Free Two Roped and Ready [Bewitching Desires 6] (Siren Publishing Menage Amour) by Mellanie Szereto

Ilona’s skin an unnatural hue, and he moved closer to her to block the golden radiance from her face. Pale and motionless, she could’ve been a doll if not for the soft, rhythmic sound of her breathing. She’s breathing.
    Fear of disturbing her rest froze him in place. He’d gladly stay with her, but even as big as the bed was, he wouldn’t be able to lie down beside her without jiggling the mattress. Eyeing a chair by the fireplace, he waffled about where to spend the night. Was the reassurance of hearing her breath more important than the risk of waking her?
    He eased under the covers, careful not to bounce. Lying on his side, he studied her silhouette. “What it is about her?”
    PC slipped in on the other side. “I wish I knew. I also would’ve appreciated being told what’s wrong with her. She’s so pale.”
    Needing no reminders of how sick she must be, he ignored the comment on her color. “Her family isn’t getting out of here in the morning without telling us what’s going on. If she can’t be left alone, why isn’t she in the hospital?”
    “Don’t know. They didn’t seem concerned about leaving her with us. Let’s try to get some sleep.”
    Right. Like he could sleep—even if the comfortable bed pulled him toward unconsciousness. “Go ahead. I’m not tired.”
    A breathy yawn carried to his ears, and then PC spoke. “Yeah, me neither.”
    They were clearly both exhausted but unwilling to admit it.
    Quayde blinked his watering eyes. “G’night, Pax.” G’night, Ilona. Sweet dreams, darlin’.
    PC’s low half grunt said he was already succumbing to fatigue, but Quayde fought it for another minute before his body won out.
     
    * * * *
     
    Nudging his horse into a canter, PC searched the horizon for the town he’d called home for the last month. No, not really home. He had no idea where home was.
    As he and his best friend topped the rise a half-mile east of Encanto, movement caught his eye. Five men on horseback approached a girl on foot at the side of the wagon path. The first man dismounted a roan with splashes of white over its coat. Then a second and third climbed off their mounts as PC and Quayde neared the group. Something flashed in the bright sun. The barrel of a gun?
    PC’s senses went on high alert as he slowed to a walk. “Isn’t that the horse that was stolen from the livery last week?”
    Quayde slid his rifle from the strap on the saddle. “Yeah. The girl might have a gun, but she’ll have a hell of time fighting off five men. Come on.”
    Urging his bay into a gallop, PC yanked his firearm free and aimed for the sky. Quayde mirrored the actions, and they each fired off a shot. Another blast rang out, sending the roan into a full-out run in the direction of town. The first man and the girl fell to the ground. The other two riders remounted and scattered with the remainder of the band.
    Gesturing toward the four on horseback, Quayde took off after the one headed north. PC rode southeast, pushing the bay to make up the distance. His horse stretched out his long legs with every stride, but after three days on the trail, the gelding couldn’t keep up. Circling around, PC aimed for the lone live oak near the knoll. He spied Quayde doing the same and met him halfway up the hill.
    The horses snorted, seeming to protest the abuse of chasing wild geese. Dropping the reins, PC swung his right leg over his ride’s rump to dismount while scanning the area. The man still lay on the ground, groaning and writhing. The girl was nowhere in plain sight.
    He took half a dozen steps toward the wounded. An involuntary flinch shuddered through him when the guy rolled over to reveal a powder-burned hole outlined in blood on the front of his pants.
    “Look who we have here, PC. Chester Jenkins. Wanted for stealing horses, attempted murder, and manhandling one of the ladies at Miss Wyndham’s place.”
    PC couldn’t hold back a hoot of laughter. “Damn, that’s gotta hurt. Dontcha think,