Defend Me from My Friends

Chapter Seven: Just One More Time

POV: Kitty

Kitty stretched wearily as she leaned forward to blow out the lamp, eager for the promised succor of Matt's arms. Their nightcap inconveniently interrupted by Chester's embarrassed knock and announcement that a rowdy brawl had broken out at the Lady Gay, he promised to return as soon as he could. He might already be waiting for her upstairs, his long, beautiful, and very male body hers for the loving. A smile curved her lips, desire warmed her breasts and tingled in her center at the thought.

She had used the delay created by his ill-timed departure to finish the last of the books, having abandoned them after Glenn Cantrell's sloppy advances and Matt's fortunate arrival. Distracting the big lawman from his suspicions about Cantrell's actions had not been too difficult. At the time of Chester's interruption, they were well past the early intimacies and were in the process of peeling off each other's clothing in between kisses and caresses. After a hoarse acknowledgment to his assistant – without opening the door – Matt had drawn in a few ragged breaths, trying to manage a presentable state and scowling half-heartedly at Kitty as she continued to tempt him.

Reluctantly, though, she sighed at the inevitable. "Go ahead, Matt," she said, pulling her blouse back over the breasts he had just been teasing. The fabric worried her aroused nipples, and she could not help but wish his lips, and not the blouse, were still the cause. "I haven't finished the books for tonight. You go on and come back by the office when you're done." Her voice grew husky, not quite able to resist one more seduction. "We can, um, pick up where we left off."

She watched him swallow, heard him groan, saw him pause in his attempt to pull his trousers back on.

"You're not making this easy, Kitty," he complained.

But she just smiled. "My intent was to do the opposite."

"Oh, you succeeded," he assured her. "You succeeded."

It took another five minutes for him to leave, grumbling as he went about Chester and cowboys and provocative women. She threw him a promising smile and was pleased to see his own warm grin flash back.

"I'll be back," he assured her.

"I'll be here," she returned.

And that's just where she intended to be. Throwing on a simple skirt and blouse, she had slipped downstairs to the books, her keen head for numbers making quick work of the final tallies. Satisfied with that task, she felt her heart beat a little faster in anticipation of being satisfied in a completely different way later.

Just as she turned toward the door that led back into the saloon, she heard the rattle of the outside entrance. Kitty Russell had seen too much, experienced too much, to be flustered. Smoothly, she stepped toward the safe where she kept the derringer Matt had given her a few years earlier. Just in case, he had said, and they both held pleasant memories of the subsequent trips out to Spring Creek for her to practice her shooting skills. Most of those excursions ended with both of them practicing other skills, as well.

Before she could reach the black, iron box, though, the door burst open, wood splintering around the lock. Two men stepped inside, their wide shadows looming menacingly against the frame. Unable to suppress a gasp, she nevertheless drew composure around her when she recognized Glenn Cantrell.

"Mister Cantrell, what are you doing here?"

He stared at her, wide-eyed for a moment, as if he had not expected to find her there. And, indeed, she figured that was true.

Somehow, his voice was both polite and threatening at once. "I'd be obliged, Miss Russell, if you'd open that there safe for me."

Eyes narrowed, she hesitated. "The safe?"

"The hell with this," a voice growled behind Cantrell. "Knock her outta the way and let's git goin'."

Fear shot through Kitty's heart as another figure pushed past Glenn, reaching toward her to grab a handful of hair, jerking her head back. "You weren't lyin'. She's a looker, arright. Mebbe we'll bring her with us. A man needs a little recreation now an' then."

"Who the hell are you?" she snapped with more fire than she felt.

"Just open the safe, Miss Kitty," Glenn advised, his voice hard, even though his demand sounded almost like a request.

"If this gentleman would release me it would be a little easier."

"Let her go, Layton," Glenn said.

With a snarl, Layton jerked his hand away, pulling some of the curls down with it. "Git to it, then."

Willing her hands not to shake, she twisted the dial automatically, stepping back as the heavy door opened. "Where'd that money come from, Glenn?" she asked. "It's not an inheritance like you told Matt, is it?"

He didn't seem surprised. "Guess ol' Matt told you about that, huh? Maybe a little conversation after – " But he stopped himself and shook his head almost ruefully. "He always wuz the lucky one."

Before she could snatch the derringer, a hammy hand slapped her away, and she stumbled into the wall. Layton rummaged through the safe's contents, grabbing both bags Matt had locked in there. Her face stung from the strike, but she remained silent.

"Lookie here," the outlaw said, pulling out the small gun. "You weren't goin' fer thet, were ya, Missy?"

"Come on, Layton," Glenn urged. "Let's get outta here."

The other man turned, giving Kitty her first good look at him. He was rough looking, with a full face that spread into a natural sneer, his eyes small and black, a jagged scar running from chin to ear on the left side. "We kain't leave her here. She done seen us."

"Matt'll know it's me, anyway, Layton. Don't matter. Leave her."

Layton tucked the bags under his arm and lunged out, snatching Cantrell toward him. "I'm the one calling the shots, here. Don't you fergit that. I say she goes with us. We kin hole up in that ol' cabin 'bout ten miles out until we're ready."

Glenn swallowed, considered for a moment, then nodded. "Okay, okay. She goes. But that's just gonna make Dillon that much more determined to come after us."

"Let him come. That lawman needed killin' a long time ago." He jerked a chin toward Kitty. "You git her. And don't let her holler."

She contemplated her chances of yelling and getting help, but figured Layton wouldn't think twice about breaking her neck. Instead, as Glenn took her arm and guided her after the other man, she looked desperately for some clue to leave, some way to let Matt know something had happened. But her plan was made moot only a second later when a tall figure darkened the door.

"What's going on here?"

Relief flooded Kitty's chest with the strong, familiar voice. "Matt!"

Instantly, the hard barrel of a pistol pressed against her temple as Layton grabbed her and pulled her against him.

"Back off, Dillon," he warned. "I killed women before, and I sure don't care nothin' 'bout killin' yer woman here."

Heart in her throat, she stared at Matt, watched as he gritted his teeth, contemplating the scene before him, his Colt already drawn and aimed toward the outlaw.

"I mean it!" Layton cried, voice pitched high and kind of crazy. None of them doubted his sincerity. "Drop yer gun. Drop it, or I'll do her right now."

Glancing toward Cantrell, Matt took only another second before he made his decision, tossing the pistol away from him, spreading his arms out by his side. "Let her go, Layton," he said, still calm, still in control, despite the circumstances.

Surprise crossed the other man's scarred features. "How'd you know who I wuz?" he demanded, then yelled at Cantrell without taking his eyes from the lawman. "You son of a – "

"Glenn didn't tell me," Matt said quickly. "Got a telegram from Pueblo." He let his gaze take in Cantrell, let his voice reveal his disappointment. "Know where that money came from, now. I wish you hadn't come here, Glenn."

His former friend nodded. "You and me both, Matt. It's done now, though."

"Let Kitty go," he said, meeting her eyes just long enough for her to feel his strength. "Take me if you need a hostage."

Before Cantrell could answer, Layton snapped, "We don't need no hostage. We're takin' yer woman 'cause she's yer woman. Make you hurt even more knowin' she's gettin' did by a real man!"

"You touch her, and – "

Layton cackled and stepped toward the door, the movement pulling the pistol away from Kitty's head. A roar of fury accompanied the marshal's dive toward his gun, but Cantrell was faster. Before Matt could reach the discarded Colt, his old friend had drawn and fired, the bullet smashing into his right thigh just above the knee. Kitty screamed, but Layton held fast to her, dragging her out the door and over the prone lawman.

"Layton!" Matt yelled, grabbing vainly for them, his voice fierce, no longer in control. "I'll kill you!"

Stumbling down the alley, Kitty looked back, saw the blood already soaking Matt's pants, watched in horror as he fell back, losing his grasp on consciousness. She cried out his name but there was no response.

Their horses waited restlessly by the stairs, and Layton wasted no time hoisting her up on one of the animals, pulling himself up behind her and pushing his groin crudely against her backside. His stained leer both revolted and terrified her. Cantrell slung himself over his own mount, and they worked their way out the back of the alley behind the general store.

They were several buildings away from the Long Branch when a weaving Louie Pheeters stumbled up to them.

"Evenin', Miss Kitty," he greeted, not at all perplexed at seeing her in the company of two strange men. He doffed his hat, revealing a head of scattered hair.

Layton tightened his grip on her in warning. "Louie," she answered with relief. If she could somehow let him know about Matt without –

"Get outta the way, ya' damn drunk," Layton snarled.

Louie's eyebrows rose. "A gentleman does not speak that way in front of a lady," he berated.

"Lady?" the outlaw scoffed.

"Gentleman?" Kitty muttered with sour humor.

Glenn clicked his horse forward. "You're right, mister. My friend didn't mean nothin' by it. Why don't you just move along now?"

But the old drunk squinted at them, not quite so easily dismissed. "Are you going somewhere, Miss Kitty?" he asked, eyeing the two men with a suspicious glare.

Layton eased his gun against the small of Kitty's back. "Tell this gentleman whar yer goin', Miss Kitty."

She considered taking her chances for a brief moment, then decided against a foolish move that would put Louie in harm's way. "I'm, uh – Louie, I'm going to my Uncle Artie's place for a few days. Remind the marshal when you see him, will you?"

The old man frowned in confusion. "But – "

"Arrite now," Layton snarled.

"Uncle Artie's place. Tell him," she stressed.

Louie pressed his hat against his heart. "Miss Kitty, you can count on me."

"I know I can, Louie," she said, with no small amount of warmth.

"Git goin', now," Layton instructed. "Miss Kitty's got things ta do. Don't ya', Miss Kitty?"

"Remember to tell him, Louie," she said as Cantrell and Layton moved their small group along toward the open prairie. "Remember."

"I'll remember, Miss Kitty," he promised, but her heart sank as she watched him stumble down the alley in the wrong direction. It would be late the next day before Louie came to enough to follow through – if he did at all.

As they broke into a gallop, Kitty thought she heard a distant voice call out, "Mister Dillon!"

She prayed that Chester got to Matt in time to keep him from bleeding to death. She prayed that Doc wasn't out delivering a baby. She prayed that she had the strength to endure whatever Layton and Cantrell intended to do with her – and she was pretty sure she knew. And she prayed that fate would intervene just one more time and bring her back into Matt's arms.

TBC