drink it away.
Finally stumbling into his own room, Vin managed to remove his boots and his gun belt, unbutton his shirt, but that was as far as he got before he collapsed on the spread. Minutes later, he was asleep.
And some time after that, Chris came to him.
Vin wasn't sure how many hours had passed, but it was still daylight. A shaft of sunlight streamed through the crack in his curtains, staining the wood floor of his room a pale yellow. He thought he was dreaming at first - surely Chris wouldn't be so bold as to come to his room in broad daylight, and he never left the door unlocked.
But he must have because Chris was there, sliding like a shadow to sit on the edge of his bed.
"I need . . . I need to be with you." Chris's voice was low and hoarse, just this side of desperate.
You need me . . .
Being needed was enough, always enough, and so Vin moved aside, slipping an arm around Chris's shoulder and pulling him down on the bed next to him. Chris laid his head on his shoulder and gently ran a hand up and down his bare chest.
And he couldn't take it another minute. He was only human, after all. He turned Chris's face towards his and leaned in to kiss him softly on the lips. Floodgates opened, and before Vin could fully grasp what was happening, Chris was on top of him, his hands in his hair, his tongue in his mouth.
Vin had wondered if, when the time came, they could really go through with it. Would their bodies respond to each other as they would to a woman? In some ways - in all ways - it would be easier if they didn't. They could go on as they were: connected in every way except physical, and no one would have a problem with that.
But it quickly became apparent that that wasn't the case. Even fully clothed, passion and need consumed them, and both men were soon hard and aching as they ground against each other. And how much better, how much more would it be if nothing but their own skin separated them? Vin couldn't think on that then; couldn't think of anything past the feel of Chris in his mouth, his hair, his groin.
Couldn't think and couldn't hear, apparently, considering the crescendo of Josiah's voice as he pounded on Vin's door and shouted, "Vin? Vin? Vin, wake up!"
Oh, God!
"Oh God," Chris moaned, quickly tasting Vin's lips one last time before rolling off of him onto the side of the bed.
Vin caught his breath before calling out shakily, "Yeah, Josiah. What is it?"
"Need to talk to you," Josiah answered from the hallway.
"Just a second," Vin stalled as he jumped to his feet and buttoned his shirt.
He pulled the door open just enough for Josiah to see his face, and rubbed his eyes like he'd been sleeping. Maybe Josiah wouldn't notice the flush of his cheeks or his swollen lips.
Maybe he did or maybe he didn't, but clearly the older man was suspicious because he peered over Vin's head and asked, "You alright?"
Vin nodded. "Yeah. Just tired. What's goin' on?"
Josiah cleared his throat and lowered his voice, "I don't think we should talk about it out here in the hall."
Damn. Now what? Vin bit his lip and gripped the door tighter. "Ain't in the mood for company, Josiah. Just say it."
Raising a brow, Josiah hesitated a moment before replying, "It's Ella. She's stirring up trouble. Saying things . . ."
Vin looked up sharply. "What kinds of things?"
"Things about you . . . and Chris." Looking Vin straight in the eye now, trying to decipher the truth behind her accusations.
Vin blushed and looked at his feet - damn eyes gave him away every time.
But if Josiah wondered, he didn't ask. He merely stated, "I can't find Chris."
"I'll get him," Vin mumbled. "We'll take care of her. She's crazy you know," he added hopefully, though he knew Josiah was too intuitive to buy it. Probably even knew Chris was right there in the bed behind him.
By the time Vin closed the door and turned to face Chris, the blond was on his feet. He pulled his hand through his hair and looked at Vin, remorse and regret etching lines on his face. "I'm sorry, Vin. I shouldn't have come here."
I'm not . . .
Aching to reach out and touch Chris, but fearing it would only set him off, Vin quietly offered, "I'm not sorry."
But Chris snapped, "Don't you get it? We can't do this, Vin. It's already out of hand. If anyone has any reason at all to believe her, to suspect . . ."
It was all about fear, Vin reminded himself, not rejection . . . not this time. But it didn't matter; he'd lose Chris anyway if he didn't do something. Larabee was unraveling right before his very eyes, giving up before they'd even begun.
"The cave . . . I should never have touched you," Chris muttered. "I knew better."
"It don't matter," Vin said, determined to stay calm in the midst of Chris's escalating panic. "No one will believe her. She's out of her head, Chris. She thinks you love her - she thinks she's your wife."
"She could make it happen," Chris responded cryptically, his voice so soft that Vin wasn't sure he'd heard him right.
Before he could ask him to clarify, Chris was headed for the door. But on his way out, he instructed Vin, "Tell them I got drunk and was sleeping it off somewhere. I'll come to the jail a few minutes after you."
Lying to their friends - and that was what Vin had feared the most. For the first time in his life, he had a home and a family. What would he have to hide to keep them? Or would he have to give it all up to be with Chris? Would he have to choose?
Or would Chris make that choice for him?
+ + + + + + +
He was weak; the one and only conclusion that he could arrive at. He may appear to be a tough gunfighter on the outside, but inside he was weak.
Chris's heart was pounding as he made his way to the jail, and he was furious with his body for betraying him so. Good Lord, he could face a dozen men armed with bullets and knives, but he couldn't face one goddamn crazy woman armed with a few words? Why should she hold such power over him? After all, surely Vin was right - surely no one would believe a word she said.
But if they did . . .
And speaking of traitorous bodies . . . he could not stay away from Vin. Could not. And it was getting worse. Every time they touched, he thought it might be enough to put an end to his fantasies. Kiss Vin, and he'd see that it wasn't at all what he'd imagined. Hold Vin, and he'd realize that long bones and hard muscles didn't hold nearly the same appeal as soft curves. Lay with Vin . . . dear God, all he could think about was laying with Vin . . . heart to heart, skin to skin. Even with layers of cloth between them, the reality was so much more than he'd dreamed. And instead of wanting Vin less, he wanted him more.
Fifteen minutes had passed since he'd left Vin's room, and he still hadn't figured out how to play this. They could deny it. That would be the easiest and the safest route. Vin might could pull it off - if Chris blindfolded him so no one could see his eyes. Those perfect blue eyes couldn't hide a thing; they'd be damn near screaming, "Hell yes, I wanna be with Chris and he wants t' be with me. And we'd be on each other every minute of the day if he'd get his head out of his ass and quit being so damn scared."
So damn weak.
Too weak to resist Vin - too weak to love him.
With or without you . . .
He never was a good liar, anyway. But he could step around the subject pretty well. Tell them all it was none of their business, which it wasn't. Righteous indignation he was good at. Not to mention the fact that the only business that mattered right then was getting Ella to trial and watching her hang.
Getting Ella to trial . . .
The memory of that moment, that indescribably horrible moment when he realized who she really was and what she'd done, came back to him in full force. His stomach rolled, and he thought he might retch in the street.
It hit him then that it wasn't a matter of weakness at all - it was reality. She was deadly and he was right to fear her. She'd already taken the lives of his family, nearly gotten him killed, and come close to destroying his relationship with his friends - even Vin, especially Vin.
And she knew, she knew how he felt about Vin.
She'd promised to kill anyone who came between them, and if anyone could find a way to kill Vin from behind bars, it would be Ella. She might have already plotted out Vin's death, long before they found her. She'd hired a dozen men or more, and knowing Ella, it wasn't just to slap on paint or string wire.
At least this time he knew what she was capable of, and she wouldn't take him by surprise again. But even as he thought that, he realized she already had. Just by planting the seed that he and Vin were more than friends, she'd started trouble. He'd spent weeks trying to figure out how he and Vin could hide a relationship from their friends, and Ella had managed to bring it out in the open before they'd even begun.
He'd just stepped onto the boardwalk when Mary came out of the sheriff's office. Might've been the sun, but something made her avert her eyes and colored her face a bright pink.
"I've been looking for you," she said stiffly.
It had been like that - strained between them since Ella came and went. Chris figured it was because, after months of dancing around each other, he'd chosen Ella. But even after that, he couldn't bring himself to court her. He couldn't quite reason it out himself until he caught on that one look from Vin did more to light a fire in him than Mary ever had. That wasn't something he could tell her, though, so he'd kept his distance instead.
"The Judge will be here the day after tomorrow," she continued brusquely. In a hurry, it seemed, like she couldn't wait to get away from him.
"Alright. Thank you," Chris answered, and turned to go inside.
Two more days seemed far too long to keep a lid on his temper, and Ella could do a lot of damage in that time. Already had, Chris thought, considering again the look on Mary's face.
JD met him at the door, his eyes bright and determined. He didn't shy away from him, though, so whatever Ella had said either didn't bother the kid or he didn't buy it.
"She sure is crazy," JD said in a low voice with a shake of his head, and he should've known the kid wouldn't believe it. Hell, JD could have been in the room with him and Vin thirty minutes earlier and still found a way around what he saw going on there.
Buck was there, too, standing behind the desk. Chris barely had to glance in his direction to know the man was pissed off. His old friend never could hide his anger; nearly as bad as Josiah at reining it in, too.
But Buck didn't say a word, he just flitted a brooding gaze from Chris to Vin and back again.
Chris caught the implication of it - would have to have been blind not to - and he badly wanted to catch Vin's eye, offer some reassurance, but he didn't.
Vin was covering the corner, wedged into the space where the two walls met. Chris had noted his position the moment he hit the door, but he opted not to acknowledge him and prayed that Vin understood why. No sense in handing out ammunition.
He wasn't going to deal with Buck either, at least not there and then, so he turned towards the cell instead. Josiah, the only other one of the seven present, stood guard at the door of the cell.
Chris noted that Ella was cleaned up a bit. Someone had given her a dress and he decided he just might have to use his gun yet. The bullet he'd been itching to put into Ella could just as easily go for the person who'd chosen to show her some consideration.
Ella smiled sweetly as she met his eyes, like nothing had ever happened; like she wasn't behind bars awaiting trial for the murder of his family. "I knew you'd come," she said. "We just need to straighten out this ridiculous misunderstanding."
The sound of her voice gagged him. "The only thing we're gonna straighten out is your neck at the end of a long rope."
"Now Chris, you know we're meant to be together, just like I told Mrs. Travis. Poor thing, I think she actually thought she had a chance with you. She had no idea that you were so distraught over losing me, that you'd turned to a man." With a pointed glare at Vin, she added, "Well, you may have found comfort in the arms of another while I was away, but I'm back now. That savage can hardly give you what I can."
"That's enough, Ella," Josiah said firmly.
JD came up behind Chris, hovering near his shoulder as he sought to clarify what Ella had implied in case Chris had somehow missed it. "She said . . . she said," he stammered, "that you and Vin . . . that you were . . . were courting."
"Now JD, that ain't what she said," Buck countered smoothly as he stepped out from behind the desk to meet Chris eye to eye. "What she said was that you and Vin were fucking."
Only in my dreams . . .
Chris swallowed but he didn't look away. Didn't confirm or deny it, either, as Josiah quickly stepped in once again. "That's enough from you, too, Buck."
JD huffed and sputtered, "I don't know why we're even listening to her! She's crazy and everybody knows it. Don't matter what she says."
"It does matter, JD," Josiah explained somberly. "She's going to trial the day after tomorrow, and the whole town is likely to hear what she has to say. We don't need her causing trouble, raising questions that ruin reputations, no matter what the truth is."
Ella sighed and moved to the front of the cell, her face pressed between the bars. "There doesn't need to be a trial, does there, Chris? We can end this silliness right now. I didn't kill your family."
Unable to contain himself any longer, Chris exploded as he crossed the room to face her, "You had my wife's locket!"
"Of course, I did. I needed proof that Mr. Fowler had upheld his end of the bargain. But I only paid him to make sure Sarah understood that you belonged to me. Not to kill her. Can I help it he got carried away? For God's sake, Chris, surely you don't believe I'd harm an innocent child?"
"Everybody out," Chris choked through gritted teeth, his entire body rigid.
"Chris . . ." Josiah started to warn, but he wisely let it drop.
Chris could see them from the corner of his eye, watching him as they marched out. Vin was last, and he hesitated at the door, but he stayed quiet like he had throughout the previous conversation.
It wasn't until he heard the door close that Chris moved closer to the cell and stated flatly, "I know what you did and you're going to pay for it. Spout all the lies you want, but you're not getting out of this."
Her lips curled as she batted her eyelashes at him and said, "I must admit, he does have lovely eyes, doesn't he?"
"Ella-"
"Hopefully he's more intelligent than he looks, however."
"He was smart enough to figure you out."
"So he got lucky. No one will believe a word he says once they learn that the two of you are . . . lovers. Tell me, Chris, is it true that still waters run deep?" Lowering her voice, she narrowed her eyes and whispered, "Is he that good?"
"Shut up!"
"Does he excite you like I did? Like I still do? Admit it, Chris, you're aroused right now, aren't you?" she asked seductively.
Swallowing the bile in his throat, Chris ignored her question and warned, "There are seven of us who know what you did - who saw the evidence in your house. Vin will testify that you owned Culpepper Mines and that you hired Jack Averal. You're gonna hang in a few days, and I suggest you keep your mouth shut and make your peace with that."
Ella stepped back a few feet in her cell and shrugged, "Hiring Jack isn't the same as murder. You'll have a hard time proving that I had anything to do with Fowler." She moved closer again and looked him coldly in the eye, "And in the meantime, you might want to keep a close eye on the savage. I warned you, Chris, no one comes between us, and the sooner you accept that, the better off you - and everyone you care about - will be."
Chris wanted nothing more than to wrap his hands around her throat, but he kept them fisted at his side and ground out, "You're gonna die, Ella, one way or another."
He turned to walk out, but Ella had the last word. "I won't even have to pay anyone this time. Two men lying together? People don't understand that. The wrong person hears about it and who knows what they're likely to do?" She paused a moment and added, "Don't underestimate me, Chris. I can make it happen."
Shaking off the chill that ran down his spine, Chris didn't reply as he stepped out the door and onto the boardwalk. Sunlight immediately warmed his face and it felt wrong - the contrast between darkness and light never so apparent.
His four friends waited for him, questions in their eyes, though none were spoken aloud. Chris wouldn't have heard them anyway, with Ella's words still ringing in his ears. He knew they were waiting for him to take charge, but all he wanted was to kill Ella, run off with Vin, and never look back. Except Ella said she'd find a way to kill Vin, and he couldn't risk it. He'd have to play this out. "Two of you stay on her at all times," he instructed tersely.
Josiah and JD nodded and headed back inside to stand guard. Chris did turn to Vin then and said, "She threatened you, Vin."
Vin smirked. "I ain't afraid of her."
I am . . .
"You should be. Keep in mind we don't know who she's hired to do what."
With a thin smile, Vin replied, "I'll watch my back," before moving off down the boardwalk.
Chris watched him go, trying to ignore the twisting in his gut. He'd forgotten Buck was still standing there, until his old friend sneered, "Well, I reckon you'll watch it for him. That right, Chris?"
Turning to face him, Chris snapped, "I don't know what's eatin' you, Buck, but this ain't the time or place to talk about it."
"You're right about the place, but it's long past time, Stud."
Chris winced at the familiar nickname. Somehow he didn't think Buck was teasing or paying him a compliment. Knowing Wilmington wouldn't let up until he had his say, Chris offered, "Fine. We'll go to my room."
At least he had whiskey there to fortify him if he needed it.
They'd hardly shut the door behind them when Buck confronted him, "It's true, ain't it?"
Chris faced him head on. "No, Buck. Vin and I are not fucking each other, as you so delicately put it."
Buck cocked his head. "No? Well, it's just a matter of time, ain't it?"
"None of your business," Chris stated firmly, reaching for that whiskey.
But Buck persisted. "It's clear you both want it. Hell, Vin's wanted you since the day he laid eyes on you."
Is that true?
"I don't reckon the others noticed," Buck continued, "they aren't nearly as sensitive to these kinds of matters as I am. But I knew how he felt about you all along."
"You don't know anything."
Buck ignored him and went on, "Just didn't think you'd go along with it, Chris. Didn't figure you'd go that way. Didn't figure you'd do Sarah that way."
"Sarah has nothing to do with this!"
"Like hell she don't!"
"She's dead, Buck!" Chris spat bluntly, enraged that Buck would have the nerve to bring his lost wife into the argument.
For a split second, Buck softened, "I know that. What I don't know is how you could consider for one moment sullying her memory like this."
Was Buck serious? Chris couldn't for the life of him grasp what his friend was trying to say. He rubbed his forehead, attempting to hold at bay the headache just below the surface.
"I'm not following you," he said wearily.
"Ain't nothin' more special, more right, than the sweet love between a man and a woman. Nothin'. You sleepin' with Vin makes a mockery of that love, Chris. Makes a mockery of what you had with Sarah. Think on that before you give in to what he wants."
It's what I want . . .
"You've got it all wrong, Buck," Chris replied coldly. "But I don't owe you an explanation."
Buck just shook his head as he headed for the door, but he stopped abruptly before he reached it and turned back. "I know you been hurt. Cut deeper than any man should have t' bear ever. And I know that sometimes a man will take comfort wherever he can find it. There's been a few lonely nights out there on the trail when I've been tempted myself. But this ain't right. Once Ella's behind you, you'll have a real chance t' start again. Have a good life with someone like Sarah - maybe even with Mary. You'll have nothin' but more heartache with Vin, not to mention you'll ruin everything we've built up here in the past year or so. Hell, if I don't understand it, how you reckon the rest of the town's gonna feel? And I don't have t' remind you what can happen when hate and prejudice come into play."
His long speech apparently at an end, Buck opened the door and stepped out. But he added one last thought before he left, "You could lose it all, Chris - Vin included. Is it really worth the risk?"
No. . . . it's not . . .