Page 45 of Wild Mustang Security Firm

“That’s a bit judgmental, don’t you think?” Simon drawled. “After all, I haven’t even been tried yet, much less convicted.”

Willa looked past him to his riding horse and the packhorse he had with him.

“Doesn’t look like you’re planning to wait around to see how that plays out.”

“Your omelet is done. Be a good girl and get it out of the pan before it burns.”

Willa pulled the skillet off the fire, then slid the omelet onto the plate.

“Now put the plate down and very gently use your foot to slide it toward me, then move away from it and have a seat on that rock. Be sure to put the fork on the plate.”

She did as he asked, making no sudden moves. It had occurred to Willa, as he was on the run, he wasn’t going to want any witnesses—at least not any he left alive. She watched as Simon retrieved the plate and set it on the folding table she’d brought with her. He began to eat with one hand while keeping the gun trained on her with the other.

“Oh, don’t worry, Willa—do you mind if I call you Willa? Doesn’t matter, I’m going to, anyway.” He chuckled at his own perceived cleverness. “I’m not going to kill you. You know this country like the back of your hand, and while I could cross the border by continuing to head south, I’m sure you can find a safer way for me to do that.”

“Safer, how? Wilderness is wilderness. It’s all about the same.”

“Yes, but you know places like this and ways we can minimize the chances of me being caught. Besides, you’re rather good at this whole camping thing, and you’re not a bad cook.”

“I’m a trained chef, you ass. And why would I take you to Mexico? You’re not going to want to leave me alive, so either you kill me here, or you kill me there.”

“Could be, although I think you’d fetch a fair price south of the border. You’re a bit older than they like and not a virgin, but you have a nice tight little figure under those jeans and t-shirt. I might even make use of you on our journey together. It’s been a while since I’ve had a decent blow job or been able to fuck a nice cunt. Do you have a nice cunt, Willa?”

“I’ve never had any complaints. But again, why would I cooperate? I can’t see any way this ends well for me.”

“That’s not necessarily true. Depending on your abilities and if you make my trip easy, I might be persuaded to let you go once we’re in Mexico, but even if I’m not planning that… isn’t it better to stay alive for now, go along, then try to escape when you have better odds?” Simon smirked. “What? You didn’t think I’d knowthat’s what you were planning? We need to leave. Start breaking down your camp and getting your horses ready. Keep in mind, I can do this on my own. You’re merely a convenience, so I won’t hesitate to kill you, too.”

“So, you’re admitting you killed Evie?”

“Sure, why not? She didn’t have a nice cunt anymore and threatened to take at least fifty percent of all we had if I divorced her. I couldn’t let her do that.”

Willa moved forward to put out the fire.

“On second thought,” Simon said lasciviously. “Why don’t you take off your T-shirt and bra. I’d like to see those titties bounce while you’re working.”

He’d been right. Willa had come to the conclusion her best play was to do as he asked—go along, then look for the right opening. Like Simon, she would have no compunction about killing if the need arose. She merely needed to wait for the best moment to strike.

Willa stepped away from the fire and slowly, tantalizingly removed her clothing. If she could keep him focused on her tits, he might give her that opening sooner rather than later.

Willa liked her figure. She’d never resembled a model, but she was tall, her curves were in all the right places, and seemed to attract more than enough attention. As she removed her T-shirt and her bra, she could swear Simon had to keep from licking his lips. Willa steeled herself. She would do whatever she needed to ensure she came out of this alive, and Simon paid for killing Evie.

Chapter

Seven

Mac had made good time. Once Roscoe knew he could ride, the big horse settled down and was an excellent mount. Mac followed his GPS to what appeared to be a mesa of sorts. Although with the water cascading down the side, Mac figured it had to be a change in geography or glitch. What was confusing was the GPS indicated the spot he wanted was dead ahead—not on top of the land above the cliff but inside it.

He rode toward the coordinates. As they’d been making good time, Mac let Roscoe go up to the pool at the base of the cliff to drink. He was a bit surprised the roar and spray from the waterfall didn’t seem to bother the gelding. The horse was very nonchalant in his approach.

Mac sat quietly as Roscoe drank his fill. A bit dry-mouthed as well, he opened a bottle of the water he’d brought with him and drained it. Roscoe stood quietly, waiting for Mac to decide what to do.

Mac looked at the ground. He was no tracker, but he could see various tracks from wild animals, then a fresher set of hoofprints. He reached down and unsecured the rifle. It was still resting in the scabbard but could be easily and quickly pulled if needed.

He followed the tracks as they moved along the lakeshore, then stopped Roscoe as he started up the hard pack that would turn into rock. The tracks seemed to skirt the edge of the cliff, heading toward the rapidly moving water. Mac stepped down off the gelding and tied his reins to a nearby bush.

Withdrawing the rifle, Mac climbed the trail and realized it ran behind the waterfall. Cautiously, he proceeded, all of his senses on high alert. It was difficult to hear anything over the rushing water cascading off the cliff above. He hugged the wall and ensured his weapon stayed dry.

About a third of the way behind the falling water, the cliff opened up. At first, Mac thought it was a cave, then saw the light at the other end—a tunnel. Now he understood the readings he’d received on the GPS.

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