Montana Sky

he shrugged his shoulders. The two of them had whittled away the rest of the competitors until they’d gone head to head in the final round. Then head to head in two tie-breaking rounds. And there she’d squeaked past him.
    “By a lousy half an inch, tops.”
    “Doesn’t matter by how much.” She looked over, up at him, and grinned. “Matters who won. You’re a good shot.” She wiggled her brows. “I’m better.”
    “Today you were better. Anyway, I cost you twenty when I beat out Jim. Serves you right.”
    Laughing, she turned in his arms. “I made back the fifty I put on you.” When his brow lowered, she laughed again. “Do I look like a fool?”
    “No.” He tipped her face up. “You look like a smart woman who knows how to hedge her bets.”
    “Speaking of bets.” Despite the crowd that gasped and cheered at every burst of light, she wrapped herself around him, pressed her mouth warm and firm to his. “Let’s go inside and see if we live till morning.”
    “You going to let me stay till morning?”
    “Why not? It’s a holiday.”
     
    L ATER , WHEN THE FIREWORKS WERE DONE , THE CROWDS gone, and the night quiet, they turned to each other again. Her dreams hadn’t been full of blood and death and fear this time. Finding him there, warm, solid, ready to hold her, she knew there’d be no shaking dreams that night.
     
    S OMEONE ELSE DREAMED OF A REDHEADED WHORE AND shivered, thrilled with the memory. It had been so easy, so smooth, and every detail played back so clearly.
    He’d watched her come back to consciousness, the glassy eyes, the muffled whimper. He’d driven her far from Bozeman, into the sheltering dark of trees.
    Not on Mercy land. Not this time, and never again. He was done with punishing Mercy. But he couldn’t be done with killing.
    He’d tied her hands behind her back, and he’d gaggedher. He wouldn’t have minded hearing her scream, but he didn’t want her to be able to use her teeth on him. He’d cut her clothes away but had been careful, very careful, not to cut her flesh.
    He was very, very good with a knife.
    While she’d slept, he had taken his money back, and the rest of hers, which had been pathetically little. He’d bided his time, toying with her little pistol, her tube of red lipstick.
    Now that she was awake, now that her eyes were wide and she was struggling in the dirt, making noises like a trapped animal, he took the tube back out of her cheap purse.
    “A whore should be painted up proper,” he told her, and aroused himself by stroking the lipstick over her nipples until they were bright, blood red. “I like that. Yes, indeed.” Since her cheeks were pale, he colored them as well, in round circles like a doll’s happy blush.
    “Were you going to shoot me with this toy of yours, sweetheart?” He pointed the pistol playfully at her heart and watched her eyes roll white. “Guess a woman in your line a work’s gotta protect herself in more ways than one. Told you I’d wear a rubber.”
    He set the pistol aside, then tore open the foil package. “Love to have you suck me off again, Suzy Q. I do believe that was the finest blow job I ever paid for. But you might bite this time.” He pinched her red nipples painfully. “We can’t have that, can we?”
    He was already hard, throbbing hard, but made himself slide the condom on slowly. “I’m going to fuck you now. You can’t rape a whore, but since I ain’t going to pay for it, I guess technically we could call it that. So we’ll say I’m going to rape you now.” He levered himself over her, smiling as she tried to draw her legs up to protect herself. “Now, honey, don’t be shy. You’re going to like it.”
    In two rough jerks, he pulled her legs straight, spread them, locked them. “You’re damn well going to like it. And you’re going to tell me how much you love it. You can’t say much with that rag stuffed in your whore-sucking mouth, but you’re going to moan and groan for me. I wantyou to groan now. Like you can’t wait for it. Now.”
    When she didn’t respond, he released one of her legs and slapped her. Not hard, he thought, just enough to let her know who was boss. “Now,” he repeated.
    She managed a sob, and he settled for it. “You make noise for me, plenty of noise. I like plenty of noise with my sex.”
    He rammed himself into her. She was dry as dust and as unwelcoming as a tomb, but he pumped furiously, working up a sheen of sweat that gleamed on his back