“Kodiak, I don’t know what to do.”
“Don’t fret none. I’ll see it handled.”
“With guns?”
“That strikes me as a sensible plan.”
“You cannot keep solving every problem with bullets. Aren’t you weary of all the running?”
“It’s the only life I’ve ever known.”
“I understand. But we could have something better.”
She steps into the firelight, shadows shifting across her face. “You said you wanted cattle. Hogs. Chickens. We can do that here. Live off the land. Run the inn.”
Being a hotel man don’t sound like a dream. I’d sooner chew nails. But she’s right about one thing—me wanting to live clean, quiet, and with her, whatever comes next. I’ve dreamt of Alice heavy with my child more times than I care to admit. Trouble is, it ain’t a life I can promise.
“We can’t. Not while there’s a price on my head.”
“I cannot run again,” she says, voice firmer now.
Then her fingers go to the buttons at her hip, undo ’em. The fabric parts, and there it is—the scar. Pink, ropey, like a railroad track etched into her flesh.
“It aches when the weather turns. I can walk, work, but it’s not easy. If we had to run, really run, I’d only slow you down.”
For a long spell, I just stare. That wound damn near took her from me.
“I remember that day,” I say. Wind off the Gulf, her skirts soaked in blood, me screaming for a doctor like a madman.
“It’s ugly,” she murmurs. “I walk like a lame mule.”
“You’re the finest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. I’d do it all over. Swing from a rope if it meant keepin’ you alive.”
Her hands come to my face, trembling. “Don’t die for me, Kodiak. Live.Stay, and live.”
I sink to my knees before her, pressing my lips to the scar. The skin’s warm, raised. I kiss it again, slower this time, mouth moving along the jagged ridges. My hands find her hips. She leans back against the wall, breath catching.
“Let me see you,” I murmur.
With shaky hands, she tugs the skirt open the rest of the way. It drops past her hips in a soft whisper of cloth. Ain’t nothing underneath—just her, bare and trembling in the firelight.
One hand finds the wall behind her. The other grips my shoulder.
I start with a kiss to her inner thigh—slow, reverent. Her skin’s hot under my mouth. I drag my tongue along her, feel herjolt. When I part her and kiss the place she’s burning for me, she lets out a gasp.
She tastes like sin and redemption both. I take my time, tongue drawing soft circles, then deeper strokes. She moans, nails clawing at my shoulder.
“Kodiak.”
I hum against her, sucking gentle on her pretty little button, feeling her whole body start to quake. She’s close already, hips grinding. When she comes, she don’t cry out. She whimpers, legs shaking, head thumping against the wall.
I hold her through it, mouth gentling, letting her ride the wave.
After, I rest my head against her thigh, breathing hard.
She laughs, breathless. Hands cup my face, pulling me up. She kisses me deep, like she don’t care what I taste like.
“Come with me,” she whispers.
