Cochise: A Montana Bounty Hunters Story Page 6

  Soon, her jaws ached, and her throat felt a little sore. When she lifted her head, she was panting. “Did you think to bring a condom?” She prayed he had but was already making mental calculations about the safety of fucking “uncloaked.”

  His hand left her and returned. A foil packet scraped over the tip of her breast. She grabbed for it, tore it with her teeth, then smoothed latex down his length.

  As soon as she finished, he thrust his hands under her arms and forced her to rise. Needing no other encouragement, she climbed over his spread legs and settled her knees on the fabric draping the log.

  While he reached between them to slide his cock between her folds, she rested her forehead against his. “We’re going to leave stains on our clothes that’ll be hard to explain in the light of day.”

  “Your knees okay?” he rasped.

  “The tree’s hard,” she said, licking his bottom lip. “You’re harder.”

  His hands clapped over her ass then gripped her hard and pushed her down until her pussy consumed his cock.

  “I like how you fill me,” she whispered.

  “Baby, I like how fucking sexy you are. Your cunt’s hot—on fucking fire.”

  She smiled against his mouth. “That’s a lot of fucking. And when you say it, I like that other word, too.”

  “Sorry. It slipped out.”

  She kissed him. “Say it, again.”

  “Cunt,” he whispered next to her ear.

  As a reward, she squeezed her inner muscles all around him and bounced on her knees.

  His fingers dug into her ass and forced her to move faster. When she grew breathless, he heaved upward. She clasped her legs around his hips and held tight as he moved toward a tree and leaned her back against it. His arms cradled her as he began to fuck, his strokes hard and jarring. Her breaths gusted with each upward thrust.

  Tension built, and she raked his hair, tugging away the band that held it. She gripped his hair and pulled his head forward. Their lips met as he continued to pound against her pussy. Then her core tightened. She jerked back her head, hitting the tree, but she didn’t care. “I’m coming,” she gritted out.

  “I’m there. Now, baby, now,” he growled and powered into her.

  Pleasure exploded, and she raked her nails across his skin as wave after wave of ecstasy flowed through her.

  His movements slowed, but he still held her against his body. He nuzzled the side of her face, and she turned to meet his kiss. As their tongues caressed, she fought to calm her heart and slow her breaths. She scooped her lips over his then pulled back. “Stay inside me. Just a minute more.”

  He leaned her against the tree and rocked his hips, giving her gentle, soothing rolls. “Think you’ll sleep now?”

  She laughed and hugged him. “I think we both will.”

  She lowered her legs, and he disengaged, moving back.

  “I’ll have to use the flashlight to find all our clothes,” he muttered.

  “Don’t you dare! Do you even know how close to camp we are?”

  “Not really. I was a little distracted.”

  Laughing softly, they searched for their clothes, passing items as they identified them. He produced a travel-sized packet of wet wipes, and she could have kissed him again as she cleaned up. “You planned this, didn’t you?”

  “A guy can always hope.”

  Dressed, he led her back to the camp. They entered slowly. Sammy cringed over every snapping twig, but thankfully, Tessa didn’t stir. When she was safely inside her sleeping bag, she heard a rustling sound from the opposite side of the fire.

  “Thought I heard a bear bellowing.”

  It was Hook’s sleepy voice.

  “There was no bellowing,” Cochise whispered.

  A snicker sounded from Jamie’s place near the fire. “You two had Tessa whining.”

  So much for keeping secrets with this team. Sammy groaned in mortification and pulled the edge of the sleeping bag over her head.

  * * *

  The next day’s hike was grueling—even for the men who were accustomed to long marches while carrying an eighty-pound rucksack.

  Cochise kept glancing behind him to make sure Sammy was keeping up with the quick pace Hook set. So far, she was soldiering on. Every time he looked her way, she gave him a tight smile. He hoped she didn’t have blisters forming on her feet. From her scratching, he guessed she’d gotten a few bug bites last night in places she’d rather not mention. As for himself, the ache in the corner of his neck was his only complaint. His body hummed.

  The events of last night played in his mind throughout the day. The woman was game for anything. Strong and sexy. His only regret was the darkness that had hidden the sight of the things she’d done to him. The next time she took him in her mouth, he’d make sure every light in his place was on. That thought made him smile, because he had no doubt that while she’d be more than willing, she’d blush the entire time.

  Sammy wasn’t like any other woman he’d ever known. She was mixture of gruff and surly—like this morning when he’d passed her his packet of wet wipes. She’d taken one and couldn’t meet his gaze, busying herself with double-checking her efforts to pack away her things, muttering as she did so rather than raise her eyes. But she also displayed an endearing lack of feminine self-confidence. The woman had no clue just how pretty and sexy she really was. Just watching her brush her hair and efficiently scrape it back into a sleek French braid turned him on, because the angle of the small of her back thrust out of her lovely, generous tits.

  Every hour he spent in her company, he felt more ensnared. And he didn’t mind that the trap was quickly snapping shut. He was grateful to be caught. He just prayed everything ended well in the next few hours, or he feared she’d close him out.

  He understood mind-numbing grief. He’d spent years in a rage-filled solitude, despite the efforts of his friends and commanders. Slowly, the people who’d cared about him had faded away. He hadn’t known he was lonely until he’d been hired by Montana Bounty Hunters and joined their dysfunctional but still highly functioning group, and now he’d met a woman he thought he might like to get to know, with hopes of climbing out of his solitary life. But first, they had to find her sister and the man who threatened everything Sammy held dear.

  An hour ago, they’d split from Jamie and Sky as the couple followed the direct, northern route. Now, Hook, Sammy, and Cochise hiked over a gentle rise.

  When he reached the top of the hill, he glanced out over a burbling creek. The trail ahead was empty for as far as he could see. He slowed his steps, waiting for Sammy to catch up to him.

  When she came up alongside him, he continued to walk, matching his steps to hers. “How’re you holding up?” he asked, shooting her a sideways glance.

  She wrinkled her nose. “Don’t ask. If I say how I really feel, you might not hear the end of my complaints.”

  He smiled. “This is what we call a ‘forced march’ pace.”

  “So, not designed to accommodate wimps. I get it. And I appreciate the fact you guys are pushing ahead so we can reach Sheri and Brady. I’ll keep up.”

  “All right. So, does it help you keep going by talking to me or watching the back of my boots?”

  Again, she scrunched her nose. “The boots. I’d just as soon save my breath for scurrying after you two.”

  “Let me know if we need to slow down. We’ll break soon anyway.”

  “I’ll do that.” She lifted her chin, pointing down the path. “Now, scoot. I don’t want to think about everything that hurts. I’ll follow the boots.”

  “Sure you’re not just avoiding talking to me about last night?” he asked under his breath.

  “Last night? Oh, I don’t recall all that much,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “I was asleep inside five seconds of closing my eyes. A bear could have nibbled on my toes, and I wouldn’t have noticed.” Her glare dared him to contradict her.

  “Right.” He gave her a wink and stretched his stride to m
ove ahead of her. Again, he swept the area ahead of them. The banks of the stream were edged with vegetation. To the left was a thick, old-growth forest of cottonwood, aspen, and birch trees. A hundred places for a criminal to hide. He looked for movement, for signs any human had met with violence, but wasn’t really expecting to find them. Ford had to be moving fast. Why would he slow himself down with hostages?

  Ten minutes later, Hook paused in the middle of the trail and drew his weapon.

  Cochise froze in place and glanced back to find Sammy hurrying toward him.

  As a precaution, he pulled his weapon from his holster and edged toward a tree while he scanned the area to try to figure out what had caught Hook’s attention.

  Suddenly, Hook crouched, his gaze moving to the woods around them, but then he shot forward, running toward something only he could see in the distance.

  Cochise patted the air to tell Sammy to sit tight, but she scowled and ran past him, her own weapon drawn. He followed, keeping his gaze scanning, searching, while he kept his breaths even to calm his racing heart.

  “Dammit, Sammy,” he said under his breath as she drew nearer to Hook.

  Ahead, Hook halted and went to his knees beside a tree.

  Cochise’s stomach dropped. He saw a pair of scuffed hiking boots attached to jeans-clad legs. He raced after Sammy and caught her around the middle. He turned her and pushed her back. “Wait,” he said, and gave her a hard stare. “Watch our backs.”

  “My sister—”

  “Wears size eleven shoes?”

  Her glance cut to the boots again, and she slowly shook her head. With her chest heaving, she moved to a tree for protection and showed she was willing to guard the trail.

  Cochise moved toward Hook. As he came around him, his heart thudded. Blood covered the front of a Seahawks T-shirt and a pair of grubby hands. The young man’s throat had been cut. A bandana had been tied over the slit. His chest was moving shallowly, a gentle, ragged rise and fall.

  “He was lucky,” Hook said, gazing up at Cochise. “Neither jugular nicked. Just his windpipe. The bandana’s keeping blood from filling his lungs. I’m not going to touch the bandana. It’s the only thing keeping him alive.” Hook bent toward the young man. “Brady,” he whispered.

  Cochise drew a deep breath, praying they were wrong. He was the right age. Please don’t let this be Sheri’s boyfriend.

  The young man’s eyes slowly blinked opened, and he glanced wearily up at Cochise and Hook then struggled to straighten.

  “Best not to move, buddy,” Hook said, clamping a hand on his shoulder. “We’re going to get you help. Don’t try to speak.”

  “We do need to know a few things though,” Cochise said, going to a knee. “Are you Brady? Don’t move your head. Squeeze my hand if you are,” he said, lifting the man’s hand.

  A squeeze confirmed his identity.

  Cochise took a deep breath. “As far as you know, is Sheri alive?”

  Another squeeze, yes.

  “This happen a little while ago?”

  Yes.

  “He find you two this morning?”

  Nothing.

  “Last night?”

  Yes.

  “The man who did this—was he bald with a tattoo of a skull on his forearm?”

  Yes.

  “Were they still following the trail?”

  Another squeeze, although weaker.

  Cochise gently gripped his shoulder. “You did good, Brady. We’ll find her. But you have to hang on.”

  Tears filled Brady’s pale blue eyes.

  Cochise rose and strode toward Sammy.

  “It’s Brady, isn’t it?” she asked, her expression stricken.

  “Yes, he’s alive. And he’s confirmed that Sheri’s with Ford.”

  Her hand went to her mouth, and she took two backward steps. Her wide, panic-filled gaze met his, and then she pushed past and ran toward the men at the base of the tree. She went to her knees beside Brady and Hook.

  When Cochise reached them, she was leaning over Brady. “Sweetheart, you hold on,” she said. “Hook’s g-going to get you help. M-my f-friend and I are going after Sheri. We’ll get her back, Brady.”

  Hook pushed up from the ground and took off his rucksack. Opening the top, he reached inside for the sat phone case and moved to the middle of the trail.

  As he called for help, Cochise knelt beside the young man whose face was a chalky white. “Brady, you have to stay awake. Stay sitting, just like you are,” he said, knowing Brady needed them to keep him engaged. He’d been here so many times, holding a hand, touching a cheek, trying to keep an injured man in the “now” so he didn’t slip away. “You were damn smart, kid. That bandana, sitting upright. You kept it together.”

  Brady’s eyelids fluttered. The corner of his mouth twitched.

  Hook returned. “I’ll stay with him until help arrives. PD and park service are heading this way.”

  A sound in the distance drew their attention skyward. A helicopter was overhead, although they couldn’t see it through the trees. More eyes on the ground. Cochise glanced at Sammy.

  “Let’s go,” she said, and then without waiting for his response, she took off at a fast clip down the trail.

  “Good luck,” Cochise said to Hook. He bent and patted Brady’s shoulder again, then he ran behind Sammy, knowing what she had to be feeling. He hoped like hell they found them before dark, because he worried about what Ford might do to Sheri without Brady as a buffer. His own sister’s rape and murder were a horror he didn’t want Sammy to suffer through. If he got the chance, he’d take the damn shot. No matter the cost.

  Chapter 7

  Sammy slowed to a jog, knowing she had to go the distance. Brady’s blood was still fresh. He couldn’t have been there long. Her sister was near. She could feel it. Sammy was determined to find her.

  With her head down, her pack snug against her back, she couldn’t allow the strain on her muscles, on her heart, to slow her down. Her sister needed her.

  Something glinted on the ground, and she slowed then stopped. A pale blue cord with a silver feather charm—one of the knotted bracelets her sister wore in a stack. She bent and snagged it from the ground, and then raised it high to show Cochise.

  She checked the side of the trail, looking for any sign they’d entered the woods, but found nothing. So, she moved forward again, this time at a fast walk, following the trail, checking the sides, hoping she was right and that her sister was leaving breadcrumbs for rescuers to follow.

  Maybe a quarter mile down the trail, Cochise called out. Her gaze followed to where he pointed.

  A pale peach bracelet decorated with silver beads lay a foot from the trail.

  She plucked it from the ground and touched it against her cheek. “That a girl, Sheri,” she whispered. Hope swelled inside her chest. Her sister was keeping it together.

  They searched the woods near where the bracelet had been dropped.

  Cochise bent and brushed away leaves. A depression the shape of a booted heel was there on the ground. He glanced toward the forest and moved on, tipping a broken branch. The splintered edges looked fresh. “I think they’ve left the trail.”

  “Dammit, it’s going to be harder to track them,” she said softly.

  He pulled a compass he wore on a beaded chain from around his neck. Holding it on his flattened palm, he turned. “The bracelet was there,” he said, pointing behind her. “The broken branch…” He turned his body to follow the line both points made. “They’re heading north now.”

  She drew her map from her back pocket and laid it on the ground. They knelt.

  “This bend in the trail. That ravine…” He pointed at the map. “This is where we are.” He used the side of his compass to measure the distance from their location to the border. His glance met hers. “They could be there by nightfall.”

  They heard sounds behind them. Rustling, stomping. Her breath caught.

  “Has to be more of the search party,” Coch
ise said, his hand closing around her forearm.

  Although she hated turning back, they returned to the trail.

  From the forest on the opposite side of the path, Sammy spotted a golden coat, a flash of a long, raised tail. Tessa burst into the clearing.

  Relief flooded Sammy, and she fell to her knees to greet Tessa, who ran up to her and began licking her chin.

  Sky and Jamie ran after Tessa. “We were with park rangers when they got the call from Hook. We followed your GPS tracker and went cross-country to find you.”

  Cochise wasted no time. “Sheri’s been leaving us a trail.”

  Sammy opened her hand to show the two bracelets she held clenched in her fist. “She’s been dropping these.” She turned to point to the place where Ford and Sheri left the trail. “We think they’re cutting through the forest to head straight to the border. Ford might have heard that helicopter and decided the trail was too out in the open.” She dropped her rucksack from her back and rooted for the baggy with Sheri’s T-shirt. As she handed the bag to Jamie, she said, “I can’t tell you how relieved I am that you’re both here.”

  That they’d arrived at this precise moment gave her even more hope. Someone above was looking out for Sheri. Although Sammy had never considered herself a religious person, she couldn’t argue with the fortuitous gifts they’d been given.

  Jamie glanced at Cochise and Sammy. “Once Tessa begins tracking, she’s going to move fast. We might want to dump our gear, so we can keep up.”

  After shoving ammunition into their pockets, they hid their rucksacks behind a tree.

  Jamie handed out earpieces. “When we get close, we won’t want to shout to each other.” Then she took the baggie, opened it, and held it beneath Tessa’s nose.

  The dog buried her nose in Sheri’s shirt. Her paws pranced, and her tail wagged.

  Jamie laughed softly. “You love this part, don’t you, Tess? Take a good sniff, baby girl.” When she pulled the bag away, she gripped Tessa’s collar and walked her to the place Sammy had indicated where Ford and Sheri might have left the trail. She bent over Tessa and gave the German command, “Such!” When she released the dog’s collar, Tessa darted forward, her nose on the ground.