boots and clothes and hat and waded into the pool. It came only as high as his knees. The bottom was slippery, mud and a few loose rocks, and he stepped with care. His skin rippled with goose bumps. He shivered slightly.
“Told you it was cold.”
Fargo’s eyes were glued to her breasts. She was still rubbing them, a silent invite in her eyes. A mocking invite, if her grin meant anything. “I was wrong about you,” he said.”
“In what way?”
“You’re just like every other woman I’ve ever met.”
“You thought I wasn’t?”
“For a while there I thought you never let your feelings get the better of you.”
Samantha laughed. “Silly man. Women always think with their hearts and not with their heads.”
“I’ll try to remember that.” By then Fargo reached her. A gnawing ache in his loins bore testimony to his need. He reached out and cupped her right breast. It was wet and smooth and the nipple hardened when he pinched it.
“Oh,” Sam said softly.
Fargo glanced over his shoulder at the woods. Either of the assassins, or both, could be near. To hell with it, he thought, and gave Sam his undivided attention.
Her eyelids were hooded. The pink tip of her tongue rimmed her red lips. “Don’t stop.”
Fargo cupped her other breast and kneaded both. Under the water his manhood twitched and stirred and firmed. His need became an irresistible urge. He pulled her to him and kissed her. Their tongues met. Their bodies touched. The wet of the water added an extra sensation. He felt his pole rub her thigh and his lust became complete. “Damn, I want you,” he said when they broke for breath.
“You make it sound like a bad thing,” Sam teased.
“This is the same as poking my head into a grizzly’s den.”
“I’m a smelly old bear?” Samantha giggled.
“You’re bare, all right,” Fargo said, and applied his mouth to her neck, to her throat, to her ear.
Sam mewed and ground herself against him, the while her hands explored his back and his buttocks and one of them slid around and down to grip his member. “Oh, I do so love this.”
It was what Fargo lived for. For some men it was money. For other men it was power. Some men it was other pursuits, like horse breeding or hunting or fishing or any of a thousand things. Not him. He lived for females. In his eyes nothing could hold a candle to the feel of ramming his pole into a willing woman.
Fargo took her standing up. He caressed and molded and kissed until she was hot with desire and her need as keen as his own. Then he parted her legs and had her grip him by the shoulders and raise up, and in one swift movement, he impaled her.
Samantha gasped and threw her head back. The windows to her soul shone with pure pleasure. “Yesssssss. Like that.”
Fargo rocked on his heels. He had to be careful, as slippery as it was. The feel of her hot sheath and the cool water and the air on his skin were like a potent drug. The tiny voice yelled at him to stop and he smothered it. “Some things a man just has to do,” he said to himself.
“Ummmmm?” Sam’s eyes were closed and she matched his thrusts with swirls of her pelvis.
Fargo devoted himself to pounding her. His mouth, his hands, were everywhere. It wasn’t long before she moved faster and harder and he could tell she was near the brink. To send her over he slid a hand down between them and rubbed her swollen knob. It was all it took.
Sam exploded, churning the pool with the violence of her release. “Huh! Huh! Huh!” she gasped.
Fargo let himself go. He rammed up and in and it felt as if his insides were being ripped from his body. The pool roiled, the water lapped at them in small wavelets. It went on and on until finally she was spent and sagged against him and he was spent and suddenly tired.
“God, you’re good,” Sam whispered. She slowly lowered her legs and leaned against him. “I’m as weak as a kitten.”
Fargo scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bank. He set her down on the grass and lay next to her, his arm for her pillow. He closed his eyes. The tiny voice was at it again but the bank partially hid them so he was content to lie there a while.
“Skye?”
“Mmmm?” Fargo wanted her to be quiet but it wasn’t to be.
“May I ask you a question?”
“I can’t stop the moon and the sun from rising, either.”
“What? Oh.” Sam gave a throaty laugh. “Very well. Who do you think it is?”
Fargo sighed and opened his eyes. “Who what?”
“Who hired Brun and that Anders fellow? Who hired the brother and sister? I know it’s not me so it has to be Tom, Roland or Charlotte. I would guess Tom hired Brun and Anders even though he denies it. That leaves Roland or Charlotte to have hired the other two.”
“Could be.”
“I can’t see Roland doing it, though. He’s too nice.”
“Tom is right about one thing. When there’s a lot of money at stake, nice doesn’t always count for much.”
“I still think it has to be Charlotte. My sweet little sister has always had a hard edge. She hides it well but it’s there, just under the surface. I’ve often thought she would make a good wildcat.”
Fargo grinned and nipped her ear. “You make a fine wildcat yourself.”
“Oh, you.” Sam kissed his cheek. “I can’t help myself. You bring it out of me, somehow.”
After that she lay still. Fargo closed his eyes again and was about to doze off when a twig snapped. He heard it as clear as anything. He raised his head and saw that Sam had heard it, too, and was tense with apprehension. Putting a finger to his lips, he slid his arm out from under her and edged to the top.
The woods seemed undisturbed but something, or someone, had stepped on that twig. Fargo watched and waited but nothing showed and after a few minutes he slid back down. “Get dressed.”
“Who was it?”
“I don’t even know if it was a who.”
“I’m glad you’re with me. I don’t know as I could take this if I were by myself. I’ve always thought of myself as brave, but this—”
Fargo put his finger to her lips. “Get dressed,” he repeated, and hurriedly donned his buckskins, boots and hat.
Sam was slower but only because she had so many buttons and more garments. “I’m ready,” she finally whispered.
The woods appeared peaceful. Fargo reached down and said, “Grab my wrist.” When she did, he hauled her up beside him and then over the top of the bank. Still holding on to her, he crouched and moved along the bank and into a stand of cottonwoods. Hunkering next to a trunk, he said quietly, “From here on out we don’t take chances. You stay close. We don’t make noise if we can help it. When I stop, you stop. If I drop flat, you drop flat. Savvy?”
“I love it when you’re forceful.”
Fargo could have slapped her. He took hold of her shoulders and they locked eyes. “No more games. Emmett and Charles are dead and I don’t care to join them.”
“I was only joking.”
“No more. We’re being hunted. We stay sharp or we’re dead.”
“You really believe that? About being hunted, I mean?”
“The only way whoever hired those killers can be sure of claiming the inheritance is if the rest of you are dead.”
“But no one can be sure unless they find the chest.”
“It ups their odds.”
“I suppose. And later, if they don’t find the chest, they can contest the will in court as the sole surviving heir.”
“I don’t give a damn about why they want us dead,” Fargo said. “It’s enough that they do. And I don’t die
