Page 33 of Hell and Gone
Did he hold onto a murderer? Did he crave the touch of a killer?
He closed his eyes as Lawrence guided Trigger through the trees, heading for a game trail only he could see in the moonlight.There are a million ways into the Crazies.
Proof he moved in the darkness? Or proof he was a damn good cowboy and knew this land, that he had the mountains in his bones? A good-for-nothing, damn good cowboy.
What was true? What could he trust?
For the moment, Everett trusted Trigger, and the sway of the stallion, and the heat against his cheek, his chest. Lawrence’s heat, and his body, solid, strong, and steady.
Time passed. They rode up the mountains, through thickened aspen and cottonwood, dense cedar, towering pine. Trigger clambered over rock and skirted boulders, forded nearly knee-high tributaries.
They stopped halfway up the mountains at a broad river, a collection of most of the eastern facing creeks and streams that tumbled toward the valley, filled with boulders strewn like scattered pebbles. Tiny waterfalls cascaded over underground rocks, and whirlpools swirled in the boulders’ shadows. The bubbling whispers called to Everett, the darkness of the water a diamond-studded snake that reflected the starlight and cradled shivering shadows.
Lawrence slid off Trigger’s back. He helped Everett down, holding Everett’s waist as he came off, and held on even after Everett’s boots were on the ground. They stood still, breaths mingling, chests brushing on each inhale. Everett could fall into Lawrence’s eyes, into those dark depths. They burned, like the ends of coals in a fire pit, heat held so deep it was a bleeding ruby shine.
“Strip,” Lawrence grunted. He pulled away, turning his back to Everett. Clearing his throat, he toed off his boots. Reached for his belt. “Gotta take everythin’ off.”
“What?” Everett blinked.
“They’re huntin’ me, and they’re for sure gonna be huntin’ you, too, now. That means we need to lose our scent. They might send the dogs to search for you. We gotta cross the river and ditch our clothes, send ‘em downstream.”
“And after the river? When we’re naked and freezing?”
“We’re near the eastern edge of the Lazy Twenty-Two. There’s a line camp in the high pasture on the border. It hasn’t been used in years. We don’t push the herd out to that pasture no more. But it’s still there, and it’s a good place to hide. There’s supplies there, too. Clothes, food. It’s only another ten miles. Two hours’ ride.”
“Two hours soaking wet in this chill?”
“We’ll wrap in the saddle blankets. And we’ll be sharin’ body heat.”
Not what he wanted to hear. Everett turned away as Lawrence unbuttoned his shirt, stripped down to his unbuckled jeans. Damn it, his bad choices were piling up, shit choice after terrible decision leading him down the road to ruin. Again.
Fuck it. He ripped his shirt off, pulled it over his head, balled it up and threw it before he kicked off his boots. He pulled his pistol and holster off his belt and set them aside with his cell phone, then shoved his jeans down. His boxers followed, and he stood naked on the riverbank, the wind whispering over his skin. Goosebumps rose, falling down his back, his thighs.
“That shit hat, too.” Lawrence held out his hand.
“A hat is a damn hat.”
Lawrence snorted. He grabbed his and Everett’s clothes and strode naked to the river’s edge. He pushed them underwater, dunking everything and getting it all sodden, before wading out and throwing the clothes into the middle of the current. Plaid and jean floated off, spinning in the eddies, tumbling over boulders. He tossed Everett’s hat as far as he could into the waters. He pulled his own off and dunked it, then let it float it away.
Lawrence faced Everett, buck ass naked in the river.
Everett’s stomach seized. He couldn’t breathe, and his skin felt too tight, squeezing his insides down to nothing, to his basest, raw particles. Until he couldn’t move. Couldn’t think.
The half-moon’s glow outlined his body, carved Lawrence out of the night. Muscles swept in and out of shadows and stars. The hair on his chest was lost to the night, but his shoulders, his thighs, his muscles, were caressed by the glow. Everett’s gaze drifted, taking him in slowly, every part, every piece, every inch. Every long, thick inch. His mouth ran dry.
“Go dunk in the river,” Lawrence said softly. “Use sand from the riverbed. Scrub your skin. Your pits. Your crotch, as much as you can.”
He moved on autopilot, walking naked into the river, Lawrence close behind him.This is when he pushes me under. This is when he drowns me. I’ll be a bloated, naked corpse on some river bank, half eaten by a bear and found by a hunter months from now. This is the end.
It wasn’t. Lawrence dunked himself, gasping as he resurfaced, shaking his head to clear his eyes. He ran his hands over his hair, smoothing back the long strands. His hair curled at the ends and stray pieces fell into his eyes without his hat on, came free from being tucked behind his ears. Wet and with everything slicked back, the cut of his jaw looked like it could cleave Crazy Peak right off the mountain.
As Everett dunked himself, Lawrence grabbed river sand and scrubbed his arms and legs, his underarms and his crotch. All the parts where he could leave a scent trail. Everett mimicked him, stealing glances as often as he could.
Minutes later, they waded out, soaking wet. Now the midnight breeze was cold, chilling Everett to the bone. He shivered.
Lawrence pushed past him and shook out a saddle blanket. He draped it over Everett’s soaked and naked shoulders. “Here. Grab your boots and get your gear. We gotta move quick.” He held out his hands to boost Everett up to Trigger’s back. “You ride in front his time.”
He didn’t have it in him to argue. Not anymore. Everett grabbed his pistol and cell and clambered onto Trigger’s back, the blanket just barely covering his ass. Lawrence settled behind him, also wrapped in a blanket, and with a nudge of his knees and a click, he guided Trigger into the river. “C’mon, boy,” Lawrence whispered. “You know where to go.”
