Free Apache Caress by Georgina Gentry - Panorama of the Old West 08 - Apache Caress Page A

or selling her to one of those rich Mexicans south of the border. Once Trixie was in Mexico, she’d never be heard of again and the government wouldn’t take action over a missing whore.
    “My patron’s a banker.” Trixie pouted against Gill’s open mouth. “Promised he’d introduce me to important people in New York theater, but all I’ve had so far is two short stints in second-rate dives in the worst part of Saint Louis.”
    “Not nearly good enough for a star like you, honey,” Gill said as he fumbled feverishly with his buttons. “You be friendly to me and I’ll take you to the West Coast.” Or at least as far as Fort Bowie, Arizona Territory, he promised himself as he ran his tongue over her nipples.
    She spread her thighs, and he slid slowly into the hot wetness of her. “Umm, just like warm honey,” he breathed. “Oh, Trixie, you really are something special.”
    “So are you, Gill.” She giggled. “I’m so glad Robert sent you. . . .” She slipped her tongue into his mouth and locked her legs around his hips.
    It was awkward on the sofa, Gill thought, but he didn’t dare suggest they move to the bedroom. He’d better take whatever the dumb tart offered while the getting was good. She had talent, all right. Her body seemed to be literally sucking the juice right out of him, her long nails digging into his back through the blue uniform.
    I need to get back to the bridge, he thought. But at this instant, passion overruled duty or hatred. Coupling with this hot bitch was more important than catching or killing that Apache. He quickened his thrusting while her mouth explored his. Then all he could think of was pouring his seed deep into her.
    Gill’s last conscious thought was how much fun he and Robert would have had taking turns on Trixie just as they had done with that other girl.... He dozed off to sleep, his bandaged head resting on her freckled, sweaty breasts.
     
     
    Sierra had had second thoughts about alerting the Irish policeman when Cholla held onto the back of her dress. The man couldn’t see him hiding there, of course, but she knew it would be almost impossible for her to escape without getting knifed. So she had merely asked how to get out of town and had followed the big man’s instructions.
    Her old mule was nervous in the traffic, so it took most of the afternoon; but at dusk the wagons had passed the outskirts of town and was headed down a country road where houses were fewer and farther between. On a long, empty stretch, Sierra reined the mule to a halt and turned to face her captor. “All right, I got you out. Now you keep your promise.”
    “I said when I was safe,” he retorted. “What am I supposed to do, drive this wagon through the countryside myself? The first farmer who sees me will call the law!”
    “That’s not my problem.”
    He looked at her with dark, smoldering eyes. “I didn’t hear everything that was said back there, but I did hear you tell that corporal your husband was an officer killed on duty.”
    “I told him whatever I thought it would take to get us through that road block.” Sierra looked away, feeling her heart lurch. What would this savage do if he knew her husband had been killed heroically fighting Apaches?
    He leaned over her shoulder. “It’ll be dark soon. There’s a grove of trees up ahead. We’ll camp there while I decide what to do.”
    “That wasn’t part of the deal.”
    “By Usen, for a woman who says she never takes chances, you goad me to anger!”
    “Sheer desperation,” Sierra snapped, as she brushed a loose wisp of hair back into her bun. “If you weren’t such a liar–”
    “I didn’t say exactly where I’d free you,” he countered. “I’m still too close to Saint Louis to feel safe.”
    Sierra thought about the scissors in her small trunk. Sooner or later she was going to have to risk trying to kill him. She didn’t believe he intended to let her go. If he were going to murder her anyway, she had