RattlingtheCage Page 6

  “Get off her or I’ll throw you off.”

  Montana whimpered. “Garvey, please do what he says.”

  “Stay out of this,” he hissed and went for his holster.

  Lawson lunged, taking a lamp with him. He grabbed Garvey’s forearm, pinned it behind his back and shoved him into the corner, collapsing a table on his way down.

  The deputy heaved himself to his feet and Lawson swung his arm, nailing him in the mouth.

  “Don’t ever touch her again,” he snarled, his teeth vibrating.

  “You just bought yourself time in the slammer.” Red-faced, Deputy Gutless reached for his handcuffs.

  From his back pocket, Lawson pulled a knife. “Leave, or I’ll demonstrate how I gutted a guy in the military.”

  Garvey’s hand halted. Sweat beaded his forehead. “My pop will be hearing about this.”

  “That’s right, go run home to your daddy. I’m terrified.”

  “You ought to be. He’s the sheriff.”

  An invisible fist punched Lawson in the gut. Another fucking Mitchum? Why didn’t he hear about that until just now? He held his fighting stance while Mitchum Jr. backed toward the door.

  “I’ll be back, Montana.” His mouth pulled back into a wolfish sneer. “I aim to finish what I started.”

  “Like hell,” she seethed.

  Lawson readied his fist but the deputy booked out to his car. Standing guard in the doorway, he waited until the car lights faded.

  He took a sharp intake of air and faced Montana. “You okay?”

  She palmed her eyes dry and slammed a fist into a pillow.

  “Damn you. What are you doing? Don’t you know how to stay away?”

  His eye twitched. “Hello? I saved you.”

  “That’s not the point.” She rubbed her eyes and ran her hands along her thighs. “You don’t need them in your business.”

  “I’ll handle myself.”

  Concern etched her delicate features. “I’m scared for you.”

  “Don’t be.” He rubbed the top of his head. “Hell, I didn’t know there were two Mitchums.”

  “I thought you knew.”

  He chuckled. “No matter. I can take that one in my sleep.”

  “I’m sure.”

  Lawson eyed her lithe form. Her hair lay in a tangled mess. Lips pouted. The strap of her shirt hung off her shoulder, showing the swell of her breast. Damn her for not wearing a bra.

  As if she’d read his mind, Montana slid from the couch and straightened her clothes. “Why were you coming to see me?”

  His rehearsed apology fell flat on his tongue. He needed to cut all ties. He cared more than he wanted, and anything he said now would haunt him later.

  “I forget.”

  He walked out the door and didn’t stop until he’d reached the motel.

  * * * * *

  The floor moved under Clint Mitchum, followed by a slam. Garvey stalked inside.

  He lit a cigarette and poked his head down the hall. “Did you see Montana like I said?”

  Garvey answered over his shoulder. “Yeah.”

  Amusement creased his brow at the sight of dried blood in the corner of the boy’s mouth. “Did she sock you?”

  “No. The stranger did.”

  His neck tensed. “Now how did that happen?”

  “You won’t want to hear it.”

  Lips curled, he said, “Tell me.”

  His tolerance thinned as he listened to Garvey’s account of what took place. Was the boy so stupid that he didn’t bother to fight back? “I can’t believe you didn’t haul his ass in.”

  “Pop, he had a knife.”

  “And?” He jabbed his finger against the boy’s holster. “Christ. You had a gun. Why didn’t you use it?”

  Garvey looked at him with unfocused eyes.

  “Ah hell, I’ll deal with him myself.”

  “No, I’ll do it, Pop.”

  “Forget it. You’re a coward. A momma’s boy. Had you pegged from the start.”

  Garvey’s face blanched. “He had the upper hand, is all.”

  Furious, Clint resisted the urge to split his lip further. “Boy, one day you’ll be running this town. You want to embarrass the Mitchum name?”

  “No, sir.”

  “You looking to drag our family name into the ground?”

  “No, sir. I’m not.”

  “Then prove to me you ain’t a coward. It’s nothing to kill someone.” He swiped Garvey’s gun from his holster. “You point and shoot.”

  “’K, Pop.”

  Through the wispy smoke of his cigarette, he watched Garvey sulk into his bedroom. Clint shut his eyes tight. Times like this made him want to come clean to the boy that he wasn’t his flesh and blood. That he’d been duped by a whore into thinking he’d fathered him, until he’d received a letter from a nurse. She’d mentioned that the whore had died the week prior from pneumonia, but not before confessing in a state of delirium that she’d robbed and stabbed the man who was Garvey’s real father.

  A note had followed with a birth certificate, his name scratched out. Straight after, he’d taken Garvey to a specialist in another town for confirmation. Not wanting anyone to know, he chose to raise Garvey and mold him into a Mitchum.

  Except his idea continued to fail. The boy lacked sense, balls and a gut for violence. Nothing like a Mitchum.

  Clint extinguished his cigarette in an ashtray and knocked on Garvey’s door.

  “I’m off. Your gun’s on the counter. When you’re done sniveling like a baby, get your ass to the jail.”

  He didn’t wait for a reply. Fuming, he grabbed a strong cup of coffee. He’d need it to get through the morning.

  * * * * *

  Stretched out on his bed, Garvey forced his trembling hands still. His father’s disappointment left him distraught. He’d seen the regret in his eyes. Regret at having a son who failed him. He hated being a Mitchum. Because of his name, everyone loathed him, including Montana.

  He recalled her body squirming beneath him. He’d have taken her all the way had the stranger not interrupted.

  Garvey rolled to his side. His throat felt tight. He wanted to please his pop. Be the son he expected. Be the man he expected. He didn’t want to be a coward. The next time he encountered the stranger, he’d shoot him between the eyes, and he’d do so in front of Montana to show her how tough he could be when provoked. His future wife needed to fear him, and to understand what he’d do to any man who messed with her. She needed to know that he’d be handling her body, and her life.

  Chapter Eleven

  Montana didn’t sleep, too busy hashing over Lawson’s words. She’d displayed a horrid temper to a man she wanted to impress. Not push away. He’d saved her, and she’d acted like a petulant child. She was losing sight of her goal.

  Out her window, the sun peeked over the treetops. A brand new day. A fresh start. She showered and threw on a short black skirt and a tight red tank. Empowered, she left to find Lawson and make him forget all about her tantrum.

  Several knocks later on his motel room door, she wondered if he’d gone to Libby’s or just plain wanted nothing to do with her. She persuaded Frank, with a little cleavage-baring move, to open Lawson’s door.

  Relieved to see the room empty, she poked her head inside Libby’s.

  “Morning, Montana,” greeted Libby. “Haven’t seen your lovely face in here for ages. How you been, darlin’?”

  “Good, thanks.” She checked the tables but didn’t see any sign of Lawson.

  “Can I get you a menu? A cup of coffee?”

  “Uh, no, thanks. I’m…I’ve gotta go.”

  “Sure thing.” Libby leaned in, her voice soft. “If you’re looking for Handsome, he’s in the motel parking lot. Been out there a while.”

  Montana cocked her head toward the window and then looked back at Libby. She wanted to ask how she knew, but remembered that Libby knew all. “Thanks.”

  “Sure, honey. Don’t be a stranger her
e.”

  “I won’t.”

  She stepped outside and shielded her eyes from the sun. There he stood beside his beast of a truck among rows of junked cars. Montana stole toward him. Her stomach twisted and turned. Her palms, sweaty. The thump thump thump of her pulse amplified with each step. She lagged long enough to admire his strong profile, the forward tilt of his hat, how his shirt fit with an ironed-on flair. In the midst of enjoying the fine view, she heard a rumblefrom the sky. Rain crashed down in sheets. She heard Lawson curse and hurtle into his truck.

  Used to the sudden downpours, she waited out the rain. Within moments the rain stopped and the sun slipped from the clouds. The truck door squeaked open and Lawson jumped out, grumbling something while staring up into the sky. Not wanting to waste another minute, she held her head high, and started toward him.

  * * * * *

  Lawson stiffened at the crunch of gravel behind him. Expecting the sheriff or his useless sidekick, he readied his knife.

  Instead, he took in the sight of Montana. Her body soaked from the rain, hair slicked along her face and trailing her neck. Her top shrink-wrapped to her curves. He swallowed down a lustful moan.

  “Got caught in the rain.”

  He nodded, his tongue wedged in a knot.

  “Sorry for earlier.” Her lips formed a smile that made his entire body throb. “I am glad you were there.”

  “Not a big deal.” His voice came out distant. “Got over it like, five seconds later.”

  She crossed her arms behind her back and rotated to the right, then left. “Yeah, you’re tough like that. I envy you.”

  He’d just gotten his headspace back into game plan, and like a switch she’d turned it off. “Did you want something?”

  “Just to say a proper thank you.” She’d stopped rotating and fidgeted with her hands. “Without you, Garvey would’ve…”

  “Don’t. I haven’t eaten yet. I don’t need the visual to ruin my appetite.”

  She gestured toward his truck. “What are you doing out here?”

  “Someone went through my things.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “Stuff’s out of place. Except, it’s all here. I might be paranoid.”

  “I know how that feels. I wake up some mornings with the feeling that someone watched me while I slept. Creeps me out.”

  She moved closer and he jerked away.

  “Back off, okay?”

  “Why?”

  “Just, you need to go.”

  Montana advanced, her pretty eyes full of intent. “I can’t stay away. You sparked something in me. I want more.”

  “Tough.”

  “You want me, Lawson. I can tell by the way your breath changes around me. And don’t think I’m unaware of the view you’ve got right now. Me all wet, my shirt skintight. Bet it’s a tempting view.”

  He couldn’t argue so he kept his mouth shut.

  “The way you threw me on the pool table and had your way with me, it’s like you couldn’t get enough. I couldn’t get enough. And I want more.”

  The thought of her on the pool table repeated behind his eyes. “Stop it.”

  “You want me. I know you do. There’s energy between us. An attraction.”

  “It’s lust.” He said it in a way that made it sound revolting. “Pure and simple.”

  She inched closer and his body compressed. He forced his hands to his sides. Without meaning to he glanced at the luscious curves of her breasts. Her nipples two plump beads. The shirt so damn tight he didn’t see the point of why it was still on.

  His chest rose and fell swiftly. The heat made it difficult to breathe.

  “If you want me to go, tell me to go,” she challenged, and pursed her lips.

  His head screamed it at her with all the rage of a charging bull. But he couldn’t spit the words out. Nothing prepared him for the level of want he had for her. Maybe if he kept telling himself he didn’t want her, he’d believe it.

  Lawson inhaled before he passed out, and caught the scent of her desire. His throat thickened. She breached the nothing of a space between them. Her nipples pressed against his chest. Forceful. Demanding.

  The word “mistake” flickered in his mind right before he enveloped her damp flesh and crashed his mouth against hers.

  He gripped her ass and hoisted her up, bringing her thighs around his waist. With one eye crooked open, he carried her to the truck and pressed her against its side long enough to pry open the door.

  “Mind your head.”

  In one fluid move he brought her inside with him onto his lap, peeled off her top and buried his face between her breasts. All attempts by his brain to reason with him, ignored, masked by his rapid pulse.

  “Every hard inch of you feels so good,” she murmured.

  His cock throbbed beneath the denim. Any sense of control, lost. He reached across to the glove box and grabbed a condom.

  Her fingers scraped at his buttons. “Get these off.”

  Even his fingers fumbled as if they were swollen sausages.

  “Hurry,” she cried, stress apparent in her voice.

  “Trying.” Christ it was hot. Sweat trickled along his face.

  Cursing, he tackled the ridiculous amount of buttons. He considered ripping the damn things off the moment she hiked her skirt up and pushed her panties to the side. With one last pull, he freed himself of the denim and briefs.

  Using his teeth, he tore open the foil wrapper and sheathed his erection. Montana grabbed hold of his cock and slid down on him.

  He snarled at the wetness of her, groaning as if she was a drug that he knew he shouldn’t take but tasted too damn good to refuse.

  Her eyes flickered beneath her lashes.

  “Is this what you want?”

  “Yes,” she sobbed. “Oh god, yes.”

  His fingers dragged through her hair, taking a clump in his fist and forcing her seductive eyes on his.

  “You’re no good for me. Do you hear?”

  Biting her lip, she nodded.

  He cupped her ass and helped propel her up and down his cock. Montana kissed at his lips savagely, her hands hot and all over his face and head.

  He slipped his pinky along her tight little hole. She gasped, her eyes wide and curious.

  “Ever been touched there before?”

  “No,” she whispered.

  “It’s wild.”

  He slid his finger in a fraction of the way and she tossed her head back, exposing her neck.

  “Like it?”

  “I like everything you do to me.”

  She clung to his body, her nipples hard along his chest. She moaned. “Deeper. More.”

  He slid a second finger inside and she whipped her hair, the dark strands falling around him like eagle wings.

  Thighs squeezed tight, she rode him hard and fast, soft, breathy words flowing from her lips, her face warm and flushed. He groaned into the sweet friction. He brought his hands to her hips and pulled her into him, fast, fast, deep. They stayed locked in some rapid-fire movement, his body a slave to the driving rhythm. Through cracked eyelids he noted the windows coated in wisps of white as if to hide their indecency.

  “Yes,” she moaned. “Yes, please, please, right there.”

  He ignored the burn, the stabbing of pain in his shoulder, and focused on the edge.

  “Now,” she cried.

  Her body trembled in his grasp, the contractions of her climax pulling him off the edge with her. Head back, muscles strained, his body shuddered. A guttural cry burst from his throat and a rippling of satisfaction spilled forth.

  Lawson pulled her into him, her body alive and writhing against his chest. Her bubblegum breath came short and fast against his cheek. She murmured his name and cradled his head. Face smashed against her breasts, he breathed her in.

  In the space of time with her he’d forgotten the darkness that motivated his actions. The demons that drove him back to a place he woke up screaming from most nights. The bl
ack hole that had sucked away his life and that of his family. A welcome reprieve, but one he knew was short-lived.

  He breathed her in again, one more moment of heaven, before it faded and he re-entered the darkness. Where nothing good ever happened, and where he knew he’d be a fool to ever let someone inside.

  Chapter Twelve

  Montana’s body thrummed. Her limbs were liquid and her body light. She leaned back just a bit and let her eyes drift over the multitude of scars etched along his skin. Someday she hoped to hear the story behind each one.

  A damp lock of hair hung above his eye. She tucked it into place and sprinkled kisses along his forehead.

  “That was wonderful,” she said and released a sigh of content.

  His lack of a response brought her level of bliss down a notch.

  Concerned, she asked, “What’s the matter?”

  He stared past her with haunted eyes.

  Montana placed her hands on either side of his face to try to make him see her. “Are you…”

  “Don’t,” he snapped and yanked her hands down.

  Heaviness settled into her chest.

  Grateful for the foggy windows, she climbed off and straightened her skirt.

  “I know you don’t think I’m much,” she said, pulling on her top, “but I have big prospects out there waiting for me.” Montana tilted the rearview mirror to check her hair. “I’m going to get where I want to be. No one’s going to slow me down or tell me what to do.” The silence wore on her. She wiped a small circle of condensation from the window and looked out at the rusted old cars that once roared to life.

  “I’m going to be a dancer,” she continued. “What do you think of that?”

  She craned her neck to find him still staring at the windshield.

  “Think I have a chance?”

  “Sure.”

  His voice startled her. Wanting to keep him talking, she blurted, “What about with you? Think I have a chance there?”

  He swung his face toward her, eyes neutral. “Like I’ve said before, there’s nothing between us. There won’t ever be.”

  She scooted closer to the door where she hoped his words couldn’t hurt her.

  “You like me more than you let on.”