“Whip?” Pablo asked breathlessly.
“Chains?” Sancho added. “You use chains on Elena?”
“SHUT UP!”
Startled, Rafe and Helen both turned toward Ignacio.
“Silencio!” Ignacio bellowed. “Dios mio! You two ar worse than cats in a fandango parlor.”
“Listen, guys, how about untying me now?” Rafe suggested, trying to sound reasonable. Not that he was going to forget his treatment by them. Nope. He was going t clean a few clocks before this day was out. “I’d like to be back to the base before dark and have a nice stiff Scotch on the rocks. Maybe even two.”
BAM! The loud report from Ignacio’s gun was his only response.
Rafe looked down to see a crease in his left boot match ing his right. This ape was definitely cruising with his light on dim.
“Your continual chatter ees annoying me, Senor Angel.” Ignacio blew the smoke from the end of his pistol and re placed it in its holster.
“Well, golly gee. All you had to do was ask me to be quiet.”
“The next time I weel aim higher,” Ignacio informed him coldly.
Rafe wasn’t sure if he referred to his knees or his ball; but he wasn’t taking any chances. He decided to shut up — for now.
Okay, I’ll bide my time until the right moment. Then I’ll, show this bum a few dirty tricks I’ve learned over the years.
He might think he’s got the upper hand here, but only till I’m ready. Wait till he sees what a real gang member can do.
But first things first, he decided, as Sancho began to lead the horses once again in their direction.
He was going to have to ride a horse.
Rafe tried to brave it out… until Mr. Ed attempted to take a bite out of his shoulder. “No dice! I am not getting on that horse. I’ll walk first.”
Helen shot him a glance of surprise. “Don’t tell me. The hotshot L.A. lawyer is a shark in the courtroom, but he’s afraid of a little ol’ horse.” Then she smiled. Actually, it was more like a smirk.
Rafe decided then that Helen wasn’t as attractive as he’d always thought. In fact, her hair wasn’t really fiery red; it was more like orange. And those freckles that stood out on her nose made her seem ridiculous, like an innocent kid who should be wearing pigtails. And her body wasn’t all that great, either. Damn it, who cared if her breasts were round and high, like one of those Vargas models? Or if her legs were long and athletically muscled and would look terrific in a pair of black silk stockings. Or —
“You weel ride,” Ignacio said, patting his holster, “even if I have to put a bullet in your ass and tie you to the saddle.”
Helen didn’t like the tone of Ignacio’s voice. Oh, she knew he had to be a friend of Rafe’s. What other explanation could there be for this perverse joke? But Ignacio carried the prank too far. It had seemed like he’d really kicked Rafe, and he could have hurt Rafe those times when he’d fired his gun.
The arrival of the horses interrupted her thoughts. She’d been riding since she was ten years old, and both animals looked like lively mounts. She’d enjoy a short ride if it weren’t for the company, or this ludicrous scheme they were playing out.
“Saddle the horses,” Ignacio ordered his cohorts as he waddled over to a shady tree. He was over six feet tall, but he had a beer belly that stood out like the prow of a ship and a huge back end that went up and down in his tight trousers as he walked.
Pablo, the youngest of the bandits, and Sancho, the older man with a head of thick, curly gray hair, glared at their leader for assigning them the dirty work.
Suddenly, the absurdity of the whole situation struck Helen. “The Three Stooges of the Wild West!” she murmured. Her eyes connected with Rafe’s, and they shared a smile.
Lord, he is gorgeous. What was it about Rafe that a mere smile could set butterflies fluttering in her stomach?